by M B Vincent
‘Who speaks like that?’
‘They’re holding hands.’ Mary said it as if Rupert and Pandora were having sex in the street. ‘And look at her. She’s half naked.’
The dress was very low. ‘It’s a Stella McCartney design, according to the journalist.’
‘It’s not what I’d wear for an innocent dinner.’
‘You always wear your combats.’
Mary treated Jess to a particularly hard stare. ‘You’re making excuses for him. I knew it. You do like him.’
‘I don’t, I just—’
‘He’s a heel, Jess. He’s stringing you along.’
‘He and Pandora are just friends.’ Jess had insisted the opposite until she saw proof. It was an odd moment to perform an about-face.
‘Whatever.’ Mary was scornful as Jess pulled away from the kerb. Usually Mary’s powerful scorn was directed outwards and Jess could stand behind the searchlight. Now it was turned on her, and she was blinded. ‘You can’t stand posh boys. I’ve never met a not-posh Rupert. They simply don’t make Ruperts in certain postcodes. Turns out he’s riding his ex and you still defend him.’
‘Rupert’s not just a posh boy.’ Jess braked at the lights on Fore Street. ‘He’s kind and he’s funny and he’s—’
‘Leading you up the garden feckin’ path.’ Mary folded her arms across her sweatshirt. ‘I would have bet my life savings that you and he would do the do.’
‘You don’t have any life savings.’ Jess longed to tear away from the lights with a roar, but the Morris Traveller could only provide a polite clearing of the throat.
‘Rupert’s just another Hooray Henry.’
‘He’s not a . . .’ Jess rubbed her temple. ‘Can you just, you know, shut up, Mary?’ When Mary opened her mouth, Jess shouted, ‘For once! Just once, butt out!’
Mary was silent as the car trundled through the town. A baffled resentment rose off her like heat.
Outside the Druid’s Head, Jess kept the motor running.
‘You not coming in?’ frowned Mary from the pavement.
‘What’s in there?’ asked Jess, sullen.
‘Beer. Fellas. The usual.’
‘Exactly. Not in the mood.’ Jess did a scrappy three-point turn as Mary watched. Jess wasn’t good at being angry with Mary. She did her best, though, and didn’t shout to her to call the local cabbie, or Jess herself, to get home. She neglected to even peek in the rear-view mirror until she reached the corner.
What she saw made her sit up. Wasn’t that . . . It was. Unthank was holding the pub door open for Mary. All smiles. He inspected Mary’s bottom as she passed, and then his eyes flicked to Jess’s car. He gave a little wave.
She stuck her middle finger in the air.
Shit shit shit shit.
Those words helped. With the panic and the sense of failure and the disappointment of the dead.
The old ones were angry. He felt the tremors in the earth. The rumblings of their displeasure.
He had messed up. And this one was for the Goddess. Not much of an offering!
What came next? So many things could happen now, and all of them were bad.
He could still feel the crack as the box broke apart. He’d trodden it into the mud himself.
He had failed.
Chapter 25
DIRTY STOP-OUT
Wednesday 1 June
In an attempt to have her way with the LP display at the charity shop, Jess arrived early enough to have a few Richard-and-Doug free minutes. Or so she thought.
‘Someone’s keen.’ Doug was rewinding a cassette of Into the Woods.
‘There’s hope for her yet, Doug,’ said Richard.
‘She’ll never be Harriet,’ said Doug.
‘No I won’t,’ snapped Jess, shuffling the records into order.
‘She got out of bed on the wrong side,’ tutted Richard. ‘Very touchy this morning.’
‘Harriet was never touchy.’
‘Takes after her father,’ mouthed Richard, just loud enough for Jess to hear. ‘You can have the first side of the Sondheim, Douglas. Then it’s La Cage.’
‘Shallow piffle,’ spat Doug. ‘No development. No real characterisation.’
‘Can we play GI Blues by Elvis?’ asked Jess, innocently.
‘No!’ It was a duet of horror.
‘Heathen music,’ declared Doug, fanning his face. ‘All drums and hips.’
‘I like heathens,’ said Jess, arms full of vinyl.
The antique bell over the door chimed. Helena.
