The Ladykiller (76 page)

Yet still a tiny nagging doubt burned into her. Supposing he was right?

If her child was murdered could she honestly say she could forgive? Would she be happy knowing the perpetrator of the deed was alive, locked up maybe but alive, while her child was dead? She remembered reading somewhere that the mother of one of Myra Hindley’s victims had even found out when Hindley’s mother had died and had turned up at the funeral to berate her.

As a mother herself, she could understand that feeling of hatred.

But murder?

She licked away the salt tears from her mouth.

Flowers was quite willing to use her association with Patrick Kelly for his own ends. He had dropped her from the case, and despite all her shouting about the DPP and the Lord Chief Justice she knew that she was finished. If she went to the papers it would cause a stink for a few days, but that would be all. Because Patrick Kelly would look like a hero to everyone. A vigilante who had taken the law into his own hands. Were there many men who would not sympathise with him?

He would be like a modern day Robin Hood while she would come out of it as the bitter mistress who had been dumped and was trying to get her own back.

Between them, Kelly, Flowers and Caitlin had her right where they wanted her. But the worst of it was that, for all Patrick had done and was going to do, she still wanted him.

Chapter Thirty-One

Edith was worried - about what she was not really sure. Since George’s weird reaction to Natalie, she had felt a shiver of apprehension go through her every time they were together. It was nonsense, of course. George was her closest living relative. Her child was like his child.

She shrugged. He had just been overcome, that was all. The flight, the excitement, they had taken their toll.

Today, at lunch, he seemed a bit more relaxed. Edith watched him as he stared across the table at her daughter. It seemed to her, though, that he stared at Natalie for too long. She had to force herself to look away from George and concentrate on Joss when he was talking.

George, like herself, had obviously noticed Natalie’s startling resemblance to their mother. Over the years it had distressed her too, so she could guess how he was feeling. But inside Natalie was the antithesis of their mother. She was kind, considerate, caring; she had a lot of friends, real friends, that bore evidence to this. She was a beautiful person inside and out. And if the talks they had had were to be believed, she was still a virgin.

No, Natalie had none of her grandmother’s licentiousness. A deeply religious girl, she lived a good, clean, wholesome life. They would never have to worry about Natalie.

Unaware of the stir she was creating, Natalie was listening to her father telling one of his long boring golf stories. She was a good daughter who laughed in all the right places and Joss loved her for this alone. His son on the other hand looked bored, as did George and Edith. He brought the story to a premature ending and concentrated on his steak.

George still watched Natalie closely, unaware that Edith was watching him.

Every movement the girl made was his mother’s, even the way she brushed her hair from her face. Her shoulders in the lightweight dress were his mother’s. They looked too fragile to hold up the enormous breasts.

George cut into his steak so hard he scraped his knife across the plate, causing more than one set of teeth to be set on edge.

‘How long are you staying, Uncle George?’ Joss Junior was not really interested but felt the question was expected from him.

‘For a couple of weeks. If I like it I might sell up and move out here. I have nothing at home any more.’

Edith’s heart immediately went out to him. Poor George. No wonder he was acting so strangely. Elaine leaving him must have been a bitter blow.

‘Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, until you find a place of your own.’

George smiled at her gratefully and Joss Senior chewed harder on his steak.

Edith’s brother troubled him. He was too damn’ meek and mild. His eyes went to his son and he swallowed hard. He had often wondered who the boy took after; now he knew. Try as he might he could not really love his only son. There was something disturbing about him. He felt the same about George Markham. But he was Edith’s brother, her closest family, and he would accommodate him.

There was something funny about Edith’s family. About the set up. The mother had been as mad as a hatter, the other children like scared mice. The eldest, Joseph, had seemed to him more like his mother’s lover than her son. From the bits and pieces that Edith had let drop over the years he knew they’d all had a terrible upbringing. He remembered when he had gone to tell Nancy Markham he was marrying Edith. Her malice as she’d told him about her daughter’s illegitimate child had shocked him.

