The birthday girl

by Stephen Leather

  Ted asked.

  'No,' Mersiha laughed. 'Of course not. I'm only fifteen.'

  'You'd be surprised how young most models are,' he said. 'In fact these days, the younger the better. You've got the face – and the figure.'

  Mersiha tensed instinctively at the mention of her figure.

  She'd forgotten that she was wearing a revealing dress and that it had ridden almost up to her thighs as she sat in the chair. She squirmed and tried to pull the hem down, but Ted told her not to move. 'Trust me, it looks perfect,' he said.

  She forced herself to relax, but Ted had already decided that he wanted to set up a different shot. He photographed her in a multitude of poses – sitting, standing, looking over her shoulder, face on, her face tilted up, down, sideways – until it seemed to Mersiha that there were no other options left. 'Do you always take as many pictures as this?' she asked.

  Ted shrugged. 'You should see some of the girls I have to photograph. Their mothers bring them in here and expect me to work miracles on them. I tell you, you'd have to smear Vaseline on the lens and shoot them through a blanket to make them look halfway decent. But you, you've got a look.'

  'A look?' Mersiha repeated, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

  'I meant what I said about you being a model. You could do it. I'll give you my card on the way out. You should speak to your mom.'

  'What sort of modelling are you talking about?'

  'Nothing sleazy. Your looks are too good for that. High fashion, that's what you'd be good at. I don't mean runway modelling because you're not tall enough or thin enough for that. But you'd find plenty of work in the fashion magazines, the sort we've got on the tables out there.'

  Mersiha pulled a face. 'We'll see,' she said.

  Together they went back to the salon. Katherine stood up and put her magazine down on the table. 'How did it go?' she asked.

  'Okay,' Mersiha said.

  'Better than okay, she was terrific,' Ted enthused. He took a business card from his wallet and gave it to Mersiha. 'Think about it,' he said, then disappeared back into his studio.

  'Think about what?' Katherine asked.

  'Oh, nothing,' Mersiha said.

  'Come on, young lady. Spill the beans.'

  'He just asked if I wanted to be a model, that's all.'

  Katherine raised an eyebrow. 'Really? And what did you say?'

  Mersiha shrugged. 'Nothing. What could I say?' She went back into the changing room, took off the black dress and put on her shirt and jeans. The make-up was a stark contrast to the casual clothes but she had no idea how to get it off without smudging it.

  Tanya was talking to Katherine when Mersiha left the changing room, the dress rolled up in its carrier bag with the shoes.

  'I was just telling your mom, we'll have contact prints ready for you early next week. We'll call, then you can come and choose the prints you want. How did it go?'

  'Great. He really made me feel at ease.'

  'Yeah, Ted's a terrific photographer. He used to work for some of the big magazines in New York. He's got an amazing portfolio.'

  'So what's he doing in Baltimore?' Katherine asked.

  'His mother's sick. He's moved in with her to take care of her.'

  Katherine smiled sympathetically. 'Nice boy. Come on, Mersiha. Let's hit the road.'

  Mersiha gestured at her made-up face. 'I can't go out like this.'

  Tanya looked at her wristwatch. 'I don't have another client for twenty minutes. I'll take that off for you and show you how to apply daytime makeup.'

  'Great,' Mersiha said.

  Katherine sighed and reached for her packet of cigarettes. 'I'll be outside,' she said.

  Freeman heard the dog barking with joy before he heard the car, and he was standing with the front door open before Katherine and Mersiha had climbed out. Buffy ran over and pawed at Mersiha, her tail wagging like a metronome.

  'How did it go?' Freeman asked Mersiha. She looked different, but it was only as she got closer that he realised she was wearing eye make-up and lipstick. 'You look fabulous,' he said.

  Mersiha blushed. 'You should have seen me before,' she said.

  'What do you mean?'

  'Full war paint,' Katherine explained, kissing him on the cheek. 'They gave her the works before they took the photographs.'

  'So where are they?' Freeman asked.

  'They take a few days to get the prints ready, then we choose the ones we want them to blow up,' Katherine replied.

  Freeman ruffled Mersiha's hair. 'I can't wait to see them.'

  Mersiha pulled a face. 'I bet they'll be terrible.'

  He noticed the bag she was carrying. 'Is that the new dress?'

