Scarlet Women

feeling.

She followed on with Dolly, stepping out into the vivid sunshine. Annie looked around, but Hunter was gone. At the graveside there was the same old horrible, painful routine, and she stood through it stoically, endured it, as they all did.

Finally it was over. The vicar, the same slender man with the beard that Annie had talked to last time she’d come here, the same one who had apparently been falling-down drunk at Dolly’s place, withdrew. The organist, who had played throughout the ceremony and conducted the choir was hurrying off along the path to the gate. The mourners began to disperse. Annie stepped forward, Dolly trailing a pace behind, and was suddenly face to face with Louella.

‘I’m sorry if I upset you at the funeral parlour,’ Annie said without preamble. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’

‘Your intention?’ Louella echoed tearfully, her eyes full of disgust. ‘Girl, you one sick lady.’

‘No, Louella. I was looking for something. Something that might explain why Aretha was killed.’

‘You wonder why Aretha was killed? I’ll tell you why, you just listen to me,’ said Louella forcefully. ‘She died because she did bad things, mixed with bad people. People like you. People who use others. People who have no morals, no beliefs, no nothing.’

‘That ain’t true,’ said Annie.

‘It is true. You want to apologize? Well, I don’t accept your apology, and I don’t accept your explanation either. You just keep out of my way, you evil creature: that’s all I want from you,’ said Louella, and barged past Annie.

Annie caught her arm. ‘Louella…’

‘No!’ Louella whipped round, her face twisted in anguish, sobs making her voice come in fits and starts. ‘Don’t you dare say another word. You got nothing to say that I want to hear, you got that?’

Annie let go of Louella’s arm. She stepped back. Louella turned away.

‘Shit,’ said Dolly wryly, ‘that went well.’

Annie turned and glared at her. She was being buried in crap right now and Dolly was making fun.

‘Sorry,’ said Dolly, dropping her gaze.

‘No.’ Annie took a breath. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve caused trouble and I’ve messed up, and I’m sorry, Doll. Look, you go on to Louella’s place for the wake if you like.’

‘Shit, no. Don’t think I could take all that today, not after this. Think I’d rather just go home.’

‘Okay then. Take the car. Be sure and check on Mira, will you?’

‘What are you going to do? I tell you, you’d better leave Louella the hell alone for now. She’s had a gutful, and next time she’ll swing for you, I swear.’

‘I’m not going near Louella. You go on. Tell Tone I’ll get a cab.’

The vicar was already in the vestry, taking off his white robe, his ceremonial black sash. Annie knocked on the half-open door. He looked up, gave a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

‘I hope so. You remember me? I came here before, talked to you about the…the deceased.’

Jesus—deceased. Aretha, the deceased.

‘Oh yes.’ He was hanging up the robes, his movements hurried. ‘It’s a bit of a bad time, actually. I’ve another service this afternoon, and things to do before then.’

‘I won’t take up much of your time,’ said Annie.

‘I’m afraid I can’t spare any time at all, not today,’ he said, turning back to her, his longfingered hands busily folding the black sash, laying it neatly aside.

‘I’m afraid you must,’ said Annie.

The vicar was suddenly still, staring at her blankly. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You heard me. A few minutes, that’s all. Oh.’ Annie fished in her bag, pulled out a couple of tenners. ‘And a donation. For the church roof. Or whatever. Don’t the steeple need repointing or some damned thing?’

Now his face was distinctly unfriendly. He looked disdainfully at the money, then back at her face. ‘Just say what you’ve come to say and go,’ he said.

‘Aretha. Girl you’ve just buried, you did her wedding ceremony.’

He shrugged. But his eyes were watchful.

‘Only she was pretty memorable to look at. Gorgeous, tall, black. Very distinctive. And the man she married was huge—a bouncer, an ex-boxer. I think you would have remembered them, but when I spoke to you last time, you weren’t sure. You thought maybe one of your lay preachers had done the job. But they didn’t. It was you.’

‘Oh. Well.’ He shook his head, his eyes moving away from hers. ‘I do a lot of weddings. Hundreds.’

‘Bet you don’t go to many receptions though,’ said Annie. ‘And get wasted.’

That touched a nerve.

‘Look, what is all this about?’ he demanded, an edge of aggression to his voice now. He stepped towards her, and now she could see the broken veins on his cheeks, the yellow cast to his eyes. Heavy drinker. Heavy regular drinker.

‘Nothing much,’ shrugged Annie. ‘I’m just wondering how you could have forgotten doing that particular wedding—tall black girl, big bouncer; very memorable pair—and getting drunk afterwards at the reception and running off at the mouth about fallen women…Or maybe you just wanted to forget you’d done it. What’s up, did your guard slip, did your secret come out, do you often end up lying blotto on someone’s else’s floor?’

‘All right!’ Now he was angry. ‘I conducted the ceremony.’

‘Then why not come straight out and say so?’ ‘I drank too much that evening, made a laughing stock of myself, I didn’t want to remember it, and I didn’t want any of my parishioners remembering it either. I felt ashamed of myself, I’d let myself down—is that good enough for you?’

Annie stared at him for a beat. ‘Ain’t there a line in the Bible, “Judge not lest ye be judged”?’ she asked. ‘Only, you were making judgements left, right and centre, by the sound of it. Which don’t seem quite right, coming from a man of the cloth.’

‘I’d had too much to drink. I may have said some unfortunate things…’ he started, colour mounting in his mottled cheeks.

‘Oh, you remember that much then, we’re making progress here. Now you remember you did Aretha’s wedding, and you remember you got abusive and drunk at her wedding reception, upset people all to hell. If we keep on going with this, do you think you’ll remember anything else?’

He looked at her. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘I mean that three working girls are dead, and you denied all knowledge of one of them, which has incidentally turned out to be a lie. I mean that you got falling-down drunk and started showing your true colours at Aretha’s wedding reception, and now I’m wondering if you had contact with the other two as well.’

‘Get out,’ he said suddenly, trembling with indignation. ‘Go on, get out of here!’

Annie stared at him for a beat. ‘For now,’ she said at last, ‘but this ain’t the end of it.’

She tucked the tenners back into her purse. ‘Thanks for your help, Reverend,’ she said, and left.

Chapter 34

‘Thank God you’re back,’ said Dolly frantically, meeting her at the front door of the Limehouse parlour.

‘Why? What’s up?’ Annie asked, freezing in alarm as she saw the expression on Dolly’s face. And then the noise came. It sounded like a soul trapped in hell, wailing and moaning. Goose bumps sprang up on her arms, and all the hair on the back of her neck lifted. ‘What the fuck…?’

‘Mira. It’s bloody Mira,’ said Dolly, and hurried away upstairs. ‘I told you I didn’t want her here.’