Nemesister: The gripping women's psychological thriller from Sophie Jonas-Hill

by Sophie Jonas-Hill

  By the side of the pool at the Pelican Motel, Paris took hold of my hand.

  ‘You don’t think I’m ready for this?’ I asked him.

  ‘You? Oh, you’s ready, Shoog. You’s all the way ready.’ He kissed my fingers. ‘An’ I’m ready too.’

  Chapter 21

  THE HOUSE IN THE BACKWOODS was hushed. The night air had cooled and soothed its pain, and for once it was resting. Raw and vulnerable, I remembered fragments, an outline of my journey, but the closer I got to how I came to the house, the more the pictures began to break and dissolve into grey. I held the papers in my hands, almost resenting what they’d given me, because they’d not given me everything I needed, and what they had given me, hurt. Mr Pooter looked at me, as if he understood.

  Where was Paris, what had happened to him? I couldn’t even remember what it was Paris and I had planned for Red, or Rooster, and though I knew what I’d intended here, I wasn’t sure if I’d told Paris or not. I looked at the floorboard where I’d found the jewellery roll and knew I’d put it there along with the stack of Lisa’s emails. I even knew what Margarita meant to do to Red alone, though not if I could really do it without her, or quite which one of us she was. But despite all of that, I still could not remember what had happened the day before.

  ‘You gotta find him ma Cherie, afore he gone away down dat road.’

  There was a noise on the landing outside.

  ‘Count to ten, count to ten, then he’ll go away again.’

  A light flared, instinctively my hand found the handle of the revolver.

  Creak.

  I wanted so much to crawl under the bed again, close my eyes and have Lisa tell me that if I just said our song, it would all go away. Instead, I gathered myself into a crouching position and picked up the gun.

  Creak.

  The door inched open a little more, and the beam of a flashlight lit me up, writing white across my eyes.

  ‘So what, darlin’, you can’t sleep?’ Red said from behind his crocodilian smile. ‘Or is you just dream walkin’?’

  I pointed the gun at his chest, my heart thudding as cold concentration flooded through me.

  Red flinched, but he regarded me levelly. ‘You sure you wanna do that, darlin’, seein’ what happened last time you pointed a gun at me?’

  ‘Put the light down,’ I said.

  ‘Now, just you slow down. Ain’t we friends n’more?’

  ‘Put it down, now.’

  ‘If that’s what she want,’ Red said and slowly, deliberately lowered the flashlight and placed it on the floor between us. ‘That’s what she get.’ He straightened up. ‘So, seems as if you got a better idea of who you are?’

  I didn’t answer. I was desperately scrabbling through the fragments of my memory to try. Red flinched, and I responded by flicking off the safety.

  ‘Whoa – okay darlin’, you might wanna be careful with that thing.’

  ‘Keep your hands where I can see ‘em.’

  ‘Sure thing – well, this gonna make for an awkward night.’ I got to my feet. ‘Here you are, standin’ in my house, in my clothes, after I took you in and looked after you, an’ all, which was pretty big of me, seein’ as you done robbed me blind a day ago.’

  A chill washed over me, I faltered and he saw it. He kicked the flashlight up at me, and all my preparation did not stop me instinctively ducking away from it. He darted forward, and had hold of my wrist before I’d registered his movement. He forced my arm up, and the gun went off.

  ‘You wanna play with the boys, darlin’,’ he snarled as he got hold of my other wrist, ‘you best grow some balls!’ I dug my feet against the floorboards and struggled, screaming as he tried to force my gun hand down. We twisted round and I fired again. The shot exploded the top corner of the narrow, owl-faced wardrobe behind me.

  He saw his chance, let go of my hand and hit me across the face. I crashed to the floor, then he was on top of me, his weight forcing the air from my lungs as he scrambled to get a grip. I bucked and writhed under him and grabbed a handful of his hair, but he laughed at me.

  ‘Get off me!’ I screamed in his face as he pinned my arms against the floor.

