Sextortion (2 page)

"Three
o'clock."

"I'll be at
the TV studio."

"Yes, I know.
Look, get the money first thing in the morning. I'll make it clear
that it's a one-off payment, threaten her and... Oh, I don't know.
All we can do is hope that she grabs the money and runs."

I tried to
convince myself that she would grab the money and run. She'd be
taking quite a risk by coming back for more and I could only pray
that we'd never see the treacherous tart again once we'd paid her
off. It was a glimmer of hope glowing in the gloom, I knew. But it
was all the hope I had, and I wasn't going to let it go.

Walking into
the garden, I breathed in the heady fragrance of the night scented
stock, the freshly mown grass. The evening sun warming me, I
wandered across the lawn and sat on the bench beneath the beech
tree, trying to fathom what had happened to my world, my life. The
advance for my first book had paid off the mortgage, bought us a
new BMW, given us a romantic holiday...

My dreams
shattered, my hopes destroyed, I didn't see how I could write a
second book. My mind wouldn't be in it, and besides, she'd demand
more money. What was the point? I asked myself. God knew, the
Inland Revenue had taken a big enough chunk of my first advance,
and were demanding more. What with the Revenue and the blackmailing
tart... What was the point?

"Selina, I've
been thinking," Danny said pensively as he ambled across the lawn
with his coffee. "This girl must know someone who knows you."

"Not
necessarily. She might know someone who knows someone..."

"Yes, but
let's assume that she knows someone who directly knows you. Who did
you tell about the ceiling?"

"I can't
remember, it was a long time ago."

"You told
Chrissy, right?"

"Yes, but I've
known her since I was eight years old. She wouldn't..."

"No, no I'm
not saying that she's involved. What I'm getting at is that Chrissy
might have told this girl and, if that's the case, she obviously
knows her. The girl's in her mid twenties, not much younger than
you - or Chrissy, for that matter."

"So?"

"So, let's
make a few assumptions. You've lived in this town all your life,
and I reckon she lives here, too. She probably went to the same
pubs and clubs as you, she probably knew the people you knew. She
might even have known Barry."

"Yes, but how
does that help us? We can easily find out where she lives and who
she is by following her tomorrow afternoon."

"I don't think
it's a good idea to follow her."

"Why not?"

"She might
spot us, and she might not be working alone."

"Danny, I
haven't robbed a bank or murdered someone - all I did was..."

"We can't be
too careful, love."

"Don't tell me
she's part of a gangland..."

"I'm not
suggesting that. I just think we should try and find out as much as
we can about her without her knowing."

"Shall I ask
Chrissy who she told about the ceiling?"

"No, let's not
say anything yet. Try to think of all the people you told about it.
I realize that it was a long time ago, but try. Look, I need to
clear my mind and think constructively. I'm going for a walk, I'll
see you later."

Danny was
right, I ruminated, watching him mooch across the lawn with his
hands in his pockets. It was best not to tell Chrissy, or anyone
else. If I thought back to all the people I knew at the time, the
few I might have mentioned the scam to, it should be possible to
determine the girl's identity. But, even if we knew who she was,
what could we do?

I couldn't
help but feel sorry for Danny. He'd tried so hard with his writing,
and failed so miserably. He'd put his all into his latest book,
spending months and months writing and rewriting, only to receive
rejection after rejection from literary agents and publishers.

The sad truth
of the matter was that he couldn't write, I conceded glumly. He
hadn't got a clue! And now, just when I was being wooed by my
publisher to put the icing on my success with another book, a
menacing shadow hovered. What was the point? I again asked myself
as I wandered into the house. I had to be strong, I knew. I had to
fight this whippet, bring her down and... And what? Making my
plans, I climbed the stairs to my den and took a new exercise book
from the desk drawer. I couldn't fight an unknown quantity, someone
I didn't know, someone I'd never seen. It would be like sparring
with a shadow.

