Personal Protection (17 page)

“It doesn’t seem right discussing this with you when you’re…”

“Bad news doesn’t get better for putting it off. When do you go?”

Her eyes were on my lips, her hands making impotent fists on my knees. “They want me to come down and try out on Saturday.”

Five days. I let go of her face. My hands had started to shake. I didn’t want her to see.

Now I was unable to meet her eyes. I didn’t seem to be able to draw breath. She sensed my distress, caught my hands in hers and stroked the backs, avoiding the split knuckles.

“Randall, I may not make the grade! I might not like the place, or the way they want me to do the job. It’s very different…”

She was trying to convince herself. I knew what was coming next.

“If it pans out, you could come down, too. I’m sure there’d be someone more than happy to employ you, with your reputation. Maybe you could even persuade Dean to relocate! Or
if that doesn’t work, we could always meet up at weekends...”

What made it worse was she believed it.

“Tori, I can’t. My life is here. Not because I want it to be here, because I can’t afford to go anywhere else. The only things mine to sell are the Porsche – which
isn’t the genuine article – and the furniture in this apartment. I don’t own the place. I’m a tenant. I have no savings. All the money I have is tied up in the business. I
had to get a loan to buy into that when I became a partner. I owe the credit card company a mint from the bender I was on when you met me. I’m still trying to settle with them. Doing high
risk jobs is what keeps the business and my head above water. I’m sorry. If you go, you go alone.”

“God, Randall, I didn’t know!”

“It’s not something I advertise.”

Tears leaked out from beneath her mascaraed lashes.

“This is one hell of a chance. It will never come again.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll stand by whatever it is you want to do. You know that. I love you, Tori, but you can’t let that stop you, or hold you back. This is your time.”

She climbed into my arms, on to my lap and wept.

Eventually she dabbed her eyes, bathed them in icy water to take down the swelling, reapplied her make-up, changed, got into a taxi and left. She refused to let me drive her.

Now I was up I couldn’t countenance the thought of retreat to the doubtful security of sleep. I took more painkillers, peeled out of my eclectic mixture of sleep- and street-wear, took off
the bandages and stood under a scalding shower. By the time I stepped on to the duck-board the medication had kicked in. I was able to apply new dressings without turning the air more than indigo.
Food and clothes made me feel better still. Fortified, I called on the only person I could count on never to let me down.

Even during our falling out, Dean hadn’t completely refused to speak to me; he’d just made sure I knew I would pay and pay until he was satisfied. I was glad that was behind us. I
had a feeling I was going to need his help soon. If Tori left for good, I couldn’t afford to crawl back into the bottle. Neither the business nor I could afford it.

D & C’s place is out in the swank area of Blackpool real estate near Stanley Park, not far from De Vere’s health club, of which they are both members. As I said before,
it’s a very nice place, tastefully furnished and maintained. An early frost had made the garden look like Santa’s grotto. Only thing missing were gnomes.

I paid the taxi and crunched up the driveway. Dean answered the door after two rings. He didn’t look surprised to see me. Gay men don’t do surprised, only jaded.

“Not at work?”

“They found someone to replace Spink.”

“Pity they didn’t tell that to your fan club last night. How are you feeling?”

“In pain, but I’ll live. Look, can I come in? I’ve learned a few things, possibly about Tori’s attacker, maybe about what’s been happening to the other girls.
I’d like to run it all by you, since you’re the brains of this outfit.”

“Nice of you to notice!”

“Are you telling me you’ve got some real work to do, or are you busy socialising?”

“No, I was about to settle down to a quiet night in front of the TV with Craig. Some of us only work from nine to five.”

Shit.

“Never mind. It’ll keep.” I turned to go.

“Wait. You look like hell. Heaven knows what the neighbours will think if I let you walk away in that state. You didn’t drive here, did you?”

He scanned the road nearsightedly for the Porsche – not wearing his contacts – alarmed at the thought. What do you know? He does care!

“I’m not that stupid.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” He held the door open.

“You really know how to endear yourself to a girl.”

