Dead Pretty: The 5th DS McAvoy Novel (DS Aector McAvoy) (30 page)

Sophia looks at the floor. ‘A prick-tease,’ she mumbles.

‘A prick-tease? Christ. Sounds like he teases his prick all day and all night. Don’t you realise, that’s not an insult. You’re a pretty girl. You’re sweet and charming and likeable. He wanted to do it with you and you said no. That’s all there is to it. He can go on Facebook and say shit about you if he wants – you’re still the winner here. You stood your ground. Now, tell me once more, just so I’m doubly sure, he did accept it, didn’t he? There’s nothing else you need to tell me? Because there are ways and means of making sure he never does it again.’

Sophia shakes her head and Roisin looks her full in the face. Sees the truth in her eyes. Nods, satisfied.

‘Right, so, that’s one problem solved. Now, about those dickheads who came to the house the other night. What have you told your mammy?’

Sophia seems relieved to change the subject. She gives a half-smile and starts digging at a piece of stuck-down chewing gum on the pavement outside the church.

‘I haven’t seen much of her,’ says Sophia. ‘But when she asked, I said the same as you did. Couple of idiots who wandered into the wrong house. That man told them to get out. That was the end of it.’

Roisin starts wheeling the pushchair away from the church, past the Fishermen’s Memorial with its polythene-wrapped tributes placed reverentially on the black steel. Roisin looks at the face of the bearded trawlerman as she passes. It is hard and weather-beaten, his expression one of grim determination. Fleetingly, she wonders if the figure ever truly lived; whether he was sculpted from life or from photographs, or is just a work of the sculptor’s imagination. She wonders if other people ask such things. Knows one who certainly would.

‘You know those men were more than local idiots,’ says Roisin, as they pass the window of the run-down boozer beneath St James’ Hotel and into the main square. A tramp is asleep on one of the stone benches, steadfastly refusing to open his eyes despite the attentions of two police community support officers, several pigeons and a seagull. An old woman shelters in the doorway of the hardware shop, smoking a cigarette and eating a sausage roll. Food containers and betting slips chase each other on the breeze, tangling around the legs of the half-dozen office workers and listless shoppers who cross the drab grey forecourt.

‘Why do you say that?’ asks Sophia, cautiously. ‘I’ve been telling myself it was my fault. What do you think?’

‘It’s just the things they said. The way they were. I don’t want to know about your money worries or your mam’s past or anything like that but they seemed like they wanted more than a bit of trouble. I was wrong to try and keep it from your mam. We need to tell her. I’ve told Aector. We don’t have secrets.’

Sophia says nothing, just trudges alongside as they leave the square and start to pass the nicer shops. There’s a sale on in House of Fraser. A two-for-one offer in Specsavers. Five sausage rolls for a pound in Greggs.

‘Tell her, Sophia,’ says Roisin. ‘I’d just mention it, in passing, like. Say I’ve been thinking about it and that maybe there was more to it. I won’t say anything about them roughing you up or what they threatened to do. But she’s a good copper and a good mammy and she’s better placed to sort it out than me. Is that okay?’

Sophia stares at the ground as they mooch down a side street, past a charity shop where a woman in her eighties is standing in the window trying to put a leather jacket on a mannequin. The windows are steamy with condensation and through the smeary, damp glass, it looks to Sophia as if two corpses are preparing one another for a night out.

‘It could have been nothing,’ says Sophia in a low voice. ‘We don’t know.’

‘No, we don’t,’ says Roisin. ‘But if anything happened to you I’d fill a bucket with tears.’

Sophia gives a genuine smile. Walks a little closer to Roisin. Considers her for a moment. She’s extraordinarily attractive; her eyes the blue of the water in a well-kept tropical fish tank. There are holes for several earrings in her dainty ears and a tangle of inked stars and flowers disappears down the tanned skin of her neck and shoulders beneath the collar of her leather jacket. She exudes something – a strength and confidence; a self-belief. Sophia has so many questions for her. Wants to sit her down and demand to know what it feels like to be her.