  ‘Now why the hell would I do a fool thing like that, pretty?’ He grinned. ‘Just when it’s gettin’ interestin’!’ I heard the floor creak under me as the house jerked awake in the aftermath of the shots. Red took hold of my throat, his long, strong fingers gripping firmly enough to promise more. ‘I suggest you stop makin’ a racket, you cheap li’l bitch. I can’t barely hear myself …’

  There was a long, drawn out noise from behind me, something ripping, twisting, splintering – and then impact, as the wardrobe in the corner of the room, fatally shaken to its rotten roots by the shot, crashed down on us both. Red took the full force of the blow for me, like the gentleman he professed to be. The shock jolted through me, and I gasped. There I was, smothered in dust, debris and redneck aristocracy.

  The impact of the wardrobe knocked Red to one side. When I could gather my senses, I crawled out from under him and the mess of splintered wood. Coughing, I pulled myself onto all fours and saw that the old-fashioned metal coat rail, concealed inside the rotting wooden husk, had smacked into Red’s temple.

  I started to laugh despite the dust. ‘All right,’ I spluttered, looking up at the blank bedroom window. ‘I owe you one.’

  Red was prostrate, lying on his face, upper body covered in rotten wood. I grabbed hold of his legs and pulled, inching him free of the debris curse by curse, no idea how long I had before he came to. He was already muttering and stirring by the time I got him out of the way and half through the threshold.

  I kicked the debris away from the bedstead and snatched up the jewellery roll. Not standing on ceremony, I ripped off the buckles and shook the handcuffs free of the pink suede. I straddled Red and snapped the cuffs on one wrist, then the other. I got off him, and he began coughing, flinching back to consciousness.

  ‘Shit,’ he muttered, and then realized his movement was restricted. The keys for the cuffs fell out when I ripped them free, and when I picked them up, I saw the gun and the pile of emails. The case was still lurking in the space under the iron bedstead, so I grabbed it and shoved the papers inside, along with the nylon rope. Collecting the gun, I momentarily toyed with the idea of tying him to the bedstead, but the room was still groaning and shuddering with the impact of the wardrobe and I did not trust the floor.

  Making sure the safety was on, I jammed the gun into my belt, and picked up the lantern. Red had rolled onto his side and drawn up his knees to get purchase on the floor, already crawling out on the landing.

  ‘What in the hell y’all playin’ at?’ he snarled.

  ‘Stop your whining and get up.’ I prodded him with my toe.

  ‘What hit me?’ He asked as he worked himself up onto his knees.

  ‘The house,’ I said, allowing myself a smirk.

  ‘Where’d these come from?’ he said as he tried to get a hand on the floor, then realized why he couldn’t.

  ‘Enough with the questions – get up.’

  ‘Fuck you!’ he snapped, so I pulled out the gun and jabbed him in the side with it.

  ‘All right, all right. Jesus, give a woman a gun and she thinks as she’s cock ‘o’ the walk.’ Using the banisters as support, he levered himself onto his feet.

  ‘Downstairs,’ I said. ‘Seein’ as I don’t much trust the floor up here no more.’

  ‘Guess that’s the heart of the matter: trust,’ he said.

  ‘Get going,’ I said, flicking the gun to indicate the stairs.

  ‘Shame you’ve messed up the place. I was quite gettin’ to like it,’ he said as we descended, him leaning on the banister and me keeping a few feet behind him, the gun trained on his back and the lantern swinging alongside. The light billowed crazy shadows across the damp grey walls as we went, making a shadow cage of the room below.

  ‘This ain’t your place, what d’you care?’ I asked, as ano
ther groan echoed behind us.

  ‘No, it ain’t.’ He paused to look around. ‘Though, I’m thinking of making an offer, should the owner desire a quick sale.’ He tried to wipe his face on the edge of his shoulder. ‘Which he might, seein’ as how murder tends to devalue a place.’

  ‘You ain’t dead yet,’ I said.

  ‘Neither’s you, darlin’.’ He shrugged his shoulders and went on down. I paused when he reached the ground floor.

  ‘I should have realized this place weren’t yours when I saw them things in the bathroom. You ain’t got a heart condition, have you, Red?’

  ‘Only in that I don’t have much of a heart,’ he muttered, and then turned to look up at me. ‘Poking round was you? That how you found them bracelets?’

  I pulled round one of the kitchen chairs we’d sat on to eat breakfast, and shoved it toward him. ‘Take the weight off.’

