Cold Shoulder (55 page)

‘How did Hastings fit into it?’ Lorraine asked.

‘Well, Art and Didi saw him at the garage. Didi recognized Hastings, because she’d been doing his wigs and make-up at Craig’s studio. Well, this panicked Art for a while, then he discovered that Craig’s at it, like he’s picked up our tricks and he’s only doing Norman Hastings himself. Craig’s such an oaf, he couldn’t even pick a guy with dough. Art was furious — it could’ve all come out — and what got him worried was that Janklow and Hastings knew each other, and could put two and two together, cause trouble.’

‘But Janklow must have known who you were?’ Lorraine said.

Nula shrugged. ‘Maybe, but if he did he never contacted the cops. Like I said, he seemed to get off on it, like it was punishment. Anyway, we thought we should just back off — besides Art had plenty more, not with as much dough as Janklow, but he did all right…’

‘So did Hastings talk to Janklow about the blackmail?’

Nula sighed. ‘I dunno, but when he was found dead, we freaked. Then fucking Janklow appeared and said he needed Art to cover for him, like say he was someplace when he wasn’t. He’d done something.’

Lorraine asked if Nula remembered the date. She thought for a moment and then said it was the fifteenth, she wasn’t too sure. But it was the same date Lorraine had been attacked. Nula cried for a few moments and then sniffed, wiping her check with her hand. ‘He said he’d pay well for Art to cover for him. He couldn’t get cash so he handed over a box of jewellery, said it was all he had left.’

‘Did you sell it?’

Nula blew her nose. ‘In the past when we’d got a few things we’d used Curtis to fence it for us. We didn’t say where we got it and he wasn’t going to ask.’ Nula sighed. Everyone hung on her every word. ‘Curtis gave one of the pieces we were selling off — a ring — to Holly and she used to wear it, showed it to everyone. He’d said it was like an engagement ring. It was the big topaz, with diamonds round it. Anyway, she gets picked up by a john who takes her back to his place and he says where did she get the ring as his mother had one like it but—’

‘Who was it?’

‘Janklow’s brother. Anyway, Holly puts two and two together and comes up with sixteen. She asks us about the stuff we fenced to Curtis and then tells us about this john, Brad Thorburn. We tell Art and he’s going fucking ape-shit because he knows it’s bloody Janklow’s brother, and that Curtis, if he smells a good racket, would want in on it, and Curtis would cause trouble.’

Lorraine lit two cigarettes and passed one to Nula. She puffed for a while and then bowed her head. ‘We had to do something about the ring — we could have all been implicated, know what I mean? She showed it off to everyone — not that Curtis would have ever married her. He’s got a wife and kids anyway.’ She sucked at the cigarette. ‘We knew we had to get rid of Holly. We figured she hadn’t said anything to Curtis — he never came on to us. Art was working the night we decided to do it at the gallery. After we left, we went back to the apartment and Didi got into men’s gear. We nabbed a car and parked it not far away from the apartment. Didi left, then I left. I went on my patch, waited for Holly to arrive.’

She sobbed and was given a clean tissue. She took the cigarette from the ashtray and smoked. ‘Holly, well, she was always jumping into johns’ cars. We knew if she saw a decent car she’d duck and dive to it. Didi drew up across the road and sort of waved towards Holly and, sure enough, she shot across the road so fast I had a tough time following her. Course, soon as she got into the car she knew something was up but by that time I’d gone over, got the back door open and got in; then Didi drove off. We wanted just to get the bloody ring off her, warn her, but she was like a wildcat. We didn’t even drive far — we couldn’t, she was screaming and shouting so much. I think Didi hit her first, then me, but we never meant… We didn’t mean to hurt her. She was suddenly just like a rag doll, it was awful, so we stuffed her into the trunk. Didi was supposed to dump it, leave her in it and get back to work, meet up with me. I went back on the streets, to sort of give us an alibi, you know, saying Didi had got a john and I was to talk to Curtis.’

‘So where did Art come into all this?’

Nula stubbed out the cigarette. ‘That stupid bitch Didi, she didn’t turn up. We’d agreed to meet in the Bar Q but she never showed because she went back to the gallery. She was hysterical because as she was driving around, Holly must have come round. She started banging on the trunk, screaming again.’ Nula rested her head in her hands. ‘Art was mad as hell that she’d gone to the gallery with Holly in the car and Didi’s face was scratched and bruised. Holly was a tough kid — she’d put up a fight. If she hadn’t we’d never have hurt her.’