‘She’ll kill me for not saying anything,’ says Sophia flatly. ‘It will be my fault. You should have heard what she said to me after the party. She hates me sometimes.’

‘Not true,’ replies Roisin lightly. ‘She worries. She’s bound to worry. She had good reason to worry.’

‘I called her a fat bitch,’ says Sophia, and there is guilt in her voice.

Roisin pulls a face. ‘If I said that to my mam I’d have been in hospital for a month, and I’d have deserved it, too. Don’t say that to her again.’

‘She makes me so bloody angry,’ says Sophia.

‘She’s your mammy. She’s meant to. Here, do you want a lift back to school or are you done for the day?’

They have reached the ugly grey car park on the outskirts of the town centre. It’s a four-storey construction and looks as if it was built purely to get rid of a job lot of leftover breeze blocks. Few people park here. Roisin parked her vehicle on the top floor because she wanted to hear the end of the song that was playing on the radio and it made Lilah giggle to hear the wheels squeal as Mammy wound the car around the tight turns, up through the darkness and into the grey light of the open top floor.

Sophia checks her watch. Roisin thinks school must have started by now, but the girl seems in no hurry to head to class.

Together they manoeuvre the pushchair up the stairs to the top floor. They swing open the yellow doors and are halfway across the grey tarmac towards Roisin’s car when they hear the voice, cheerful and playful, like a game show host welcoming viewers to another fabulous edition.

‘Well, hello there, ladies. Mighty fine day for it, eh – whatever “it” might be. You’ve no idea how pleased we are to see you. We were despairing.’

Roisin and Sophia turn back towards the doors. Teddy and Foley are standing there like sentries. Teddy is panting a little, having taken the stairs two at a time. Foley is grinning, his gold necklace pulled up and wedged in his smile, carving shiny jewels into his cheeks.

‘That’s what I love about small towns,’ says Foley, pushing the chain out of his mouth with his tongue. ‘Everybody knows everybody. People bump into each other. Not like this where we’re from. You can go your whole life and never so much as run into your next-door neighbour in the local shop. But the north? I think there’s only a dozen people live here. I’m getting an authentic experience, that’s for sure. I’ve only been an adopted northerner for a few days and already I’m running into a couple of old friends.’

Without thinking about it, Roisin stands in front of Lilah’s pushchair. She puts one hand across Sophia and gently moves her backwards.

‘We were just talking about you,’ says Roisin conversationally. ‘Honestly, right at this second. Funny old world.’

‘I bet you were,’ says Foley, moving forward. ‘I fucking bet you were talking about me. I bet you’ve been dreaming about me, you pikey bitch.’

Roisin gives Foley a withering look and then turns to Sophia. ‘People always go for the low-blow, don’t you find? It’s just rude. I mean, there are all sorts of things he could call me but he has to go straight in there with the “traveller” thing. As if I think it’s an insult! I mean, if I was going to insult him, I’d mention the spots and the piggy eyes and the appalling clothes but I’d never have a pop at his heritage. That’s just uncalled for.’

Teddy takes a deep breath. Reaches out and puts a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Whispers something in his ear and then steps forward, taking the lead.

‘We got off on the wrong foot the other day,’ says Teddy, addressing his words to Sophia. ‘We were rude. Truth be told, we came up here to do a job. That job involves recovering a debt of your poor crippled father’s. A very important man wants that debt paying and given that your father’s too busy shitting in a bag and withering away to dust, it means your mum’s liable. Now, we understand she’s a copper but that isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card, if you’ll pardon the pun. So she needs to pay up. And I can’t think of a better way of getting her attention than letting my friend here bend one of you over the bonnet of that car. Can you?’

