Heller's Revenge (14 page)

“Do what?” I asked,
insensitively un-clairvoyant.

He flushed. “The professional
service we talked about last night. Remember?”

“Oh!” I sat up, interested for
the first time that day. “
That
professional service.”

“Yes. I think I’m finally cured
from your assault.”

I rolled my eyes, but moved my
lazy butt off the lounge and rang the concierge. They always know
everything. This one didn’t even pause in his response, so I
figured it wasn’t the first time he’d been asked for such
assistance. He recommended a particular escort service that catered
to the high-end of the market. I rang them and relayed Clarrie’s
very particular requirements: young, compliant, attractive, big
boobs.

“Thank you, madam. A beautiful
young girl will be visiting within half an hour.”
I hope she
wasn’t too young
, I thought. We didn’t want the police
involved.

Clarrie couldn’t sit still. He
paced around the room with nervousness, sitting down briefly only
to jiggle his legs compulsively, before getting up to pace again.
Finally there was a knock on the door. He stared at me in fright
and I actually felt a bit sorry for him.

“Sit down, calm down, I’ll get
the door,” I soothed, opening the door to welcome our evening’s
guest. She was a lovely little thing, barely twenty-years-old,
softly blonde with a sweet face, big brown eyes and gigantic boobs,
which I wasn’t convinced were real. Her name was Kitty and she was
obviously not a hard, dick-breaking bitch like me so Clarrie was
ecstatic. She was so acquiescent and feminine that he grew in
stature, taking control and becoming manlier. I was almost proud of
him as he greeted her kindly and taking her by the hand, led her
into his bedroom.

I settled down with the TV for
some peace and quiet, but was astounded when Kitty came out of the
bedroom only ten minutes later, dressed in a bathrobe. She plonked
herself down in one of the armchairs.

“Finished already?” I asked with
amused amazement.

She shook her head in wonder.
“He’s in there snoring his head off! Must have lasted about five
minutes. I barely had a chance to take off my clothes before it was
all over!”

I giggled and she joined in for
a minute. She shrugged good-humouredly and threw her hands in the
air.

“Oh well, easy money for you,” I
commented, taking to her immediately. She was older than I’d
initially estimated, but cultivated her youth with skill. She
seemed kind and genuinely sweet. “You’re just what he needed. He
tried to jump me last night and I nearly killed him. I’m really not
his type.”

“Wouldn’t have thought so, not
with the Amazon look you have going,” she said admiringly.

“Huh?”

“You know, you’re tall and lean
with those muscles. You’re a bodyguard or something, aren’t
you?”

Wow! Someone who was impressed
with my muscles. I loved this woman!

“Kind of. He’s very horny, so I
had to find some outlet for him, ‘cause it sure as hell wasn’t
going to be me! Hey, are you interested in a gig with him for the
next two weeks or so?”

“Sure, especially if it’s
anything like tonight. As you said, easy money for me. And he seems
like a lovely man. From our very brief acquaintance.” We both
giggled again.

“Good. This could work out very
nicely. It’s up to him though, of course,” I said.

“Of course.”

“Do you want a cup of tea? Or
something stronger?”

“I’d love a glass of wine. I
usually have one this time of night. Normally my clients offer me
some refreshments before we get down to business.”

“Sorry. He has no manners at
all. He’s just not used to women.”

“I gathered that!”

I went to the maxi-bar, and
after consulting the menu, chose the most expensive bottle of white
wine on offer and poured two very generous glasses. I handed Kitty
her glass and sat down again, cradling mine.

“So what got you into the escort
business, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Just putting myself through
university.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. Times are
tough and I have a kid to support. My mother is looking after her
tonight. Obviously it’s not my ideal career choice, but it pays
well. I’m studying architecture.”

I felt guilty thinking about my
middle-class upbringing and how I’d taken my parents for granted
while I lived it up at uni, letting them pay for every indulgence.
And then I didn’t even finish my degree, dropping out for an
impoverished life in the fickle acting arena.
I should have rung
Mum tonight
, I thought with regret.

