Crossbones Yard (23 page)
Authors: Kate Rhodes
Alvarez rang when I got back to the hotel, but there was no point in telling him what had happened. We would have to be face to face when I told him Cheryl Martin’s story. His voice was so muffled that he sounded like he was calling from a thousand miles away.
‘There’s been some progress,’ he said. ‘A woman saw Michelle being dragged into a red Hyundai, not far from the pub where you talked to her.’
‘Did she get a good look at the driver?’
He gave a deep sigh. ‘Not really. She wasn’t sure if there was one bloke in the car or two.’
‘It’s better than nothing.’
‘Only just. Do you know how many Hyundais there are in London?’
‘Not a clue.’
‘Just over a million.’
I visualised a landscape full of red hatchbacks, as far as the eye could see. All I wanted to do was draw the curtains and lie down on the wide hotel bed with Alvarez for the rest of the afternoon.
‘I wish I could see you,’ he murmured, then a door slammed loudly in the background. ‘But there’s too much happening, Alice.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I snapped.
‘You realise I’m not doing this for fun, don’t you?’ He sounded aggrieved, as if the princess he was rescuing had escaped from the castle without his assistance.
I bit my lip. ‘Sorry, it hasn’t been a great day.’
His voice softened. ‘The thing is, I can’t stop thinking about you.’
‘No?’
‘Morning, noon and bloody night,’ he whispered.
‘You make it sound painful.’
‘It is. God knows what you’ve done to me.’
There was still no message from Lola. No doubt she was avoiding me, in case I ranted and raved. I would have given a lot to share a bottle of wine with her and come clean about Alvarez. Ideas kept tumbling round my head, competing for space. If I stayed cooped up in the hotel for the rest of the evening, I was in danger of losing the plot. When I told Meads I needed to go out again he switched off the TV reluctantly. There was no end to his ability to absorb the plots of soap operas.
Sean was the first person I saw on Bermondsey Ward, walking along the corridor with a wad of notes under his arm.
‘I’ve just seen your brother.’ His eyes lingered on my face. ‘At least his wounds are on the mend.’
‘Great, except it’s his mind I’m worried about, not his legs.’
‘Sorry.’ He gave an apologetic smile. ‘You know me, strictly flesh and bone.’
‘You’ve done what you can.’ I touched his arm for a second. ‘I’m grateful.’
Sean opened his mouth to say something else, then abruptly closed it again. I carried on down the corridor, but there were no footsteps behind me. I realised afterwards that he must have stood there for a long time, watching me walk away.
Will was asleep when I opened the door. The curtains were wide open, even though it was dark outside. I looked
down at the lamp-lit quadrangle. Three nurses were racing for the car park at full pelt, clearly determined to be in the pub for happy hour. Will’s arms twitched fitfully. I sat on the edge of the bed, but couldn’t bring myself to touch him. His hair was damp with sweat, the toxins in his system flooding out of his pores.
down at the lamp-lit quadrangle. Three nurses were racing for the car park at full pelt, clearly determined to be in the pub for happy hour. Will’s arms twitched fitfully. I sat on the edge of the bed, but couldn’t bring myself to touch him. His hair was damp with sweat, the toxins in his system flooding out of his pores.
‘For fuck’s sake, Will,’ I muttered. ‘Wake up and tell me what you’ve done.’
For a moment I thought he was following my instructions. His eyes fluttered open, and he seemed to recognise me. His gaze lingered on my face, then he slipped back into sleep. I kept on trying to process what Cheryl Martin had said. My chest ached, as though I had held my breath for too long. I wanted to yell into his face, force him to explain why he had allowed Ray Benson to recruit him.
When I woke up the next morning the first thing I remembered was that it was Lola’s big day. She would have to fly back soon, to enjoy her first night. My phone sat on the bedside table, refusing to say anything, like a sulky child. Angie was preparing herself for another vast breakfast at the taxpayer’s expense. She looked crestfallen when I told her I planned to go to the gym first.
The place was crowded with Chinese businessmen performing t’ai chi, each movement graceful and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. I ran for forty-five minutes, until a narrow band of sweat darkened my T-shirt down the centre of my ribcage. But for some reason the elation was missing. It was like drinking instant coffee after enjoying the real thing for years.
I let Angie finish her breakfast before breaking the bad news.
‘I have to go into town to see someone.’
She scrutinised me over the top of her
Daily Mail
. ‘Can’t you get her to come here?’
Daily Mail
. ‘Can’t you get her to come here?’
‘No,’ I shook my head firmly. ‘And it’s a him not a her.’
