Imago (4 page)

I could feel my hands clench.

“Yeah, all right,” said the tart, and I gestured towards the kitchen.

I’ll come clean now and say I was already quite drunk. I was nervous – so nervous – and I had to have something to calm my nerves. I’d heard of alcohol having the wrong kind of effect, of course I had, but I was in such a state before she arrived that I thought I’d risk it. I’d already had about three large whiskies before the door went.

The tart strutted into the kitchen like she owned the place. I’d kept the strip light off and the only light came from a candle I’d placed on the kitchen windowsill. The girl stopped when she saw it and I could see she was momentarily disconcerted. Perhaps she was thinking that I only wanted to do the romance thing. I’d heard of men doing that – hiring tarts to pretend to be their girlfriends for the night.

I didn’t want the romance thing. I wanted everything.

I poured her a whisky without asking her what she wanted. She sipped and made a face, as if it wasn’t the best aged Laphroaig. After Mother died, almost the very day she died, I’d gone to the sacred drinks cabinet, where unopened bottles had stood ever since Father had left, and broken the seal on the first one I could find. There were only a few left now.

After her first sip, she knocked it back in one swallow, grimacing as if it were medicine.

“All right,” she said. “I ain’t got all night. Let’s get going.”

“R-right—” I began, but before I could say any more, the tart said something like “Fucking dark in here” and snapped on the light switch.

There was a moment of blinding dazzle after the strip light stuttered on. Both of us recoiled slightly, blinking. I had time for a second of outrage about the fact that she’d just taken it upon herself, in someone else’s house, to dictate the light levels. It was
my
house. Who did she think she was?

I only had time for a second of thought because at that moment she saw me clearly. A moment later, a harsh disbelieving laugh rang out into the kitchen.

She was laughing at me.

For some reason I thought of Mother and her sneer that was half a smile. Before I could even open my mouth to tell her to shut up, I flinched backwards against the kitchen counter and suddenly the steak knife was in my hand.

“Shut up!” I hissed, and I thrust the knife forward.

Did I just mean to scare her? I don’t know. All I wanted was for that mocking laughter to stop. The knife sank into her stomach, piercing the fleece. The tart said, “Oh,” a sound of surprise rather than pain. We both looked down at the knife protruding from her belly, just to the right of the zip. I still had hold of the handle.

There was a moment of silence. Then she drew in her breath and screamed, shatteringly loud.

Panicked, I snatched my hand back and drove the knife forward again, not caring where I hit her. I just had to stop the noise. But the strangest thing happened. As the blade sank into her, again and again, I – well, I…

La petit mort,
 they call it. I was swept away, lost, carried away on a release so powerful that when it finally stopped, I believed for a second I had died too.

When I came back to reality, I was face down on the body of the tart, my hand still clenched around the handle of the steak knife that was buried deeply inside her. I was wet with blood and not just with blood. I rolled over onto my back, next to the body on the kitchen floor, gasping for breath and holding the knife against my chest like a talisman.

Chapter Four

“Don’t forget we’re training again tonight,” said Olbeck as they got into the car.

Kate gritted her teeth.

“I hadn’t,” she said, after a moment. “That’s all we do, every night. Every day and every night.”

“You’ll thank me,” said Olbeck breezily. “Tell you what. How about we do our run and then you come over for dinner with me and Jeff?”

Kate was waiting to join the main road. She used the time spent gauging the oncoming traffic to think over Olbeck’s suggestion. It was tempting. Jeff was Olbeck’s partner – Kate kept thinking of him as Olbeck’s ‘new’ partner, despite the fact they’d been together for just over a year. Jeff was thirty-eight, an academic specialising in sports sciences and a fitness fanatic. Kate knew who to blame for Olbeck’s newfound fitness regime and his punishing insistence that Kate join in. Still, it was a minor niggle.

