Hardly ever
, thought Annie. She wasn’t about to add
that,
or Mira would freak again.
Mira didn’t look convinced, but at least she stopped looking as if she was going to throw herself bodily from the car.
Now what the hell is that all about?
wondered Annie as Tony drove them over to Limehouse.
‘This is Mira. You remember Mira, she’s been here before. She used to be one of my girls up West,’ said Annie.
Dolly was staring at the apparition that had materialized in her spotless kitchen. So was darkhaired, sharp-faced Sharlene, who looked as if someone had just dropped a dead rat at her feet. Even easy-going, sleepy-eyed little Rosie was struck dumb. Ross was out. Just as well, really.
‘I remember
Mira
from your place up West,’ said Dolly, her eyes travelling up over the bag of bones standing there whiffing the place out. ‘Jeez, I thought this one looked familiar when she came here last time, sort of. But you’ve got to be kidding me. This ain’t Mira.’
‘Yes it is, Doll. This is Mira.’
‘Well, for fuck’s sake. What happened, she get hit by a truck?’
‘Don’t talk about her as if she ain’t here,’ said Annie, getting miffed on Mira’s behalf. She might be a wreck, but she still had feelings.
‘I’d prefer it if she wasn’t,’ said Dolly smartly.
‘I’ll go,’ said Mira listlessly, turning on her heel, heading for the hall. ‘I should go, let me go, for God’s sake…’
‘No, you won’t,’ insisted Annie. She turned to Dolly, who was nearly quivering with disgust at this
thing
Annie had brought into her tidy, homely little place. ‘Look, Doll. I can’t take her to the flat over the club, I’m never there and she needs keeping an eye on.’
‘She needs her next
fix
by the look of her,’ said Dolly in disgust. ‘Get her out of here. I don’t want her here.’
Annie looked at Mira. Whatever Mira was on, she was clearly starting to feel withdrawal symptoms. The shivering had stepped up a gear. Dolly had a point. But it wasn’t like her to be so bluntly uncharitable. ‘Yeah, about that,’ she started in.
‘You can’t be thinking she’s going to
stop
here,’ said Dolly, reading her mind.
‘I’m not stopping here,’ said Mira through chattering teeth.
‘Yes you bloody are,’ said Annie. She turned to Dolly. ‘Yes she is, Doll.’
‘No,’ said Mira.
‘See? She don’t
want
to stop here,’ said Dolly
triumphantly. ‘So for fuck’s sake get her
out
, okay?’
Sharlene and Rosie were watching from the sidelines like spectators at a tennis match, their heads moving back and forth, following the action.
‘Will you both shut it?’ snapped Annie. ‘Mira—you’re stopping. Dolly—she’s stopping. I hate to ask, but—’
‘Oh, here we go,’ snorted Dolly.
‘Come
on
, Doll. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary. Please. I want someone I can trust to keep an eye on her. Just tuck her away nice and quiet. Keep her out of the Delaneys’ way.’
Dolly’s mouth dropped open. ‘What the…now look, if she’s crossed up the Delaneys in some way, I don’t want to know. I don’t get involved in their business, you know that.’
‘I’m not stopping here,’ bleated Mira.
‘You’re stopping,’ said Annie, her eyes flinty with determination as she turned her gaze on Dolly. ‘What is
up
with you?’
‘Me?’ spat back Dolly. ‘Nothing wrong with me.
I
didn’t bring this piece of shit in here.’
Annie turned away from Dolly. ‘Rosie, take Mira up to the back room, settle her in. Oh yeah—and run her a bath.’
‘Why me?’ whined Rosie.
‘Because you’re a nice girl, Rosie. And you can see that Mira needs your help.’
‘Oh fuck,’ complained Rosie, and went past a grinning Sharlene to stand in front of Mira. ‘Jesus—she
stinks.
’
‘The bath will sort that out,’ said Annie, and Rosie ushered the shambling Mira out of the kitchen and into the hall and up the stairs. Sharlene stood there leaning against the worktop, smirking. Dolly gave Annie an angry glare.
‘I hope you know what you’re bloody doing,’ she said. ‘Me, I don’t think you do.’
‘I’m helping a friend in need,’ said Annie, following the two girls out into the hall. ‘And for God’s sake, Doll, I’d have thought you’d do the same. Seems I was wrong. Oh yeah—keep Ross away from her. And tell the girls not to throw her name around, okay? Call her—oh, I don’t know—Susan or some fucking thing, but not Mira. And look—after she’s had a bath, you’d better make sure there’s a lock on her bedroom door. She tends to wander off.’
‘Fuck
you
, Annie Carter,’ said Dolly with feeling.
And now it was Friday, and they were burying Aretha. Leaving Rosie ambling cheerfully around the kitchen, boogying along to the radio, Sharlene in with a punter and Mira locked in her room upstairs, Dolly joined Annie in the Jag and Tony drove them to the church.
‘Christ, she was married in this church,’ said Dolly grimly.
‘I’m sorry I missed that,’ said Annie.
‘It was a great day. Aretha was so happy. And Chris too. And now look. Fucking disaster. But what a day that was. I’ll never forget it. Ellie got drunk, poor cow. Couldn’t believe she had to give up on Chris. You know how she’s always been about him. And the vicar came back to the house for the reception after he’d done the ceremony, had a bit of a skinful.’
‘What, the
vicar?
’
Dolly nodded.
‘Skinny chap, little grey beard, looks like butter wouldn’t melt?’
‘That’s the one. Fell down and couldn’t get up. Got a bit abusive, truth be told. Had to help him home.’
