Something Wicked (17 page)

Then he saw his couple.

Andrew nodded towards the pair in the centre of three booths on the far side of the room. ‘See them?’

‘Yep.’

‘She’s far more into him than he is into her.’

‘How do you know?’

The couple were on opposite sides of the table; she was wearing denim cut-offs over the top of dark tights with a low-cut top. He had a too-big shirt, jeans and a chunky silver chain around his
neck.

‘For a start, every time she says something, he replies with a much shorter response.’

‘What does that show?’

‘Watch.’

The man picked up his pint glass, took a large mouthful and then plonked it back on the table, staring sideways towards Sky Sports News on the big-screen television. Moments later, his partner
had a small sip of her wine, before putting the glass back down.

‘Did you see how he picked his glass up from the left side of the table as he was looking but put it down on the right? When she picked hers up, she put it down on the same side as his.
It’s called mirroring.’ Andrew had known all about it long before Jenny tried to pull him up on it in the car. ‘Look at his phone too. It’s on the table but right next to
his hand. If it rings or he gets a text, he can grab it straight away. There’s no way he wants her looking at it first. It’s all subconscious.’

Andrew continued watching the couple. It was largely guesswork, albeit educated. He felt a tugging on his sleeve and turned to see Courtney pouting at him, eyes twinkling. ‘What about
me?’

He laughed nervously, trying to escape her stare. ‘I’m not naïve.’

‘Have you got a place?’

‘I’ve got an apartment in Beetham Tower.’

‘How high?’

‘Near the top.’

‘Impressive.’ She paused for another, larger, sip of her martini. ‘So what do you say?’

Andrew downed the rest of his drink in one, swilling the alcohol in his mouth and feeling the Coke stick to his teeth. When he swallowed, he felt slightly light-headed. ‘How
much?’

‘One fifty an hour or five hundred the night.’

Behind him, the girls in the centre of the bar were cackling again. Andrew stood and plucked his jacket up. ‘Let’s go.’

Typically, the security guard at the bottom of the tower was back on duty. Andrew ignored the knowing look as Courtney clung onto his arm and they headed for the lifts.

Inside, the journey was slightly more exciting than it usually was and by the time it sizzled up to his floor, Andrew’s top lip had practically been chewed off. Courtney smudged a lipstick
mark away from his face with her finger, pressing her body into his and rubbing her knee into the inside of his thigh.

Ping!

She leant in, husky breaths dancing across Andrew’s ear. ‘We could just use the lift all night if you want?’

‘Er . . .’

‘Or you can show me your apartment?’

‘Okay.’

It was easier to talk with single words.

She clasped Andrew’s hand as he led her along the corridor, half-hoping the other residents would actually come out of their flats to see the sight but really hoping they didn’t. He
fumbled in his jacket pocket for the keys, dropping first his coat on the floor, then the keys. Courtney ran a claw along the small of his back, digging her nails in just enough to make
Andrew’s entire body shiver.

Inside and she strode past him, heels clip-clopping on the hard wooden floor as Andrew closed the door behind them. Courtney stood in front of the huge window, gazing down towards the city as
she wiggled her hips slightly, shaking her way out of her jacket until she was wearing just her dress, shoes and whatever might be underneath.

Andrew’s mouth suddenly felt dry. He tried to speak but his tongue was stuck to the top of his mouth. ‘Mmmf gdrm drrrink.’

Courtney turned, one hand on her hip, looking anything but a little teapot. She tossed her hair back, thrusting her chest forward. ‘Sorry?’

‘Do you want a drink?’

‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’

Andrew dragged his eyes away from her, heading for the kitchen. The glow from the fridge provided a cooling respite, although barely calming Andrew’s pounding heart.

This was not the type of thing he usually did.

He poured himself a glass of water from the filter jug, dampening his mouth before carrying two glasses through to the living room. Courtney was still standing close to the window watching the
city breathe, but now she was naked except for a pair of heels, dress ruffled on the floor next to her.

She turned and took the glass, sipping the icy water. Her mischievous eyes didn’t leave his, before she carefully placed the glass on the small side table.