Jeff was warm, witty, nice-looking and a supportive and easy-going boyfriend to her friend. She’d spent many an enjoyable evening with the two of them: at dinner parties, at the theatre, at a barbeque with mutual colleagues and at lazy Sunday brunches at the local pubs. Kate and Jeff got on very well and she could see that he and Olbeck were a loving and committed couple. And yet… And yet…she felt guilty thinking it, but she couldn’t deny it. Occasionally she wished it was just her and Olbeck again, as it had been when he was single. She felt terrible for even thinking that, but at the same time, she couldn’t help it. 
You’re jealous
, she told herself again. Not jealous because she wanted Olbeck for a 
boyfriend
, for God’s sake. But jealous because before Jeff appeared, it was just the two of them and now there were three and now Kate was the odd one out.

It was funny; for years she’d been happy with her own company. She hadn’t wanted a partner. Unlike those women who said they were happy being single because they thought if they said that sort of thing out loud, the universe would reward them with the perfect man, Kate really had been happy being single. She had enough friends and enough interests to fill those odd hours that weren’t taken up with work. But now…she sighed inwardly. Now, she felt differently. 
I’m lonely. I want someone of my own. Not just someone. One person – Anderton.

 
Kate drove ruminatively, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

“Let’s go and talk to Claudia Smith now,” she suggested. “She sounds like she knew Mandy, even if just in a casual way.”

Olbeck nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

There were two branches of Boots the Chemist in Abbeyford: a small shop on the outskirts of the town and a much larger central store in the main shopping area. Kate and Olbeck made their way to the latter, reasoning that Claudia Smith would be more likely to be found here. They were correct. After enquiring at one of the make-up booths, they were directed to a small bank of tills at the rear of the store.

Claudia Smith was easily picked out by her nametag. She was a small, dark-haired woman. As Kate observed her as they waited in the queue, she could see that Claudia was an excellent example of a basically pretty girl whose thick make-up, hugely volumised hair and overload of cheap jewellery negated rather than enhanced her attractiveness. Kate looked at the thick foundation, the hard line of black eyeliner, the orange fake tan and the huge, cheap silver hoops which dragged down Claudia’s earlobes. Why did women 
do
 this to themselves? Did they genuinely think they looked better? Kate supposed they must. She had a secondary thought that those kind of women probably looked at her and wondered why she wasn’t making more of herself.

Claudia’s till became free and Kate and Olbeck stepped forward.

Kate introduced herself and her partner and flashed her card. Claudia’s heavily outlined eyes widened.

“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Smith,” said Kate, realising that Claudia was also casting anxious glances towards an older woman hovering nearby who was clearly her line manager. “We’d just like to talk to you about Mandy Renkin. Would you like us to wait until you finish your shift?”

Claudia looked as though she wanted to agree but perhaps realised that asking the police to wait – loitering in the aisles, with her work colleagues giving them curious glances – would be worse. She shook her head and said “I’ll just ask if I can go” before scurrying off to her line manager. Kate and Olbeck shifted a little to allow some shoppers to pass them by. After a minute or two, Claudia Smith came back, minus her Boots tabard and with a much studded and fringed but obviously cheap leather handbag.

Kate’s conscience gave her a little nudge.

“I hope we haven’t got you into trouble with your boss, Miss Smith,” she said. “We’ll be happy to talk to her if necessary, explain how things are.”

Claudia shook her head. She was walking quite quickly, with her head down.

“It’s all right,” she said in a small voice. “Is it okay if we talk as we go along? It’s just I have to pick my daughter up from the childminder’s.”

She barely looked out of her teens herself. How old was her daughter? Kate asked her.

“Four.” Claudia’s make-up-caked face brightened a little. “Her name’s Madison.”

“Perhaps we can give you a lift,” suggested Olbeck. “That might give us a little time to talk.”

When they were parked a few metres away from the childminder’s house in Arbuthon Green, Olbeck turned off the engine and turned in his seat to face Claudia and Kate, who was sitting next to her on the back seat.

“We’re trying to find out something more about Mandy,” he said. “Were you friends with her?”

Claudia nodded nervously.

“We were at school together.”

“And you’ve been friends ever since? You kept in touch after you left school?”

