Threat Read online

  ‘I’ll take the stairs.’

  Nick smiles.

  ‘You’re right to be discreet but there’s no need for that here.’

  I think of those suited gents in the bar downstairs and turn and walk away. He puts his hand on my arm. ‘Wait a second.’

  I turn to face him and he says, ‘We need to talk about how we communicate.’

  ‘You know the Warrington pub in Maida Vale?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Saloon bar, near closing time, when it’s crowded.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You know my car?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tape a message under the front wheel arch on the driver’s side when you need to see me.’

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘No phones.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And not a word of this to Lizzie.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He smiles and says, ‘I knew you’d be good at this.’

  I walk across the foyer and out through the glass doors. There’s a fine drizzle of rain and I turn my face up to it and feel it nice and cool on my skin. When I get to Caxton Street I can see the Humber with Collins in the back seat parked along to the right, so I turn left and walk fast towards Buckingham Gate. As I get to the corner a cab comes along and I hail it and jump in. As it pulls away I look out of the back window but there’s no sign of the Humber.

  • • •

  It’s gone four o’clock when I get back to the flat. I push the heavy door open and the smell of bacon reminds me how hungry I am. I go in the kitchen and Georgie’s sitting at the table eating a sandwich. She looks up.

  ‘I finished my mock exams today.’

  ‘Go well?’

  ‘I reckon.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  She looks happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. ‘Is that enough for your tea?’

  She holds up her sandwich and says, ‘I’ll have another one, if you’re making.’

  The frying pan’s still warm so I light the gas and put in two rashers of bacon for her and two for me.

  ‘There’s tea in the pot,’ says Georgie.

  I pour myself a cup, put the bread board on the table, sit down and cut four slices. Georgie’s looking out of the window and I think how long it is since I’ve seen her at this table without her nose in a book. When the bacon’s done I make two sandwiches and give one to her.

  ‘You remember that boarding school we went to see down in Kent a while back?’

  ‘That massive country house with the lake and the woods and that?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘It was amazing.’

  ‘You can go there if you like.’

  ‘You said they wouldn’t have me.’

  ‘That was only because they didn’t have a place for you but someone’s dropped out and they can take you now.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘If you want.’

  She looks down at the floor for a moment and then she stands up and looks out of the window again. I can see she’s not sure what to do.

  ‘Do you want to think about it for a bit?’

  After a moment she turns back from the window and says, ‘No. I want to go.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I look at her standing at the window and think how well she’s done with her schoolwork and how I’ll miss her and worry that she’s all right among all those posh girls and the teachers and whether she’s getting a hard time from them and how I won’t be there to protect her. She turns to me.

  ‘Will I still take my proper O levels this year if I go now?’

  ‘Shall I phone them and find out?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I take the piece of paper that Sir Robert gave me out of my handbag and unfold it. The registrar’s name is Dorothea Simpkins. I pick up my teacup, go to the phone table in the hall and dial the number. After a few rings a crisp woman’s voice answers.

  ‘Leavenden School for girls.’

  I clear my throat and say, ‘Can I speak to Miss Simpkins please?’

  ‘Who’s calling?’

  ‘My name’s Catherine Walker.’

  ‘One moment please.’

  I take a sip of tea and then a voice says, ‘Dorothea Simpkins.’

  ‘Sir Robert Monkton told me to phone you about my sister Georgina.’

  ‘Sir Robert Monkton?’

  ‘Yes.’

  After a pause, she says, ‘Would you hold the line for a moment please.’

  I sip tea. Georgie’s still staring out of the kitchen window. I close the door gently. After a minute or two Miss Simpkins says, ‘Yes Miss Walker, we will be pleased to receive Georgina as a pupil. When would you like her to come?’

  ‘As soon as she can.’

  ‘If you would like her to begin immediately she could join us on Monday, one week from today, at the end of the half-term holiday. Girls will arrive on the Sunday evening prior, by the four-fifteen from Victoria arriving at Leavenden Halt at ten minutes past five, if that would be convenient for you.’