‘Still on for your facial this afternoon, Richard?’ she said. Bright as a button. ‘You didn’t confirm.’
‘Sorry, petal,’ replied Richard, sounding like a different person altogether. A nicer person. ‘I’ll be there, don’t you worry.’
‘Lovely. Morning Douglas, morning Jess!’ Helena waved and retreated into Fore Street, trailing delicious but unsexy perfume.
Richard peered out of the window to be sure she’d gone. ‘Do you know, Douglas, it still rankles with me that the parents of that boy got away scot-free.’
‘It was a travesty.’
‘You know, me, Doug, I never speak ill of the dead. But the boy had the gall to try and be a pop star. After everything that happened.’
‘I’m bound to say the whole sorry tale would make a stunning libretto,’ said Doug.
‘Oh, you and your dark topics. That sort of gloom does not belong in musical theatre.’
‘If it helps, I love High School Musical,’ offered Jess.
‘Madam, you go too far.’ Doug made for the back office.
‘See what you’ve done?’ hissed Richard.
Jess dumped the record collection. ‘Are you telling me you never bickered till I started here? You obviously both love it.’
‘Well. Well. Well,’ said Richard slowly. ‘Now we know. Harriet would never have said such a thing.’
This time the bell above the door announced a stranger to Jess.
Richard knew her. ‘Hello you!’ He took the woman’s elbow. She was tall. Dark. Over made-up.
A bit like a broom, thought Jess, in a wig.
‘I need some more work blouses.’ The broom moved to a rail of separates. ‘EasySleep Inn are so stingy. They supply the suit but not the shirt.’
‘We have a nice cotton,’ said Richard. ‘Sensual against the skin.’
‘Steady on.’ The broom had a raucous laugh. Jess warmed to her.
Placing GI Blues reverently in a plastic display case, Jess said, casually, ‘You work at EasySleep? You must have met my mate who’s staying there.’
‘Probably. I’m the receptionist.’ Broom studied a polyester pussy bow up close.
‘He’s got a memorable name. Unthank. Luis Unthank.’ Jess tingled. This woman might drop some nugget she could carry, like an offering, to Eden. ‘He’s been at your hotel for a couple of weeks.’
‘Not anymore.’ Broom pulled out the blouse and held it against herself. ‘Checked out a while ago. Last week sometime.’ She glanced at Jess. ‘Like you say, that name sticks in the mind.’
The doorbell chimed once again, this time offering up a breathless Rupert.
Jess bent quickly to her LPs.
‘Jess?’
Jess was resolutely unresponsive.
‘Jessica!’
‘What?’ As if bored of him already.
‘You need to come with me,’ panted Rupert.
‘I’m busy.’
‘This is important.’
‘This is important too.’
‘It’s Mary.’
Jess turned fast enough to get a head spin. ‘What about Mary?’ She knew before he said it.
‘The Ripper got her last night.’
‘Fuck.’ By the time she’d finished the epithet, Jess was through the door.
Richard shook his head. ‘Harriet never used bad language.’
Chapter 26
A VICIOUS SPOONING
Still Wednesday 1 June
> Rupert ignored the speed limit on the Richleigh road. Jess stared unseeing into the wing mirror. The news had knocked the wind out of her. Like in her dream. The one that now bled into her days. Then Rupert’s assurance that Mary wasn’t dead had hollowed her out completely.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened or not?’
‘You said you didn’t want to talk.’
‘Obviously I want to know about Mary.’
Rupert eyed her nervously, as if she was a pit bull. ‘The police think she was walking back to your place from the town, the long way home by Gold Hill. They found her lying under the signpost for Castle Kidbury. The “please drive safely” one. She can’t remember much, but she was going through a field and was struck on the head from behind. Whoever did it tried to get to her eyes, so she fought back with her karate or whatever it is—’
‘Taekwondo,’ corrected Jess.
‘Yes, that. Anyway, she saw him off and managed to get away, it seems. But she’s black and blue, poor thing. Eden rang me. Thought you might need somebody with you when you heard.’
‘Why didn’t I just go with her?’
‘How’d you mean?’
‘She wanted me to go to the Druid’s Head with her.’ A stain was growing on Jess’s soul; that’s how it felt. ‘I was in a bad mood and drove off.’