She was sick in the head, Nancy Markham. No wonder the children all turned out weird. Except for Edith. She had been the sweetest girl he had ever known, and even though over the years he had systematically cheated on her with everyone and anyone, he still loved her. He still thought of her as that same sweet girl he married. But Edith had a distaste for sex, touching, even kissing. Oh, she had tried to hide it, but he knew. You always know when your attentions are welcome and when they’re not. But she was a damn’ fine wife and mother and that was the main thing.

Natalie watched her uncle eating and smiled at him. She had heard stories about her Uncle George all her life. He was her mother’s closest living relative. She knew her grandmother was alive. They heard from her only occasionally, and after a communication her mother was always jumpy for a few weeks.

Her greeny-blue eyes surveyed the room around her. She loved this house. She loved being inside it with her family. One day, when she met the right man, she would own a house just like it and she’d fill it with children and laughter. She smiled to herself at the thought.

Until then she had her job and her dogs. It was Natalie who had named the Dobermans. She had read Dante’s
Inferno
and it had made a great impression on her. Dobermans to her were devil dogs. But she loved them, as she loved all animals.

George watched his niece. When she had smiled at him then he had been convinced that it was his mother sitting opposite him. George felt the strangeness that came over him at times. As if he was hand in hand with reality one minute and left out, floating in limbo, the next. The room had taken on smoky edges. Nothing looked solid any more. His mind was filled with thoughts, crowded with them as if they didn’t have enough room to manoeuvre. Flickering pictures entered this brimming morass. He saw Geraldine O’Leary with her long beautiful hair lying beneath him. He saw Mandy Kelly and he saw Elaine. They all drifted in and out of his mind, and after every vision this girl was before him. He felt an urge to take his steak knife and push it through her throat. Let the blood bubble from the wound, strangling his mother’s voice.

He could hear her now: ‘Who’s Mummy’s little soldier, Georgie?’

He could smell the sheets on the bed, scented with Lux flakes. He could hear the dreadful ack-ack of the anti-aircraft fire. The bombs were going to land on their house but Mother made them stay in bed while she drank tea and smoked. He could feel the ache in his bowels and the red rawness of his rectum where the tubing had been forced past his sphincter. Sweat was pouring from his brow. He could feel it running on to the pillows with his frightened tears. Why didn’t she come? Why didn’t she comfort him? He was Mummy’s little soldier, wasn’t he?

‘George . . . George. Joss is talking to you, dear.’

He was dragged back to the present and looked around the table, bewildered.

‘Are you feeling all right, George?’ Edith’s voice was concerned.

Joss Junior glanced at his watch. ‘I really have to go soon, Mother, if I’m to catch my plane.’

Edith was immediately concerned. George took the opportunity to try and pull himself together.

‘Natalie’s company gave her the week to see her uncle. I wish yours had done the same.’

Joss Junior smiled. ‘Well, Ma, I’m doing an important job. They can’t afford to let me have too much time off.’

Edith was gratified to hear this.

‘Your father and I will run you to the airport. Finish your meal.’

Natalie stretched in her chair, pushing her long tapering fingers through her hair in a completely feminine gesture. Edith and Joss Senior watched her with pride. George watched her with hatred. Joss Junior took no notice of her whatsoever.

‘Do you want to drive to the airport with us, George?’

‘No. I think I’ll just relax, Edith. I feel so tired.’

‘Do you want me to stay here with Uncle George?’ Natalie’s voice was concerned.

‘No. You leave your uncle, let him have a rest, Natalie. Come with us and see your brother off at the airport.’

For some reason, Edith did not want George and her daughter left alone.

George smiled at them as he waved them off a little later. Then, climbing into his car, he made his way to the Orange Blossom Trail.

Duane Portillo watched the little family climbing into the large Lincoln Continental. A few minutes later he followed George Markham out towards the Orange Blossom Trail.

