The Room on the Second Floor (28 page)

As for the Salon, she was still convinced there was something funny going on. Duggie had been downright cagey about letting her see inside the refurbished rooms. Roger still had no key or code to the security door. Just exactly what was going on up there? The name ‘Salon’ implied a beauty salon or similar. If this were the case, why would it appear that the only clients were men? What was that strange word? Meretricious, that was it. Could it really be that Duggie had resurrected that strange medieval decree? Could he really have set up a modern-day meretricious establishment? She determined to get to the bottom of it.

She slipped away without waking Roger and let herself out of the door. She headed for the stairs.

Chapter 47

In the changing rooms of the fitness centre on the ground floor, Chief Inspector Cocker was taking a shower. It had been a satisfying, if tiring, workout. Next to him in the shower was a face he recognised. It took him a while, but he finally remembered.

‘Dr Neilsen, isn’t it?’

The man turned towards him and wiped shampoo out of his eyes. ‘Sorry, I’ve got a terrible memory for names…’

‘Cocker. Chief Inspector Cocker. We met last year, when that pop star tried to top himself.’ Recollection dawned on Neilsen’s face. Incongruously, as they were both stark naked, he extended his hand and they shook.

‘Of course, Inspector. Didn’t expect you chaps to be participating in the joys of the second floor.’ Cocker’s ears pricked up. He managed to keep the incomprehension off his face, fascinated to see where the conversation was going. He mumbled, ‘Oh yes,’ in reply. The doctor was happy to elaborate.

‘Sindy and Mindy. Now, if you want my medical opinion, they should be available on prescription.’ With an expression of supreme satisfaction on his face, he squeezed more soap onto his hands and rubbed himself vigorously. ‘Guaranteed to take twenty years off any man’s life, and that’s a fact.’

Sindy and Mindy? Daylight was beginning to dawn in Cocker’s head. He listened attentively.
Surely not
…? As they made their way out to their towels, the pathologist let slip a few more indiscretions.

‘Not cheap, but worth every penny. I’ve spent more here this month than I did on my annual holiday. But I’ll tell you this, Inspector, this beats cruising in the Aegean by a mile.’ He rubbed his back vigorously. ‘Well, must get home to the little woman.’ It was clear he was referring neither to Sindy nor to Mindy.

He gave a vague wave of the hand and ambled off towards his clothes at the far end of the changing rooms. Cocker, still unsure if he had interpreted what he had heard correctly, reached for his boxer shorts. He decided to take a trip upstairs before going home.

Unbeknown to the inspector, all was not well on the second floor. The news was brought to Mo by different people. First, it was Ingrid.

‘Mo, I can’t get into Whiplash. The door’s locked. And the leather bondage outfit has disappeared. I specially asked for it to be laid out for me. I’ve got Colonel Mactavish coming in any moment now. What am I going to do?’

Mo did a bit of quick thinking. ‘Use one of the other rooms.’ She glanced at her chart. ‘Sheer Silk is free. Use that. And tell him to close his eyes when he walks in, then stick a blindfold on him. He won’t have a clue what you’re wearing.’

‘Oh, Mo, that’s brilliant.’ She turned as she reached the door. ‘Still, I wonder what’s going on in Whiplash. Or where that leather suit is.’

Mo was wondering the same thing. A number of articles had been disappearing lately. A notion was taking shape in her head, and she didn’t like it one tiny bit. There was a knock at the door. The South African dentist, Mr Springer, peered round the door, an apologetic look on his face.

‘I am sorry to disturb you, Maureen, but I wonder if something’s happened to Natascha. I’ve been waiting for over half an hour, and she hasn’t appeared.’

Now that was very unusual. Natascha was always an excellent time-keeper. Mo told him to go back to the clients’ lounge and that she would look into it. As he went out, Mo headed through the security door.

She hurried down the corridor, looking for Natascha. She peered into all the rooms until she reached Whiplash. She tugged at the handle, but she found it locked. She hammered on it, but to no effect. Something very strange was going on. The soundproofing was so good in there, anything could be happening. She carried on to the end of the corridor. Rachel Turner’s door was open, her office empty.

Very concerned by this time, she hurried back in search of Duggie. As she charged down the corridor, she bumped into Sindy and Mindy. They were on their way out of the Gossamer room, obviously very upset. Sindy was crying.

