Scarlet Women (25 page)

The TV in the corner was roaring away to the
empty room. Everything was dusty and the carpet was peppered with tea stains. They looked in the loo, and found it empty. Stared at a large cupboard. Annie and Tony glanced at each other.
Big
cupboard, and what did they expect to find in it? None other than Pete Delacourt hanging up by his neck. Annie thought about finding Gareth strung up. Thought that if
Pete
was strung up too, she really was going to hurl. But they couldn’t smell anything. Not
yet
, anyway.

Tony moved forward and threw open the big cupboard’s doors.

Annie was holding her breath. But they looked inside and there was nothing. Nothing in there but outsize jeans, and T-shirts so big that boy scouts could have camped out in them. No Pete.

‘Looks like he left in a hurry,’ said Tony to Annie.
And not of his own free will
, his eyes added. He crossed to the TV, grabbed the edge of the curtain beside it. With his hand covered by the fabric, he turned the TV off. Silence descended.

‘Now where the fuck’s the fat cunt got to?’ Rizzo wondered aloud.

Annie and Tony stood there and looked at each other. They said nothing.

They left Rizzo at the flat and then Tony dropped Annie off at Dolly’s. She was scarcely through the door when Ross looked up with a scowl from his chair beside it and said: ‘Mr Delaney wants a word with you.’

‘Does he?’

Ross nodded towards the closed front room door. ‘Yeah. He’s in there, with Dolly.’

Shit
, thought Annie. But what else had she expected? Had she really thought that Redmond Delaney would take the Mira incident lying down, even if Constantine was involved? She braced herself and went in, closing the door behind her.

Dolly looked up quickly as Annie came in. She was sitting on one of the couches, her hands clenched white in her lap. Redmond Delaney, tall and imposing, with his red hair slicked back and
his green eyes cool as ice, was standing a small distance away from Dolly.

‘Mrs Carter,’ he said when she came in.

‘Mr Delaney,’ said Annie.

‘Certain things have come to my attention,’ he said. ‘Things I’m not happy with.’

‘Oh?’ Annie could be cool too. Even if her heart was threatening to burst right out of her chest, it was thumping so hard. ‘Things like what?’

‘Annie…’ Dolly started, her eyes desperate.

‘This is between Mrs Carter and myself, Miss Farrell,’ said Redmond, his voice as cutting as a whip.

Dolly flinched and fell silent.

‘Things like what?’ asked Annie again.

‘The girl,’ said Redmond unblinkingly.

‘You mean Mira? My friend, Mira?’ prompted Annie.

‘The
girl
,’ he repeated coldly. ‘She’s mine. And you refused to hand her over.’

‘She’s a friend,’ said Annie, her mouth as dry as dust. ‘She was in a bad way. I didn’t want her moved.’

Constantine was supposed to have sorted all this with Redmond. She couldn’t believe that Redmond would go against Constantine’s wishes. This whole thing must mean a huge amount to him, if he was prepared to risk confrontation with the Mafia.

Redmond let out a mirthless laugh.

‘Mrs Carter,’ he said smoothly, ‘the decision was not yours to make. The girl is
mine.
She was to be collected from here. And
you
had the audacity to try to prevent it.’

Annie gulped. ‘I think you’ll find I didn’t just try. I
did
prevent it.’

Dolly made a small suppressing movement with her hand, and her eyes said to Annie,
For fuck’s sake button it. Can’t you see how mad he is?

But Annie couldn’t stop herself now. She had to get it out, or choke on it.

‘And while we’re on the subject of what’s “yours” and what’s “mine”,’ she went on, ‘what about
your
girl Aretha Brown? She worked out of this place, out of your manor. How come you’re not doing something to hunt her killer down?’

Redmond gave Annie a baleful look. ‘They have the killer, or has that escaped your attention?’

‘That ain’t true,’ flung back Annie. ‘You and I both know that Chris Brown is no woman killer. He’d spit on any man that was. He’s a friend of mine, but for God’s sake he’s one of
your
boys, so how is it that I had to get him a proper brief sorted; why is it that you ain’t been moving heaven and earth to get him out of the shit, like I have?’

