Mixing With Murder (3 page)

It was of one of his artistes, a promotional picture like all the others tacked up on a display board in the foyer. This one was a pretty girl of about my age. She wore an outfit which tipped the nod towards the cowgirl style, more rhinestones than it seemed possible to attach to so little material, dinky boots with high heels and completed by a little white Stetson atop her mass of blond curly hair. Her face was plastered with too much make-up, a lot of pearlised mauve eyeshadow and glitter stuff on her eyelashes. She was giving the camera a come-hither look while clinging to an upright pole.

‘Lisa Stallard. Dancer,’ Mickey passed out his information in laconic, bite-sized snippets. ‘Good one.’ He leaned back. ‘She walked out,’ he said.

There was a hint of surprise in his voice. Artistes didn’t walk out on him. This was probably a first. He still couldn’t quite accept it.

‘I want her back. Customers liked her.’

I had every sympathy with the girl who’d walked out of this seedy dump. She had courage. If Mickey wanted her back, I decided, he could go and find her himself. I wasn’t going to do it for him.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘If she doesn’t want to work here, well, I expect she’s got a reason.’

The fish-silver eyes fixed me unpleasantly. Behind me Harry gave a faint warning cough.

‘It could be anything,’ I ploughed on in an effort to retrieve my social gaffe. ‘I mean, a sudden departure doesn’t suggest she didn’t like it here. Perhaps she’s got a family emergency at home.’

Allerton leaned forward slightly. ‘She went without a word. I paid her good money. She’s not gone working for anyone else. I asked around the other clubs. But you’re right about her going home. That’s what she’s probably done. One of the other girls told me.’

He jerked a thumb at the CCTV camera behind him. On it the girl in the pink leotard was sitting on the edge of the stage, drinking a bottle of water.

‘That one,’ said Allerton. ‘The stupid talentless bitch,’ he added ungratefully.

The pink leotard girl was a snitch and the runaway had been foolish to confide in her. If you’re going to do something Mickey Allerton won’t like, at least don’t tell anyone else working for him what you intend.

He could see what I was thinking and shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Fran. I could send Harry here after her. But she’d misunderstand. I don’t want to put the frighteners on her. That’s why I want you to go. I want you to ask her why she left. So that we can sort things out and she can come back. She’s not in any trouble as far as I’m concerned. I’m on the level with this. All I want is for her to come back. I told you, I was paying her good money, but I’ll increase it. You’re about her age. You’d know how to talk to her. She knows you don’t normally work for me. You don’t look frightening.’

‘I don’t like it!’ I burst out. ‘It’s up to her what she does. It’s supposed to be a free country!’

‘That girl,’ said Allerton, ‘could go far. I had plans for her.’

I was afraid of that.

Again, prompted by the misgivings in my expression, he leaned forward. ‘No, not those kind of plans! I’m opening a new club on the Costa del Sol. I was intending to send her out there and put her in charge of the acts. Make her a sort of artistic director, if you like. She wouldn’t have to get out there on the stage if she didn’t want to. Of course, it’d suit me if she did. I told you, she’s talented. But really I want her to scout for other girls. Make sure that the club puts on a really classy show. I’m going upmarket. She’s the right sort of girl for that, nice spoken, like you. Probably went to a proper school for young ladies, like you.’

I’d never told Mickey about my schooldays but clearly someone had. I ran quickly through a list of my close acquaintances in my head, wondering which one had passed out private information on me. But it could be anyone, really. In the past, when I’d shared squats with people, we’d often sat round of an evening chatting about this and that. Perhaps it hadn’t been so hard for Mickey to run a background check on me, after all. In future I’d keep my mouth shut about my past. Like the runaway pole dancer, I was finding that a little innocent detail could turn out a weapon in the wrong hands.