We chatted for ages and I
refilled our glasses again, until Clarrie woke up and poked his
head out looking for Kitty. I raised my eyebrows at her, and she
graciously left her wine and rejoined him in his bedroom. I cleaned
up and prepared for bed. I didn’t hear from either of them for the
rest of the night.

I had made sure that I turned my
phone off before I went to bed so that I wouldn’t be woken up by
any more early morning calls from Heller. I woke fairly early, and
deciding to risk it, went down to the hotel gym, smiling at a cute
businessman who stepped into the lift. He smiled back and I had the
feeling he was going to chat me up. But he was headed for the
ground floor and I stepped out at the third floor where the gym
facilities were located before he had the chance. I had a brutal
workout with the treadmill and weights, and made my weary way
upstairs again.

I took a quick shower and
dressed, then turned on my mobile again. Freakily, it rang almost
immediately. I could see it was Heller ringing, but I decided to
answer anyway.

“Yes?” I asked impatiently.

“Matilda.” His voice was
plaintive.

“What do you want, Heller?”

“I wanted to see how everything
is going. To see if you’re okay.”

“Well, don’t ring me to ask me
that! It annoys me! If everything’s going okay, I won’t bother you
just to tell you that. If there’s trouble, I will tell you. So
don’t ring me to ask me how it’s going! I’ll let you know if I need
help. That’s why you left me alone for so long, isn’t it? To deal
with everything myself? So stop ringing me!” It was an
incomprehensible rant, even to my own ears.

“I miss you, Matilda.”

I hung up and turned off my
phone. It was his own fault that he was missing me.

I ordered room service for the
three of us and guessed at what Kitty would eat. A lot, I suspected
thinking of her situation, so ordered her the full greasy fry-up as
well. But by the time the lovebirds deigned to leave Clarrie’s
room, their breakfasts had gone cold, the fat congealing
unappealingly on the plates, and I’d had to order them more.

I had to hand it to Kitty. She
seemed genuinely affectionate towards Clarrie, and he revelled in
her attentions. They had a romantic breakfast together, dressed in
identical hotel bathrobes, cooing at each other and she didn’t even
seem to mind his disgusting table manners. I fetched and carried
like a servant and cleaned up after them, and they didn’t even
notice they were so wrapped up in each other.

Eventually though, Kitty had to
leave and Clarrie regained some semblance of normality. He agreed
willingly to have her return each evening.

“She’s so beautiful. I think I’m
in love with her,” he stated seriously. I compared it with Will’s
recent similar confession and found Clarrie’s sadly lacking in
conviction. “She’s so feminine and willing to please – not like
some women.”

Whatever
, I thought to
myself. To him, I asked brightly, “What shall we do today?”

He frowned. “I’m going to work
today, of course.”

“Of course.”

And we settled into a routine.
We would invite Kitty around each evening, earlier and earlier,
until she was eventually sharing dinner with us. I didn’t mind –
she was good company, articulate and charming and kept Clarrie’s
horrible table manners from my mind. They would then disappear into
Clarrie’s bedroom for the rest of the night. I would wake up early,
exercise and order breakfast. They would eat together much later.
Kitty would leave. Clarrie would work. And rinse and repeat. There
was little for me to do except order meals, arrange laundry, surf
the internet, watch TV, exercise, call my friends and family and
Will, email my friends and family and Will, and ignore Heller.

On the first day of the second
week, just days away from the award ceremony, I went down to the
gym again early in the morning. When I returned, as I pushed the
door open, I noticed a blank envelope in the entrance hall to the
suite, as though it had been stuffed under the door. Puzzled, I
picked it up and opened up the letter it contained. It was crudely
lettered:

CLARRIE COCKHEAD!

YOUR DEAD!

LOVE M.

Terrible spelling
, was my
first thought. My second thought was to wonder whether this was a
real threat or not. It didn’t sound too threatening. I mean, it was
signed ‘love’ after all. To me, that signified a level of intimacy.
And it had someone’s initial attached. And it also referred to
Clarrie not Clarence, which was how he was always referenced in the
media. Perhaps Clarrie knew who wrote it? Maybe one of those
jealous university friends? Perhaps it was a joke?

