‘I don’t want you pushing this too far, that’s what I want. Take her money and run, like we’ve done with the rest. Don’t treat this trick any differently. Don’t make any mistakes now, not when we’re so close to twenty-thousand pounds. That’s going to change things for us.’
‘Yeah. How about France?’ he said.
‘France sounds good.’
‘A villa.’
‘A fucking big villa, with a swimming pool.’ She fell thoughtful too. ‘Maybe this could be the last one for us. Maybe we could settle down too.’
He lit up another cigarette. ‘Maybe,’ he said, his eyes on some faraway place. ‘Could be paintings, antiques, something like that. Maybe even a safe. Places like that have safes.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘In the room.’
‘Stop going on about that bloody room!’
He said OK, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. Then he suddenly remembered where he’d seen that runt of a kid, the one in the tower. It had been in the back yard of the Empire cinema, trying to make out Caldwell wasn’t at home. The thought bothered him for a minute or two and then he dismissed Vince altogether and settled back to thinking about the locked room.
What the hell did she keep in there, he thought?
* * * *
15
Drops of Blood
Martin Caldwell was all in a dither. It was almost as if he’d sensed Vince was walking down the corridor past his office. He flung his door open wide and called out.
‘Vince, come here!’
Vince thought the worst. ‘What is it, Mr Caldwell?’
‘Have you seen Monica this morning?’
He shook his head. Not seeing Monica was classed as lucky, in his book. ‘No, sorry.’
‘Damn her hide!’ he said. ‘She’s not turned up and she knows there’s a ton to do this week, what with the refurbishment stuff. I’ve got paperwork coming out of my ears.’ He rubbed his tired eyes. Tired and it was only ten o’clock in the morning. ‘Well, when you see the woman you tell her to get her lazy arse in here at once.’
‘Maybe she’s sick,’ Vince offered.
‘Sick?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, I should say she’s sick.’ The phone on his office desk was ringing insistently and they weren’t about to hang up. ‘Get out of here, Vince, and do something you’re paid to do.’ Vince turned to leave and Caldwell called to him again. ‘Been meaning to ask you - where’s my fucking Oscar? Have you seen it?’
‘Monica threw it in the waste bin. It’s probably been taken out to the bins.’
‘Go dig it out for me.’
‘The bin men have already been and collected the trash. Sorry.’
‘The bitch!’ he said, going into his office and slamming the door shut. He lifted the phone. ‘What?’ he said, rather brusquely.
‘Hi, Martin. You’re sounding on edge this morning. Caught you at a bad time?’
‘What the fuck are you doing bothering me, Felix? I told you I don’t want anything more to do with you or your schemes.’
‘Kat sends her love,’ he said. ‘We were only talking about you the other day. You know, we can’t thank you enough for pointing us in Laura Leach’s direction.’
‘Like I had a choice,’ Caldwell said. ‘Don’t expect anything else. You’ve had all you’re going to get from me. I’ve told you, I’ve finished with that game. I’ve moved on.’
‘Good for you. Some of us haven’t. I just need to ask you a few things, that’s all. No need to be uncivil.’
‘Like what?’
‘That cleaner woman, the one that worked at Devereux Towers, gave you the heads up on Laura…’
‘Monica? What about her?’
‘She ever tell you about a locked room at Devereux Towers, one that Laura’s particularly precious about? A blue door?’
‘Not once, why?’
‘You’re not keeping anything from me, are you, Martin? I wouldn’t take too kindly to that.’
‘Go fuck yourself, Felix. I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew, which I don’t.’
The man gave a chuckle. ‘Bit touchy today, aren’t we, Martin? Something preying on your mind?’
‘Always, and you’re not making it any easier. Now when I put this phone down I don’t ever want to pick it up and hear your voice at the other end. I also don’t want to see you hanging around the Empire, even at a distance, you hear?’
‘That a threat, Martin? Well listen up, wanker, I’ve not finished with you yet. If you think you can ditch me that easily you’re dumber than I thought.’
