Personal Protection (23 page)

“You should get your hand seen to. Why don’t we go to my place?”

Then she turned to the woman again. You’ve been forced to leave your home since you attacked your husband and he took out the restraining order. I’ve a comfortable sofa, if
you’d like a place to stay the night?”

Tori wound the crepe bandage round my hand and tied it off. “How’s that?”

I flexed my fingers. “Good.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“So am I.I thought I’d wrapped the whole thing up.”

She took my face in her hands. “You’ve found Sammi’s rapist. Discovered who’s been harassing the other girls. And got cut up. Again. Isn’t that enough for one
night?”

“I wanted to deliver your attacker before you left. I wanted you to know whatever happens next I will always think about you, worry about you, love y…”

She clamped her mouth over mine.

“I know,” she told me when we came up for air.

“Are you sure about her sleeping in there? I mean we don’t know for certain that she…

“I do. It wasn’t her, Randall. She was wearing it again tonight, the perfume. It’s not the same. Whoever it was, their body chemistry made it smell sweet. Lou Lou doesn’t
smell like that on Sharon. Besides, Sharon’s straight. She wouldn’t have the first clue about what to do with a dildo. Whoever raped me knew exactly what they were doing, and came
prepared. Trust me, we’re perfectly safe. You won’t need to spend the night on a kitchen chair. Not that I’d let you.”

She slid her hand inside my open shirt and down. I glanced at the locked door and our impromptu guest. She gripped my chin and twisted it back to face her.

“Forget about her. Your only thoughts should be giving me something to remember you by, as quietly as possible.”

“You’re the one who makes all the noise!”

“We’ll see about that…”

“…It was the strangest thing. The following night, Tori took her in, introduced her to the other women, let her tell her story and apologise. And they forgave her!
They were crying over her! I got pushed out of the dressing room.”

“Honorary man?”

“Yeah. She stayed the rest of the night, watched what went on at the club. Then went home with Sammi!”

“Well,” Dean mused, “I suppose if anyone knows what a straight woman wants it would be someone who’d been a man. Though I use the word ‘straight’ very
liberally in this case. Is she still at home with Sammi?”

“Far as I know.”

“Another convert.”

“Looks that way.”

I dug in my pocket and handed over a pile of cash with a receipt.

“What’s this? Not that I’m not happy you’re giving me money, Randall!”

“Severance payment from satisfied customers for services rendered.”

He began separating bills like with like, and flipped open the drawer that contained his favourite toy: an electric banknote counter, the sort you see drug lords and money launderers using in
hip crime movies. He set it on the desk and powered it up.

“Is there enough, do you think?”

“Since we’re doing the ladies a discount, there will probably be some change.”

I flexed my hand.

“You should let Craig look at that. You should have come round.”

“It’s OK. I didn’t want to wear out my welcome. It was very late.”

Dean looked at me. I turned away.

“She’s gone, hasn’t she?”

“This morning.”

“I’m sorry, Randall.”

“Thanks.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced back tears. “I keep wondering if Craig was right. If we’d been living together, would she have considered
Stringfellow’s offer? Would she have gone?”

“You’d both have been unhappy and broken up not long after in angry recriminations. It would have been ‘you only stayed with me out of pity’ versus ‘you held me
back when I could have been somebody.’ You wouldn’t have been comfortable with the compromise. You’re not cut out to live with someone, even if you’re sharing your life with
them. No matter what Craig says! I saw how antsy you were during the days she was staying with you, while she was recovering and we were fixing up her place. And I know you. You did the right
thing.”

“If you love somebody set them free?”

“Yes.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?”

I threw myself into work. By night I spelled Dean on a surveillance he was running at a big computer place on an industrial estate. It had been burgled three times in the last
month.

Surveillance is one of the most boring, uncomfortable jobs on the planet. This one was at the South Shore end of Blackpool, near the airport. Aside from hangars, the terminal and warehouses that
make up the estate, there are were no other buildings. Dean and I were forced to camp out in parked maintenance trucks or squat behind the dark corners of the warehouses.

