Angel Confidential (31 page)

Fenella offered her the use of her bathroom, not to mention some new nettle-and-oatmeal soap she had acquired. I could almost feel a vibration of disapproval from Lisabeth. Not only was she ultra-protective about her bathroom, I think she had given Fenella the soap.

Stella leaned forward.

‘You got a shower I could use, Angel? I'm stagnant.'

‘Sure,' I said, glad to see she was taking things so well and trying to remember where my one and only bar of soap had landed after I had flung it at Springsteen.

I did find it and even a clean towel, and I started to make coffee while she got on with it. And what with the kettle boiling and me trying to cue music on the CD player with Springsteen twining himself around my arms and knees, I didn't hear the water shut off.

I was on my knees in from of the CD, fumbling with the graphic equaliser, when she said: ‘There's an empty bottle of vodka in there. Why do you drink in the shower?'

‘I spill a lot,' I said without looking round.

‘That's nice,' she said, nearer. ‘Who is it?'

‘The Dirty Dozen Brass Band,' I answered, leaning back on my haunches.

‘They're good,' she said, so close I could smell soap.

Springsteen mewed, then lay down on his side as if to roll over. Danger signal. Be afraid.

I turned my head slowly. She was using my towel to dry her hair. That was as far as she had got in dressing.

‘Forgotten anything?' I asked casually.

‘He doesn't think so,' she said, and she was right. The black furry traitor was on his back now, purring and looking up at her in admiration.

I hadn't the heart to hold it against him. On the CD, the Dirty Dozen swung into the second chorus of ‘Milenberg Joys'.

‘Don't you fancy a shag, then?' She towelled furiously behind her left ear.

I looked at my watch. It was 11.30 am.

‘Well, we could have a long day in from of us,' I reasoned.

‘That's what I figured,' she said. ‘Got any condoms?'

Before I had a chance to reply, she said: ‘Hey, I might be easy, but I'm not fucking stupid.'

I stood up.

‘Let's see about that, shall we?'

 

‘Whatever we do, we ought to leave Stella out of it,' whispered Veronica. ‘She's been through a lot.'

‘I think she's handling it well,' I whispered back. ‘And, anyway, it's up to her. It depends how much she wants to find out, and only she can do it. She's the key.'

‘More garlic bread?' chirped Fenella. ‘What a pity Randa had to go to work. We could have been the Magnificent Six.'

‘I thought we were supposed to be the Six Angels?' Stella said, levering the tops off a pair of beers.

‘Whatever it's called, you seem to have your own private army,' I said, taking one from her.

‘And I'm grateful for the help,' she said, ‘though I didn't come looking for it. Still, God knows what Connie would have done if you hadn't burst in.'

‘And what wouldn't he have done to us if Lisabeth hadn't burst in and rescued us?' added Fenella.

It was nice to know I had been forgotten and the Five Angels were now down to Four.

‘Oh, once you and Ronnie were in there with me, I was sure I was safe. In fact, I think Connie was secretly relieved that there were witnesses, so he couldn't do anything really awful.'

‘He was a truly awful man,' said Veronica, balancing a plate of pulse salad on her knee. ‘Even in the short time we were there, we saw him ... use ... those girls who live there.'

‘Some of them are lucky if they get their coats off,' Stella sniped. ‘He found shock tactics worked more times than not. Most of them were on the rebound from something. Or someone. And Connie always preached that you couldn't be saved until you'd sinned. Preferably with him.'

‘So did Rasputin,' I chipped in, and Fenella mouthed ‘Who?' to Lisabeth, who just looked blank.

‘Did he force you?' Veronica asked Stella. I couldn't have imagined her asking that, even so quaintly, a few days ago.

‘Not exactly force,' she said after a pause, ‘but I'm a pretty good actress. He soon lost interest.' She looked at me and smirked. ‘And it could have been much worse.'

‘God! How?' breathed Lisabeth gruffly.

‘Think how many real cultists have ended up cutting their own throats recently, or setting fire to each other. Some of these people are seriously sad. Connie was just a conman. A crook. He loved the Shining Doorway front because it gave him power over his disciples, especially the women, but mainly because they stole for him. But it was all fairly small-scale stuff.'

‘Until it came to Carrick,' said Veronica softly, but firmly claiming the moral high ground she obviously thought Stella had abandoned.

‘Ah yes, poor Carrick,' Stella said in a matter-of-fact way that silenced everyone more effectively than if she'd done a tap dance about it.

‘So, what are you looking at me like that for? He's gone, hasn't he, Angel? You think so. Connie thought so.'

‘Your Heathcliff …' breathed Veronica.

‘His father thinks so,' I said.

‘His father? You've met his father? What's he like?' She seemed genuinely interested.

‘Nice enough guy. Head screwed on. Taking it all very calmly.'

If she thought I was getting at her with that, she let it pass. ‘He's not likely to do anything rash, is he?' she asked me.

‘Such as what?' interrupted Veronica.

‘Such as paying a visit to Sir Drummond or to Simon Buck,' I told her, ‘before Stella can.'

‘But, why–?'

When I answered her I was looking at Stella.

‘Because he'll know by now, because Bobby will have told him, that we've found Carrick's phone.'

We all, except Stella, looked at the mobile that lay on the window sill. None of us had felt like touching it since we got back.

‘You knew as soon as you saw Connie with the phone, didn't you?' I asked Stella.

Stella nodded.