‘What is it you want? I don’t know any more rich birds for you and Kat to screw over. There are precious few of those in Langbridge. Take yourself elsewhere, like fucking America. It’s full of them; you’ll have a field day,’ he said, making no attempt to hide the derision.
‘I reckon the Empire turns over a few bob these days, since you took over.’
Martin Caldwell began to sweat, wiped his forehead on his sleeve. ‘What’re you getting at?’
‘Seems to me you might be able to cream a little off the profits, send it my way in return.’
‘In return for what?’
‘In return for me keeping quiet about aspects of your past you’d very much like to keep quiet. Kat has been so – what’s the word? – informative.’
‘That’s blackmail,’ he said.
‘You know, you’re probably right, Martin.’
‘You’ll only bring yourself down with me. You’re not exactly clean, are you?’
‘Think about it, Martin. Me, the most I’d get is a few years for fraud. What’s the going rate for murder?’
Caldwell swallowed hard. ‘You don’t have proof.’
‘Want to risk that? Look, be sensible, you’ve a lot more to lose than me. Nice wife, nice house, nice car, cushy new job in the country. Do you really want to risk all that?’
Caldwell slammed the phone down and stared hard and unforgiving at it. He sank down into his office chair, shaking, seeing his world unravel before him and unable to do anything about it.
He’d watched out for her every evening but she’d not turned up. He’d go down to the auditorium and check out the back row but always he’d climb the stairs to the projection booth bitterly disappointed.
Vince had expected this evening to be exactly the same. He’d left the projector running and descended from the booth with little hope in his heart. The cinema was only half-full tonight. Martin Caldwell, even more on edge than usual, had commented upon it, saying that they really had to get more people inside or the place would sink into its own shit. It’s only a weekday, explained Vince in order to try and buoy the man up; Wednesday, half-day closing in Langbridge. Nobody ever did anything on Wednesday afternoons. It was like having half a Sunday in the middle of the week. But that failed to appease Caldwell who did what he usually did and hid away from sight in his office.
Vince wasn’t prepared for seeing Laura Leach on the back row. His heart almost popped with excitement when he saw she was sitting on her own again, same seat, quietly watching the film.
Do it, he thought. Go over to her, say hello. What, interrupt her during the film? Say you’re checking things out, that’s all. Tell her you’re the projectionist – no, the Chief Projectionist – and you’re checking to see if everything’s OK. Like a fucking survey? She’d love that, you idiot! Think of something else, quick, because you’ll have to get back to your box soon. Don’t screw up your chance. Think, man!
Except he didn’t have to worry at all. There wasn’t any point. The man – that same man – was here. He’d been down to the kiosk to get her something and was making his way down the line of seats holding out a bag of Minstrels for her. He bent, he kissed, he coiled his arms around her shoulders, did all those things that caused Vince’s heart to freeze stone cold with loathing and hatred and every nasty bit of emotion he could dredge up from the deepest, blackest parts of his soul.
Vince’s i
nsides collapsed. The bastard, he thought! The two-timing skunk! He was seeing two women, cheating on them both, but most importantly cheating on Laura. The slimeball!
He envisaged going up to them, telling him how wrong that was and he must be a real low-life to do that to someone as lovely and as perfect as Laura. He’d tell her he loved her more than this scumbag who couldn’t control the insides of his underpants. They’d fight, naturally, and it didn’t matter if he lost because he’d come out of it looking good whichever way it went.
But of course he didn’t do any of that. He slipped quietly away, back to his projection booth to allow his anger to ferment.
‘The name’s Casper Younge tonight,’ he said.
Martin Caldwell had obviously been drinking again. His face was flushed and there was a slight wobble to his head. He sat in his desk chair, arms folded. ‘I don’t care what fucking name you’re using. I told you never to contact me again. You shouldn’t be here. Who showed you my office?’
‘One of the ladies from the kiosk. Charm, Martin. Works every time.’
‘Get the fuck out of my office. Out of my life.’