Redmond’s jaw was flexing with tension. His eyes were flat, murderous, but Annie wasn’t about to show any fear. Not this time.

‘I
said
they’ve got the killer,’ he repeated with deathly slowness. ‘It’s beside the point whether Chris Brown is one of mine or not. Now, Mrs Carter. Take heed of what I’m telling you or you’re going to be extremely sorry. I’m telling you for the last time—back off.’

Redmond walked forward and stood directly in front of Annie, very close. Dolly got up quickly and touched Redmond’s arm. Redmond turned suddenly, like a cobra striking, and grabbed Dolly’s wrist.

‘Get your dirty hands off me
,’ he hissed furiously.

Dolly winced. He was hurting her. ‘I only meant to say, Mr Delaney, please—can’t we talk about this?’ she said in a rush.

Redmond released Dolly with a disdainful flick of the hand. Dolly tottered sideways and fell back down on to the couch. She crouched there, her face screwed up in pain, rubbing her wrist.

‘I think the time for talking’s past,’ said Redmond, his eyes glinting with icy fury as he turned his attention back to Annie. ‘Mrs Carter, we have new terms now. Our previous arrangement is revoked. You’re not welcome here. I don’t want to see you in this house or on my streets again.’

Annie could feel sweat trickling down her back. She had never seen Redmond in a fury before, never seen him lose control by one single iota, but
she was seeing it now, and it was a frightening thing. But you couldn’t afford to show fear in a situation like this; she knew that. She put her hands on her hips and faced him full on. ‘And what if Constantine Barolli says I can go anywhere I damn well please?’

‘Annie!’ said Dolly in anguish.

‘You know,’ said Redmond, coming even closer to Annie as she shrank back against the door, ‘you ought to listen to Miss Farrell, Mrs Carter. You have a tendency to push onward when you
really
ought to draw back.’

His hand lifted.

Fuck, he’s going to hit me
, thought Annie.
Or wring my neck, one of the two.

His hand was quivering, and in his eyes was something that Annie had never seen before. Real, undiluted rage. His hand was inches from her neck. And he really, really looked as though he would like to choke the life out of her.

All right, you bastard, just do it
, she thought.
Do it, and Constantine will wipe you off the face of the earth once and for all.

Then suddenly he was back in control again. His hand dropped to his side. His eyes cleared. He gave a tight smile.

‘Our deal is revoked,’ he said again. ‘No more hiding behind the big boys. If I see you around here again, Mrs Carter, with or without Constantine
Barolli’s backing, I’ll snap you in half. Depend upon it.’

And he pushed past her and left the room, slamming the door behind him. An instant later, the front door closed. She looked at Dolly, sitting there white-faced on the couch.

‘You okay?’ Annie asked her shakily.

Dolly gave her a look that should have dropped her on the spot. ‘Oh, I’m fucking marvellous,’ she said.

Annie collapsed on to the couch beside Dolly before her legs collapsed from under her.

‘You know what, Doll?’ she said. ‘That day when Mira ran out of here, she heard me telling you that Redmond Delaney was on the phone. And you know Rosie told us Mira wrote something in blood on the sheets? I looked at it. She’d written
DEL.
For a minute I thought, yeah, that’s it, she’s writing
DELACOURT…’

Dolly shook her head, her eyes wide with disbelief as she gazed at her friend.

‘Annie, for the love of God let it go. Whatever the fuck she was writing, forget it. That’s my advice. Jesus! I don’t know what the fuck’s got into you, facing down Redmond Delaney like that. Are you mad? He’ll fucking lynch you, you daft mare.’

But Annie knew she couldn’t let this go. Not when she’d come this far. Not when she could almost
smell
the answer to all this.

‘I’m not scared of him, Doll. Not any more. Mira wasn’t writing Delacourt, was she?’ Annie said, almost to herself. ‘She was writing
DELANEY.
This is all about Redmond Delaney. And I’m not going to let it go. Not as long as I’ve got breath in my body.’