‘So what happened at the gallery?’

Nula licked her lips. ‘I’m not sure but Art said he’d check on Holly, and he went out. Then he came back in and got a hammer. Didi knew what he was gonna do and tried to stop him and it fell on her foot. Anyway, Art did it and came back and told Didi to dump the car. He gave her the ring — he’d taken it off Holly.’

‘So Didi got back in the car, knowing Holly was dead in the trunk. Then what?’

‘All the stupid cow had to do was dump it and piss off, but she gets into a terrible state. Her foot all swelled up, and she drove home in it because she said she couldn’t have walked and she was scared of anyone seeing her.
I
had to dump it. I gave it a good clean in case there were any prints. It wasn’t so bad because there was no blood or anything. In fact it wasn’t until I got out and was walking past it that I saw this bit of cloth sticking out and then freaked. I just ran like hell back home.’

Lorraine sounded friendly and understanding. ‘It must have been really hard for you.’

‘It was, but then it was un-fucking-believable. Didi started wearing the ring. And she wouldn’t part with it, it was like some kind of obsession, as if she wanted to be caught. She was always crying and she couldn’t sleep. Nothin’ I said made any difference. She wouldn’t listen to me and that’s why we had this row. I was trying to get it off her but she went hysterical, saying it was hers.’

‘So you had to get the ring away from Didi, is that right?’

‘Course I did but she wouldn’t give it up and so we had this argument. She pushed me, then I pushed her and she fell. I thought she was dead, but when… It was like Holly happening all over again.’

Nula started to cry, her shoulders shaking, and Lorraine reached across the table for her hand. ‘It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. After she’d fallen what happened?’

Nula’s lipstick smeared, her mascara running down her face. ‘I called Art and he came over. He said we should make it look like this serial killer had murdered her, like we’d done with Holly. But he said as he’d fixed it with Holly, I should do Didi, that he was having nothing to do with it and then he left—’

‘And?’ Lorraine asked.

‘I hit her with the hammer and it must have been just like Holly because she moaned. She was still alive, just like Holly. I could hear her voice, telling me about Holly, and I just kept on hitting and hitting her until she was quiet.’ Nula accepted another cigarette, inhaled deeply and then sipped some water. ‘After I’d done it, I didn’t know what to do next. I couldn’t lift her by myself so I called Craig. All he did was help me get her to the car.’ She fell silent. No one spoke. She smoked the cigarette down to the cork, then looked at it.

Lorraine took the stub from her and tossed it into the ashtray. She stood up.

‘Where are you going?’ Nula asked.

‘They can charge you now.’

Nula watched fearfully as Lorraine walked to the door. She didn’t even look back; she just walked out.

It was after midnight. Ed Bickerstaff was jubilant. Lyall’s and Nula’s statements were signed and they had been taken to their cells. He passed a small white envelope to Lorraine. ‘Five thousand dollars in used notes. You did good. I didn’t think she’d crack.’

‘I won’t be needed at the trial, will I?’

‘Not unless she changes her plea but I don’t think she will.’

‘What about Brad Thorburn?’

‘I reckon the only thing he was guilty of was screwing a prostitute but we’ll need him for questioning. He’s on his way back from France.’

Bickerstaff guided her to the door, then paused. ‘If I ever need you again…’

Lorraine smiled. ‘I’ll send you my card. I can set up an office now.’

‘Just one more thing, if you don’t mind me asking. You seemed pretty friendly in there with Nula.’

‘Just doing my job. She’s scum — she almost killed me.’

‘You don’t want to press charges, though, do you?’

She gave him a wry look. ‘No.’

Rosie was sitting on the sofa watching TV when Lorraine got home. Lorraine looked at her and grinned. ‘You’re a good friend, Rosie.’

‘Bed’s all made up. I’ll kip on the sofa.’

Lorraine winked. ‘Thanks.’

Just as she walked into the bedroom, the phone rang. ‘If that’s for me, I’m not back yet.’ She switched on the shower and couldn’t hear properly what Rosie was calling through the door. She had to switch it off.