My dad and my grandma Varady scraped together the money to send me to a private school. I think they were compensating for the fact that my mother had left us. I was a messed-up kid and I messed up being at the school. Eventually I was expelled. When I remember the struggle Dad and Grandma had to keep me there I’m not proud of this. Grandma did home sewing, making wedding dresses and so on. She sat up late into the night at her old treadle machine; her swollen feet pushing the plate monotonously back and forth with a faint squeak at every move, working away for me to have a better future. I think I must have been a particularly odious brat. They loved me and I took their love and tossed it aside like it was nothing. If life has sometimes treated me harshly since then, I look on it as a sort of penance. (That’s what comes of being educated at primary school level by nuns.) But one thing I did learn from them, there’s right and there’s wrong. If you believe that, sooner or later you have to make a stand.

I swallowed. ‘Mr Allerton, believe me, I’d like to oblige you. But I honestly don’t think I could persuade this girl to come back. Why should she listen to me? Suppose I found her and she refused? What would you say when I got back? You’d blame me.’

Allerton was shaking his head. ‘No, no, Fran. You’ve got it wrong. All I want you to do is go and find Lisa and explain to her about the job I’ve got lined up for her in Spain, right? Tell her I’m not angry. I’m disappointed that she didn’t confide in me and tell me what was wrong. I really don’t know why she took off like that and I’d like to. It’s good business to have the staff happy. If she had a problem, we could probably have fixed it. I just want her to come back to London, sit down here and talk it through with me - just like you and me are doing now. Friendly.’

‘Do you know where her home is?’ I asked, hoping it might be some out-of-the-way place I couldn’t possibly be expected to find.

‘Sure. Oxford. I’ve got the address.’ His tone was brisk. He thought he’d talked me round.

Not yet, he hadn’t. ‘I can’t just go to Oxford for an unknown length of time,’ I said. ‘What about my dog?’

Now Allerton smiled. It was a wide slow smile which showed such excellent teeth he must have had them fixed. I was reminded of a shark. I realised too late that I’d handed some sort of advantage to him. I shouldn’t have mentioned Bonnie.

‘No problem,’ he said easily. ‘Harry will look after her. Harry’s good with dogs, aren’t you, Harry?’ He looked past me to his sidekick, invisible behind my back.

‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘We always have a dog at home.’

‘What, a pit bull terrier?’ I snapped. My grip on Bonnie tightened and she squeaked protestingly.

‘No,’ said Harry regretfully. ‘My missus don’t like them. We got a couple of them hairy little buggers, Yorkies.’

The thought of Harry walking a pair of animated hairbrushes silenced me for a moment. But while I floundered, seeking some argument against Mickey’s proposal, Allerton moved on.

‘See?’ he said smoothly. ‘All laid on. Of course, if you’re not satisfied that Harry could look after the little tyke, I could ask Ivo. She bit him, you said?’ The shark’s teeth flashed at me again.

I felt sick. The message was clear. I went to Oxford and carried Allerton’s message to Lisa, or Bonnie was handed over to Ivo, the muscular psychopath with the grudge. I didn’t like to think what he’d do to her.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘But promise me, Ivo doesn’t get near her. Promise! I want your word.’

Allerton’s word probably wasn’t worth much but I could ask.

‘Don’t you worry,’ he soothed me. ‘We understand one another. Now then, here’s her address.’ He fished a piece of paper from that desk drawer and then a fat envelope. ‘And here’s some cash for expenses. We’ll settle your fee when you get back. I’m a generous man. You’ll be all right.’

‘And if I don’t bring her back with me? How will you know I’ve even seen her?’

He frowned. ‘Get her to give me a call. I’d call her but she’d hang up on me. She’s gotta call me.’

I understood his reasoning. Lisa had had the courage to walk out and probably had the courage to put the phone down at the sound of his voice. Reckless courage. Allerton couldn’t afford to let people show him that kind of disrespect. Any sign of weakness in a man in his position gets known. He’d be obliged to do something about it. Just now he seemed anxious to avoid the rough stuff and had called me in. But all that could change. It was up to me.

