by Lee Martin
63
Margaret found Mahoney’s address with little trouble. It was a modern block on the outskirts of Guildford near the cathedral and university. She parked in a visitor’s bay, checked her make-up in the rear view mirror and went to the front entrance. She rang the bell for his flat and waited, feeling nervous at the thought of going on a date after so long – if you could call it a date, when really she just wanted some good sex. After a few seconds of indecision, when she actually thought she might turn and flee, she heard his voice on the speaker. ‘Push the door, and come up,’ he said, as a buzzer sounded.
Here goes nothing she thought, as she did what he said, entering the foyer and calling the lift. Mahoney’s flat was on the top floor, and he was standing at his open door when the lift opened. She was pleased to note that he had shaved and combed his hair, and he was dressed in blue jeans and a pale blue polo shirt, his aftershave smelling clean and fresh.
‘You’re punctual,’ he said, smiling. ‘Come on in.’
She followed him down a short hall into a sizable living room, one wall of which was glass, with a view of the massive tower of the cathedral. The room was sparely furnished with a sofa, leather swivel armchair, a coffee table, a big screen plasma TV and top of the range stereo system, and a couple of bookshelves crammed with paperbacks.
‘Bachelor pad,’ she said. ‘This is very nice. Must be good money in being a copper these days,’ she said, her tone teasing.
‘Just renting. Wherever I lay my hat, as they say.’
‘Good plan in our game.’
‘Drink? I have beer, wine, red or white. Scotch, gin, you name it.’
‘Wine would be good. White.’
‘Sit a minute. It’s in the fridge.’
Mahoney went back into the hall and into the kitchen, where Mags heard him open and close the fridge door. He returned with an open bottle of wine and two glasses. By then Margaret was sitting on the sofa, her skirt up around her thighs, and she knew Mahoney noticed. He put the bottle and glasses on the coffee table, filled both and handed her one glass. He joined her on the sofa and they clinked their glasses together. ‘Cheers,’ he said.
‘Cheers,’ she replied.
‘So what do you want to eat?’ he asked. ‘Pizza, Chinese, Indian, Thai. The whole culinary world is just down the road, only a phone call away.
Margaret crossed her legs and her skirt rose even higher. ‘Can we eat later?’ she asked. ‘Frankly right now, after the day I’ve had, I’d just like to go to bed.’
64
‘You don’t beat around the bush do you?’ said Mahoney, surprised at her words.
‘After what I’ve seen in the past few weeks, especially today, I don’t have time to waste. Life can be very short, and who knows where we’ll be tomorrow. I’ve lost my bloody sister, I’m feeling like shit. I feel guilty about what happened to her, and guilty about just being here when I should really be with my family.’
‘You have no reason to be guilty. None of this is your fault. So why are you here?’
‘To forget for a few hours.’
‘And I’m just handy, I suppose?’
‘Look Mahoney, this is what it is. If you want me to go, I will.’
‘I never said that.’
‘I’m not just using you Mahoney. I need a friend. They’ve been in short supply for long time.’
‘Just a friend?’
‘You know what I mean. You want to don’t you?’
‘You know I’ve wanted to, since the first time I saw you,’ Mahoney said softly.
‘But you made a good job of pretending not to like me.’
‘It was hard, but I was here for the job.’
‘And it’s hard now isn’t it?’ She looked at his crotch inside his tight jeans.
Mahoney actually blushed, then laughed. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before, Ms Doyle,’ he said. ‘Got me’.
‘At least for tonight,’ she said, standing up and taking his hand. ‘Bring the wine,’ she said, smiling at him seductively.
They went out of the room and Mahoney led her to the bedroom. It was barely furnished but the double bed, wardrobe and dresser looked expensive. ‘Nice bed,’ said Margaret. ‘Nice and big. I see you’re prepared for visitors.’
‘Came with the place,’ said Mahoney, putting the bottle and his glass on top of the dresser. ‘And I’ve always flown solo before now.’
