Scarlet Women

‘They told you she’s gone, my baby?’ asked Louella, tears spilling over again.

Annie nodded sadly. She indicated one of the front pews. Louella heaved a sigh and sat down. Annie sat beside her.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.

‘Oh, I sorry too,’ said Louella, choking on a sob. ‘I’m sorrier than I can say. The police, they come to me and they tol’ me what happened, they tol’ me they got the one who did it. I said to her so many times, don’t do that stuff, why you got to do that when you could get a nice job, be a good girl like I promised your mama you would be. How could I tell her that her little one was doin’ things like that when she sent her here to me, put her in my care, expected her to get a good life for herself?’

They tol’ me they got the one who did it. Annie’s guts churned and her mind rebelled. They had Chris; they were convinced he was the murderer. Annie was equally convinced he wasn’t.

So prove it, she thought. She had to, or Chris was fucked.

Louella was looking at her. ‘Yeah, she spoke about you,’ she said again. ‘You’re one of the bad people, the people my baby should never have got herself involved with. I know about the big gangs, the things they do. I know. You were with Max Carter.’

Annie took a breath. ‘I’m in charge now,’ she said.

‘Yeah, you’re bad people. I know that,’ said Louella.

‘I’m not a bad person, Louella. I was a good friend to Aretha. She was an even better one to me.’

‘Yeah, you say.’

‘Hate the sin, not the sinner?’

Louella looked at her sceptically.

‘That’s neat, turnin’ my own words back on me,’ she said.

‘We both loved her. That’s what matters. We both want to see who did this brought to justice.’

‘They got him, her husband, he done it.’

‘Did you know Chris?’ Because if you did, you’d know this is all bullshit.

Louella shook her head. ‘No, but I seen him at their wedding. He sure was frightening to look at.’

Being frightening to look at was going to prove a problem for Chris, and Annie knew it.

‘I was at the wedding, of course,’ Aunt Louella went on. ‘Even though I was angry with her for what she did to make a livin’. We’re talkin’ family. She was my baby. But we sort of drifted away from each other. I wanted her to change her ways; she wouldn’t. It made things…hard.’

Annie was silent. It was cool in the church, peaceful. Outside, traffic roared, people fought their corner in the heat and glare of the City. In here was tranquillity. Annie watched the vicar moving about at the altar, repositioning a highly polished candlestick, brushing a fleck of dust from the altar cloth. The dumpy little pop-eyed organist was gathering up his sheet music, fussily arranging the papers in order.

‘Do you need help? With the arrangements?’ she asked Louella.

Louella shook her head. She sighed.

‘They won’t release her body yet,’ she said. ‘I asked them. I said I wanted to lay my baby to rest, but they won’t do it, not yet.’

‘When they do, I can help.’

Louella shot her a scornful look.

‘You think I’d bury my baby with gang money?’

Annie looked at her steadily. Louella’s eyes dropped away.

‘It’s what we’re here for,’ said Annie. ‘To help our own.’

Louella shook her head. ‘I don’t want nothing to do with any of that.’

‘Well, think it over.’ Annie stood up. ‘Funerals are expensive. I know you can’t earn much…’

‘Whatever I earn, I earn by honest toil,’ said Louella sharply. ‘I’ll manage. Thank you.’

Annie nodded. The vicar had gone into the vestry; the organist was gone too. The church was empty, but for Annie and Aunt Louella. Their voices echoed when they spoke.

‘My door’s always open,’ said Annie. ‘If you should change your mind…’

‘I won’t.’ Louella’s face was closed off and truculent as she stood up too. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Carter.’

Annie sighed. She looked up at the altar, and then above to the glorious stained-glass windows. She stared at them and wondered where God had been when Aretha was fighting to stay alive.

Chapter 7

Tony drove her up West to the hotel where Aretha had met her last client. She was sure she was wasting her time, but if there was anything, anything, she could turn up by poking around, then she knew she had to try.

‘You want me to come in with you, Boss?’ asked Tony as they pulled up outside.

‘No, Tone. I won’t be long,’ she said, and jumped out of the back and trotted up the steps to the plush hotel. The doorman, resplendent in purple with gold braiding, tipped his hat to her.

‘Good morning, Madam,’ he said.

She nodded and pushed through the swing doors. She looked around as she crossed to the reception desk. It was some place. There was a lot of pink marble, a fountain in the centre of the lobby, big, cream, velvet-covered buttoned chairs and reading lights on console tables. She could see a guest lounge through an open set of double doors to one side, two lifts on the other, beside a huge, gold-painted sweeping staircase.

At the reception desk, a purple-suited and smiling blonde whose name-badge said ‘Claire’ asked if she could help.

‘I hope you can,’ said Annie. ‘Two nights ago a friend of mine died not far from here. This was the last place she was seen alive. With a guest of yours.’

The smile vanished.

‘I’m not sure I can help you with that,’ she said.

‘I’m not sure you can either,’ said Annie. ‘That’s why I need to speak to the concierge who was on duty that night.’

The phone started ringing. The girl turned to it with obvious relief. ‘If you’ll excuse me…?’ she said.

‘Sure,’ said Annie, and waited while the girl took a booking for the following weekend.

Claire replaced the receiver and turned back to Annie.

‘As I said, I’m not sure we can help…’

And then the phone rang again, and Claire gave Annie an ‘oh, sorry’ smile as she picked it up. She took another booking. Annie waited.

‘So sorry about that,’ said Claire, and then the phone rang again. She picked up. Then her professional smile died on her lips as Annie snatched the phone from her hand and replaced it on the base, cutting the call dead. Annie leaned over and pulled the phone jack out of its socket. Claire’s mouth dropped open. Annie gave her a tight smile.

‘The fact is,’ Annie said, pausing to glance at the girl’s badge, ‘Claire. The fact is that my friend is dead and I’m upset, so bear with me here and don’t even think about plugging that phone back in unless you want to be wearing it as a necklace, you got me? I need to speak to your concierge, preferably this year and not next. Preferably within the next five minutes. Preferably now. So call him up or have someone fetch him or whatever it is you have to do, and stop it with the fucking phone, please, because this is very, very important, do you understand?’

Claire nodded slowly. She’d gone pale.

‘That’s good,’ Annie congratulated her. ‘That’s very good, I can see we have an understanding here, Claire. Now, what’s his name, this concierge who would have been on duty two nights ago, at gone midnight?’

Claire fiddled about with some papers on the big curving desk. She found a list, and checked down it. She