‘No e-mails or text messages! I want to hear her voice. Understood?’ The silvery eyes glittered at me.

‘I wouldn’t try that kind of trick!’ I said, irritated.

‘No, love, of course you wouldn’t. Because I’d find out, wouldn’t I? I’ll give you my mobile number so she can find me, any time. So can you. Keep me up to date. Give me a progress report. Of course, I’d prefer it if she comes back with you. But I’ll settle for a personal call from her.’ The fish-silver eyes were cold. ‘But you don’t get paid any more than is in this envelope.’ He tapped it. ‘Not unless she gets in contact, right? I pay for results. I don’t pay for failure. If you were to persuade her to come back to London with you, well, then you’d be in line for a nice little bonus. Remember that.’

‘All I want,’ I said, ‘is my dog.’

‘Better be quick and get it done, then, hadn’t you? They pine, dogs, as I’ve heard. Right, Harry?’

‘Yes, boss,’ said Harry expressionlessly.

Allerton held out another slip of paper. ‘It’s all arranged. This is the address of a bed-and-breakfast place where you can stay. The woman who runs it used to work for me. She’s expecting you.’

So even when I got to Oxford I wouldn’t be out of Mickey’s orbit. There would be someone there, checking on me, making sure I was doing what I’d been sent there for.

I’ve read of people gnashing their teeth in rage and it’s what I felt I wanted to do. It wouldn’t have helped and I didn’t. At least I could prevent Mickey seeing just how upset I was. Not that he didn’t know it, but a refusal to let him see it was the only way I had just at that moment of depriving him of complete satisfaction.

Harry moved forward and held out his hand. I bent to stroke Bonnie’s head and then I handed the lead to him, meeting his gaze.

‘I like dawgs,’ he said again. I knew he was trying to reassure me.

‘Now scram!’ ordered Allerton. ‘I’m a busy man.’

Harry escorted me out. Ivo was still in the foyer. He was in deep discussion with the girl who’d been up there on the stage. She wasn’t in her leotard now, but skintight pants and sleeveless shell-pink satin top. Pink was obviously her colour.

I write ‘discussion’ but she was doing the talking, haranguing him in that language I didn’t recognise. However, the fluency the two shared suggested the girl and Ivo were compatriots. In a foreign country, that can count for quite a bit. Even if you’ve nothing else in common, exiles stand together.

When I was young, various elderly Hungarian visitors would appear at the house and be given coffee and chocolate cake by Grandma. They weren’t friends in any deep sense. They were part of the community, the Hungarian Diaspora which had followed the revolution of 1956. They’d known my grandfather, by then deceased. They saw it as a social obligation to call on his widow. I’ve flunked any opportunity I’ve ever had to learn another language. At home we spoke English. Occasionally I’d hear Grandma and Dad out in the kitchen exchanging a few words of Hungarian. I suspect now they were discussing something they didn’t want me to know about, like where my mother had gone and why. I could have asked either of them to teach me but I never did. At school they tried to teach me French; but all I remember is someone called Pierre going somewhere on his bicycle. I was busy at the back of the room fooling around, as usual.

Under the onslaught of words from the girl Ivo stood looking almost sheepish. Big tough guy that he was, he put me in mind of a small boy caught being naughty. I wondered briefly what was going on.

The girl was aware of my curious stare; she was a sharp one, I reckoned. She turned a look on me which was definitely hostile. I’m used to dealing with unfriendly scowls and returned hers with interest. At this, real anger flashed in her eyes. I had intended to avoid eye contact with Ivo, mindful of Harry’s warning. But he gave me a quick sullen glance which made the hair on the nape of my neck tingle. They both fell silent and unsuccessfully attempted to look uninterested. I knew immediately that the two of them had been talking about me. But what was I to them?

I hadn’t time to puzzle it out. Bonnie, by Harry’s feet, had recognised Ivo and growled softly. Harry gave a warning tug on her collar.