The Villain’s Daughter (40 page)

She shifted restively from one foot to another. Now the time had come, she wanted to get it over and done with.

It felt like forever before she finally heard their descending footsteps, although in reality it was probably no more than three or four minutes. Danny Street came first. He strutted in wearing a white jacket and tie, his attire more suited to a cocktail party than the cool, sterile basement of Tobias Grand & Sons. His eyes alighted on her briefly. He gave a slight nod, enough to acknowledge her presence without taking the trouble to open his mouth. She could have taken offence - no one liked being greeted with indifference - but Alice had more pressing worries. She didn’t give a damn whether he was polite to her or not. In fact, she was glad that they didn’t have to talk - he had nothing to say that she wanted to hear.

As Toby followed behind, he shot her a reassuring smile. She smiled tentatively back before returning her attention to Danny Street, watching closely as his gaze gradually focused on the pale naked body of Jenni Brookner. She found herself holding her breath, suddenly afraid that he would find something to complain about. What if Jenni’s figure was all wrong, her hair the wrong colour? The moment these thoughts entered her head, she felt disgusted by them. She shouldn’t be entertaining such ideas - they were evil, sick.

But Danny Street appeared more than happy with what he was seeing. A glimmer of a smile snaked on to his lips. ‘Well, we’ll get started then, shall we,’ he said. He didn’t address her directly, didn’t even glance in her direction, but simply uttered the words into the space that lay between them.

Alice looked over at Toby, but he had his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. He’d moved away from the table and was standing by the sink. His face was drawn, his arms wrapped around his chest and his hands clenched under his armpits. He looked like a scared little boy and her heart went out to him. If she bottled it now, there was no saying what Danny Street might do. Well, she wasn’t going to let him be hurt again. They were in this together. She gulped down her panic and stepped forward.

Alice could see only one way to get through this and that was to get it over and done with as quickly as possible. If she put her mind to it, she could complete the job in less than an hour. Yes, that’s how she had to think about it - just another job, nothing else. She had to hold her nerve. Last time she had told Danny Street exactly what she was doing, taking him through the process step by step, almost treating him like a student, but on this occasion she sensed it was smarter to stay silent. Unless he asked her something, she would keep her mouth firmly shut.

As Alice went to shoot the formaldehyde into Jenni Brookner’s carotid artery, she realised her hand was shaking. She had to lower the needle and take a few seconds to calm herself. It didn’t help that Danny Street was standing so close, almost breathing down her neck. She could smell his sweat and the stale lingering stench of cigarettes. She glanced at him, noting the sheen on his upper lip.
Concentrate,
she told herself. For Toby’s sake, she had to stay calm. Once this was over, they’d be free of the creep forever.

The next forty-five minutes were possibly the longest of Alice’s life. She was trying to work as efficiently as she could, but her fingers, usually so nimble, had become thick and clumsy. All the procedures that had once been second nature, now felt so complicated she was barely able to perform them. She stumbled over the simplest of manoeuvres, dropping hooks, spilling chemicals. With every action she performed, something seemed to go wrong.

She tried to ignore Danny Street, to pretend he wasn’t there, but his presence was too solid, too overwhelming for this to be possible. He was like a long, vile shadow attached to her shoulder. Every tiny movement he made, every clearing of his throat, induced a desire in her to scream. She could feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck.

Alice paused for a moment. She looked down at Jenni Brookner, at her pale flawless skin and long fair hair. This was a young woman whose life had been cruelly snatched away before she’d even reached her twenty-first birthday. Usually Alice would have pondered on what that life had been like, searched for clues on the body, but she had no time for idle ruminations tonight. She knew what she should be feeling - pity and compassion - but there was no space left in her heart. Fear had consumed her, pushing all other emotions aside. She closed her eyes for a second. If only this was a bad dream, a nightmare she could eventually wake up from.

Danny Street shifted impatiently behind her, his black shiny shoes making a tiny scuffing sound against the lino.