I raked my Rockports over a boot scraper, stamped my feet on the step, then stepped inside on to his real sea grass Welcome mat. If I was going to ruin his evening the least I could do was not
mess up his house.

“Who is it?” Craig’s voice drifted from somewhere in the warm interior.

“It’s only me,” I returned.

“Bang goes my night!” He stuck his head round the doorway and winced at the sight of me. “You look worse! Should you even be up?”

“You tell me, you’re the nurse. Whatever you doctored me with knocked me out for what was left of the night and most of today. I only got up a couple of hours ago. I still ache, but
do I feel better, even if I don’t look it.”

“Bloody lesbians! Your macho crap gives us pretty boys a bad name. Why can’t you wallow in the attention and let Tori nurse you, like a real patient?”

“Jealous?”

“Fuck no! You’re putting me out of a job as well as buggering up my evening!”

“You’d only whine that I was behaving like those straight bitches you work with.” I put on his affected moaning voice: “They’re always away looking after their kids
and having days off for their gynae problems.”

He glared at me.

“I suppose this means we can forget the Shiraz and
Titanic?”
This aimed at Dean.

“Sorry,” Dean said, managing to sound contrite. Craig gave one of his overblown Gloria Swanson ‘I’m so put upon’ looks, sniffed and flounced back wherever
he’d come from.

“
Titanic?
Again?”

“Just because you can’t stand it…”

“Let’s not get into a fight over a film. I haven’t got the energy. Besides, I know you only watch it to drool over Leo.”

“I do not! Well, not entirely.”

I grinned, then wished I hadn’t. God, my face hurt!

“Tell Craig I’ll buy him another bottle of vino to make it up to him.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’ll drink this lot by himself. He won’t remember you were here by the end of the night.”

Convenient. I tried drinking to forget, and just my luck, it didn’t work. The memory was there sharp as ever in the morning, with a hangover to accompany it. That, my health and the money
are why I stopped. Now I don’t drink. Ever.

Dean let us into the kitchen/breakfast room and poured us both something non-alcoholic, while I peeled off my coat and settled into a chair.

“Before you start in on what brought you here, perhaps you’d care to explain how you ended up in this state. Tori told me one of your attackers was a bouncer at the Paradise. I
thought you were trying to be one of the boys?”

“It might all be connected.” I told him about the first night, the altercation I’d broken up on the balcony, the arrival – too late – of the cavalry, Villiers and
Grey. I omitted the knife-throwing incident but followed up with what the bouncers had said last night before the fight.

“That’s what you get for showing up the inadequacies of the help and being bloody smug about it,” he summed up.

“Yeah.”

“You’re your own worst enemy.”

“Don’t bang on. My ribs and head are reminder enough.”

He winced, eyes flickering uncomfortably over my face. He decided I was suffering enough without making me sit through one of his lectures.

He took a pull at his coffee. “It could just be a pissing contest. But it seems like too much of a coincidence. I take it they knew the other reason you were working at the
Paradise?”

“Not at first. After Brian Senior spoke to me about it I don’t think my looking into the attacks on the girls was much of a secret.”

He tipped his chair back to retrieve a stub of pencil from a drawer and a legal pad which had clearly been doing duty as a recipe book.

“Where are these pricks now?” He found a fresh page.

“The hospital, I presume; they came off worse than I did.”

“I’ll get Craig to look into it. Do you have their names?”

“Only the bouncer, I don’t know his friends, they didn’t work at the club.” I spelled it out for him. He pencilled it in his usual careful hand, ripped out the page and
pocketed it.

“I’ll pay our friend a visit. Even if he isn’t responsible he might know who is. Nothing like the threat of a little pain to sharpen the memory. Want to play bad cop to my good
cop?”

“You certainly know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Just keep it to yourself. I don’t want to spoil my reputation as a nice boy.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’ll find out which ward he’s in and we’ll arrange a visit. You looking the way you do might actually be an advantage. Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Can’t be too soon for me.”

“Just don’t get carried away.”

“Moi?”

He rolled his eyes, freshened his coffee and took another sip. “All right, let’s hear the rest.”