Weren’t the buildings covered by CCTV? Yes, they were. The thieves had found a way to avoid the cameras, or hack into them and persuade them they hadn’t seen anything. We had to wait
around turning into ice cubes for the villains to arrive. Catch them in the act.

It was autumn. October. Cold or wet by turns. At the end of the first hour I was aching and miserable. More stretched ahead to contemplate all the things wrong with my life.

We were no closer to finding out who raped Tori. At least one woman was capable of raping and maybe killing, if Lisa’s murderer and Tori’s attacker were the same person. That and
Sammi’s rape were the most important unresolved things in my life. Even with Tori gone I couldn’t let it go. I’d made promises. I always keep my promises.

Time to look at the suspects.

Tori’s certainty aside, Sharon stayed on the list. The perfume was right, she had means, motive and opportunity. And she had no alibi for the time of Tori’s rape.

Then there was Grey. If he was capable of one rape, might he not be capable of another? And since Grey was in with the Chief Super, who better to know how to throw investigators off the scent
(literally!) or create a false trail altogether?

Which brought me to another point. In spite of the news report trumpeting Lisa’s murder, there had been a distinct lack of action in investigating the crime. No suspect in custody, no
arrests pending. Couldn’t this, too, point at police involvement? A cover-up. Or an attempt to sweep an unfortunate mess under the carpet for someone well connected?

If Grey wasn’t responsible for either the murder or Tori’s rape, shouldn’t I be looking elsewhere? At someone who was a constant visitor to the Bird of Paradise? Someone whose
private dance with my girlfriend had had decidedly sinister connotations?

The coroner’s time of death was too vague to pin anyone down for Lisa’s murder. I had no way of knowing where he been at the time of Tori’s rape, and it certainly looked as if
he was guilty of covering up Sammi’s rape. What more was the Scottish git responsible for?

Our investigations into the girls and the bouncers had been fruitless. None of the girls had motive or opportunity. Villiers was the only man with a criminal record, and he had an alibi for the
time of Tori’s rape. He’d also had no motive for revenge until I came along.

Likewise the patrons, both male and female. Greg and Sharon had their own agenda, and all the recent disturbances we knew of had been handled on the premises. There were visitors to the club and
tourist members, but we had no hope of tracing them and they were a long shot anyway.

We had only three real suspects and no proof. Try as I might, I couldn’t gather enough evidence to put all the pieces together and make a whole – though I couldn’t escape the
feeling I was overlooking something. Pondering on the problem took my mind off the cold and the boredom of the surveillance. Two hours and incipient frostbite later, I still hadn’t a
candidate.

I left without spotting any burglars, but with numb toes and a sense of frustration.

I came home in the morning to find my building up for sale.

This was the first I’d heard! Hammering on the owner’s door produced no response.

“He isn’t home. He moved while decorators overhaul it. He’s hoping for a quick sale.”

I looked up to find my other neighbour, Ashley Hayes, sitting on the stairs.

“When did this happen?”

“Couple of days ago. I left a message on your machine.”

“I’ve been keeping pretty irregular hours, I haven’t had time to pick everything up.”

I’d been working so hard, out so much, that when I got home all I could do was fall into bed. I had text, ansaphone messages and e-mails from Tori in the first few days. Which made it feel
like she was still down the road. Since then, just as it had been when she was here, we were working such contradictory hours we couldn’t hook up. Now I tended to skim through the other stuff
to find hers.

“What brought this on?”

“Property market boom. He thinks he can sell the building with tenants. I don’t know if the new owner will let us stay when our contract expires. Mine’s the end of next
month.”

Mine was the month after next.

What was I going to do? The rent was high, but a good deal compared to other places.

“I’ve been looking at my finances to see if I could afford to buy him out. These days I’m just a student. I couldn’t do it alone. I have savings. With a partner or as a
co-op I could.”

He gazed at me with puppy-dog hopefulness. I was sure he’d melted plenty of ladies’ hearts with that trick. He didn’t have the right plumbing to interest me so it didn’t
work.

“I have some pretty heavy financial commitments, Ash.”

“Don’t we all? But if we can generate the capital, the mortgage can’t come to more than we’re already paying in rent. We’d own the place then. It wouldn’t be
dead money.”