‘That was Brad Thorburn. He said he’d ring again tomorrow morning.’

Lorraine stripped off and stepped beneath the cool water, tilting her face up to the jet spray. She was unnerved by his call and she hadn’t expected to hear from him again.

‘Is he back in LA?’ she shouted.

Rosie appeared in the doorway again. ‘On his way, be here in the morning. He said he was at the airport in Paris. Did you want to speak to him?’

Lorraine wrapped the towel around herself and frowned. Brad had picked up Holly, taken her back to that house, had probably screwed her in the same bed as he’d fucked her in, little seventeen-year-old Holly. Brad Thorburn would probably always pick up the wrong kind. As much as she wanted to see him, she thought he was probably calling her to find out if she knew why the police wanted to talk to him.

‘If he calls again, I’m out. He’s no good — well, not for me.’

‘Okay, whatever you say. You want a cup of tea?’

‘Sounds good.’

Lorraine lay down on the bed. Tomorrow she would open up the agency, get cards made, get a word processor. By the time Rosie came in with the tea she was deeply asleep. Rosie didn’t wake her but gently wrapped the bedcover over her. Lorraine didn’t stir.

The last item on her list had been blurred, only half considered, but it was the first thing she thought of in the morning.

Rosie looked up sleepily from the couch when Lorraine walked in. ‘What did you say?’

‘Let’s go to a meeting this morning.’

Brad Thorburn stared around the empty house with all its furnishings draped in dust sheets. He walked out, slamming the front door. He drove to the police station and was introduced to Ed Bickerstaff. The interview was formal and he gave a detailed statement of the night he had picked up a young blonde hooker. He couldn’t recall her name; she was just one of so many. Bickerstaff questioned him as to what time of night, how long she had stayed and then asked if on the night in question he had noticed anything unusual about her. Brad shrugged, he couldn’t remember clearly.

‘How about an item of jewellery?’

Brad thought, and then it dawned on him. ‘She was wearing a large ring. I only remember because it was similar to one my mother used to wear, but she took it off and slipped it into her purse and I never gave it much thought.’

‘Was this it?’ Bickerstaff held out the ring taken from Didi’s finger.

Brad stared at it. ‘Yes, well, it was similar.’

‘Could this be your mother’s ring?’

‘Possibly. It
is
similar but whether it’s hers or not I couldn’t say. She had a large collection of jewels — she was a collector. Some of them were worth thousands, others cheap replicas. She was always terrified of being mugged. I’m sorry not to be of more help.’

Bickerstaff didn’t bother to explain how important the ring had been in so many people’s lives — or deaths.

Brad left and returned to his car. He drove to the real-estate agents, signed over the documents for the contents of the house to be sold along with the property, and then went to Beverly Glen. The sale notices already hung outside. Brad collected the items he wanted to take with him and put little red stickers on the rest so the storage men would be able to ascertain which articles were to be removed. He walked from room to room in the shrouded house. There was little he needed or wanted, it was mostly his personal belongings from his own quarters. He did, however, stick red dots on all the silver-framed family photographs. He found it difficult to look at the faces of his brother and mother but went about his work as fast as possible. Steven’s room was more difficult than he had anticipated, with his precious collections of shells and snuff-boxes, the banks of photographs of their mother. He closed the door, refusing to allow himself to think about Steven. Not until he was in his own room did he relax as he checked his books and record collections, his sports equipment. There was so little with which he had any emotional ties — everything could easily be replaced. All he knew was that he would never come back to this house and its memories.

Brad arrived at his mother’s nursing home in the late afternoon. He had called Lorraine’s number four times but received no reply. He decided he would try once more before he left. He didn’t know why he wanted to see her; he was not infatuated or in love with her, but he couldn’t shake off the memory of how gentle he had felt towards her, how good it had been to hold her in his arms.

Mrs Thorburn was seated by the windows overlooking the elegant gardens. The nursing home was ludicrously expensive, with two or three nursing staff to every resident. She was reading
Vogue
, the arthritic hands with their perfectly manicured nails gliding over the pages, pausing to tap a particular photograph and then ripping off a yellow sticker from a pad and carefully applying it to a page. She still bought lavish clothes — sometimes an entire collection — which were delivered to the home.