The first
thing to discover was the girl's name and address. Making notes in
the book, trying to recall the people I'd known at the time, those
I might have mentioned the ceiling to, I was determined not to let
her ruin me. It was her against me, one to one. I had to think
positively, put things into perspective. The scam couldn't be
proved and was insignificant - but Barry was another matter. I
could always deny the affair, but there's no smoke without fire.
And the tabloids were pretty adept at making their own
bonfires!

I dragged my
mind back to Barry. Our relationship had been no secret. Everyone
had known about it - except his wife. Anyone of twenty or thirty
people could now be pulling the plug on the affair. Barry? Could he
be working with the opportunist hussy? I pondered. The very idea
was ludicrous.

The trip to
the TV studio could wait, I decided. It was only to run through one
or two things in connection with a chat show I was to appear on the
following week. First things first, I told myself pragmatically.
Despite Danny's warning, I decided to hide in the street and follow
the girl once he'd given her the money. It wasn't much of a plan -
if she was driving, I might lose her, if she was walking, she might
hop onto a bus. A weak strategy, I conceded, but better than
nothing.

I didn't sleep
that night. Tossing and turning, my mind racked with worry and
anger, I finally left Danny to his snoring and went downstairs to
make some tea. I'd planned to start my second book that morning,
but my plans had been shattered. I could think of nothing other
than the unknown girl, the bitch. No doubt she was sleeping,
dreaming of collecting five thousand pounds, while I drowned in my
anguish.

Watching the
sun climb above the trees at the end of the garden, my thoughts
became clearer. Knowing that I had no choice other than to pay her,
and that she'd be back for more, I came to a rash decision. I
wouldn't write the second novel. We owned the house and had a new
car, and the royalties would keep us going for quite some time.
Another one hundred thousand pounds would have been great, but with
the Revenue and the bitch taking their chunks, it seemed
futile.

We could live
quite happily, I convinced myself. Although my heart had been set
on writing novels, I could turn my hand to short stories and not
only bring in a little money, but satisfy my creative yearning. If
the bitch turned up demanding more money, Danny could tell her that
there was no more, and that there'd be no more books.

No more money?
There was about ten thousand left in my bank account. I'd give the
bitch half and we'd survive on the rest until the next royalty
cheque arrived. I'd made my plan and was going to stick to it, no
matter what.

"You're up
early," Danny remarked, wandering into the kitchen in his boxer
shorts.

"I couldn't
sleep," I sighed, wishing he'd left me alone with my thoughts for a
while longer. "Want some tea?"

"Thanks."

"Danny, I've
decided not to write the second book," I enlightened him as he sat
at the table.

"What? Selina,
are you mad?"

"Far from it.
I'm not going to be blackmailed, Danny. This is my life, and no
one's going to intrude like this. She'll be back for more and, if
there is no more..."

"Christ! It's
insane to turn down a hundred grand!"

"Insane or
not, I've made my mind up."

Shaking his
head as I poured him a cup of tea, he was obviously stunned. Maybe
insanity had touched me, perhaps I was mad, but it would solve the
problem. And besides, I knew I couldn't write another book with
heavy clouds of anxiety hanging over me.

"You'll change
your mind," he asserted. "It's just that all this has thrown
you."

"Thrown me?
It's done more than throw me," I snapped, passing him his tea. "For
Christ's sake, it's turned my life upside down!"

"Have you
remembered who you told about the ceiling?"

"No, it's
impossible to think back. I could have mentioned it to anyone
and... Danny, this is ridiculous."

"How do you
mean?"

"All this
nonsense about the bloody ceiling."

"It's not so
much the ceiling, it's Barry."

"OK, so I was
going out with a man who was married with kids."

"Selina, you
know how the tabloids love digging up stuff on people in the public
eye."

"Yes,
but..."

"And we don't
know what else they'll discover about you."

"There is
nothing else!"

"Isn't
there?"

"No!"

"I wasn't
going to tell you, but... The girl said that she has more on
you."

"Such as?"

"I don't know,
she wouldn't tell me."

"Look, she's
coming here this afternoon. All we have to do is drag her into the
house and..."

"And what?
Beat her up? Bash her around a bit and get ourselves arrested for
assault?"