  ‘How kind,’ he said and bobbed his head.

  ‘Wait,’ I said as he went to sit and plunged my hand into the back pocket of his pants for the padlock key.

  ‘Hell darlin’, I got some small change round the front if you wanna reach it.’

  ‘Funny. Now sit.’

  He smiled and took his time getting comfortable. I was aching and throbbing again after the struggle upstairs but I remained standing. When he’d sat, I threw the document bag onto the couch.

  I wasn’t quite sure how to tie him up and keep the gun trained on him. I managed to wrap the rope round each of his ankles, binding them to the chair legs. Aware that he might kick me in the head as I did this, I kept the gun pointed at his crotch, which seemed to dissuade him of the idea.

  ‘You never was a boy scout, now were you?’ he observed accurately. I threaded the rope through the handcuffs, and tied it off behind him. It looked like a mess, but it would have to do. Once he was tied, I went to the kitchen and opened the back door to the air and the sound of the night. Though it was barely fresher than the air inside, I had an exit. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes for a moment.

  Chapter 22

  ‘I THOUGHT YOU was gonna be sensible an’ slip away,’ he said, watching my return.

  ‘You just think on that, Rooster.’

  He grinned. ‘Well, seems as you have the advantage of me again, darlin’.’ He laughed, and the laugh coughed and rattled in his chest. ‘I’m guessing you’ve had something of a revelation.’

  ‘I’ve always had the advantage of you: I know you.’

  ‘Really? You found enlightenment up them stairs did you?’

  ‘Something like that.’ I grinned.

  ‘What’s your name then?’ he asked, squinting through gloom at me. ‘Just for my information you understand, nothin’ personal.’

  ‘Margarita,’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘Oh, so you’re still set on playin’ these games?’ He sniffed. ‘Seems rather rich you feel the need to attack me, when all things considered, I got a whole heap more reason to be on that side of the gun than you.’

  I tilted my head. ‘What the hell you moaning ‘bout?’

  ‘Moanin’?’ He shook his head. ‘Hell’s teeth darlin’, you still playin’ dumb? I ain’t surprised, not as surprised as I was,’ he leant back a little in the chair, ‘when I see, as it were, the vixen finding the dog-pound, just when I thought the trail had gone cold.’

  ‘You were following me?’ I said, then realized my mistake. Though I’d remembered so much of my life and why I was here, when I tried to recall the last few days the images were still dislocated, muddled. He knew things I didn’t.

  ‘I was following the both of you,’ he frowned. ‘No, I was following my Daddy’s money…’ The con, he was talking about the con. He still thought that was all this was about. ‘On that note, pretty, where is it?’

  ‘Now what would it be?’ I asked, though my attempt at subterfuge sounded clumsy as hell out loud.

  ‘Well, it, would be the bag with my Daddy’s fifty thousand dollars in it.’

  ‘Damned if I know,’ I said.

  He chuckled. ‘Now you got me wondering what you intend. In fact, I’m mostly wondering why you’s still here? I thought if you remembered me, you’d be hot-footin’ it away?’ He narrowed his eyes.

  ‘Maybe I like the company?’ I said, sure I could feel Margarita grinning at that.

  He laughed out loud. ‘Hell, I wish that were the case, but I don’t think so.’ My fingers tightened against the handle of the gun. ‘I’m wonderin’,’ he said in a low voice, ‘if there’s a whole lot more you don’t remember yet, which is why you ain’t done a midnight flit or took my head off already? I don’t think you do know where the money is, and what’s more – you don’t know what happened to Paris, do you?’

  I had no option but to let him have his little victory. He was right, I didn’t care about the money and I didn’t know about Paris, and Red knew where he was. Or wanted me to think he did.

  ‘If he’s dead,’ I said, ‘I’m gonna kill you right now.’

  Red laughed, spittle forming on his chin. ‘Now that … that’s right unfair of you – I ain’t had no hand in his death or otherwise, no more than your own sweet self.’

  ‘You saw him, didn’t you, when you went down the road?’ I raised the gun at his chest. He stopped laughing.

  ‘Now that would be tellin’.’ His eyes flicked down to the floor before he looked up at me again. ‘Your head’s more full of holes than a Swiss cheese, so what we gonna do here? Sit on our thumbs till the sun come up and you start joining the dots, or we gonna make a deal?’