‘Mo, Mo, you’ve got to listen. Ms Turner has gone crackers!’ Mindy was almost shouting. Mo had never seen her like this. ‘She was awful to Sindy. She slapped her across the face.’ She was outraged.

‘She accused me of taking her man!’ Sindy’s tone said it all. She looked up at Mo in disbelief. ‘As if I would! He’s that dentist, you know, the one in Duke Street who gives us all free check-ups.’ There was still a red welt across her face from the slap.

‘Mr Springer. He’s just been to see me.’ Things started to fall into place in Mo’s head. ‘He was scheduled to see Natascha, but she’s disappeared.’

Sindy looked up anxiously. ‘Oh, God. I told her he was one of Natascha’s. Oh, Mo, what have I done?’

‘Nothing, Sindy. Just you go and calm down. Have a cup of tea and leave things up to me. I’ll go and find Douglas.’

‘Do you think she’s got Tasha in Whiplash with her?’ Mindy’s voice was gravely worried.

‘I don’t know, Mindy, but I’m going for help.’

She left them looking wide-eyed. Then, to make matters worse, as she rushed out through the security door, she spotted none other than Linda, waiting in the reception area. She slowed down, smiled nervously and did her best to compose herself.

‘Good evening, Linda. Nice to see you up here again. How’re the nails?’ She eyed the door, desperate to be off in search of help from Douglas Scott.

‘To be quite honest, Mo, I thought it was about time I came up to see what really goes on in the Salon. I must say the choice of video entertainment for the clients is more than just a little risqué.’ With the tip of her finger she toppled the pile of DVDs. The first two covers alone sported more nudity than a Swedish beach. Mo was at a loss for words. Both she and Duggie had been dreading this moment and praying it would never come.

‘So, tell me, Mo. Just exactly what is going on here?’

At that very moment Duggie arrived at the top of the stairs. There was a contented smile on his face. Toplingham Country Club was back to normal again, the kitchens were once more immaculate, and the hubbub of the opening day had died down. A steady stream of aspiring new members had passed through Reception in the course of the first days of the new year, brandishing credit cards and cheque books. Duggie rubbed his hands together with delight. They had reached two hundred and fifty applications for membership already. Things were looking good, right up till he spotted Mo and Linda. Too late, he stopped, hoping to disappear down the stairs again. But he heard his name called out by both women simultaneously. He turned back, reluctantly, to face the music.

‘Hello, Linda, how’s Roger?’ He tried turning on the charm.

‘He seems a lot better. In fact, he is sleeping it off now. I thought I would take advantage of that fact to come up and ask for a guided tour of the Salon.’ Her eyes narrowed as she saw the guilt on his face. ‘The bits I didn’t see when I was last here. I get the strangest feeling that I won’t be surprised when you show me what really goes on in here.’ Her eyes stared hard into his. He turned away sheepishly, only to catch Mo’s eyes, which were almost popping out of her head.

‘Douglas, Douglas, please could we talk very urgently. I am afraid something awful is going on.’ Both Duggie and Linda had her full attention now.

‘What is it, Mo?’ Linda asked the question.

Duggie gave a resigned nod. ‘Go on, Mo, spit it out. Linda is going to find out anyway, so tell us what is so urgent now.’

Mo looked relieved. ‘Natascha’s disappeared. I can’t find her anywhere, but one of the rooms is locked from the inside and nobody’s answering. And I can’t find the manager either.’ She looked across at Duggie. ‘You know I told you she’d got a boyfriend? Well she’s just found out he’s one of our Joe…clients! She’s gone mental.’ Her voice rose in pitch. ‘It’s that dentist. You know, the South African from Duke Street.’

As she spoke, Linda’s eyes widened to equal Mo’s. ‘Not Mr Springer? He’s my dentist.’

Mo nodded. ‘And I think she may have locked herself in Whiplash. I’m almost certain she’s got Natascha in there with her. I’m terrified she is going to hurt her.’ She added a few words of explanation to Linda. ‘You see, he is one of Natascha’s clients.’

Shocked as Linda was, to hear outright confirmation of the true nature of the Salon, she was, however, woman enough to know that their first priority was to help the Russian girl.

‘Get in there, Duggie. You are responsible for anything that happens here, so get moving.’ Both Mo and Duggie were taken aback by Linda’s sharp tone, but wasted no time. Duggie keyed in the code and the three of them rushed through the security door, and along the corridor. Out of the corner of her eye, Linda saw a movement behind her, as the door swung closed. Inspector Cocker arrived in Reception, just as the security door slammed shut in his face.