  ‘It would.’

  ‘Very well. I shall send you the school uniform list, and other information as to what she will require by the last post today. Winter and summer school uniform and sports clothing and equipment can be obtained from Perry Uniforms in Knightsbridge, where you will need to book an appointment. Ballet uniform is available at the Royal Academy of Dance shop in Battersea Square.’

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘I shall send you details of which boarding house she will be in, which form and all relevant information.’

  ‘She’s just done her mock O levels and she wants to know if she’ll be able to take the real ones in the summer.’

  ‘We’re told she’s only fourteen years old.’

  ‘She’s fifteen next month.’

  ‘In that case, provided her mock results are satisfactory, I see no reason why not.’

  ‘Ok, thanks.’

  ‘As it happens we have another girl of the same age joining us at the same time. Her family are in the diplomatic service and I shall endeavour to put she and Georgina in the same boarding house so that they won’t be the only new girls.’

  ‘Ok, thanks.’

  ‘Please telephone me if you need any further information.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Goodbye Miss Walker.’

  I put the phone down, go back in the kitchen and tell Georgie that it’s all on for her to go next Sunday.

  ‘Ok,’ she says, as she spreads jam on a piece of bread and takes a bite. I can tell she’s nervous about going but being Georgie I know she won’t let on.

  ‘We’ve got to get your uniform and sports stuff from a shop in Knightsbridge. I’ll make an appointment for us to go down there as soon as I get the list of what you’ll need from the school.’

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘They do ballet at the school as well.’

  She stops chewing for a moment and looks at me. ‘Will I have to do it?’

  ‘Don’t you want to?’

  ‘I dunno.’

  ‘You’ve got the legs for it.’

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘You might as well give it a go.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  As I’m about to pour myself another cup of tea, there’s a sharp knock on the door. I go through to the hall and I can see Lizzie through the spy hole in her fur coat. I open up and her look tells me something’s wrong.

  ‘Come,’ she says.

  ‘What’s up,’ I say, as she opens the door to her flat.

  ‘It’s Lordy.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s fucking dead.’

  11

  The bedroom looks empty when I walk in but when I turn round to speak to Lizzie I see him hanging from a hook on the back of the door. There’s a leather strap round his neck and he’s naked except for a nappy. His face is purple, his eyes are wide ope
n and his tongue is hanging out of his gaping mouth. Lizzie comes and stands beside me. I put my arm round her and I can feel her trembling. She grips my arm.

  ‘What am I going to do?’

  ‘It’s ok, we can handle it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We get him out of here.’

  ‘How the fuck do we do that?

  ‘I can make a phone call.’

  ‘Do it.’

  ‘It’ll cost.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘About a monkey.’

  ‘Do it. I just want him gone.’

  I go to the telephone in the hall and call Bert’s number but there’s no reply. He’s probably in the pub by now, so I look in Lizzie’s phone directory for the number of the Walmer Castle. After a few rings a bloke answers and I ask if Bert’s there. The bloke tells me to hang on and after a bit Bert asks who it is. I tell him the score, knock him down to four hundred quid and he says he’ll be over in an hour. I go back into the bedroom and tell Lizzie it’s on.

  ‘Thank fuck for that. Let’s get out of here and have a drink.’

  We go through to her bedroom and she pours two large whiskies and gives one to me. We sit on the bed.

  ‘So what happened?’ I ask.

  ‘It was one of his nappy days. I’d finished him and put him to bed and read him a story. He dropped off, as he normally does and I went in the living room for a drink. After I’d been in there for a bit I heard the front door shut and I thought he must have got dressed and gone so I went back in and then I found him.’

  ‘Someone got in.’

  ‘Must have.’

  ‘Is the lock forced?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You need to change it.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll give you the locksmith’s number. Does anyone else have a key?’

  ‘Not likely.’

  ‘Do you lock it when you’ve got business?

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Who knows he came here?’

  ‘No one that I know of.’