Angie’s curiosity got the better of her. So far she had been too polite to ask about my love life, even though she had given me every detail of her wedding plans. ‘All right then, but if you give me the slip, I won’t be best pleased.’
The phone rang while I was waiting for Angie to get her car. I answered immediately, without checking the caller’s number.
‘Lola, where the fuck are you?’
‘Dreadful language, Alice.’ My mother’s voice was even chillier than normal, like she’d spent the last half-hour in a bath full of ice cubes.
‘Sorry,’ I murmured.
‘At least I’ve got some good news.’ Her tone of voice suggested that I should count myself lucky to be receiving it. ‘Your brother said hello this morning, as soon as I saw him.’
‘That’s brilliant.’
‘I know.’ I could picture her, standing beside Will’s bed in an immaculate little black dress and a rope of pearls.
‘Can I speak to him?’
‘Not now, dear. He’s not that talkative, and he’s about to have his breakfast.’ Her voice was crisp with confidence, like she had never lost an argument in her life.
‘Tell him I’ll come by later, Mum.’
The line went dead immediately. No doubt she would tell her friends she had cured her son single-handedly, with the power of motherly love.
Angie’s driving was a lot more cautious than Meads’s. She paused at every junction, checking frantically for cyclists to
give way to. Despite the grey skies, Soho was still managing to look colourful as we wove through the narrow back streets. Nineteen fifties neon signs flickered over the doorways of strip clubs, showing the hourglass figures of dancing girls. Some of the pedestrians had been there for decades too, old men tottering along in Columbo coats, as though they had only just survived a night of debauchery.
give way to. Despite the grey skies, Soho was still managing to look colourful as we wove through the narrow back streets. Nineteen fifties neon signs flickered over the doorways of strip clubs, showing the hourglass figures of dancing girls. Some of the pedestrians had been there for decades too, old men tottering along in Columbo coats, as though they had only just survived a night of debauchery.
The flat I was visiting was over an adult bookshop. The titles in the window sounded educational, such as
How to be a Dominatrix
, but others were genuinely worrying:
Find Yourself a Schoolgirl.
Angie followed me up the narrow staircase, an appalled expression on her face, taking care not to touch the handrail. When I knocked on the door it took several minutes before a gruff voice instructed me to wait.
How to be a Dominatrix
, but others were genuinely worrying:
Find Yourself a Schoolgirl.
Angie followed me up the narrow staircase, an appalled expression on her face, taking care not to touch the handrail. When I knocked on the door it took several minutes before a gruff voice instructed me to wait.
‘Remember me? It’s Alice,’ I said when the door finally opened. ‘Lola’s friend, and this is Angie.’
Craig was wearing a pair of minute black underpants, remnants of glittery eye shadow still caked around his eyes.
‘Of course, darling. Come on in.’ His voice was croaky from last night’s booze and cigarettes.
We followed him into his tiny living room. A scrawny tabby cat was perched on the back of the settee; it couldn’t have eaten a decent meal in weeks. Actors’ wages obviously didn’t extend to pet food. Craig was equally skinny, or maybe it was a lifestyle choice because more parts came his way when he was elegantly emaciated.
‘I wondered if you’d heard from Lola,’ I said.
I watched in amazement as he pulled on my favourite electric-blue kimono, which Lola must have accidentally nicked when she left the flat.
‘Madam’s not in my good books at the moment.’ He tossed his head irritably. His shoulder-length blond hair looked
almost natural, apart from a few centimetres of dark brown roots. ‘I’ll tell you all about it, girls, but I need coffee if you want conversation at this hour.’
almost natural, apart from a few centimetres of dark brown roots. ‘I’ll tell you all about it, girls, but I need coffee if you want conversation at this hour.’
Craig flounced off to the kitchen, leaving us to admire his interior decor. It was a mix of Gothic and high camp. A picture of Mae West pouted at us from the wall above the fireplace, and a selection of sequinned drag queen outfits was draped across the chairs. Angie’s mouth gaped, as she tried to take in a world she’d never imagined. After a few minutes Craig returned with three tiny coffee cups balanced on a tray.
‘Espresso,’ he sighed. ‘God’s gift to the hung over.’
I studied Craig’s carefully plucked eyebrows and flawless skin. His beauty regime must have been a lot more rigorous than mine. ‘So Lola’s been misbehaving, has she?’
‘You could say that.’ Craig rolled his eyes dramatically. ‘If you were being charitable.’
‘When did you last see her?’
‘Wednesday night. She was ranting on about that bastard she’s been seeing.’