‘Now, now, Martin, no need to act like that. Let’s sort this amicably.’
‘There’s nothing to sort, Felix. Look, you saw how many people were in the cinema tonight. The takings in this place are piss-poor. It’s barely hanging on. I’m not making enough to hide even a little top-slicing. So you’re wasting your time. You and Kat can go and fuck yourselves, because I can’t help you. Now take the hint and leave me alone. Go back to taking that poor bint for a ride. It’s what you do best.’
Felix smiled. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, particularly as it comes from an old master. You don’t know what you’re missing, Martin. We’re screwing Laura for twenty-thousand pounds.’
Martin’s eyes widened. ‘You’re pissing up my back!’
‘No pissing. She’s all over me like a rash, believes everything I tell her. She’s waiting for me, out in the car. I said I’d lost my wallet, had to come in and find it. Gives me time to talk things over with you.’
‘You’re taking her for all that money and yet you’re bothering trying to cream a few measly quid from the Empire’s takings? Why is that, Felix?’
‘Because I can,’ he said matter-of-factly, checking his manicured nails, picking out a smidgen of dirt.
‘Well you can bugger off, because I’m not playing ball.’
‘You’ll regret it, Martin.’
Caldwell leant forward, his fists on the desk. His face twisted into angry lines. ‘Don’t fuck with me, Felix, or you’re dead!’
Felix raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you believe it – the little dog has got teeth!’ He grabbed Caldwell by the tie, yanked him forward. ‘Say that once more, Martin, and you’ll be the one who’s fucking dead!’ He released him, flinging him back as he did so. ‘You’ve got until the end of the week to come to your senses.’
He smoothed his jacket, passed Caldwell a last, lingering look, and then left the office. He made his way down to the foyer. Everyone had left the cinema now, apart from Edith who was stowing away ice-cream trays and sweets behind the kiosk; and Vince, who had just said goodnight to the ticket lady and was preparing to lock up the cinema doors for the night. He was taken aback at seeing Felix descending the stairs, fastening his coat. He glanced at Vince as he approached. Vince was still boiling inside, a great, intolerable pressure that was building up like a head of steam as Felix strolled up to him. As they drew level with one another Vince casually closed the plate-glass doors.
‘I need to get out,’ said Felix, eyeing the young man. ‘Open the door.’
‘I know you,’ said Vince. He was aware of Edith looking curiously at him.
‘Really? Well I don’t know you,’ said Felix. ‘Open the fucking door.’
‘I saw you up on Glastonbury Tor kissing that woman.’
Felix’s eyes narrowed, then recognition flooded in. ‘The runt, yeah, I remember you. So what?’
‘So you shouldn’t be seeing both her and Miss Leach at the same time. It’s not right, and it’s not fair on Laura.’
Felix studied him coldly. ‘Are you telling me what I should or should not be fucking doing?’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘Get out of my fucking way.’
‘If Laura found out about you and that other woman…’
‘She won’t find out, will she?’ said Felix, his voice low and menacing.
‘I’m going to tell her. She has a right to know.’
In a flash, Felix had Vince by the collar. He tumbled him backwards and he almost fell over with the force. Felix pounded a hefty, balled fist into his stomach and Vince doubled over, winded and in pain. Then he was punched squarely in the face and Vince crashed against the popcorn cabinet. Edith screamed and ran from behind the counter.
‘Leave him alone, you brute!’ she said.
Felix bent down to Vince, who dabbed at a bloody nose. His cheek and mouth were beginning to throb terribly. ‘Listen to me, you fucking shite; don’t you tell Laura anything and don’t tell me what to do. Nobody tells me what to do. One more word from you, one tiny little squeak, and I’ll fucking kill you. Do you understand?’ Vince moaned softly, drops of blood splashing on the tiles. Felix slapped him hard across the cheek. ‘I said, do you understand, moron?’
Vince nodded weakly and Felix rose, straightened his coat and casting a meaningful, smouldering look towards Edith who had her tiny hand in her mouth. As soon as he’d left the cinema she ran over to Vince who was struggling to get up.