I shared my thoughts about the possibility of it being a hate crime. He listened carefully without interrupting, then paused before he replied. Never a good sign.

“I’m not saying it isn’t possible, but...”

I started to protest but he forestalled me. “It’s true that the victims appear to be lesbians, though until we conduct the interviews we won’t be sure. And as yet we
don’t know enough about Lisa Moran to know where her sexual preferences lie. The bouncer mouthing off probably had no more involvement in Lisa’s death than us. But in light of your
latest revelations… Go carefully. Don’t accuse him of anything! It’ll probably come out that he chatted her up and she rebuffed him. You know how straight men are: ‘If a
woman doesn’t fancy me she
must
be a dyke!’ Vic is probably just a hettie prick pissed off because he didn’t get a shag.”

“I know it’s pat. It would just be nice to wrap up a case simply.”

“I’m not discounting it. You may be right. All I’m saying is investigate. Don’t judge.”

“Whether it’s true or not, all it does is add to the number of possible suspects.”

“Don’t get despondent, Randall. You’re new at this game. Sure it’s easier when there are fewer suspects. A case of proving whodunit, how, where and when. Means, motive
and opportunity. But it gets dangerous when they know you’re closing in. They start thinking of desperate solutions to get out of the hole they’ve dug. We become collateral
damage.”

“OK, I get that. But don’t we have too many suspects in this case? And not just for the murder? And perhaps more than one perpetrator?”

“Perhaps. But believe me, it’s better when it’s like this. Lots of possibilities to look into. I know you don’t want to hear this, especially since you have a personal
stake in things, but the longer we can legitimately work the case the more money it brings in.”

“That sucks, Dean. These women are afraid! They need a quick answer to their problem. They don’t have much spare cash. They want to know that the person who did this can’t do
it any more. Whatever it takes to stop it.”

“If you’re thinking of doing something rash, I’m having nothing to do with it.”

“What happened to letting me kick skittles of shit out of the culprit and providing me with an alibi?” I challenged.

“Now there’s murder involved. I won’t let it become two and see my best friend go to prison into the bargain.”

We glared at one another over the table.

“Should I referee?” Craig wondered, draped round the doorpost.

“No,” we both said.

“Good, then keep it down. You’re interrupting my viewing pleasure.”

He wandered back to the lounge.

“Sorry. I was overreacting. Drugs.”

“Me too. Though I can only blame the coffee. Damn.”

We grinned ruefully at one another.

“I promise not to be a shit about this if you promise not to milk the girls.”

“In so much as it’s possible. It will take as long as it takes, Randall. You know that.”

Sadly, I did.

“The first of the interviews is tomorrow at ten. Will you be in a fit state?”

After what I’d just said about the money, I’d have to be. “I’ll be there.”

“I have an appointment. You’ll have the place to yourselves. I’ll be back at two.”

I was about to ask him what I should do until then when he revealed, “You have a second interview at 12.30. With any luck you’ll be in a position to fill me in on whatever you learn
over a late lunch. Then we’ll visit our friend in the hospital. If everyone keeps their appointments, we should have a preliminary picture of what went on in two days’ time.”

I’ll give him one thing: jobs move quickly once he’s committed.

“My contacts in the media will have come through with the rest of the goods on Lisa Moran by then. You arrange to speak to that bouncer and get the skinny on the club members, then
we’ll have everything we need.”

“There’s more.” I filled him in on the memorial service. I’d been so pushed for time the other day it had completely slipped my mind. “We’re invited. Tori
thought we could watch who turns up in case the killer came to gloat.”

“Along with half the police force, I’m sure,” he sighed. “Oh well, there’s no getting around it.”

Shit, I hadn’t told him about my run-in with the Chief Super either. As well as everything else I now had to wonder whether a corrupt cop had anything to do with this mess! I absolutely
was not mentioning that possibility to him until I had evidence! He’d think I was being paranoid. There’s no love lost between my partner and the constabulary, but Dean likes to believe
the good guys really are good. It takes proof to shatter his illusions.

“That Scottish twat will have us in for obstructing justice before they’ve finished the requiem mass. You did know she was a Catholic?”