Dolly looked at her. ‘Yeah? And how long’s
that
going to be?’

So that was that. Annie sat alone over breakfast at the club next morning and knew that she could never again visit with Dolly and the girls over in Limehouse. The painters were in, starting early, putting the finishing touches to the walls; the stink of the paint and the rising heat of the day made her feel nauseous.

A night’s fitful sleep had done nothing to ease her turmoil. Her brain kept throwing up an image of Redmond Delaney’s face, white with fury, glaring at her as if murder was intended. She had never once seen Redmond lose it before. It had shaken her, although she would never admit that to a living soul.

He’d cut part of her life, part of her history, away with one fell swoop. She couldn’t go back to Dolly’s. Didn’t dare. But her visits there had become such an integral part of her life that she knew she would miss them like crazy.

Bastard.

She was drinking tea and forcing down a bit of toast when there was a knock at the flat door.

She went and answered it. It was skinny Gary Tooley with his blond hair flopping over his forehead, his blue eyes hard as they looked at her; he was leaning his lanky frame against the wall.

‘What?’ she asked.

He fished a flick knife out of his pocket and shot the blade out. Annie flinched back. He looked at her, his expression almost amused. Then he started to clean his nails with it. ‘Tony told me you wanted the dirt on that trannie Bobby Jo Hopkirk,’ he said casually.

‘You got some?’ She swallowed.

Gary nodded. ‘Some. Bobby Jo’s fucking one of the club owners,’ he said.

‘Who?’ asked Annie, her eyes on the knife. She thought of the last time she and Tony had cornered the transsexual club manager, the way he had sweated and looked evasive and asked them not to spill the beans over him and Teresa.

‘A Mrs Selma Callow. Jewish princess. Husband’s loaded and busy making the next million and she’s bored. Sunk some of the old man’s money into the club along with a few other investors, and spotted the manager, who looks okay without the skirt and the wig…it’s a story as old as time.
Enter Bobby Jo for a walk on the wild side, spice up her dull little days. We’ve seen them together; she treats him to nice things, plush hotels, the works. Hubby ain’t got a clue but he’s old school. Okay for him to boff the secretary over the desk, but I’m not sure he’d take to wifey doing the same, know what I mean?’

Annie nodded. Which would explain why Bobby Jo had been so nervous when questioned; he didn’t want to rock the boat and end up losing a cushy number.

‘You know any of the other club owners?’ she asked.

‘Not yet. We’ll dig around,’ said Gary, excavating dirt from beneath a nail.

‘Constantine Barolli’s doing that too,’ said Annie, feeling the need to say it, have it out in the open.

Gary’s eyes clouded. He paused in his manicure. ‘Yeah. About that.’

‘What?’

‘Barolli.’

‘Yeah, what?’

‘What’s the deal there? You and him?’

Annie stiffened. ‘It’s none of your fucking business.’

Gary let out a laugh and closed the knife, pocketed it. ‘Yeah, but you see it
is.
Max and Jonjo out of the picture. You ruling the roost.
That’s fine. But now, this. Word on the street is you and him are tight together. Word is that you ain’t in charge any more,
he
is.’

‘That ain’t true.’

‘No?’ Gary’s eyes were acute on hers.

‘No.’

‘Only the boys like to know who they’re taking orders from, that’s all.’

‘They’re taking orders from me. Tell them that. Not Constantine.
Me.
’

‘So long as we understand each other,’ said Gary.

‘Oh, I think we do.’

‘None of the boys would like that,’ he went on. ‘Taking orders off the Yanks. Could cause a
lot
of trouble.’

‘Such as?’ asked Annie, straight-faced, but she felt sick to her stomach.

‘Such as, well, Steve and me could take over the show and Constantine Barolli could go fuck himself.’

Leaving me nowhere,
thought Annie.

‘You want that?’ she asked.