"I don't know.
This is crazy, Danny. A girl comes here and demands money, and
there's nothing we can do about it?"

"We'll pay her
off and that will be that."

"Yeah, and
pigs might..."

"I'm going up
to take a shower."

Pacing the
kitchen floor, I was in two minds as whether to call the police or
not. Although I had Danny I felt so alone in the battle, as if the
world was against me. But what could the police do? Hide in the
house and arrest her when she turned up? As Danny had said, she'd
sell her story and that would be that - my ruination. The bitch had
wrecked my evening, and my night, and was now destroying my day -
and I hadn't even met her!

I realized how
vulnerable I was, the vulnerability of all people with skeletons in
their cupboards. But what were my feeble skeletons? Ripping an
insurance company off and being conned and used by a married man? I
was hardly a criminal! Had it not been for my success, no one would
have bothered about me, taken the slightest interest in boring
Selina Goodman. But I had been successful, and I was to pay dearly
for that success.

I rang the TV
studio with my excuses and then walked into town to draw the cash
out of the bank. Five thousand pounds of my hard-earned money going
to a complete stranger... It had to be done, there was no choice.
But, as I walked home clutching my bag, I sensed I was making the
biggest mistake of my life. Don't do it, my thoughts told me.
You're digging a hole you'll never be able to climb out of. I
should have listened to my thoughts.

Dressed in my
blue jacket and matching skirt, I lied to Danny, telling him I was
going to the studio. Had I said I was going to follow the girl he'd
have tried to talk me out of it, and I didn't want that. I'd made
my plan and was going to stick to it.

I gave him the
money, one hundred crisp fifty-pound notes, and left the house at
eleven. With four hours to kill, I walked into town, had lunch at a
small restaurant, and then wandered aimlessly around the common.
What was I doing? Normally, I'd have been in my den, my fingers
bashing away at the keyboard. What the hell was I doing wandering
aimlessly around the common?

By
two-forty-five I was lurking in the street, waiting for the girl to
arrive. Even if I failed to discover where she lived, I had to see
her. What did she look like? Was she fat or thin, tall or short -
plain or attractive? My heart in my mouth, I watched a young woman
walking along the street, wondering whether it was her. Another
woman stopped outside my house and rummaged through her bag, but
then walked on. Did she have skeletons in her cupboard? By
three-fifteen there was no sign of the bitch, so I went home. For a
moment I wondered whether the whole thing had been a hoax. But I
was very wrong.

"Where did she
get to?" I asked as I burst into the kitchen to find Danny gazing
out of the window. "I've been waiting in the street for ages."

"I thought
we'd agreed..."

"I know, but I
decided to follow the bitch."

"She turned up
at two o'clock."

"Two? But she
said..."

"She's
obviously not stupid, Selina. She must have thought that we might
try something and decided to arrive an hour early."

"You gave her
the money?"

"Yes, I did.
It was strange. She took the cash, gave me a kiss and grabbed my
crotch."

"Grabbed
your... Why would she do that? Did she say anything?"

"Nothing. I
came back inside and spied through the letterbox. The minute she'd
gone I dashed down the path into the street, but there was no sign
of her."

"She couldn't
have walked to the corner that quickly. Perhaps she was in a
car."

"When I came
back to the house, I heard a car drive off. She must have leaped
into her car and hidden on the floor, knowing that I'd probably try
to follow her."

"You're right,
she's not stupid. She's a bitch, but not stupid."

"If you didn't
go to the studio, where have you been all this time?" he asked
accusingly.

"Walking,
having lunch, thinking... Anyway, let's hope that's the end of the
matter. Not that I believe for one minute that it is."

The following morning, a hand-delivered envelope lay on the
doormat. Ripping it open, I was shocked to discover a photograph of
the girl clutching a wad of notes as she kissed Danny. Another
showed her grinning as she groped his crotch. Scrawled on the back
of one of the photos was a note demanding another five thousand
pounds.
Or the newspapers will receive the
pictures of your husband paying a prostitute for her
services
.