  ‘How did you meet him?’

  ‘Through a pimp.’

  ‘Is he about?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Got called up, went in the army and got killed by the Mau Mau in Kenya.’

  ‘Bad luck.’

  ‘Not really, he was a right cunt.’

  ‘Did Nick ever see Lordy here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah. Why?’

  ‘Just thinking.’

  Lizzie stands up and says, ‘I need another drink.’

  ‘We should get him ready for the undertakers.’

  We go back into the bedroom. Lizzie unpins his nappy and we lift his naked body off the back of the door and lay him on the bed. I unwind the leather strap from round his neck and close his eyes and his mouth. I get a wet cloth from the kitchen and wipe the drool off his chin. His pinstripe suit is hanging on the coat stand in the corner. When we finally get his trousers, shirt, waistcoat, jacket and shoes on him he looks a bit more like a deceased peer of the realm and a bit less like an old pervert.

  We go into Lizzie’s bedroom while we wait for Bert. Lizzie takes off her fur coat and her leather bikini and puts on a pair of jeans and and a cashmere sweater. She pours us another drink and we sit on the bed. She looks sad for a moment.

  ‘Who’d want to kill a nice old boy like that?’

  I’m wondering the same thing but I don’t want to tell Lizzie what I’m thinking as it could put her in danger. I put my arm round her and I can see tears in her eyes as she says, ‘He was always so kind and polite.’

  I settle her back against the silk pillows, nestle in next to her and we sip our drinks. After a bit I put the glasses on the bedside table, turn towards her and lightly brush my fingers over the back of her hand, along her wrist, up her arm and delicately stroke her neck. I feel her relaxing and I close my eyes, drift away from thinking about possible connections between Lordy and Nick and the secret service toffs’ club, and slide my arms round the one person who can take me home. As our lips touch, the phone rings on the bedside table. Lizzie reaches across me and picks it up. She listens, then says, ‘Fridge?’ Another silence, then she says, ‘I haven’t ordered any fridge.’

  I grab the phone from her, cover the mouthpiece and say, ‘It’ll be them, for the body.’

  I uncover the phone, think of Dorothea Simpkins and say, ‘That’s all right porter, this is her flatmate. I’m expecting a delivery of a refrigerator. Kindly send them up.’

  Lizzie laughs and says, ‘Get you, Miss Poshpants!’

  I reach for my jacket and say, ‘Best if you leave this to me, ok?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah. Have you got the money?’

  ‘It’s in the kitchen.’

  ‘Go and get it, leave it on the table, and then hide yourself in here.’

  ‘Four hundred wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  Lizzie slips on a pair of mules, fetches the money from the kitchen and gives it to me. We sit on the bed and wait. She bows her head and I can tell she’s upset by what’s happened. I put my arm round her and settle her head on my shoulder.

  There’s a knock at the front door and I go along the corridor and open it. Bert and a ratty little mate of his called Bunny are standing there with a large white fridge on a porter’s trolley. Bert says, ‘Been busy again Reen?’

  I step aside and they wheel the fridge past me and park it inside the door. I lead them to the bedroom and show them the body. Bert takes a look at it, notices a whip sticking out from under the bed, looks at me and says, ‘This isn’t your gaff is it?’

  ‘Are you going to do this or not?’ I say.

  ‘All right, keep your hair on,’ says Bert.

  Bunny goes to the foot of the bed, takes hold of Lordy’s ankles and Bert grabs his shoulders. As they lift him off the bed the foul smell coming from his pinstripes makes me wish we’d left his nappy on. They carry him into the corridor. I open the door of the fridge and they stuff the body in and close it up while I go and get the money from the kitchen. When I get back they’re unfolding a green canvas sheet and putting it over the fridge. I give Bert the money.

  ‘Where’s he going?’

  Bert counts the notes, puts them in his pocket.

  ‘Crusher.’

  I open the door for them and Bunny wheels the trolley towards the lift. Bert lingers a moment and I know he wants to find out what’s gone on but he’s too much of an old pro to ask.