“Sort of. We both – we kind of both got into bad situations.” Claudia’s eyes flickered downwards. “Mandy started seeing this guy, Mike Fenton. He was really cool, everyone wanted to be with him, and Mandy was the one who ended up with him. But he was really bad news, got her into drugs and all that. She kind of dropped off the scene for a bit, for a long while actually.”

Kate had been listening closely. She suppressed a sigh at the usual sad story: schoolgirl promise squandered on a boy who was a bad lot, someone who dragged you down into the gutter. And once you were there, it was almost impossible to climb out.

“Did Mandy get back in contact with you? How did you both end up at the Mission?”

Claudia fiddled with her earrings.

“We kind of kept in touch, off and on,” she said. Her gaze dropped again. “She was a good mate to me. She helped me out when – when I needed it. She’d got off the drugs then, left Mike and was kind of getting herself back together again.”

“When was this, Claudia?”

“I dunno. About two years ago.”

“Was Mandy working as a prostitute then?”

Claudia’s orange-hued face went faintly pink.

“I dunno,” she said, again. “We didn’t really talk about stuff like that.”

“But she was kind to you?”

Claudia nodded. “She was there for me when I need her. Gave me some money, helped me—” She stopped for a moment. “She helped me get out.”

Olbeck shifted a little in his seat. “What happened, Claudia?”

The girl kept her eyes down and spoke haltingly. A sad tale of a relationship that seemed to start off well, an accidental pregnancy, an older man who, when his partner was at her most vulnerable, decided to begin abusing her.

“That’s very sad,” said Kate. “You left the relationship, though?”

“Yeah. I had to. I took Maddy one night and got – got out. Mandy helped me. She came and met us and took us to the hostel.”

“Was that the Mission?”

Claudia shook her head. “No, a woman’s refuge. We couldn’t stay there for long, though. I used to take Maddy to a church toddler group, and I met Father Michael there. He told me there were mother and baby rooms at the Mission, and I managed to get one, after a while.”

“How long have you been at the Mission?”

“Not long. Only a few months.”

“But you like living there?”

Claudia shrugged. “Yeah, it’s all right. I’ve got my name down for a council flat, but I dunno how long that’s going to take.”

Olbeck shifted again in his seat, easing the ache in his neck from twisting around to talk to Claudia.

“So Mandy was a kind girl, Claudia?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was, as long as she weren’t on the drugs. Then she were a right bitch.” The girl coloured a little. “Sorry. It’s just that – well – I knew she’d started using again just recently.”

“How did you know?”

“I could tell. Also she started stealing again. She stole a silver locket that me mum had given me for Madison.”

“That must have been very – hurtful,” said Olbeck. “Were you angry with her?”

Claudia gave him the boldest look she’d managed so far.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Did you argue?”

“Sort of. I didn’t get a chance to say much. She just slammed out, and I didn’t see her again.”

Claudia’s words seemed to strike her, and Kate saw her eyes become shiny with tears.

“I didn’t see her again,” repeated Claudia, softly.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Kate, automatically. Claudia nodded silently, blinking.

“Did Mandy have a boyfriend that you know of, Claudia?”

Claudia shook her head.

“I don’t think so. She never mentioned anyone.”

“Did you ever see her with a man or – or a boy? Did anyone ever come to visit her that you know of?”

“No,” said Claudia. She was shifting a little in her seat. Then she pulled out her phone and checked the time.

“I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to get Madison now.”

“Right, that’s fine,” said Olbeck. As Claudia went to open the back door, he recalled something else.

“Claudia, one more quick thing. Did Mandy have a handbag that she used?”

“A 
handbag
?” asked Claudia, and Kate was reminded of the line by Lady Bracknell in
The Importance of Being Ernest
. She tried not to grin. God knows, it wasn’t funny in this context.

“What d’you mean?” asked Claudia. “Yeah, she had one, just one. She used it all the time.”

“What did it look like?”

Claudia indicated her own bag.

“Like this. We got ‘em together except Mandy’s was white.”

“Just like yours?” Kate checked. Claudia nodded. Kate quickly grabbed her phone and took a photo of Claudia’s bag. Claudia didn’t protest but looked a little startled.

“Thanks, Claudia. Here are our cards, if you think of anything else, please let us know.”