Gary’s eyes locked on her for a long moment. Then he looked away.

‘We’re Carter boys,’ he said finally. ‘Always have been, always will be. You’re a Carter. We’re loyal to the Carters. But if
Carter
became
Barolli
…’

He shrugged and left the sentence hanging. Didn’t need to finish it.

She was walking a tightrope here with her connection to Constantine—but then, she had always known that.

‘Okay, Gary, I’ve got the message,’ she said, and the phone started to ring.

‘Glad to hear it. Right. See you.’ And he loped off down the stairs.

Annie closed the door and let out a shaky sigh before dashing over and snatching up the phone from the side table beside the couch. ‘Yep?’ she snapped.

‘Bad day?’ said Constantine.

‘Worse than bad.’

‘Your friend,’ he said.

‘Mira? How’s she doing?’

‘She’s asking for you. Making a bit more sense now, they say. You could visit tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Give me the address.’ She scrabbled around for pen and paper. ‘Should I phone ahead, let them know what time?’

‘That would be good,’ he said, and he gave her the address and telephone number of the safe house.

‘Thanks. Constantine?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’ve been getting grief off Gary Tooley about hooking up with you.’

‘Well, that was sure to happen. He’s loyal to Max. Assert your authority, stamp it out.’

‘Yeah, only he seems to think it’s
your
authority.’

‘A woman in a man’s world,’ said Constantine.

‘Thank you Sigmund Freud.’ Annie felt a flare of anger at the injustice of it. ‘The fucking cheek. They see me as Max’s wife or your girlfriend. Not as
me.
Annie Carter. The boss.’

‘Well,
be
the boss.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ She sighed. She wanted to tell him she’d had grief off Redmond, but fuck it, she was too proud. She didn’t want to show herself up as the little woman begging for protection.
Fuck
that. ‘What about the investors in the Alley Cat? You got any names? I’ve got one, Selma Callow.’

‘I’ve got three besides that one. Hold on, here it is. Colin Stringer, City financier. Evan Davies, banker. And Redmond Delaney, who I think you know?’

Annie nearly dropped the phone. ‘Holy shit. Redmond’s got a share of the club?’

‘Is that significant?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve got to think about it. He was mad as hell at me crossing him over Mira.’

‘He giving you any trouble?’

She ought to tell him now. She knew it. But she couldn’t.

‘He just told me not to go to Dolly’s again. Like, ever,’ she said, watering it down, conveying none of the viciousness, none of the fury that Redmond had displayed in Dolly’s front parlour.

‘Then don’t. He’s been pushed far enough. Pull back.’

‘But for God’s sake! I’ve spent half my life going in and out of Dolly’s place. Why’s this got him so hot and bothered? I’ve never seen him like this before.’

‘That’s something you’re going to have to ask Mira about. They were there to get her, after all.’

‘I know. I will.’

‘Anything else I can help with?’ he asked.

Yeah
, thought Annie.
Come over here and give me a hug, tell me this is all going to be okay even though I just know it never will be.

‘No. Nothing,’ she said instead.

‘I want to see you.’

She felt herself weaken when he said that. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Okay.’

A pause. ‘I’m going home soon,’ he said.

Don’t
, she thought, clutching the phone tighter.

He paused. ‘I have a penthouse in Manhattan. It overlooks Central Park.’ He paused again. ‘The family never go there. Just me.’

Annie was silent.

‘Are you still there?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ she said, dry-mouthed.

‘You could go there too. Anything you want. A charge account. A life of luxury. Ten nannies for Layla. Anything.’

Max had offered her the same thing. History was
repeating itself. Back in the day, she’d been Max Carter’s mistress. Now she would be Constantine’s. He’d found a way to have her in his life without upsetting the family order. She felt deflated.

‘We’ll talk,’ he said. ‘Okay?’

‘Yeah. Okay.’ She put the phone down. Thought about it. Tried to see it as a good thing, that he wanted her close, that his intentions towards her were serious.

But she
still
felt like a kid whose balloon had burst.