  ‘No deal.’ I felt the hot, dark heat of anger pump behind my eyes. I flipped off the safety again. Red saw and he straightened up in his seat. ‘You’re gonna tell me what happened to Paris,’ I said. ‘Or I’m gonna take off your left foot, and then you’re gonna tell me. Your choice.’

  ‘That’s a mighty bold boast darlin’, seeing as you ain’t exactly a professional …’ I turned the gun away and shot the right leg off the grinning side table. It exploded into a shower of splinters. We both watched as it crumpled over and came to a rest on its side.

  ‘You wanna make a bet I can’t shoot another stationary target, even closer ‘n’ that?’ I asked.

  Red ran his tongue over his teeth. ‘My mouth’s awful dry. You find it in your heart to get me some water? Might loosen my lips a little …’

  I considered him from a moment, then I went and filled one of the coffee mugs and held it out to him. ‘You may have to help me a touch,’ he said, rattling his handcuffs against the chair.

  Gritting my teeth, I put the mug to his lips. He took a gulp of water and I watched it slide down his throat, the muscles working under his gleaming, filthy skin. Then I snatched the mug away and threw the rest of it in his face.

  He spluttered into laughter. ‘Keep tryin’ darlin’, maybe one of us will believe you mean it – hell, I’d never have given you a drink.’

  ‘What happened to Paris – where is he?’ I tossed the mug aside and sat on the couch, leaning my elbows on my knees, the gun in my hand.

  ‘That fine upstanding fellow? Jesus, his mama really call him Paris France?’ Red shook his head, clearing his eyes of water. ‘Great con – was this his idea, or yours?’

  ‘Tell me …’

  ‘Darlin’, I figure as you’re set on shootin’ me, I might as well take my time, ‘cause you won’t do it till I’m done.’ I didn’t answer, so he said more softly, ‘Or am I wrong ‘bout that?’ Of course he wasn’t. I shrugged and waved him to go on.

  ‘Like I said …’ Red leant back against the chair. ‘Nice con. I guess you an’ he was working your way through the state, just griftin’ along.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Cute, well, for whatever reason, you and your fine young buck Paris France, fixed on Daddy and me, when we were havin’ ourselves some father-son time.’

  ‘Daddy?’

  ‘Senator Daddy to you,’ Red said. ‘A good man with a son who’s been a s
orry disappointment to him.’

  ‘You surprise me.’

  Red smiled. ‘Man’s gotta make peace with himself. We met young Paris at a game we attend from time to time. I thought him a brash young fella, fuller of himself than an egg’s full o’ meat.’

  Something came back to me then, something Paris said.

  ‘Best way to get to a man? Let him think as he already got you beat, let him think he’s superior to you in every way – hell, best of all, annoy the shit outta him, then he gets to thinking as he’s doing the world a favour if he takes you down a peg.’

  ‘He irked me,’ Red said, nodding at the memory. ‘And I beat him on the turn of a card.’

  ‘Then, you let him think he’s already got you beat, let him see your desperation. If he’s a good man, he’ll cut a deal, let you go – but if he were a good man, he’d never be there in the first place. If you’ve got your mark right, he’ll never be able to walk away, not when he thinks he got you down.’

  ‘He told us all ‘bout you.’ Red smiled. ‘Said as how all he needed was a chance to double his money, said as how you’d be there next time. Make it worth our while. You should have heard what he said ‘bout you … can’t say as he was wrong, though.’

  Paris, the word scribbled in neon above the door. Was that why we chose it, because he couldn’t resist the joke? Faux black marble, black plastic tables and chairs, the tongue of a stage lolling across the room. Everything just a little bit sticky, a little bit gritty, quite a lot shitty. Testosterone, oestrogen, silicone, little back room – private, no windows.

  I saw myself then, I saw Margarita in that blond wig tied in bunches. Little denim hot pants and a white shirt knotted under my breasts. I think I was even wearing cowboy boots. I could recall looking at myself in the mirror over the vanity unit in the room in the Pelican Inn; I remembered how I stared past it out of the window to the wide, white expanse of road and the night burning along the horizon.