‘It’ll make a nice change for you then,’ said Margaret as she dragged him over to the bed and peeled back the duvet. ‘Now undress me for fuck’s sake and let’s get this show on the road.’
She turned and asked him to unzip her skirt, which he did. She let it drop to the floor and stepped out of it facing away from him. When she turned back he’d taken off his shirt. ‘Nice bod,’ she said. ‘I had a feeling it would be. You must lay off the pies in the canteen.’
‘Always liked to keep in shape,’ he replied. ‘You never know what the day will bring.’
‘No you don’t,’ said Margaret, and she went into his arms and they kissed. Gently at first then harder, until her head swum, and it wasn’t the drop of wine she’d drunk that caused it. She wanted to forget about everything for a few hours – and Mahoney helped her do that.
65
When they were both satisfied, they lay back on the damp sheets. ‘That was good,’ said Mahoney.
Margaret said nothing.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘Thai,’ replied Margaret. ‘Light, but spicy.’
‘No, I mean…’
‘I know what you mean Mahoney,’ she interrupted.
‘Mike. Now we’re friends.’
‘I like Mahoney better though.’
‘Fair enough Mags. They call you Mags don’t they? Your family. I will too if you don’t mind.’
‘If you want,’ she said shortly.
‘You’re always the hard woman. But you were soft when we made love.’
‘Did you say ‘love’, Mahoney? That wasn’t love – that was sex, pure and simple.’
‘Next time it might be.’
‘If there is a next time after tonight. You see Mahoney, we’re in a bubble. And that bubble could burst,’ she said in a hushed voice that betrayed her true feelings.
He held her tightly and she didn’t push him away. ‘I know who did it,’ she said, muffled into his chest.
‘Did what?’
‘Killed Monty and Joyce, and made Sharon kill herself.’
Mahoney held her at arm’s length and looked deeply into her eyes. ‘How do you know?’
‘It’s bloody obvious.’
‘But can you prove it?’
‘No. I just know.’
‘So what are you going to do about it Mags?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to get revenge,’ she replied. For the first time she allowed her emotions to take over, and she cried real tears until the damp sheets were even damper.
66
‘You shouldn’t say something like that to me,’ said Mahoney, looking worried.
‘Why not? Because you’re a copper?’
‘I care about your safety, you know. But yes, because I’m a copper too – as are you, don’t forget.’
‘In a compromising position though. What would your DI say if he could see us now?’
‘He’d probably say lucky old me,’ he said, smiling.
Margaret laughed and dried her tears on the sheet. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Mascara. Might not come out.’
‘I don’t mind. It’ll remind me of you.’
‘You’re a real romantic Mahoney, you know that. I bet you even send Valentine cards.’
‘It has been known.’
‘I’ll have to give you my address.’
‘It could be Holloway, if you meant what you said,’ Mahoney turned serious for a moment.
‘Forget it. I got emotional. I must’ve caught it from you.’
‘What now then?’
‘Like I said. Thai.’
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‘Are you going to stay?’
‘Why? You want me to fuck and run?’
‘Just the opposite.’
‘Then I’ll stay,’ she said, looking at him directly.
‘Good. I’ll find the menu from the restaurant.’
Margaret got out of bed, grabbed her knickers, and Mahoney showed her the bathroom. On the way she picked up her phone, locked the door and called Roxie. ‘Had a good shag?’ her sister asked when she answered.
‘None of your business, little sis. We had a nice time, that’s all you need to know.’
‘Lucky girl,’ Roxie laughed. ‘He’s a doll.’
‘Listen,’ said Margaret. ‘No more waiting around. We’re on for tomorrow. Right?’
‘Right,’ said Roxie, sounding hesitant.
‘No time for second thoughts love, remember? Just think of mum. She would’ve done anything for her family, and so must we. Even if we end up in jail.’
