like something in a sleight of hand; then came the acrid smell of burnt clothing as the powerful acid found its way through the thin outdoor coat, inwards into the crinoline folds of the dress, burrowing further like an incendiary worm to the epidermal layers. And there it found a place to feast.
A piercing scream from Simone rent the air and all except Lily stopped in their tracks to look around for the source of such howled disturbance.
From the deaf mute’s point of view she watched her rival’s mouth open and close in silent agony as her body shuddered in pain; then Francine ripped off the back of the coat with her powerful hands and further ripped the layers of respectable apparel off the body like an impatient lover until white skin was revealed.
A livid mark ran down parallel with the backbone and the revealed naked flesh in a crowded market place might have put Francine in mind of some morality depiction from the middle ages, had she not been otherwise occupied.
One of the market folk, an old man who sold posies and blooms, cut, lifted and stolen from reputable Leith flower-beds by his own grandchildren, grabbed a cheap linen tablecloth from an indignant fellow hawker, dunked it into a bucket of water and threw the dripping material to Francine who caught it like a matador and pressed it up against the smouldering skin.
Simone’s body arched and she fell limply backwards so that her head rested upon Francine’s shoulder.
The rest of the magpies, with Big Annie in the vanguard and showing a remarkable turn of pace for one of her tonnage, hurtled towards the pair, feet churning up the mud, their faces contorted with concern.
Again from Lily’s vantage, it was like a shadow play for children where the grotesque shapes collide and spin around each other but no harm is done.
The only other person who had not moved in all of this was Jessie Nairn, who stood beside Lily with a thin piece of scarlet ribbon dangling from her fingers.
She was calculating her chances of survival. One way or the other.
10
Many a carcase they left to be carrion,
Many a livid one, many a sallow-skin –
Left for the white-tail’d eagle to tear it, and
Left for the horny-nibbed raven to rend it.
ALFRED,
LORD TENNYSON,
Jean Brash in a fury was a fearsome proposition. Her green eyes were ablaze with wrathful animosity as she leaned over the balustrade and looked down at the policeman below who, from her vantage, was an unwelcome foreshortened intruder.
‘What the hell do you want, McLevy?’ she almost spat, having emerged from an upstairs bedroom.
Big Annie Drummond, who had puffed her way up the stairs to deliver the news of the inspector’s arrival, now made better weather of the descent while the man himself gazed up at her mistress with a bland expression of general goodwill.
‘I hear one of your girls had a wee contretemps,’ he remarked, standing in the ornate hall festooned with decor arabesque and fancy mirrors designed to flatter the clients into thinking they might be Pashas rampant and incarnate should they glance at themselves before ducking into the doorways of sin.
McLevy furnished an odd reflection in his low-brimmed bowler and it is to the mirrors’ credit that they withstood the burden of this adverse radiation without cracking into lines of distressed complaint.
‘What’s it to do with you?’ came her terse response.
Big Annie before she disappeared into the main salon shot the inspector a look as if to warn,
‘It would appear as if,’ he offered mildly, ‘there may have been some criminal intent involved.’
‘
‘Criminal. I investigate such. That is my profession.’
There was a silence as they measured each other up.
To be truthful McLevy when he heard about some stramash in the market had jumped at the chance to abandon Mulholland in bootless pursuit round the pawnbroking fraternity for trace of stolen jewellery. The inspector’s opinion being that whoever had committed the theft was too long in the tooth to pledge the articles in such an obvious slot.
They would be fenced after the heat had died down and reappear in Aberdeen or some other far-flung outpost.
So he had left his umbrageous constable in the lurch and headed for the Just Land in the hope of a cup of Jean’s excellent coffee while ‘deducting’, as young Arthur would have it. Plus the fact that he was nosy by inclination.
‘Ye better come up,’ said Jean finally. ‘For sure I’ll never get rid of you if I leave it to natural causes.’
So, he did. Come up.
Simone lay face down in the bed, inert and silent. Her bandaged back, high up near the shoulder blade, provided a stark contrast to the lacy confines of a room more usually reserved for clients who had a yen to re- experience the warm glow of infancy.
Everywhere McLevy glanced he saw babyish frills; the coloured friezes on the wall depicted various nursery rhyme characters, one in particular, Little Bo Peep, eminently prominent, shepherd’s crook clasped firmly in one hand while she scanned the horizon for absent mutton.
For some reason, the inspector found this disconcerting so he concentrated hard upon the body in the bed.
‘She appears peaceful enough,’ he volunteered.
‘Laudanum.’
‘That would explain it.’
‘The doctor put a salve on her but he is of the opinion that the scar trace may remain.’
‘Scar?’
‘Acid. Poured down her back.’
‘Dearie me. Who would do such a thing?’
Jean did not answer. McLevy tried again.
‘Did anyone witness the culprit?’
‘
This seemed a feeble word to describe someone capable of such a vicious attack but Jean was also aware that McLevy was a subtle swine, especially when on a case, and might well have used the word to provoke an unwise reaction. So she held to silence.
‘Wrongdoer, then. Assailant. Nasty piece of work.’
‘Not a thing. Nobody saw a damned thing.’
‘Man or woman?’
‘Not even that.’
‘Dearie me.’
It looked as if his chances of scrounging a cup of coffee were somewhat slim, but McLevy was wondering whether to believe Jean’s assertion of this mysteriously invisible spectre who poured acid onto folks’ hinterlands because, if she did know who had done this, the person concerned would suffer a swift reprisal that had nothing to do with the law unless in the Old Testament connotation.