Alice blinked open her eyes again.
Concentrate.
She had to wipe her mind clean of everything, everyone. It was the only way she was going to get through this. She straightened her shoulders and breathed in deeply. Then in one quick easy motion she leaned down, picked up the trocar and pierced the girl’s abdomen just above the navel . . .

Somehow, she got through it - and in record time too. By one o’clock Alice had completed the emptying, the washing, the replacing, even the sewing-up of all the loose ends. She stood back and gave a sigh of relief. It was over. Jenni Brookner was perfectly embalmed. Now all that was left was for her to apply a little make-up . . . and for Danny Street to walk away and leave them in peace.

But as Alice reached for her bag of cosmetics, Toby moved forward and took her hand. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he said. ‘Take a break.’

She glared at him. A break was the last thing she needed. All she wanted was to get out of here and as soon as possible. ‘What?’

‘A drink,’ Toby said.

Oh, great! As if she hadn’t had enough to endure of the crazy Danny Street already. Now she was expected to sit across a table from the lunatic and act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She frowned at Toby, not able to say what she was thinking out loud. Then when this had no effect, she peered deliberately at her watch. ‘It’s getting late. Don’t you think . . .?’

Toby didn’t take the hint. Instead he propelled her firmly up the stairs. ‘Just one drink,’ he said. ‘That’s not going to make much difference, is it?’

When they reached the kitchen, Toby switched on the overhead light. As always the neon tube flickered and hummed before coming on properly. She presumed it was safe to have the light on - the kitchen was at the back of the building - but as she sat down she still looked warily towards the two frosted windows.

Toby took a half bottle of vodka from his pocket, unscrewed the cap and slopped a generous measure into a couple of mugs. ‘Here,’ he said, placing one in front of her. He bent and kissed her neck. ‘You deserve this. You were brilliant.’

But Alice didn’t want congratulations. There was nothing praiseworthy about sneaking around in the middle of the night, pandering to the dubious interests of a local thug. What she had done was wrong and there was no getting over it. She glanced anxiously towards the door and then back at Toby. ‘Where is he? What’s he doing?’

Toby shrugged and looked away.

Alice frowned. There was something furtive about him, about the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes that set alarm bells ringing in her head. Suddenly she had one of those revelatory moments. It was like a bright, vivid light illuminating the impossible. Her body went hot and cold and her mouth fell open. Goosebumps gathered on her arms. ‘Oh my God,’ she murmured. Why hadn’t it occurred to her? Why hadn’t she realised that this time watching might not be enough for a monster like Danny Street? That’s how it worked, wasn’t it? First there was the interest in corpses, then there was the obsession, and then . . . She shot up out of her chair and headed towards the door.

Toby grabbed hold of her arm, forcibly restraining her. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What do you think? We have to stop him. We can’t . . .’ She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. ‘We
can’t.
’

‘We have to.’

‘D-don’t you care?’ she stammered out.

Toby gave a low frustrated growl. ‘Of course I care, but what do you want me to do? Go down there and tell him he’s a fucking freak? We just sit here and wait. This is our one and only chance to get clear of him forever.’

‘But—’

‘But nothing,’ he said fiercely. Two bright red spots had appeared on his cheeks. ‘Do you want him to kill me? To kill
you
?’

Alice had begun to shake again. This was worse than the trembling that had overtaken her in the basement, a hundred thousand times worse. It racked her body and made her teeth chatter. She felt the nausea rise up from her stomach. Shaking herself free of Toby’s grasp, she rushed across the room and threw up in the sink.

Iris couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy. Bearing in mind the ominously dark cloud that still hung over her, this was probably tempting fate, but she didn’t care. Love and optimism went hand in hand, and with Guy beside her she could get through anything. It was as though she’d turned a corner and from this point on life could only get better. Was it possible to fall in love overnight? She smiled to herself. Except, of course, it hadn’t just happened overnight; there had been a spark there, a chemistry, from the very first moment they’d met.