‘Of course. You don’t think that will happen do you, Mags?’
‘Not if I’ve got anything to do with it. Trust me. How’s everyone else holding up?’
‘How do you think? Not well.’
‘It’ll soon be over,’ said Mags, determinedly.
‘One way or another.’
‘Right. I’ll pick you up in the morning from the cottage. We need a throwaway phone so I can listen in to what’s going on. We’ll pick one up on the way into town. You sure you’re up for this? I need you on-side Roxie. Remember, this is the only way that we can make sure the people responsible for Sharon’s death get what they deserve.’
‘I know Mags. I want that too.’
‘OK then, I’ll see you first thing.’
Margaret ended the call and washed her face. There was a towelling robe hanging on the back of the door and she slipped into it. It smelled of Mahoney, and she liked that.
67
They ate in front of the TV with the sound turned down and the lights low as the sun set over the town. It was peaceful, and Margaret relished it, figuring it would be the last peace she’d know for a long time. Mahoney had dressed again, but Margaret preferred to wear his dressing gown. She knew it was stupid, but for once she didn’t care.
After they’d eaten they began to fool around again, and eventually ended up back in bed. The sex was less desperate that time and lasted for hours. Almost like making love, thought Margaret, but dismissed the thought. Afterwards they lay together in each others’ arms and went to sleep.
Margaret woke as dawn broke, and disengaged herself from Mahoney’s embrace. He stayed asleep, and she thought of waking him for another go round, but knew it would only make it harder to leave, so she took her clothes into the bathroom, and quietly got dressed.
He was still sound asleep when she looked into the bedroom. Sorry Mahoney, she thought. But this is the best way, as she gathered her things and slipped out into the bright morning.
She drove back to Sharon’s, showered quickly and changed into trousers, sweater and her trusty leather jacket. She got back in her car and went out to the cottage where Roxie was waiting by the gate. How is everyone?’ Mags asked her little sister.
‘All fast asleep. Do you want to come in and say good-bye?’ asked Roxie.
‘No,’ said Margaret. ‘We’ll call them later.’
On the drive Roxie tried to tease Margaret about Mahoney, but her mood was grim and she didn’t respond. Eventually she gave up.
They were back in Battersea early, and went over the plan again before Margaret went down to the high street and bought a prepaid mobile phone.
‘I want some gear,’ said Roxie when she got back.
‘You sure.’
‘Absolutely. I need something to keep sharp,’ she answered.
‘OK, I’ll call Boy.’
She speed-dialled his number, and he answered promptly. ‘It’s me. Not too early?’ she said.
‘No. Been for a bike ride already.’
‘Really? Never had you down for the sporty type.’
‘You never know how things can change,’ said Boy, cryptically.
‘Sure. You sorted?’
‘When haven’t I been?’ snorted Boy.
‘See you in a bit then.’
She closed her phone. ‘He sounds weird, probably trying to be a funny bastard,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
68
This time Roxie drove to Loughborough Junction, and once again they left the car in the supermarket car park.
They walked to the estate, past the usual crowd of kids, and knocked on Boy’s front door. It was opened by the young black girl again, wearing a dressing gown, but with one eye swollen almost shut. ‘What happened to you?’ asked Margaret as she and Roxie went inside.
She didn’t answer, just looked terrified as she slammed the door shut behind them. ‘Sorry,’ she said, her voice wavering.
‘What?’ said Margaret, as two men came into the hall, one from the living room and one from the kitchen. Both were thickset hard case types, both wore black bomber jackets and jeans and heavy lace up boots – and both were carrying baseball bats. ‘Now, who do we have here?’ said one of the men.
‘What’s going on?’ demanded Margaret. ‘Where’s Boy?’
‘Here he is,’ said the other man, and pulled Boy out of the living room. He was white faced and shaking, and he was bleeding from a badly cut lip. ‘Sorry,’ he said, wiping away some of the blood with the sleeve of his shirt. ‘I couldn’t warn you. I tried.’