It was tempting. But I couldn’t think where I was going to find the money for a down payment – nor anyone who’d offer me a mortgage considering what I did. It was bad enough
getting the loan to buy into the business with Dean. And life insurance? Forget it!

I accepted his offer of a non-alcoholic drink. (Does everybody know I’m on the wagon?) And since Cecily was out, I went up to his flat to talk some more, in spite of my misgivings. Mainly
because I couldn’t see any alternative. Partly because he was so enthusiastic and hopeful, I didn’t immediately want to dash his hopes. Also I admit because I was curious.

As we talked I began to see why Cecily liked him. He was warm, friendly, easy to chat with and though he was six feet tall and bodybuilder broad, he didn’t crowd you with his physical
bigness. He was so pretty that if I hadn’t known better, I’d have said he was gay. The guy could charm birds out of trees. He’d make a great brief.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how the hell did you end up with Cecily?” (OK, it was rude, but I had to satisfy my curiosity.)

He laughed. “I don’t mind. I always hoped we’d get around to talking about this one day. I know you were together. She still misses you. Some days you’re all she talks
about.”

My skin crawled. Ever wish you hadn’t asked something?

“You were the main reason I moved here. I wanted to take a look at the competition!”

Fuck! More shades of
Basic Instinct.
“And now you have?”

“I like you. I don’t feel threatened. What you had with Cecily is different from what she has with me. I think you did the right thing, breaking it off. Cess can be obsessive. You
and Tori look good together. I think Cess has a healthier sex life with me, no offence intended.”

“None taken.” Though now of course I wondered what Ash considered a healthy sex life. Ruthlessly I thrust those thoughts out of my head. I wasn’t going to ask! He’d get
the wrong idea. He was already flirting with me – perhaps unconsciously, perhaps by design. Maybe he thought my sexuality was as fluid as hers? I’d have to nip that in the bud.

“But you asked me how I ended up with her. It’s pretty cliché, I suppose. Eager student; sexy, successful tutor. We were both adults. So…”

If things between him and Cecily were as rosy as she painted it, why wasn’t he living with her? I didn’t have to ask.

“We both like our own space. She has her place and I have mine. I was a dot com millionaire. I got out just as the market crashed. Lost some, so I’m not rolling in it. I decided to
use the money to retrain. That’s how I have some readies to think about buying out the old moaner downstairs.”

I’ve been working with a detective too long. I see conspiracies everywhere.

We batted the idea around. Made some calls.

We were still talking, he reluctant to return to studies that were boring him, me disinclined to return to a flat that seemed too empty, when sadistic Cecily of the flexible sexuality walked in.
I made my farewells and fled.

I had one of those uncomfortable meetings with Cecily on the stairs a day later. She blocked the top of the stairs from side to side. In order to get past I either had to talk
to her or physically remove her. Which was, of course, her intention. We’d hardly spoken since our run-in at the memorial.

“I hear Tori left you.”

“She didn’t leave. She’s in London. Trying out for Stringfellow’s.”

“If you say so, Randall. We both know she isn’t coming back. Her flat’s been on the market for a week.”

That was news to me.

She reached out. I shot backwards so quickly to avoid her touch I almost fell down the stairs. She smiled indulgently.

“Like a skittish thoroughbred race horse.”

I hated that she was getting off on my revulsion.

“You will come back to me, Randall, we were made for each other.”

“Never!”

“Never say never, Randall. Did I tell you I’ve put in a bid for this place? I’ll let you stay for a price. I’ve been thinking of some interestingly painful things to do
to you. If you co-operate, I won’t raise your rent…” She leaned close “…much.”

“I’d rather live on the street.”

She laughed cruelly. “Be careful what you wish for, Randall.”

When he heard about the latest earthquake to shock my life, Dean watched me like a hawk to see if I’d crawled back into the bottle. It was tempting. But it wouldn’t
solve anything. I had no money for booze. If the worst happened and Cecily or another unsympathetic landlord bought the apartments, I’d be out, without time to prepare. I needed money for the
bond on a new place. The amount I’d need to drink myself into oblivion was on the way to half a week of my current rent; I couldn’t afford to drown my sorrows in a bottle.