The sentence purred from her lips. ‘Is there anything you’d particularly like to do? I’m not really shockable.’

Andrew tried to hide unsuccessfully behind the glass and water. That was the problem with transparent things. He took another sip and put down his glass as Courtney click-clacked across the
floor towards him.

‘Just, er, normal things, I suppose.’

Her lips curved into a perfect half-smile. ‘You sure?’ She stood in front of him, pressing her body into his, and then leant forward and whispered her own ideas in his ear. When she
was finished, she took his hand and headed for the bedroom.

Andrew perched on the edge of his bed, staring out towards the city below. In the distance, a fluttering orange glow burned bright on one of the estates. Someone clearly
wasn’t interested in the fact that Bonfire Night had passed a few weeks ago and was determined to keep the spirit of Guy Fawkes alive. Either that or they wanted to set fire to things.
Strobing blue lights glided around the streets close to the blaze: police and fire officers on a normal Friday-night call-out. Andrew wondered if those who had set the fire would be waiting for the
authorities, stones and bottles at the ready. He thought about the fires he’d witnessed and the people whose lives had been changed by them.

The bed covers moved and then Courtney was sitting behind him, resting the front of her body against his back. He wanted her to stop but didn’t have the heart to say anything.

The husky tone to her voice had gone and she sounded more northern again. ‘You really shouldn’t worry about it.’

Andrew didn’t know how to reply. It had been one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. He wished he could go back to the bar and say that he wasn’t interested.

‘I know . . .’

‘It happens to everyone at some point.’

That was no comfort.

‘I’m sorry for wasting your time.’

Courtney nuzzled the back of his neck, being the person he wanted her to be. Not exactly what he’d paid for but close enough. ‘Oh honey, you didn’t waste my time.’

‘It’s not you . . .’

She didn’t reply, knowing full well it wasn’t her who had the problem. For a while, Courtney simply held him, arms wrapped around his chest, breasts rubbing against his back. They
watched the flashing blue lights surround the fire in the distance, shortly before another smoky orange flash sparked to life a short distance away.

‘I hope they’re not rioting again.’

Courtney’s muffled whisper was perhaps the first honest thing she’d said all evening and Andrew couldn’t disagree. The news had been full of it for the past month, with two
‘respected businessmen’ dead. Everyone knew that was code for possible crime bosses and Andrew had even seen his CID friend on the news, scowling at the camera and pretending she
didn’t care. It felt as if the underbelly of the city was changing. Andrew was glad he only had to skirt around the edges of it all. Other people would be at the centre, trying to hold things
together.

More pulsing blue lights flowed out of the city towards the fires. Slowly, the pale lights of pubs and apartments began to switch off as the rest of the centre decided it was time to go to
sleep. Above, the moon tried to fight through the clouds, faint wisps of white seeping through the mist.

Andrew didn’t know how long had passed since they’d come into the bedroom. He was enjoying the warmth of her body against his, as if it was natural and something Courtney really
wanted to do, as opposed to a service she was providing.

Her whisper flitted across the back of his earlobe. ‘What would you like to do?’

‘You can go if you want.’

‘I don’t mind staying. You have a beautiful place here.’

Andrew sank lower on the bed, pressing backwards against her, knowing what he’d had to do to afford the place. ‘Perhaps we can just talk?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I think so.’

‘Well then, honey, I’m all yours until morning. How about you start by telling me what her name is?’

The charcoal flakes were still smudged across the office door as Andrew put his key into the lock, before realising it was open. Inside and up the stairs, Jenny was already
there, singing to herself, drinking a cup of tea and typing on her keyboard, all at the same time.

She turned as he entered noisily, laptop clattering into the doorframe.

‘What’s up?’

Andrew made his way across the room, managing not to bash into anything else as he unhooked the computer satchel and took his jacket off. He was hoping Jenny had stopped staring at him but she
was like a bird of prey eyeing its morning meal, those brown eyes searching for answers.

‘Who says anything’s wrong?’

‘I do.’