Linette Du Bouverie was what was known on the trail as an ‘ornery’ whore. She was petite and a natural redhead. But she sure was ‘ornery’. She was known as the loudest, most foul-mouthed and argumentative woman on the Trail. Her vicious mouth was hated by other whores, pimps and police, in that order. She was a heroin addict and needed her daily fixes desperately. Linette would take a man on for a measly five dollars if necessary.

Today she was banging on the door of the little one-roomed apartment of Elvis Carmody.

Elvis was a pusher of uncertain creed. He had black wiry hair and the reddish skin colour of a Mexican. His mother, a hooker, used to joke that he was her Heinz 57. She never knew who fathered him. Elvis had built himself a business of sorts. He supplied heroin, crack, dope, uppers, downers . . . anything, in fact, that he could lay his hands on. He opened the apartment door to Linette and whistled at her through his teeth.

‘You look terrible, baby!’

She walked into the room on her high heels. She was having trouble focusing properly in the dim light. Somewhere in the room she heard the rustle of bedclothes and, peering through the dimness, made out the shape and face of a little Puerto Rican hooker named Marigold. She swore under her breath. If Elvis had just had some ass he was not going to come across to her and give her a little bit on account.

‘What can I do for you, Linette?’ Already Elvis wanted rid of her.

‘I need a fix. I’ll pay you in about an hour, man, there’s nothing going down in the street just yet. Once it’s dark the place will be buzzing.’

Elvis lit a Marlboro and blew out the smoke noisily. ‘No way, baby, you still owe me twenty bucks from yesterday.’

Linette felt her famous temper rising. Going to the bed, she grabbed Marigold’s hair.

‘You’d give her some, though, wouldn’t you, you motherfucking creep? I’ll pay you the goddam’ money, but first I need me a little bit on account.’

Elvis walked to her and untangled her fingers from the girl’s hair. Marigold had not batted an eyelid.

Taking Linette by the scruff of her neck, he ran her to the doorway and threw her on to the dirty floor outside.

‘Why don’t you quit annoying people, Linette? If you didn’t have such a bad attitude, people might be more inclined to help you.’

He shut the door on her. Dragging herself up, she threw herself at the wood, kicking and pummelling the door. There were tears of frustration in her dark green eyes.

‘I’ll cut your motherfucking throat, you stinking creep!’

There was no answer from the room. Feeling sorry for herself, Linette walked from the building into the bright sunlight outside.

George saw a tiny, slim girl of about twenty-five lounging against a wall. Her red hair was catching the rays of the sun and she was dressed in a green suede hot pants suit. Her ample breasts practically spilled out of the material and he smiled at her. His secret smile that just showed his teeth.

Linette, knowing a punter when she saw one, smiled back. Her sweetest smile.

George opened the window of his car. Linette ambled over to him.

‘Hello there.’

George smiled again, wider this time. ‘Hello, dear.’

‘How would you like some company?’

‘Get in.’

Linette walked round and got inside the car. ‘Drive to the Lazy Q. We can get a room there, movies, anything you want.’

George was already on his way. Linette lit a cigarette and smiled to herself as they neared the motel. He knew where he was going so he wasn’t that green. She wondered how much she should hit him for. She could already feel the sweating that told her she needed a fix. And soon.

The man who gave them the key was now watching an episode of
Married with Children
. George wondered briefly if he ever left the TV set. Up in the room, Linette picked up the phone and ordered a bottle of bourbon. It would ease her nerves till she could score some smack.

While she waited for it to come she slipped off her clothes. George watched her, fascinated. It was as if she did not even realise he was there. She had not attempted to make conversation. He sat on the bed and took out some small change. Putting two fifty cents into the meter on the television, he turned the knob and a porno film flickered into life on the screen. Linette answered the door to the boy with the bourbon, naked except for her shoes. Linette never removed her shoes. Ever.

She looked at George. ‘I need ten dollars.’

He calmly peeled the money off a large roll and gave it to her. The young black boy watched her in total fascination as she swayed towards him in her high heels.

‘Here you are, boy. Take a good look. And when you get paid, child, you come and see Linette.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ This was said with every bit of manliness the fourteen year old could muster.