‘It’s scarcely your fault, Jess. She was attacked by a maniac.’
‘We had a row.’
‘What about?’
‘An article on the Daily Mail website.’
‘Ah,’ said Rupert.
‘Yes, “ah”. You looked a total arsehole.’
‘I don’t see why. We were just out for dinner. I can’t help it if the paps were all over Pandora. Is this why you’re so off with me?’
‘Doesn’t bother me either way, Rupert. If that’s the sort of thing that floats your boat, you just carry on.’
‘What sort of thing?’ Rupert’s sigh was loud. ‘As Pandora annoys you that much, you’ll be glad to know she’s in the air right now, on her way to Thailand. For her wedding.’
Jess tried to conceal her interest at this revelation. ‘Wedding?’
‘Yes, to Baldwin Boxall.’
‘The movie star? Bloody hell.’ Despite herself, Jess was impressed.
‘The piece in the Mail was just to stir up trouble. She’s used to that kind of thing.’
‘What was she doing back here then?’
‘Seeing the family, catching up with friends. It was nice to see her, of course, but it reminded me of why we split up. She can be a bit . . . obvious.’
‘Yes, she can.’ Jess was still cross. She just wasn’t sure who to be cross with.
Jess ran ahead of Rupert at the hospital and skidded to a halt by the police officer guarding Mary’s door. ‘Can I go in?’ she asked, out of breath.
The officer glanced cautiously at DC Knott, who lurked further down the corridor.
‘Are you next of kin?’ Knott relished her authority.
For fuck’s sake. ‘Yes, I’m her sister.’
Knott’s chin sank into her neck. ‘No you’re not.’
‘Shut up, Karen.’ Jess pushed her way through the door.
‘Oi!’ Knott chased her in.
Mary lay on the bed. Head bandaged. Arm connected to a drip. Jess rushed to her. Embraced her.
‘Jaysus, careful. I’m all broken, you know.’ Mary’s voice was cotton-wool-muffled.
‘I shouldn’t have left you.’ Jess squeezed Mary’s hand. ‘If I hadn’t been such a cow and just come into the pub with you—’
‘Ah, forget about it. You’re not me chauffeur. I thought I might finish the night with a bang. But not like that.’
‘No, Mary, I mean it.’ Jess was broken in two with remorse. Each bandage, each scrape made it worse. As if she’d personally battered her best friend. ‘I should have collected you.’ There were scratches radiating from Mary’s lovely dark eyes like sunrays. ‘We’d have sung in the car. I’d have put you to bed. None of this would have happened if I just did the right thing.’
‘I’m having a grand lie-down,’ said Mary. ‘The doctors are fit. Main thing is, I’m alive, Jess! You’re at me bedside, not me grave, so knock it off.’
A loud bang outside the window. Like a giant tea tray being thumped.
‘Where did that storm spring from?’ Rupert crossed to the wide modern window. ‘It’s bucketing down. Bloody hell!’ He took a step back as lightning crackled across the sky. They were on the top floor of Richleigh Hospital and had a ringside view of nature’s circus.
‘What’s the betting,’ said Mary, her voice weak, ‘that Shane Harper didn’t forecast this?’
‘Careful, you’re in a select club with Shane,’ said Jess. She put on a horror-movie voice. ‘Victims of the Rustic Ripper.’ A realisation jolted her. ‘If you were attacked last night and Pan is still in custody . . .’
‘Pan,’ said Rupert, ‘is not your man.’
Jess took Mary’s hand gingerly. The knuckles were bound up.
The storm ranted on outside the overheated room.
‘That really came out of nowhere,’ murmured Rupert.
A flash of lightning. A flash of memory. The strophalos on Unthank’s business card. Jess didn’t believe that Hecate’s followers could control the weather, any more than she believed in the love potions available over the internet.
The rain pelted on the glass as if it wanted to get in. Rupert left the two women to it.
‘Mary, did you meet Luis Unthank in the Druid’s Head last night?’
‘Luis Un-what? Don’t make me laugh, Jess. It hurts.’
Jess took in the machines and gadgets hooked up to Mary. She’d never forget the way this room looked and smelt. ‘He held the door for you. Leered at your bum.’