‘In what way abusive?’ asked Annie.
‘Oh, the old fool was staggering about upstairs looking for the loo and got into the Punishment Room by mistake, saw all the gear in there and saw the light. Came downstairs shouting the odds about dens of iniquity and fallen women, then keeled over like a sack of spuds, right in the hall.’
‘How’s Mira doing?’ asked Annie after a pause.
‘Fucking wonderful,’ sniffed Dolly. ‘After we deloused her and scrubbed her hair and generally cleaned her up and
burned
all those filthy disgusting clothes she had on—Rosie gave her
some of hers to wear, they’re about the same size, even though Mira’s about a foot taller than Rosie. There’s no meat on her bones at all. And thank God you said about the lock on the door. She’s been hollering to be let out, and throwing up, and frankly I think she’s
seeing
stuff, hallucinating, that’s what she’s doing.’
Annie sat there, feeling chastened. Christ, and she had inflicted Mira on Dolly without a second thought. She looked at Dolly. ‘I’m sorry, Doll.’
‘What the hell’s she been on?’
‘I could tell she was on something, but I don’t know what. I bet that’s why she got tucked up with Rizzo Delacourt, he could feed her habit in exchange for her doing a bit on the game. Everyone a winner, right?’
‘A couple more months out there on the streets and she’d be finished,’ said Dolly. She looked out of the window, thoughtfully. ‘How does that happen to a classy girl like Mira used to be? She was bloody gorgeous. Top-of-the-line tart. All the lords and stuff wanted a piece of her. And now…this.’ She let out a heartfelt sigh. ‘I’ve told Rosie and Sharlene to keep her under lock and key. Think she’s so spaced out that she’d take off again at a moment’s notice. And then she’d be fucked.’
‘Thanks, Doll. You been careful about Ross?’
‘Fucking sure. He thinks she’s Susan, a druggie mate of Shar’s.’
‘You done good, Doll.’
‘Well, I’m not happy about it. But if I was that far into the gutter I’d hope someone would try to hoist me out of it, too.’
It was a beautiful day. A peach of a day. And that seemed wrong, on such a sad occasion. There was a fair turnout, and Louella was there, crying copious tears for her baby girl. Annie remembered her promise to Dolly, that she would apologize to Aretha’s aunt for her behaviour in the funeral parlour, and cringed inwardly at the very idea. Not that it would do much good. An explanation might be better.
People were wandering into the church as the hour approached, but Annie and Dolly lingered outside. Annie saw a familiar face among the crowds. He was keeping a watchful vigil on the mourners, his expression pinched as if in disapproval.
Looks like the bloody Grim Reaper
, she thought, looking at his dark hair and eyes, his neat black suit, crisp white shirt and black tie.
Annie went over. ‘DI Hunter,’ she greeted him civilly.
‘Mrs Carter,’ he said in return.
‘Checking out the villains?’ asked Annie.
He looked at her, straight-faced. ‘Something like that.’
‘Nobody here very villainous.’
‘Who knows? Murderers sometimes feel an overwhelming urge to revisit their crimes.’
Annie looked at him. ‘Yeah, but you’ve
got
your murderer, ain’t you? Chris is already banged up for this. Unless you’ve charged the wrong man.’
‘We try always to keep an open mind, Mrs Carter, even if the evidence is pretty conclusive.’ He gave her a tight smile. ‘We’ve got our hands full, to say the least. Not only this nastiness, but also plenty more.’
‘Like what?’ snorted Annie.
‘Oh, like drunks and fights and road accidents and domestics and all sorts of other things, Mrs Carter, including three dead escorts, prostitutes, call them what you will…but at least we’ve got the man who did it.’
Annie was watching the hearse bearing Aretha’s coffin as it turned into the church driveway.
‘Yeah,’ she said to Hunter, ‘but you’re still here, ain’t you? Still looking.’ Her eyes were hard on his face for a moment. ‘So you’re not one hundred per cent sure. Not yet.’ Then she straightened with a forced, brittle smile. ‘Here’s the hearse. Party time,’ she said, and went into the church.
It was the same old shit. The pop-eyed little organist launched into the ‘Dead March’ from Handel’s
Saul.
The vicar gave a lovely service, the choir—minus Louella—lifted the roof and brought a tear to many an eye. All through it Annie stood up or sat mouthing words; everything was muted by a
huge sense of loss. Maybe it was easier for people like Louella—although not much, she suspected—because as Christians they had a firm belief that Aretha had gone to a better place. Annie wasn’t sure about that. All she could see was the coffin, draped with multicoloured flowers; all she could think was:
Why did this have to happen to Aretha?
She wanted to know why. It burned her like a branding iron, this need to know. And even more, she wanted to know
who?
What sort of bastard could do this? Did he feel sorry, once the deed was done? Did he actually enjoy that feeling of taking a life? Did it make him feel powerful?
She thought of Bobby Jo. A man dressed as a woman. Who had incidentally been shafting Teresa, who had
also
incidentally been the proud possessor of a flame tattoo until someone had decided it would be a good idea to kill her.
The flame was a marker, wasn’t that what Mira had told her? Once they were marked, they were marked for death. A sort of ritual. A
sick
sort of ritual.
She thought of Gareth from the hotel, hanging dead in his shabby flat, his dog barking endlessly in distress…
And then it was over. The coffin was carried back down the aisle by the pallbearers, Louella following behind in floods of tears, being supported by another stout black lady. Her eyes met Annie’s
as she passed by, and she visibly flinched. Annie looked away. Christ knew what Louella thought of her. It wasn’t a very comfortable 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.