  'And shoes,' Katherine said. 'She looks stunning in them.'

  'You're wearing them tomorrow?'

  Mersiha nodded. 'Sure.' Buffy continued to paw at her stomach, wanting to play. 'Katherine bought me some makeup, too. I'm going to try to do it myself tomorrow.'

  Freeman raised his eyebrows. 'Now, that, I'm looking forward to.' He stepped aside to allow Katherine and Mersiha into the house. Katherine winked as she went by. Freeman patted her backside affectionately and closed the door as Buffy slipped through.

  Mersiha took a can of Coke from the refrigerator and sat down at the kitchen table. 'So, do you feel like a vacation?' he asked.

  'A vacation?'

  'Yup. You and me. Some father-daughter bonding.'

  Mersiha looked at him, then at Katherine, then back to Freeman. 'Are you serious?'

  He grinned. 'Sure. I thought we'd go to the mountains. Hike.

  Ski, maybe. I'll show you how to light a fire, skin a moose, build an igloo, all that wilderness stuff.'

  Mersiha laughed. 'When?'

  'The travel agent says she can get us tickets for a Saturday flight.'

  'Next Saturday?' Katherine said. 'That's a bit soon, isn't it?'

  'Saturday'll be great, Dad. Just great.'

  'I thought the sooner the better, Kat,' Freeman said. 'We've got a board meeting the week after next and I've got to be here for that, obviously.'

  'I guess so,' Katherine said. 'You are the chairman after all.'

  There was a sarcastic edge to her voice, but she softened it with a smile. 'Yes, you're right. You should go.'

  'You're not coming?' Mersiha asked.

  Katherine shook her head. 'No, kiddo, I've got lots to do here. Besides, you know how I hate the great outdoors. We'll all go away together later in the year.' She patted Mersiha on the shoulder. 'You can bring me back a moose.'

  'What size?' she asked, then giggled.

  'What do you call a blind moose?' Freeman asked.

  'No eye-deer,' Mersiha said quickly.

  'How come you know that one?' he asked.

  'School,' she said. 'But the version I heard was an elk. I'm not sure if a moose is a deer, is it?'

  'Dunno,' Freeman admitted. 'What do you call a blind elk with no legs?'

  'Still no eye-deer,' Katherine said.

  'Sheesh, does everyone in Maryland know these jokes?'

  Freeman was reading an article on Singapore's defence industry in the Far Eastern Economic Review when Maury Anderson burst into his office. 'You're not going to believe this,' he said, doing a soft-shoe shuffle across to Freeman's window. 'What a beautiful day this is turning out to be.'

  'What aren't I going to believe?' Freeman asked. Anderson's mood swings were starting to become a little tiring. The good news could be a fifty-million-dollar order or the fact that the photocopier was working, depending on how his partner was feeling that day.

  'Lennie Nelson's dead.' Freeman's mouth dropped and the magazine fell from his fingers. 'I knew you'd be pleased,'

  Anderson said, stretching his hands out to the side like a man crucified. 'It couldn't have happened at a better time.'

  'He's dead?' Freeman said. 'You mean dead dead?' He wondered if he'd misunderstood, if Anderson meant that the banker was dead career-wise, because he cou
ldn't believe that his partner would express so much glee over a man's death.

  'As a doornail. Isn't it great? Isn't it the best news you've heard all day?'

  Freeman was horrified at Anderson's attitude. 'Maury, get a grip, will you? What happened?'

  Anderson did another soft-shoe shuffle to Freeman's desk and leant over it, his hands either side of the blotter. There was a manic gleam in his eyes. 'That's the best part,' he said. 'You're not gonna believe it. It's so great.'

  'Just tell me, Maury. You're starting to get on my nerves.'

  'Okay, okay. Listen to this. They found him on his bed, stark naked, with several lines of coke, a stack of gay porn magazines and a plastic bag over his head.'

  'You mean he killed himself? Suicide?'

  Anderson began pacing up and down, waving animatedly. 'No, don't you get it? Don't you get it, Tony? He was a gasper! He was playing with himself while cutting down his air supply.

  Auto-erotic asphyxiation, they call it. He was as queer as a three-dollar bill. They found kiddie porn in a bedroom closet and all sorts of weird videos. My God, and he was trying to tell us how to run our business. I knew there was something wrong with him the first time I met him. Didn't you? Didn't you think there was something strange there?'