Sophia turns teary eyes on Roisin, who is fiddling with her tobacco tin and making a roll-up on the handle of Lilah’s pushchair. She takes her time. Fixes her eyes on Teddy’s as she licks the cigarette paper closed. Picks a piece of tobacco from the shiny gloss on her lips and lights her fag with a cheap lighter. She blows out a cloud of smoke and appears to be thinking.

‘A lot of money, is it?’ she asks Teddy, at length.

‘Not an unmanageable sum,’ he says, still looking at Sophia. ‘Not for somebody with a good job and a sports car. She doesn’t have to write us a cheque straight away. We’d just like a gesture.’

Roisin considers this, then gives a rueful smile.

‘You had the money in your hands, lads. You don’t even know what you let go.’

Teddy drags his gaze away from Sophia. Considers Roisin. She’s a tiny little thing but nothing about her suggests she is afraid. He’s dealt with pikeys before. Wonders whether she’s connected to anybody important. Whether there would be hell to pay if he threw her off the roof.

‘In our hands?’ asks Foley. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘Her fella,’ says Roisin, taking another drag. ‘Bloke who saw you off the other night.’

Foley scrunches his face, as if struggling with algebra.

‘Her fella? Her fella’s the cripple.’

‘Don’t ask me to explain the politics of it all,’ says Roisin, waving a hand. ‘She’s more of a carer for her husband. She leads her own life. She’s been seeing Reuben for as long as I’ve known her. He’s an okay bloke. You wouldn’t know it to look at him but he’s worth a bloody fortune. He’s an artist. Made the statue in the square that you passed. I think Victoria Beckham owns one of his pieces. He could pay any debt with the fluff from his bloody pockets and you let him slip through your fingers. If I was your boss and I heard that, I’d be bloody livid.’

Foley and Teddy exchange a glance. Slowly, Teddy whispers in the ear of the younger man, who flashes a look of defiance.

‘You know him well, do you?’ asks Teddy, slyly.

Roisin shrugs. ‘Well enough. Like I say, he’s okay. My husband knows him better than me. I’m not sure you saw my husband, did you? He’s a detective sergeant, though that’s not really the point. He’s what you might call
massive
. Pussycat to me and the kids, of course. Loveliest man you could wish to meet. But very protective. Fierce, you might say.’

‘Am I supposed to be scared?’ asks Foley, taking a step forward.

‘No, you’re supposed to be sensible. Reuben Hollow. That’s the name. Lives east of Hull. Little place in the middle of nowhere.’

Teddy has his phone out, swiping his fingers over the surface.

‘Hollow,’ he says, half to himself. His lips move as he reads. ‘Says here he’s been inside. Just got out. Manslaughter. Says your mam’s the one who put him away.’

Roisin gives an indulgent smile. ‘I’d have thought a clever man like you could read between the lines. How do you think they met? How do you think he got out? Do the sums, mate. How much money do you think he got for being falsely imprisoned? He got a settlement from Humberside Police that would make your eyes water.’

Foley flicks a glance at his colleague. They are both thinking the same thing. Thinking about how much traction a decent score would buy them with their potential new employers. They could make some serious waves. They could catch the eye. hey could be Headhunted by morning.

‘We’ve found you once, we could find you again,’ says Foley, spitting on the ground in front of Roisin. ‘You say a word and I’ll cut that baby’s fucking throat.’

For the first time, Roisin’s façade falters. Her lower lip trembles and she has to make fists to stop her hands from shaking. With an effort she forces a smile.

‘You want money, I want an easy life. Seems simple to me. If I were you I’d have fucked off already.’

Teddy has the good grace to smile. Foley blows her a kiss. A moment later, the double doors are banging and the two men have disappeared down the stairs.

For a full minute, Roisin stares at the doors. Then she turns away and crouches down in front of Lilah, stroking her soft, pink face. When she stands up, there is a tiny tear running down the side of her nose and onto her lip. She pays it no heed. Just looks up at Sophia and stares, hard, into her eyes.