  ‘See you Bert,’ I say, as I close the door.

  I go into the bedroom. Lizzie’s sitting on the bed with a glass in her hand. ‘Everything okay?’ she says.

  ‘All gone.’

  ‘Thanks doll.’

  ‘No bother.’

  As I sit down beside her the phone rings. Lizzie picks up the receiver and says, ‘Cunningham 4619.’ After a moment she shakes her head. ‘I can’t do anything today I’m afraid. Can you come tomorrow?’

  She agrees to a time tomorrow afternoon and puts the phone down. ‘I can’t work today.’

  ‘I think you could do with a rest.’

  I fluff up her pillows, take her glass and put it on the bedside table.

  ‘Mmmm,’ she says, as she settles back onto the bed and closes her eyes. I sit beside her and put my hand on hers. When her breathing slows and I know she’s asleep, I kiss her lightly on the cheek and close the door quietly as I leave.

  • • •

  I let myself into the flat and look in on Georgie. She’s lying on her bed with a big book. I sit down beside her and ask her what she’s reading. She shows me it’s the encyclopaedia.

  ‘I’ve looked up Leavenden School. It was started in nineteen-twenty by three ladies and it was turned into a military hospital for soldiers and that in the war and it’s got a swimming pool and a Norwegian princess has been there.’

  �
��A swimming pool will be nice.’

  ‘And the girls sleep in different houses and go to lessons in the main school.’

  ‘Are you looking forward to going?’

  ‘I think so. What’s lacrosse?’

  ‘I think it’s like tennis.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Georgie goes on reading and I look at the row of Encyclopaedia Britannicas on the shelf and remember when my mate Sammy nicked a set years ago from a big house in Holland Park that we screwed together, reckoning they were some rare books that would be worth a few bob. When he couldn’t sell them he hid them in Georgie’s bedroom and she wouldn’t let me get rid of them until I agreed to buy her new ones.

  The phone rings in the hall and I leave Georgie reading and go and answer it. It’s Tony Farina.

  ‘Why no word from you?’

  ‘I had to take care of a couple of things.’

  ‘You need to get on it.’

  His tone of voice tells me I’d better do as he says. ‘Ok,’ I say.

  ‘Let me know.’

  I hear the dial tone and put the phone down. I look at my watch and see that it’s gone ten o’clock. I open Georgie’s door.

  ‘I’ve got to go out for a bit.’

  She looks up from the encyclopaedia, ‘When are we going to get my uniform and that?’

  ‘As soon as we get the list from the school. Maybe tomorrow?’

  ‘Ok.’

  I go and find my handbag and take out the piece of paper that Tony gave me with Heinz’s address on it. It’s in Catford, which is quite a schlep, but I may as well start by having a sniff round his gaff before I start asking questions in the clubs. All I really want to do is go to bed and read about Elizabeth and Mr Darcy but Tony’s got a lot of weight behind him and I can’t afford to piss him off. I change out of my skirt and jacket and put on black ski pants, a T-shirt, my old leather biker’s jacket and a pair of ankle boots with a solid toe. I put a torch, my gun and a leather wallet where I keep my lock picks, in my handbag. I find the locksmith’s number, write it on a piece of paper and put it in my pocket. I tell Georgie I might be late and lock up behind me as I leave. On the way past Lizzie’s I slip the locksmith’s number under the door.

  I check under the wheel arch of the car but there’s nothing from Nick. I get in, find my A-Z and look up Pelinore Road in Catford. I drive to Marble Arch, down Park Lane and past Buckingham Palace then I’m over Westminster Bridge and on the Old Kent Road to Catford with Gene Vincent coming and going on Radio Luxembourg. When I reach Catford High Street I pull over and check the map again. I drive on and find the street I want on an estate of white prefabs; boxy little one storey houses that they made the German prisoners build after the war for all the people who were homeless after the Blitz. I drive along the street until I spot number twenty-three and park round the corner.