‘Lars.’
‘That’s him. Anyway, she was in floods, so I poured her into a taxi. But when I got back, she’d vanished, taking my door key with her. The bloody locksmith cost me a week’s wages.’
‘She’s left all her stuff, hasn’t she?’ A heap of bags was piled in the corner. ‘Do you mind if I take a look?’
‘Help yourself, sweetheart.’ He took a long drag from his Marlboro. ‘If she doesn’t collect it soon, the binmen can have it.’
It looked as though Lola had brought all her worldly goods with her, stuffed into her battered red suitcase and the faded rucksack she hauled around Greece for a whole summer. If she was in Sweden, she was certainly travelling light.
Her passport fell into my hands as soon as I unzipped her backpack. I studied it for a minute or two, looking at the date stamps, unsure what to do next. Angie and Craig were busy sharing tips on skincare. I tried to steady my breathing, but it was impossible. All the air had been sucked out of the room.
‘What was all that about?’ Angie snapped. ‘Why did you run out of there?’
‘Lola,’ I gasped, still trying to get my breath back.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s got her,’ I panted. ‘I know he has.’
‘That’s not very likely, is it?’ Angie looked exasperated. ‘Your mate was pissed in that taxi, so she changed her mind, went to stay with someone else.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Her chum in there says she’s always been flighty. She’s just gone a bit far this time.’
‘No way.’ I shook my head firmly. ‘That doesn’t explain why she didn’t call yesterday, or why she left Craig out in the cold.’
‘She’s done this before, he says. Always dashing from one party to the next.’ Her voice was a bored sing-song that made me want to slap her.
‘Bollocks. I’ve known Lola twenty years and she’s never let me down. She’s too thoughtful.’
Angie gave me a sceptical look then focused her attention on the road, like I was too naive for words.
My hands shook as I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialled directory enquiries. When they put me through to the Cambridge Theatre, a woman with a soft French accent answered almost immediately. I asked to speak to Lola, explaining that she was in the dance troupe, and she went to look for
her. The line was silent for several minutes, and I pictured the receptionist searching the auditorium for clues, rummaging behind each chair. Her voice was quiet and apologetic when she returned. Lola had missed two rehearsals without letting the director know, so he had fired her, and given her dance kit to the girl who took her place.
her. The line was silent for several minutes, and I pictured the receptionist searching the auditorium for clues, rummaging behind each chair. Her voice was quiet and apologetic when she returned. Lola had missed two rehearsals without letting the director know, so he had fired her, and given her dance kit to the girl who took her place.
‘Jesus.’ I gritted my teeth and stuffed my phone back in my pocket.
We were passing a construction site, two cranes hurrying to lay foundation stones, as though the city was crying out for another block of flats. Angie was immersed in dealing with the traffic, which was a blessing. If she had said one more word about Lola I would have gone down for GBH.
‘Take me to the station,’ I snarled.
I must have given the order with enough conviction, because for once she didn’t argue.
Burns was ploughing through a stack of reports at least a foot thick when I found him. He rose from his chair by a few inches when he saw me. Maybe the original plan was to get to his feet, but it never happened. The invisible hydraulic system that shifted his bulk had finally broken down.
‘I hear your brother’s coming round,’ he said. ‘Ben’s with him now.’
‘I’m not here about Will.’
He listened coolly as I explained that Lola was in danger. I gave him all the evidence. Why would she jeopardise her dream job, leave a good friend locked out of his own flat, not even answer her phone?
His eyes narrowed. ‘You do know her boyfriend’s being done for fraud, don’t you?’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’
‘Quite a bit, I’d say.’ Burns peered at me in disbelief. ‘She
doesn’t make great choices, does she? Maybe she’s followed his lead and done a midnight flit.’
doesn’t make great choices, does she? Maybe she’s followed his lead and done a midnight flit.’
‘That’s complete crap. She didn’t have a clue what he was up to.’
Burns’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re sure of that, are you?’
‘You’re not listening, Don.’ It was a struggle not to shout. ‘Lola would never treat anyone badly.’
He whistled between his teeth. ‘I must have met a different girl. She was a right little madam when we arrested lover boy, called Ben every name under the sun.’
‘So you won’t even look for her.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Burns chose his words carefully, as if I might report him to the Police Council. ‘Fill out a missing person’s report and leave it with me.’
‘And that’ll do the trick, will it?’
Burns rested his hand on the tower of reports, clearly longing to get back to them. I stared at him until he had no choice but to meet my eye.
‘I want it on record that Lola’s been taken. That bastard’s got her, and you’ve done nothing, except give me a fucking missing person’s form.’
