Dirty Game

‘When Celia comes back she’s going to find this place humming along like a fucking Rolls-Royce.’ Annie looked around at her little gang of workers. ‘We still offer the massages and the personal services, should our clients require them.’

Dolly smirked at Darren now. ‘Bad luck, Darren, you’ve got to keep putting postcards in the post-office window. That ugly bloke in there fancies you something rotten.’

‘In his dreams,’ sniffed Darren.

‘Just don’t bend down to pick up your paper,’ said Dolly.

‘Last time he asked me to go into the back room with him,’ said Darren with a shudder. ‘Said he needed a hand lifting some heavy boxes.’

‘Whatever he was thinking of lifting, I don’t think it was boxes, honey,’ said Aretha with a big grin.

‘Aretha will put the ads in, she’ll be safe enough,’ said Annie. ‘I’ve reworded them a bit. How’s this? French polishing carried out with discretion and skill. And the phone number. And this one with the flute lessons, we’ll put one of those in too.’

The assembled company looked at the cards and nodded begrudging approval. Everyone on the street knew that French polishing indicated chargeable sexual favours, and that flute lessons were blowjobs.

‘We’ll have themed parties,’ said Annie. ‘Lay on booze and food, music on the radiogram, it’ll be good. Any questions?’

She waited for the protests to come. Who are you to give orders? What makes you think you can just take charge here? But, much to her surprise, nobody said a word. She couldn’t quite believe it.

And what if she’d got it wrong? What if the party idea was no good?

They’d laugh their bollocks off at her and she knew it.

The phone was ringing in the hallway. ‘Okay then, that’s all for now,’ she said, and went out into the hall.

Annie watched them go upstairs and then snatched up the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Tell me you’d consider a nude sitting. Just one,’ said Kieron.

‘No.’

‘Heartless cow. I’ve an exhibition in two months and it needs a centrepiece, and that centrepiece has to be you in all your glory, how about it?’

‘No.’

‘I told you, the money’s good.’

‘I don’t need the money, Kieron, I’ve got another job.’

‘Then do it as a favour to a pal. Come on, Annie. It’ll be the ruin of the exhibition without it. Am I to tell Redmond or Pat that you aren’t co-operating with my requests, is that it?’

Annie’s good-natured smile vanished. ‘That isn’t funny, Kieron.’

‘Sorry. Forgive me, but you’re talking to a desperate man. Come on. You’ll be safe. I’ve no desire to jump on your lovely bones.’

Why not? Annie wondered, feeling affronted. She knew he was speaking the truth. He wouldn’t abuse the situation. She wondered if she’d mind if he did. She hadn’t even thought about sex since that one night with Max. Ah, not true, she’d thought about sex with Max over and over again.

‘I’d be embarrassed,’ said Annie.

‘Think of me like a doctor. I’m not eyeing you up, I’m painting you, for fuck’s sake. Ah, come on. Didn’t I show you the other day that you can trust me?’

Annie wasn’t so sure about that. He’d looked really riled up when she’d left the studio last time. But maybe he’d only been playing with her.

‘Kieron, I’m really busy. Maybe Pat’s told you I’m looking after Celia’s place for her?’

‘I don’t talk to Pat if I can help it,’ said Kieron. ‘You sure you know what you’re doing?’

There was real concern in his voice. When had anyone last shown concern for her? Annie tried to remember. Ruthie had. A stab of pain wrenched at her gut as she thought of Ruthie, always leaping to her defence. God, she’d been such a bitch to her, what had the poor cow done to deserve her for a sister? She hadn’t deserved Ruthie’s kindness. And she could do without Kieron’s. But he was a friend. And she thought she could trust him. After all, he was totally indifferent to her charms.

‘I’ll do it as a favour to you,’ she sighed.

‘What a great girl you are.’

‘Spare me the Irish bit. I want triple wages, not double.’

‘A great girl and a hard one,’ groaned Kieron.

‘You can afford it. You’re a Delaney.’

‘Deal then. Come on Wednesday and we’ll make a start.’

Annie said goodbye and put the phone down. It rang again. She picked up. ‘Hello?’

‘Eddie Carter’s dead,’ said a scratchy female voice.

‘Mum?’ Annie clutched the phone harder.

‘I thought you ought to know.’

Connie sounded sober for once. Then she began to cough, which sounded vile and seemed to get worse as the seconds slowly passed by. Annie felt cold inside. She still had the horrors when she thought about that night. The day after it had been like cleaning out an abattoir. The mattress had been too bloodstained to save and they’d had to burn the whole thing. Everyone had pitched in, scrubbing and polishing, to get Darren’s room straight again. Celia had bought a new mattress. Life had gone on. But not for Eddie.

‘Why would I want to know?’ asked Annie, swallowing hard.

‘Max said it happened at Celia’s place. Not that I’m surprised. That tart mixes with all sorts. Is it true she’s vanished?’

‘She’s on a break,’ said Annie, feeling more loyalty to her aunt than to her own bloody mother. Her head was spinning, a million things were buzzing around her brain.

‘My arse. She’s legged it, hasn’t she? There’s going to be trouble over this.’

‘When’s the funeral?’

‘Friday at twelve. They’re burying him next to Queenie.’

Annie put the phone down. Her mother was still talking but there was nothing else she wanted to hear. Max’s brother dead. Killed here, in this house. For once in her drink-sodden life, Connie was right. There was going to be trouble.

 Annie called Darren back down to the kitchen.

‘Eddie’s Carter’s dead,’ she said when she’d shut the door and was sure they wouldn’t be overheard.

Darren went white. He sat down quickly at the kitchen table. Annie sat too and waited for him to gather himself.

‘Did you see who did it, Darren?’

‘Would I say if I did?’ asked Darren.

‘It won’t go any further.’

They exchanged a long look. Finally Darren shook his head. ‘I wish I had. No, I don’t. What am I saying? If I’d seen the bastard’s face he’d have done me too.’ He ran his hands through his hair, leaving it stuck up on end. ‘No, I didn’t see anything. He was wearing a bowler – he had a scarf tied round his face. He was heavy-set, tallish. But more than that I couldn’t say. He just smashed me right on the nose and then carved up that poor little git while I was half out of it on the floor. You know the rest. Honest, Annie, that’s all I know. I thought I was a goner. It was horrible.’

Annie patted his hand. She didn’t know what to say.

‘Will the police come?’ asked Darren anxiously.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Annie. ‘No outsiders know he was attacked here, and Max Carter will keep it quiet at his end. He’ll have one of his tame doctors make out the death certificate, say Eddie died of natural causes, pay off any coppers if they get a sniff of anything iffy from the ambulance men, and that’ll be that.’

‘So we’re in the clear?’

Annie shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. It was bugger-all to do with us, I just wish Celia could have realized that before she did her moonlight flit.’

‘Have you thought that maybe Celia didn’t go of her own free will?’ asked Darren.