  Freeman leant back in his chair and stared at Anderson. He'd never seen his partner as elated as this before. 'What the hell's wrong with you?' he asked.

  Anderson stopped in his tracks as if he'd been poleaxed. 'What do you mean?'

  'Look at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat because a man's dead. Lennie Nelson might have been a thorn in our side and I'll admit that he was a bit of a prick, but he was only doing what he thought was best for his bank.'

  Anderson was stunned. 'Hey, come on now, don't tell me you're not glad that he's dead.'

  'That's exactly right, Maury. I'm not glad. And his death doesn't change things for us. The bank will still be looking over our shoulder, they'll still want a man on our board. If it's not Nelson, it'll be somebody else.'

  Anderson's eyes blazed. 'But that's just it, Tony. That's just it. It's going to be Walter.'

  'Walter Carey? Are you sure?'

  'I've got a friend in the bank. He just called me to give me the good news. The whole bank's talking about Nelson.

  I mean, nobody knew he was that way. Everyone thought he was a ladies' man.'

  Freeman rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Have you heard officially?'

  'No, not yet. I think Walter will probably want to tell you himself. I tell you, it's the end of our problems. Walter won't give us any shit about Ventura investing in us and he sure as hell won't have us chasing pie-in-the-sky joint ventures with the Chinese.'

  'Taiwanese,' Freeman corrected. Anderson had a point. If Walter was going to be the bank's man on the board, it'd be tantamount to a return to the status quo. For a while anyway.

  'Chinese, Taiwanese, who gives a shit? It means we can get on with running our business, our way.' Anderson punched the air.

  'A queer. Who would have thought it, huh?'

  The intercom bleeped on Freeman's desk. 'It's Walter Carey calling for you, Tony,' Jo said.

  Anderson made a gun with his fingers and fired it at Freeman.

  He blew imaginary smoke from the tip of his finger and headed out as Freeman picked up the phone.

  Freeman put down the menu as the waiter finished scribbling on his notepad. 'Anything to drink?' the waiter asked.

  Freeman smiled at Katherine. 'Champagne?' he said.

  'Definitely,' she agreed.

  'Do you think champagne goes with Thai food?'

  'I think champagne goes with everything,' Katherine said.

  Freeman looked at Mersiha. 'Pumpkin?'

  Mersiha's mouth dropped. 'You mean I can drink now that I'm sixteen?'

  'No, what I mean is that you can have one glass of champagne now that you're sixteen.' Freeman nodded at the waiter. 'A bottle of champagne, the best you have,' he said. The waiter scribbled in his notepad again and scurried off. Freeman reached across and held Mersiha's hand. 'I can't get over how pretty you look,' he said.

  'And the dress is fabulous,' Katherine agreed.

  'Stop it,' Mersiha begged.

  'I mean it,' Freeman went on. 'You should dress up more often.'

  Mersiha shook her head. 'Once a year is enough,' she said.

  Freeman had given Mersiha the choice of where she wanted to go for her birthday dinner and she'd chosen Thai Landing in Charles Street. He suspected that she'd chosen the Thai restaurant because she knew how much he liked it. He'd become a big fan of the fiery South-East Asian cuisine during a sales trip to Thailand, and the food at Thai Landing was every bit as delicious as any he'd had there.

  'Sixteen years old,' he said. 'I can hardly believe it.'

  'I know, I know. Soon it'll be college, then marriage, then children,' Mersiha sighed melodramatically. 'Then it's off to the old folks' home and I know the kids'll never visit.'

  'You know what I mean,' Freeman said. 'It doesn't seem like three years since…' His voice tailed off as the memories flooded back. The basement. The killer with cold blue eyes. The bullets ripping into his legs. The concentration camp.

  He looked down. Mersiha's hand was on top of his. It looked so small, like a child's. 'Thank you,' she said, quietly. 'Thank you for everything.'

  Freeman's eyes began to sting and he blinked back the tears.

  He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so sad. It was partly because he'd realised how close he'd come to losing Mersiha. If she'd been a little further away, if the gunman had fired a second earlier, if they hadn't found her in the camp… There were so many ifs. So many ways he could have lost her for ever. Fate had been on his side in Mersiha's case, but her presence also made him realise how unfair it was that he'd lost Luke. 'Tony?'