Duggie rushed down to the cabinet at the end of the corridor. He opened a small wall safe, whose presence was unknown to anybody in the building apart from himself. Inside was a master key to all the doors in the Salon. Running back up to the Whiplash room, he jammed it in the lock and turned it. He threw the door open so hard, it swung right back with a crash. The handle dug a hole in the freshly replastered wall, but he didn’t notice. On the bed in front of them was Natascha, weeping bitter tears into the comforting arms of Mindy. Mercifully, she seemed unharmed. The window onto the flat lead roof gaped open, shattered glass littering the floor. Mindy pointed out through it.

‘The bitch ran out that way, after we smashed the window. Rocky cut himself on the way in, and we couldn’t stop her.’ Rocky was nursing a bloodstained towel around his right arm, while Sindy was giving him a cuddle. He looked as white as a sheet.

Mindy carried on. ‘We sneaked up here through the window of Gossamer. It’s quite easy to climb onto the flat bit of the roof. We saw her through the glass. The evil old bag had tied Tasha up. If poor little Rocky hadn’t cut himself coming through the window, we would have caught her.’ It took Duggie a while to come to terms with the use of the epithet ‘little’ when describing Rocky.

Natascha looked up from Mindy’s arms. She wiped the tears angrily. ‘She was waiting for me when I come into room.’ She sniffed, but carried on. ‘She was wearing leather bondage suit. You know, new one. Of course it did not fit.’ She made a spitting sound. ‘Was disgusting to look at. She grabbed me and start to tie me up.’ The expression of fear was back on her face again. ‘She say I steal her man. She say she going to hurt me. I think she crazy. But Rocky and twins save me.’ She reached up and kissed Mindy gratefully.

Linda surveyed the surreal scene. Three near-naked girls were cuddling a muscle-bound hunk on a massive bed. She felt, just for a moment, as if she had been transported into one of those films from the pile of DVDs in the outer office. She caught herself glancing down to check that she, at least, was still fully clothed. Beside her stood Duggie, clearly oblivious to their state of undress. She could see he was desperately trying to work out the best course of action.

Linda had no doubt that she knew the answer to that. She shot back out of the room. The security door opened simply with a handle from the inside. She was relieved to see Inspector Cocker standing in the Reception area. He looked up a little sheepishly from his inspection of the collection of DVDs on the table in front of him. ‘All well, Miss Reid?’

‘Would you mind coming through here with me, Inspector?’

She led him through to the others and let them tell him.

Chapter 48

There was a very gentle knock on Roger’s door. The handle turned quietly. Through the door came three men: Henri, Paddy and Stan. Their faces were set and very serious. As they came across the room to where he was sleeping, the dog looked up from the floor and, with a woof of pleasure, leapt up and trotted across to greet them. The sound of the dog woke Roger, who looked back awkwardly over his shoulder towards them.

‘Evening, chaps. To what do I owe this pleasure?’ As he finished, his voice tailed off. This was something out of the ordinary. None of them seemed to want to reply. They moved slowly closer. He started to get the strangest feeling of anxiety. What on earth was going on? Finally, as they lined up beside him, Stan stepped forward and spoke.

‘We need to speak to you, professor. It is really serious.’ He twisted his gnarled hands nervously. The ice broken, Henri chipped in.

‘We have to offer you a confession.’

Roger opened his eyes wide. ‘A confession? That sounds serious.’ This time Paddy decided to offer a fuller explanation.

‘If it please you, your lordship.’ Even Henri and Stan raised their eyes at this appellation. ‘We have come to the conclusion that the very best way of clarifying the precise situation, appertaining to those things that have been done, but which should not have been done, is for us, jointly and severally, to appear before your Grace, and offer a reasoned account of those things, to which I have just alluded.’

Oblivious to the cloud of incomprehension which had settled across Roger’s face, not least at his promotion to archbishop, the old Irishman waded on. ‘As the three longest-serving faithful retainers of this illustrious household, the sum total of whose years of devoted and unselfish service to your dear departed uncle comes to almost as many years as the age of one of those magnificent cedrus libani trees outside the colonnaded front of this wondrous Georgian building, albeit erected upon medieval foundations, we took it upon ourselves, with malice aforethought, to perpetrate an act that has since haunted us as horribly as the ghost of Banquo haunted the eponymous hero of the immortal bard’s Macbeth.’