‘He sounds like a man of taste. I did get chatted up by some pretentious guy with a hipster haircut.’
‘That’s him.’
‘I gave him the elbow. Let him buy me a Guinness first, mind. He behaved as if I should be flattered that he found me worthy. Who mentions Bauhaus when you’re chatting somebody up?’
The plot thickened. Jess hoped it might become clearer, but no. It simply thickened. ‘What do you remember about the assault?’
‘Not much. I was walking, well, staggering, by the river and then somebody just kind of got me with something heavy. Didn’t see what. I was on the ground and he came at me again, so I let him have it with a son kal chigi. That bested him, so I got up and went to run, but he jumped me again. Trying to gouge me eyes out, the mad sod. I let rip with a naeryeo chagi. That floored him, so I ran. I must have passed out, further on, under the sign, because that’s where a rambler found me this morning.’ Mary frowned. ‘What the feck is a rambler, anyway? They’re always finding bodies, aren’t they? Somebody should check out those rambler dudes.’
‘You didn’t see the guy? You can’t even guess who it was?’
‘I’ve told yer man Eden as much as I can remember. It’s not easy to get a good look at someone when they’re trying to gouge out yer eyes with a spoon.’
Jess laughed. While she laughed, she started to cry. It was noisy.
‘Exactly. A spoon, I ask you.’
‘How’s your head, Mare?’
‘I’ve got a bit of concussion but it’s quite chill, to tell you the truth. A bit like top-quality ganja.’
‘I was so frightened when Rupert came for me.’
‘I’m fine. Forty winks and a cup of tea’ll sort me out.’ Mary half smiled. ‘So the toff fetched you? Maybe he’s not so bad after all.’
‘Your poor eyes.’
Eden appeared. He acknowledged Jess, then spoke to Mary. ‘I think we’ve got everything we need from you, Ms Spillane. Forensics have finished, so you’re free to . . . um . . . wash. Call me if you remember anything. Even if it seems trivial.’
‘I will, Detective Sergeant,’ replied Mary. She batted what was left of her eyelashes.
Eden went a
little pink.
Jess said, ‘Unthank was in the pub. He knows Mary’s my friend and he knows I don’t like him. Besides, she knocked him back. Male anger equals male violence far too much of the time.’
‘We’re talking to everybody who was in the Druid’s Head.’
‘Plus, according to the EasySleep receptionist, he checked out days ago.’
‘That’s not what he’s telling us.’ Eden’s brow puckered.
Jess didn’t mention the storm. It didn’t count as a hard fact.
‘Hang on.’ Jess’s thoughts dodged here and there. She wasn’t accustomed to worrying about Mary. ‘How do we even know Mary was attacked by the serial killer?’
‘We found a box at the scene,’ said Eden. ‘Splintered and smashed, but handmade, just like Shane Harper’s. No markings.’
Mary was peeved. ‘Not good enough for a fancy box like Keith Dike, am I?’
No doubt about it. It wasn’t a random mugging. Mary was supposed to die. Jess felt the vice of her conscience tighten. She might easily have been responsible for a second death.
‘Find out whether Pan made any calls from custody.’
‘You do know he’s a copper, Jess?’ Mary sounded washed out. ‘He knows what to do.’
Eden gestured to the door. Jess followed him to the corridor.
‘Let’s keep things calm for Mary. She’s putting on a front, but shock will set in soon enough. We let Pan go yesterday evening. Don’t look at me like that, Jess. His lawyers wangled bail on the drugs charges. We couldn’t make anything else stick.’
‘You let your prime suspect go and hey presto, Mary’s on her back having her eyes scratched out.’
‘You’re preaching to the choir, Jess, but Mary described someone near enough her own height. Pan’s six feet tall. During the struggle, she grabbed his face and she’s certain the assailant was male and had no beard.’
‘Can we take the word of a drunk person?’
‘I heard that,’ called Mary. ‘Nothing sobers you up faster than being attacked from behind with a spoon.’
Eden and Jess moved further down the corridor.
‘Theresa,’ said Jess. ‘We said, remember, that she was more likely to kill Mary than Gavin.’
‘She crossed my mind, but she’s a slip of a thing. Plus whoever attacked Mary carried out the murders, remember.’