  Katherine said.

  'I'm okay,' he said. He looked up and smiled. 'Just a bit emotional, that's all.'

  Katherine reached over and took his other hand. She smiled at him sympathetically, as if she knew what he'd been thinking.

  The waiter returned carrying a bottle of champagne. He made a show of presenting the label to Freeman, then popped the cork professionally. When he'd filled their glasses he put the bottle in an ice bucket and went back into the kitchen.

  Freeman picked up his glass and raised it in salute to his daughter. Katherine did the same.

  'Happy birthday,' he said.

  Katherine nodded. 'Happy birthday, Mersiha,' she echoed.

  Mersiha blushed and picked up her glass. She waited expectantly, her eyes on her father. Freeman smiled at her. She knew what was coming and she was obviously relishing the anticipation. Katherine looked at him too, knowing that this was a special moment between father and daughter.

  Freeman took a deep breath, then began to sing quietly, his voice only slightly more than a murmur because there were other people in the restaurant and he didn't want anyone else intruding into their celebration. 'Happy birthday to you,' he sang, his voice thick with emotion. 'Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Mersiha, happy birthday to you.'

  Mersiha beamed. Freeman clinked glasses with her, then with Katherine. 'To my two favourite girls,' he said.

  Maury Anderson pounded his palms on his steering wheel as he powered the Corvette along the highway. He had the volume of the car stereo turned up as high as his ears could bear. He sniffed and rubbed the back of his hand across his nose, checking his driving mirror for the highway police.

  His wife was down in Florida taking care of her sick mother and wasn't due back for another few days, so he'd picked up a large takeaway pizza which sat in a cardboard box on the passenger seat. In the glove compartment of his car was a small glass vial containing five grammes of cocaine. He was looking forward to a quiet night in. There was only one thing that would make the forthcoming evening perfect and that would be if Katherine Freeman were to pay him a visit, but he knew that was out of the question. He'd phoned her that morn
ing and she'd explained that she was having dinner with Tony and Mersiha.

  There was no way she could get away.

  Anderson ran a hand through his hair. A truck appeared to his right and for a second he almost lost control of the speeding Corvette. He gripped the wheel with both hands and accelerated away from the huge vehicle. Katherine Freeman was one hell of a woman, he thought. Tony was a lucky man. He snorted and shook his head. No, he wasn't lucky at all. Katherine might be Tony's wife, but she didn't belong to him. Anderson had been having an affair with Katherine for more than three years, meeting her in motels at regular intervals for just about the best sex he'd ever had. He smiled as he remembered that it wasn't only motels where they'd met. Twice they'd made love in the Corvette, and while it was cramped and uncomfortable it had given the act an excitement that brought back memories of his high-school days.

  Anderson knew that he wasn't the only lover Katherine had taken, and she clearly saw nothing wrong in having affairs behind her husband's back. More often than not it was Katherine who initiated sex. She'd call him at the office and tell him which motel to go to, and she'd be waiting for him with a bottle of champagne on ice. In bed, there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him, and she seemed to take as much pleasure from the act as he did. But she was always the first to go, often showering while he lay exhausted on the rumpled bed and leaving him to drop off the key. Once she was out of bed she wouldn't even kiss him. There was a coldness about her after they'd made love, a distance that he was never able to bridge. In a way that suited Anderson. His wife was the total opposite. After lovemaking she wanted to lie in his arms and talk, when all he wanted to do was to close his eyes and sleep. He liked the fact that he didn't have to sweet-talk Katherine, that she appreciated that their relationship would never go beyond recreational sex. But it worried his ego somewhat that she seemed so happy with the arrangement. At times he almost felt that it was him who was being taken advantage of.

  He turned off the main highway and on to the road that led to his home, a comfortable ranch-house in Towson. The sky was starting to darken and several cars heading in the opposite direction had their headlights on. Anderson yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. It had been a long day in the office and his last hit of cocaine had worn off several hours earlier. He reached absent-mindedly towards the glove compartment and its vial of white powder, but pulled back when he realised what he was doing. Snorting at the wheel wasn't a smart move. Besides, he could wait. He wasn't an addict. A user, yes, but he could go for days without a hit if he wanted to. Well, hours, for sure. He didn't see the point of depriving himself of the high if he didn't have to.