She looked around reception, aware that if it hadn’t been for this job she might never have set eyes on him. God bless Tobias Grand & Sons! It was Monday morning, nine-thirty, and even Gerald Grand’s reappearance - and his insistence on reviewing every bit of paperwork for the past week - couldn’t blunt her good mood. All she had to do now was to start building some bridges with Vita . . . She wasn’t too worried about Michael,
that
spat would blow over, but her friend was a different matter altogether. She suspected it would take more than a heartfelt apology to heal the rift.

Iris wondered if she should have called her yesterday. Giving the dust time to settle was all very well, but the longer she let things drift, the worse they might become. Would Vita have told Rick what she’d said? Of course she would. It was too serious, too inflammatory to ignore. Iris felt a flush invade her cheeks. How would she ever look him in the face again? It seemed doubtful that the truth about where he’d got the money from would ever come out - but her hasty accusation would never be forgotten. Still, she had to at least try and make amends. She would ring tonight; Guy would be working and, if Vita was willing, they could have a long talk.

The main door opened and Toby Grand bounced in. He shook the snow from his leather jacket and came over to perch on the corner of her desk. ‘How’s it going, babe? Have you missed me?’

Iris stared up at him. ‘God, what happened to your face?’

His fingers rose to flutter over the fading bruises. ‘Oh, this?’ he said. ‘Nothing. I just slipped on the ice. I was a bit bladdered to be honest. So there’s no need for any sympathy; I didn’t feel a thing.’

Iris wondered if Toby lied about
everything.
It was a habit, perhaps, and one he found impossible to break. There was no way he could have got those bruises from a fall. It was a natural instinct, even when you were drunk, to put out your hands if you were hurtling towards the ground. Anyway, it wasn’t that long since she’d tended to Michael’s cuts and bruises; these, she thought, looked pretty similar. ‘I heard you had the flu.’

He grinned. ‘What’s the rule that says you can’t be sick
and
have a few bevies?’

‘No rule. Only most people refrain from fighting when they’re up to ears in Lemsips and tissues.’

Toby grinned. ‘Well, I’ll try to remember that in future.’

‘Something to do with your new best friend, was it?’ Iris asked, trying to sound casual. With all the trouble going on at the moment any dirt she could get on Danny Street might be useful.

‘And who would that be?’

‘The charming Mr Street,’ she said. ‘Or, how was it you referred to him on the day of his stepmother’s funeral? Deadhead?’

‘Oh, him.’ He gave a light unconvincing laugh. ‘What makes you think I’ve seen him again?’

‘You seemed pretty close that evening at the Hope & Anchor.’

‘Part of the job description, hunnybun,’ he said. ‘Schmoozing the clients, keeping them happy. The Brothers Grimm don’t appreciate the amount of effort I put into this business. There’s a lot more to the funeral trade than preserving bodies and choosing coffins. You need to keep people happy if they’re going to pay their bills on time. You need to offer them that little extra bit of service.’

‘And has he?’ Iris said.

‘What?’

‘Paid his bill.’

Toby gave an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. ‘Not my department, love. You’d have to ask Grimm Junior about that.’

But William, even if she’d wanted to ask, had been closeted in his office all morning. Now that Gerald was back, he’d retreated into the place he felt most comfortable: safely in the background. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘So this . . .’ She gestured towards his face. ‘This has got nothing to do with Danny Street?’

‘As if! I hardly know the guy. I told you - I slipped. It was an accident.’

Iris, realising that he wasn’t going to change his story, gave up and returned her attention to the papers on her desk. She shuffled them into the proper order for typing. Then, for the second time in half an hour, she checked the diary. With Gerald on the rampage, and her full-time position only recently confirmed, she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

‘Anything I should know about?’ Toby said.

‘Three appointments this morning - I presume your dad’s going to deal with those - and a viewing for this afternoon. Jenni Brookner’s parents are coming in at four. Do you know about her?’

‘Is she the girl who fell on the ice, the one who cracked open her skull?’

‘That’s her. She was only twenty. Sad, isn’t it? Do you think I should chase Alice up, make sure that everything’s on schedule?’