Behind her she heard a hiss of rage.
She turned to see that the relatively mellow mood into which the woman had been drifting had vanished like March sunshine.
‘Oh, the lousy bastard. It’s not his fucking clothes I’ll take the scissors to. The bastard!’
Maggie moved forward quickly and looked at the screen.
It contained an email. And this, she instantly realized, might be her second stroke of fortune. Hi lover, sorry to hear about gran. Yes I’ll be ready with the TLC when you get back tho not sure what it means. Try Licking my Cunny maybe?!!! C u soon Gem xxxxx
She picked up the laptop and moved out of Beanie’s reach. The Bitch looked ready to hurl it through the window if she got her hands on it.
‘Can you believe it? I give him a key to my apartment and he’s doing this to me! Who the fuck is this Gem, you got any idea?’
She glared at Maggie so accusingly that she found herself answering, ‘There’s a junior on the Messenger staff called Gemma Huntley…’
‘A junior? You mean he’s humping some kid then coming here to stick his cock into me? Jesus, I need another drink!’
She stormed out of the bedroom. Maggie didn’t waste time. While she doubted there’d be an early restoration of sympathy for Gwyn Jones, it seemed wise not to take the risk. Within a matter of seconds she’d located a folder marked Gidman, typed in her email address, attached the folder, and sent it.
It was still being downloaded when Beanie returned.
‘What you doing there, hon?’ she asked.
‘There was some stuff here about the Gidmans that I’m sending to my computer. That OK with you?’ said Maggie, thinking that if she kept the woman talking just a few minutes longer it wouldn’t matter if it were all right with her or not.
She needn’t have worried.
‘You get all you want. Anything you can do to stiff Jones is all right by me. And when you’re done, I’m going to send little Miss Gem a reply that will put her off playing with the big girls forever!’
16.30-18.05
Fleur Delay woke out of a dream in which she saw a man get shot in the face by her brother.
But when she stooped to look at the body, the ruined features belonged to Vince.
And when she turned to look at the gunman, it was her own pale face she saw.
She rolled off the bed and staggered into the bathroom to pee. Then she removed her clothes and got into the shower, letting it run cold then hot then cold again. Dried off, she got dressed in fresh clothes, disguised her pallor as best she could with make-up, adjusted her wig carefully, then tried the door that communicated with her brother’s room. When she realized it was locked, she tapped on it gently, then hard.
There was no reply.
She took out her mobile and thumbed in Vince’s number.
‘Hi, sis,’ he said.
‘Where are you?’
‘Downstairs having a sandwich.’
She didn’t reply, but switched off and hurried down the stairs.
Vince saw her before she spotted him. He was in the spacious lobby, settled deep in the kind of armchair whose soft leather upholstery embraced you like a good woman. Seeing the look on his sister’s face confirmed his feeling that he’d rather be rolling around on a thin mattress with a bad woman as long as the action was taking place two hundred miles south of here.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Like a club sandwich? They know their meat here, got to give them that.’
‘How long have you been down here?’
‘Half an hour, maybe,’ he said vaguely.
‘Where’s the woman?’
‘Her car’s still in the car park,’ he assured her. ‘No way she can come down the stairs or out of the lift without I see her. I reckon she’s got Tubby in her room, trying to give him a heart attack.’
She sat down next to him. He was right, he did have a good line of vision on the staircase and lift.
‘So what’s The Man say?’ he asked.
‘He’s thinking about it,’ she prevaricated.
Vince frowned.
‘What’s to think?’
‘He needs to be certain it was Wolfe.’
Vince said, ‘Makes no difference. You always say, you down a guy, you should put space between you and the body soon as you can. So why’re we hanging around?’
‘Because I say so,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve told you before, Vince. Just do as you’re told and we’ll be all right. And no one told you to off that guy.’
‘I only shot him ’cos he was hurting you,’ he protested.
‘Yeah? Don’t think I’m not grateful, ’cos I’m not,’ she retorted.
They sat in separate silences for a while, hers irritated, his hurt.
Fleur thought, Box clever, girl. This is getting us nowhere. If I want him to be able to look after himself, I’ve got to stop putting him down.
She forced a smile and said, ‘Fancy a ciggie?’
‘What about the woman?’ he said, still sulky.
‘We’ll just be outside.’
They went out of the French window on to the terrace, then down the steps into the garden. There were several other addicts there already, their progress along the gravelled walks marked by clouds of tobacco smoke. They lit up and joined the parade. After a while they sat down on an elegant rustic bench and talked as they smoked. As usual, Fleur chose the topic, and as usual it was their Spanish villa.
For once Vince seemed genuinely enthused. Normally he started yawning whenever Spain was mentioned. OK, it was great for holidays, but he couldn’t understand his sister’s desire to move out there permanently.
What he did understand, however, was that when he and she disagreed, almost inevitably events proved her right. Not that he went in for statistical analysis. He just knew that submitting wholly to her judgment had kept him out of jail for well over a decade, which compared very favourably with the year and a half that was his previous longest non-custodial period since leaving school.
Sitting here, listening to her rattling on about her plans for their life together, gave him a sense of continuity, of family, that his early upbringing had lacked. And being marooned in this grotty northern town made the prospect of retirement to Spain with its bars and beaches and clubs and dark-eyed senoritas seem very attractive.
So he responded with more interest than he’d ever shown before. For Fleur, it was one of the pleasantest times she’d ever spent with her brother. So enthusiastic did he sound about the villa that all her doubts vanished and her plans for their future, or more precisely, Vince’s future, seemed perfectly feasible.
Time flew by and it wasn’t till she glanced at her watch that she realized nearly an hour had passed.
‘Better get back in,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I’m feeling pretty hungry,’ said Vince. ‘That sandwich was OK, but I need a real meal or I may faint.’
‘Always thinking of your belly,’ she said, regarding him fondly. ‘I want to pick up my jacket from the car.’
They walked round the side of the hotel to the car park.
As she opened the car door and reached inside for her jacket, she glanced at the next row to check on the red Nissan.
It wasn’t there.
Panic starting in her stomach, she ran her eyes over the other cars in case she’d misremembered its