‘My God! Who was that horrible man? Shall I call the police?’ She saw the blood streaming down Vince’s nose. ‘Oh, Vince – you’ve been wounded!’
Well that didn’t go according to the plan he had in his head, thought Vince, allowing Edith to help him to his feet.
‘I told you to forget that Laura,’ she said, taking her handkerchief to staunch the blood. ‘She’s nothing but trouble.’
‘I don’t need reminding,’ he said shakily. ‘Not tonight.’
* * * *
16
A Wounded Dove
‘What have you done to your hand?’ she asked.
He was running it under the cold tap in the bathroom. His knuckles were split and dribbled blood. ‘Nothing,’ said Felix. ‘I thought you’d be fast asleep.’
‘Have you been in a fight?’ She could read his face like a book. He was tight-jawed, steely-eyed, looked as if he were seething underneath. ‘Christ, what have you done?’ She went over to a cabinet and took out a small tub that held a variety of medicines and tablets. She opened a box of sticking-plasters.
‘Just some poxy, meddling kid at the Empire.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘Thought I’d take Laura along to see a film, quiz her about how she was doing getting the money together. Then I thought I’d go and see our mutual friend.’
She sighed heavily, taking the top off a tube of antiseptic cream. ‘I told you to leave him alone. We don’t need him now. Don’t screw things up, Felix; we’re so close to clinching it. Martin’s a nobody. We’ve used him and there’s an end to it. Why are you so obsessed with him?’
‘I ain’t obsessed.’
‘You are. You can’t let it rest, can you? Are you jealous, is that it?’
He scowled, drying his hands on a towel and squeezing cream from the tube. ‘I had to wear gloves so Laura didn’t see the blood,’ he mused, smearing on the cream. ‘Me? Jealous of that fucking loser?’
‘You are, aren’t you? Christ, it was a long time ago. He didn’t mean anything to me. I told you what he was like. How he treated me. What he’s capable of. Forget him. It’s been nice to see him squirm, like he made me squirm, but now’s the time to dump him.’
‘You brought us here, Kat. You suggested we use him.’
‘Only to get back at him, no more than that! It was business.’
‘Really?’ He grabbed the sticking-plaster she held out and slapped
it over his cuts. ‘You sure about that, Kat?’
‘You moron!’ she said, punching him on the arm. ‘I love you, not that loser. I never once loved him.’ She kissed him on the lips, stared into his unconvinced, sullen eyes. ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’ He nodded reluctantly. ‘So just leave him alone, eh? Let’s take the money and run. Forget Martin, forget this goddamn backwater. I hate renting this place in Glastonbury. I hate Somerset. We can have a real good life from here on in, so don’t screw this up for us, not when it’s almost in the bag.’ Kat held his hand, looked at the grazed knuckles. ‘So which kid was this you floored?’
‘He’s the projectionist at the Empire. He saw us on top of Glastonbury Tor. He could be trouble. I was warning him off because he threatened to tell Laura. I think he got the message.’
‘He won’t spill the beans, will he?’ she asked with some alarm. ‘I told you to avoid that place.’
‘He’s a frightened little runt. He’ll not be saying anything.’
‘You don’t go to the Empire again, you hear?’ she said firmly.
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, whatever.’
‘I mean it, Felix. So, when will Laura have our money?’
He smirked. ‘At the end of the week. All sorted by then. I managed to persuade her to get the cash and I’ll be picking it up on Friday. I’ve persuaded her I’m away on business for a few days, and I’m busy sorting out the clinic in Philadelphia, flights, that kind of thing. She still thinks we’ll be getting married after I’ve had my operation.’
‘That’s good,’ said Kat thoughtfully. ‘Till then we keep low. No more visits to Caldwell, no more flooring little runts. You and me we’re going to London to do some serious shopping. I’ve booked us flights to France for when all this is over. I’ve also got appointments booked with French real-estate agents to look over a few villas.’
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