She might not have known the right thing to say to Lara, but Jenny was a bloody psychic when it came to him. One that hadn’t just learned how to cold read and really did know what he was
thinking.

Andrew didn’t need to reply because she already knew. Jenny spun back to her screen. ‘Why don’t you just look her up? She shouldn’t be that hard to find.’

‘What makes you think I don’t know where she is?’

Jenny twisted back, fixing him with a stare over the top of her glasses that he couldn’t escape. ‘So why not get in contact again? It’s obvious you want to.’

‘Who says it’s obvious?’

‘I do.’

And there was no arguing with that . . .

Andrew had no idea why he’d ever told Jenny anything about Keira. She still didn’t know the half of it but had dragged the information from him like a succubus feeding on its
quarry.

‘It’s not that simple,’ he said.

‘How hard can it be? Find out where she is, give her a call, say hi and away you go.’

That was love-life advice from someone who never mentioned her boyfriend’s actual name.

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

Andrew wasn’t sure why he didn’t end the conversation but he was wilting under Jenny’s gaze. He finally managed to gulp a half-hearted response: ‘It was me who broke it
off with her.’

Jenny paused, the whites of her eyes illuminated by the overhead bulbs. She started chewing on the end of a pencil. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

She sounded genuine but Andrew finally yanked himself away from her stare. ‘Maybe another time?’

Jenny rotated back to her monitor, chewed pencil back on the desk. She rummaged in a box of Jaffa Cakes and pulled one out, nibbling around the sides. ‘Do you want to hear about Kristian
Verity?’

‘Okay.’

She continued snacking until there was only a dark chocolate disc remaining. ‘It’s a bit of a different name so he didn’t take too much tracking down. He’s got an
appalling credit report, mainly because he’s moved around so much. It seems he stops in one place for a year or so, then drops off the radar, then emerges somewhere else.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Odds and ends. I thought you’d probably want to go and talk to him before I told you too much.’

Andrew reached for his coat again. ‘Thanks. You can go home now if you want? I’ll pay you for the day.’

Jenny peeled the cake base away from the Jaffa Cake with her tongue and reached for the box. ‘I’d rather come with you.’

‘Let’s go then.’

Andrew hadn’t heard from the fire service when he could have his car back, or if it was going to be salvageable, but was gradually becoming used to the hire car.

He turned on the ignition, with the radio blurting to life right in the middle of a weather report promising that another cold front was on the way.

Jenny offered the Jaffa Cake box in his direction. ‘Want one?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Good – more for me.’

Andrew set the sat nav for the most recent address for Kristian Verity: a place out Eccles way which sounded awful, even on paper. The doomsday weather report led into a news item about how many
shoppers were expected to be in the city centre that weekend with the advent of the Christmas markets and then it was on to an old Bee Gees number.

Balls to that.

Off went the radio, leaving just the sounds of the purring engine and Jenny’s Jaffa Cake-munching.

Andrew cleared his throat, focusing on the road, wondering if he should risk it before finally blurting it out. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

Nom, nom, nom. Jenny ate her way around the circumference of a cake. ‘If it’s about whether Jaffa Cakes are a cake or a biscuit, then they’re definitely cakes. If you leave
biscuits out, they go soggy. If you leave cakes out, then they go hard. That’s how you know the difference – everyone knows that.’

‘I didn’t want to ask you about cakes.’

She scooped the cakey part away and started picking at the small flecks of dark chocolate. ‘Go on then.’

‘You’re twenty-three, so why aren’t you out and about? It’s five weeks to Christmas, there’s all sorts going on in the centre.’

Jenny licked the circular piece of orange jelly clean – a wonderfully professional job of Jaffa Cake demolition. It really didn’t get better than that. Top, top work.

‘Pfft.’

‘Is it that you particularly like work, or that you don’t like other things?’

Jenny popped the remnants of the snack into her mouth and shrugged. A picture might paint a thousand words but a shrug could dismiss a thousand questions.

‘I don’t even know your boyfriend’s name,’ Andrew added. ‘We’ve been working together for months. You just call him “my boyfriend”.’