I had no choice but to wait for
the answers, because there was no movement from Clarrie’s room.
When they finally came out for breakfast, I waited until Kitty had
left before I asked Clarrie about it. He immediately went pale and
had to sit down. I was afraid he would faint he was so
colourless.

“You know who it is, don’t you?”
I accused mercilessly.

“N-no, no,” he stuttered. “Well,
maybe.”

“Clarrie?” I demanded.

“I should have told you from the
beginning. I’ve been receiving threatening letters and phone calls
for a while. All from this M person. From this city. But I don’t
know who it is. They keep threatening me with death!”

I rubbed my face with my hands.
“And you didn’t think this was important enough to share with
Heller?”

“Sorry, Tilly.”

Shit!
“Have you had any
other contact with ‘M’ since we’ve been here?”

“No.”

“And you think these threats
originate from this city?”

“I’m pretty sure. The letters
are post-stamped from here and the phone calls are international
ones.”

“Is there anything else you’re
not telling me, Clarrie? Because if there is, now would be a very
good time to tell me.”

“No, honestly, there isn’t!”

I didn’t know whether to believe
him or not. He had already lied to me about the threats he’d been
receiving.

“You have to tell me
anything
that happens from now on. All right? I’m taking
this seriously and I want you to as well.”

“Okay, Tilly, I promise.”

At least now I understood why he
had wanted some security with him. I’d wondered why he had thought
it necessary, given the fact he hadn’t even left the hotel room
once the whole time he’d been here.

He spent the day quietly on his
laptop. I busied myself doing my normal activities. Niq, Daniel and
I were counting down the days until my return. I had reminded them
via email that I was expecting the best feast ever concocted in the
Heller’s
household. They had promised me nothing less. I
deleted Heller’s emails after committing them to memory, still
refusing to reply. To be honest, I was missing him a lot, but was
far too stubborn to admit that perhaps this job hadn’t turned out
to be as bad as I’d dreaded. I really couldn’t wait to go home. It
was less than a week left with Clarrie, and I thought I could
probably get through the days without going completely crazy,
especially now that he was so preoccupied with Kitty.

She arrived as usual in the
early evening, and I rang room service again for dinner. Kitty and
Clarrie ordered extravagantly – oysters, caviar, asparagus,
strawberries, every aphrodisiac food known to humankind. But I
found myself ordering more and more frugally as time went by. I was
sick of the limited room service menu, even though the food came
from the hotel’s award-winning restaurant. I wanted fresh
vegetables, fruit and meat cooked simply. I wanted to spend a
pleasant half-hour browsing in Heller’s pantry, planning a meal,
before cooking it for myself. God, I was so ready to go home!

The lovebirds disappeared into
Clarrie’s bedroom, and I turned in for the evening, grabbing my
phone and ringing Will. He entertained me detailing precisely what
he was going to do to me the next time we met, but perversely, I
had a very erotic dream about Heller that night, not him.

I woke up early again and was
heading down to the swimming pool for a change of exercise routine,
when I noticed another envelope sitting in the entry. I opened it
cautiously.

CLARRIE COCKBRAIN!

TELL THE TRUTH

OR I WILL KILL YOU!

LOVE M.

The truth about what?
I
wondered. I think Clarrie had some further explaining to do. I
waited until Kitty had left before thrusting the new note under his
nose.

“What do you need to tell the
truth about, Clarrie?” I demanded.

“I don’t know! Really, Tilly!
This madman keeps saying and writing that and I don’t know what it
means.”

I stared him straight in the
eyes for a while, very unsure as to whether he was lying or not. My
instincts were telling me he was being evasive and knew more than
he was letting on, but his wide blue eyes stared back at me
innocently. I let it go for the moment. I couldn’t make him tell
me, unless I tortured him.
Hmm, torturing Clarrie?
I spent a
pleasant few minutes contemplating that possibility, before I
reluctantly pushed it from my mind. He was the client, after
all.