He didn’t respond, but I knew what he was thinking. The strain was making me hysterical; leave it to Alvarez to calm me down. He picked up the next file from his stack and began to read, as though I had already left the room.
I don’t know why I was so angry when I got back to the hotel, except that anger’s always easier to deal with than fear. It’s so powerful that it invigorates you, until it starts to eat you from the inside. I seethed for the rest of the day, snapping at Angie until she looked relieved to pass me over to Meads. He must have read the ferocious expression on my face because he didn’t try to make conversation, just buried his head in his newspaper.
When I checked my phone there were two missed calls from Alvarez, and a garbled voicemail from Will. He was speaking so fast I had to listen to it twice before his words made sense.
‘I’m scared, Al. He’s here again, at the hospital. I see him every day. It’s the devil, I’m sure it is. Help me, Al, please.’ His voice petered out into a miserable whimper and I deleted the message immediately. Will’s demons wouldn’t go away until the drugs were out of his system, but at least he could string sentences together again.
I rubbed my forehead. My mind kept wandering back to what Will had done, my heart rate quickening. There was no getting away from the fact that he’d entertained two of the dead girls in his van, a prostitute and a charity worker. But what else had he done to them? I tried not to think about the knife he carried, with its razor-sharp blade. Ideas rushed at me, too quickly to filter. Maybe Will had told people about all the horrors he’d seen, and his words had inspired them to carry on killing. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to focus.
There was still no message from Lola.
For some reason I couldn’t bring myself to sit down. All I wanted to do was run into the street and look for her: lift manhole covers, peer into garden sheds, check every cellar in London. I made more phone calls to try to find out who had seen her last. Then I forced myself to call her mother.
‘Alice, how lovely to hear from you!’ Tina’s voice had exactly the same cadences as Lola’s. I could picture her standing in her hall, a slightly heavier version of her daughter, with the same mile-wide smile, red curls faded to strawberry blonde. ‘Are you excited about tonight?’
‘Tonight?’
‘Lola’s show, darling. You haven’t forgotten, have you? The
Tremaines will be filling the front two rows. I’ve got you a seat.’
Tremaines will be filling the front two rows. I’ve got you a seat.’
‘There’s been some bad news, Tina, I’m sorry.’
I blurted out what had happened. There was a long silence at the end of the line when I explained that Lola was missing, and her boyfriend was in a Swedish jail.
‘You don’t think she’s done something stupid, do you?’ Tina’s voice was dull with shock.
For the first time it occurred to me that I might be barking up the wrong tree. People sometimes make the decision in seconds, overwhelmed by the weight of despair. Often they don’t even leave a note.
‘No, of course not.’ I kept my voice as calm as possible. ‘I’m sure she’s got her reasons.’
After I put down the phone, my mind spun with every possible reason why Lola would go missing. A road accident, memory loss, mental breakdown. Or maybe Lars’s business dealings were darker than I knew, and one of the heavies he owed money to had come looking for her. But it was all distraction from the thing I didn’t want to consider: that my pen-pal had got his hands on her. When I closed my eyes all I could see was her unblemished skin, dusted with copper and gold freckles.
By the time evening came the hotel walls were squeezing the breath out of me. Tina and I had called every one of Lola’s friends, and all the London hospitals, but no one had clapped eyes on her. I perched on the edge of the bed, looking at the mud-brown sky. Not a single star in sight, only the moon’s pale outline making brief appearances in the gaps between clouds.
I tried Alvarez, but he wasn’t answering. He probably didn’t even know about Lola. My complaint would be so low down Burns’s agenda, he wouldn’t have mentioned it.
Then I heard a familiar sound. It was only seven thirty,
but Meads’s gentle snoring emanated through the door. And that’s when I made my decision. I grabbed my coat and bag and tiptoed out of the bedroom. Meads was sprawled on the settee, the TV flickering. Exhaustion or a particularly boring episode of
Hollyoaks
had closed his eyes for him. It seemed odd to leave the hotel on my own. I felt like a wayward teenager, in danger of being grounded.
but Meads’s gentle snoring emanated through the door. And that’s when I made my decision. I grabbed my coat and bag and tiptoed out of the bedroom. Meads was sprawled on the settee, the TV flickering. Exhaustion or a particularly boring episode of
Hollyoaks
had closed his eyes for him. It seemed odd to leave the hotel on my own. I felt like a wayward teenager, in danger of being grounded.
A taxi sailed nearer, its for hire sign lit up in gold. I took a deep breath and flagged it down.
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