Thirteen Steps Down

Standard, Miss Nash,' he said. 'You wouldn't have a copy you could sign and let me have, would you?'It was a press photo,' she said and her voice soundedsmaller than it had before. 'They just took it. They don't give you copies.'

'Pity.' Mix was determined to say his piece before partingfrom her. He had rehearsed it for just such an occasion. 'Miss Nash, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. You're just as beautiful in close-up as from far away.' He brought hisface near hers. 'More beautiful,' he said and he staggered upstairs,desperate not to show the pain he was in.

Unwilling to listen to all this, Gwendolen went into the drawing room, attended but no longer physically supported by Queenie 'Winthrop. Hazel Akwaa was furiously angry. She wanted to run after Mix and berate him but Nerissa held her arm and said, 'No, Mum, don't. Leave it.'

'How dare he say things like that to you?' Hazel spoke loudly enough for Mix, by now on the first floor, to hear.

'I'm not the Queen, Mum. He doesn't have to get permission. I must be really stupid, as I didn't realize he actually lived here. I mean, I know we met him outside that time, but it never registered that he lived in this house.'

'I'm sorry you had to endure all that under my roof,' said, Gwendolen as Nerissa and Hazel went into the drawing room. Her tone was no longer kindly toward Nerissa, whom she blamed as much as Mix for his outburst.

Now she was home she wanted all these people to go. In an impatient way, she acknowledged Nerissa’s kindness in fetching her from the hospital, but there was nothing to stay for. She had her prescribed medicaents and vitamins, she wasn't hungry, and her paramount desire was to lie on the sofa andopen the post that Queenie had brought in from the hallway. There was bound to be a letter from Stephen Reeves. She wasvery tired and she wanted to read it before sleep overtook her.It was Nerissa who recognized how weary she was and took her mother and Queenie away, Queenie calling over her shoulder that Gwendolen must waste no time in seeing what she thoughtof the spring-cleaning she and Olive had done in the kitchen.

Before opening her book, Gwendolen reflected that today was the anniversary of the first time Stephen Reeves came to the house to attend her mother. He had come downstairs and said, 'It's a sad sight to see the old folks come to this.'

She had offered him tea and, because he looked hungry, that day's batch of homemade cakes.

The compliments Mix had offered to Nerissa and the proximity of his face to hers had upset her more than she had showed at the time. She had made a great effort at self-control in order not to cause trouble the moment poor Miss Chawcer had come home after her stay in hospital, but once she had taken her mother and Mrs. Winthrop home and was in her own house,she began to cry. All the telling herself that the man had only said she was beautiful and come rather too close to her, that he was a harmless fool, had no effect and she gave way to a storm of tears.

Crying was a release, more salutary than attempting to pull herself together, and she was too young to be afraid of lastingmarks to her face. She phoned the beauty salon she used andbooked to have her hair done, a face massage, and a manicure.About to leave the house, she thought of him again and shelooked out of a front window to see if the blue car was parkeddown the hill. She knew the number by heart, had never had towrite it down, but there was no sign of him. Still, she went nervously to her car and remained jumpy and alert until she was in the salon and her hair was being washed. Speculation about him went around and around the inside of her head as warm water splashed on its outside. What did he want of her? That she should go out with him?

She told herself not to be elitist, nearly sure she'd got the difficult word right. Perhaps not to be a snob. God knows, she had no right to be snobbish about anyone, her family wasn't anything much, even though Grandma claimed to be the daughter of a chief. This guy-she realized she didn't know hisname-was probably better educated than she was and had a real job. He hadn't done her any harm, so why was she so afraid of him? A man had once told her she had a true woman's intuitive powers and perhaps she had, for she sensed something ugly about him, something almost evil. This had been particularly apparent when he brought his face close to hers. His eyes had seemed dead and his expression utterly blank, even while he was saying those things about her being beautiful. If onlys he could think of a way to get rid of him, make sure he never came near her again.

Nico was approaching her with his drier and his brush. Shet urned her head and gave him her glorious heart- melting smile.

Mix sat in his flat reading Killer Extraordinary. He quickly came upon an illustration, a full-face photograph, and that reminded him of the ghost. He laid the book down. Before he started reading he had heard the departure of Nerissa-how nice she had been, how gentle and sweet-with Ma Winthrop and that old bitch of a mother. How did a woman like that come tohave such a wonderful daughter? It was unimaginable. The way she'd spoken about him when he went upstairs! Once he and Nerissa were going out together, better than that, once they were married, he'd have his revenge. He' d make his wife forbid her from the house. And their marriage would happen. He was sure of it now. He'd brought his face up to hers near enough to kiss her and she hadn't moved away. She liked being told she was beautiful, of course she did. Tomorrow he'd go upt here on foot and stand outside and wait for her. If only he could sing he'd serenade her.

Mix recognized how much his self-confidence had improved since he had so successfully disposed of that girl's body. It was as if, having done that in the face of such difficulty, he could do anything. Of course he hadn't committed deliberate murder, it wasn't murder or even manslaughter at all but 'unlawfulkilling.' They called it that when they realized you couldn't help it. But if he had to he'd kill again. It wasn't that much of a big deal. He knew he'd have a really good night's sleep tonight. His worries were over and now, looking back, he wondered why they had seemed so overwhelming. He had surmountedt hem, he had dealt with them and they had dissolved like smoke.

His back was better. Two more ibuprofen and putting his feet up helped enormously. As for the ghost, it never came inhere. If he was careful never to look down those passages or going to that room the chances were he wouldn't see it again. Of course he must move. It was a pity after what he had spent on the flat, he would simply be making a present of a nice little earner to old Chawcer, but there was no help for it. She might not find it so profitable when the next tenant saw things up here he or she didn't expect.

The water diviners, filing down a side street in Kilburn toward a mews under which they were told an ancient stream still flowed, chatted pleasantly to each other on such familiar subjects as astrology, cartomancy, exorcism, numerology, theTarot, ailurophilia, hypnotism, the cult of Ashtaroth, and leprechauns. It was too early to get out their divining rods. Shoshana usually secured for herself a female companion on these walks, a witch or a fortune- teller, but today she walked alone, thinking of the Mix Cellini dilemma. After about ten minutes of this she decided she needed advice and she lingered until the end of the crocodile where the witch caught up with her.

The witch was an old crony and Shoshana, while naming no names, had no hesitation in presenting the problem to her.

'What do you think I should do, Hecate?'

The witch wasn't really called Hecate. The name in which her Catholic parents had had her baptized was Helena. But Hecate had a more magical and sinister sound, and it always impressed her better-educated clients who understood its derivations.

'I could make you up a spell,' she said, 'at a discount, of course. I've got a new one that gives the object psoriasis.'

'That sounds nice but since I've got these two leads sort of ready-made I don't like to waste them. I mean, I don't like to waste both of them.'

'I see what you mean,' said Hecate. 'Look, we'll be over the underground stream in a minute. Why don't you leave it with me and I'll give you my answer by Monday.'

'Well, don't be any longer than you can help. I don't want the trail going cold.'

'I'll e-mail it by Monday morning without fail,' said Hecate.

The flat was bigger than Nerissa had expected and very tidy. Her own house could sometimes look like those interiors picturedi n the magazines she read at the dentist's, but only after Lynette had been there for three or four