‘All that bike riding bullshit,’ said Margaret. ‘I might’ve guessed.’
‘But you didn’t,’ said the man holding Boy, a horrid smile on his face. ‘Your hard luck.’
‘Hard luck for you,’ said Margaret. ‘We’re police.’
‘Bollocks,’ said the first man. ‘You’re punters. Police don’t phone and make an appointment.’
‘Police,’ repeated Margaret.
‘Cagney and fucking Lacey,’ said the first man. ‘Better call for back-up then. Ain’t that what you do on TV?’
Margaret said nothing.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ said the second man, letting go of Boy. ‘Where’s your radio? Stupid cow. Now he owes us, and I bet you’re holding. So let’s have your bag.’
He made a move towards Margaret, and Roxie spoke up sharply. ‘Leave her.’
‘It speaks,’ said the first man. ‘Bit tasty too. We were going to have fun with the spade, but we prefer white meat.’
‘Fuck you,’ said Roxie, pulling the big Colt automatic from under her sweatshirt, and pointing it at his head. The pistol still looked massive in her tiny hand, but she held it steady. ‘It’s old, but it’s reliable,’ she said, ‘and it’s full of hollow point bullets. If I shoot you in the face from this range it’ll blow your head into the middle of next week.’
The black girl put her face in her hands and slumped back against the wall, crying silently.
‘Now drop the bats,’ ordered Roxie. ‘And down on your knees. That’s what they do on TV ain’t it?’
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ said the first man, but the blood was gone from his face.
Roxie cocked the pistol with a click that was loud in the silence of the flat. ‘Try me,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again if I have to. Take my word for it. I might look like a pretty face but I will fuck you up with no hesitation.’
The bats hit the carpet as both men went down onto their knees.
‘Why’d you bring that?’ asked Margaret.
‘Didn’t like the vibes last time,’ said Roxie. Then to Boy. ‘No offence.’
‘No offence taken,’ said Boy. ‘Christ I wish I had a sister like you.’
Roxie grinned, then ordered both men into the living room at gunpoint and made them sit on the sofa, hands under their backsides. ‘So what do we do with them now?’ she said.
‘You owe them money?’ Margaret asked Boy.
He nodded.
‘Can’t pay
?’
He held both hands out palms upwards. ‘Cash flow,’ he said.
‘Seems to me you’ve become too fond of your own product.’
‘You know what it’s like,’ said Boy, sheepishly.
‘OK,’ said Margaret. ‘You two. Wallets.’
They both pulled wallets from the pockets of their jackets. Margaret looked inside both for ID, then satisfied, she dropped both into her bag. ‘I’m keeping these,’ she said. ‘Now, then boys. Trousers off.’
‘Do what?’ said the first man.
‘You heard. Trousers off. One at a time. Roxie,’ she said, turning to her. ‘Seems like these boys can’t hear properly.’
Roxie grinned and steadied her gun. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Do what the lady tells you. Slowly.’
The first man stood awkwardly and lowered his jeans, exposing yellowing Y-fronts. ‘Right off,’ said Margaret.
He tugged his trousers off and dropped them on the floor.
‘Sit down again’, said Margaret. ‘And you should get your mum to do your laundry.’
He did as he was told. ‘Now you,’ she said to the other man.
He obeyed. This time it was Union Jack boxers ‘Patriotic,’ said Margaret. ‘The queen must be so proud of people like you. Right, off you go.’
‘The car keys,’ said the first man, a look of panic in his face. ‘In my pocket.’
‘Forget it,’ said Margaret. ‘There’s a bus stop round the corner. Hope you’ve got change.’
‘Have a heart,’ said the second man.
‘You beat up this young girl and you’re asking me to have a heart,’ said Margaret. ‘You’re lucky we don’t give you a taste of your own medicine.’
The two men went to the door. ‘We’ll be back,’ they said.