‘How terrible for you,' said Veronica, missing the point. She reached out and patted Stella on the knee. ‘What can we do to help?'

‘Nothing, really,' said Stella, as if thinking it through. ‘I must go and see Daddy and make him tell me what was going on with Simon and Carrick. Whatever it was, I can't believe Daddy would have hurt anyone.'

‘What about Buck?' I asked.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I've never trusted him, never liked him, but I can't see him as a murderer.'

It was the first time any of us had said it. Fenella's sharp intake of breath was audible through the room. Stella herself broke the spell.

‘His wife, Caroline, on the other hand, I wouldn't let anywhere near the cutlery drawer. She's a total psycho, the most insanely jealous woman on the face of the Earth. He keeps her more or less locked up, but she should be locked up permanently.'

Veronica patted her knee some more. ‘I'll come with you. For support.'

‘So will I,' squeaked Fenella.

Lisabeth glared at her.

‘No, you won't,' I told her. ‘You've done your bit, you two. This is a job for the Three Angels, no more.'

Lisabeth flashed me a grateful look. If she'd known how to, she might have winked at me.

‘Three?' Stella was smiling. ‘Why you?'

‘You need a driver,' I said lamely.

 

Veronica just had to go via Shepherd's Bush to pick up some clean clothes. Even as she said it, she noticed that Stella was wearing a T-shirt advertising Samuel Adams' Boston Lager, the best beer in America. (It must be true; that was their trademark.) Stella had just looked sheepish, and Veronica had probably suspected, but said nothing.

I cut through the City to go up west. At that time in the afternoon the traffic flow would be with me and, as a cab, Armstrong had no problem negotiating the ‘ring of steel' the cops had thrown up to stop terrorists getting near enough to bomb the City financial houses. It wasn't a ring and it wasn't steel, just an annoying series of chicanes of plastic traffic cones that slowed traffic down enough so the bored City Police (they're taller than the uniformed officers of the Metropolitan Police) could stop and search you. Naturally, they never searched taxis. All you had to do was slow down so they could see your passenger in the back. I'd never seen a taxi pulled over.

I had another reason for going that way.

‘Is your father going to tell us anything?' I asked Stella.

‘Not unless you tie him down and torture him, like I said. He's way past guilt and he never had any shame. It's not going to be easy.'

‘Okay, then I've got an idea, but I've got to stop to buy something.'

Near Centre Point I doubled round into Tottenham Court Road and parked illegally on double yellow lines near the shop I wanted.

‘Back in a minute,' I said to them and climbed out, taking the keys with me.

The shop had its windows painted out, but was open for business. I made two purchases, paid cash and left, saying no, I didn't want to browse.

Back inside Armstrong, I pushed my purchases and their white plastic bag under my seat.

‘What on earth were you buying in an Ann Summers shop?' Stella asked me, giggling, as I started the engine.

‘I'll show you later,' I answered.

‘That's what they all say,' she laughed.

‘What does an Ann Summers shop sell?' Veronica asked her.

‘You really should get out more,' Stella answered.

 

I felt more confident visiting Albert's office than I had before. Veronica showed Stella in, using her key to the new door for the first time, and when she commented on this, I pointed out that she still owed me money for it. Stella reminded me I owed her for a pair of shoes left on Wimpole Street.

As we clumped up the stairs, I noticed Veronica was clutching the files Bobby Lee and I had taken from Albert's office. I offered to put them back, and Stella followed me while Veronica went to change.

The first thing I did was go to the window and look down into the alley. It was deserted, so I breathed a sigh of relief and then began to slot the files back into the cabinet.

‘What were you looking for?' Stella asked me.

‘Nothing, just checking the coast was clear. There was some trouble here with Albert, Veronica's boss.'

‘She told me. Do you find trouble naturally or did you have to stay on at school?'

I gave her my killer look, but she didn't flinch.

‘I'm just an acting, apprentice detective trying to do what real detectives do.'

‘And what's that?'

‘Be a catalyst, I suppose. Private detectives don't actually do any detecting, they just stir things – and people – up. Then if they've any sense, they stand back and let things sort themselves out.'

‘Whatever the consequences?'

‘Oh, especially if there are consequences.'

‘I bet you're good at it,' she said, laying a hand on my arm.

‘Almost as good as you,' I said, and the hand withdrew as if stung.

‘What do you mean?' There was a touch of steel in her voice, behind the coyness.

‘You knew Carrick was dead when you saw Connie had his phone.'

‘Yes, I've told you that.' She put on a fair imitation of a puzzled expression.

‘When was that?' I asked.

She turned her back on me and walked over to the window as I had done. I closed the filing cabinet drawer, and the noise made her shoulders jump.

‘First day I was at the Shining Doorway,' she said.

‘So, it never really was about Carrick, was it? You would have split there and then if it had been.'

She put the palm of her right hand on the window pane and gently tapped the glass with the nail of her index finger.

‘I needed to find out what my father was up to. Oh, Carrick was sweet, but he was just a summer fling. There was nothing there that would last.'

‘And your father would just love the thought of his daughter running off with some gypsy, wouldn't he?' I said to needle her, but it didn't work.

‘Not at first. No, I didn't think that at first, but then, later, yes, I knew it would bug him. I needed Carrick as a weapon against him. I used him. There, I've said it. Happy now?'

‘Like you're
using us? Me and Veronica. We're your edge, aren't we? The outsiders who know things, and we can't be closed down by family ties. You want us there as witnesses until you get what you want. Thing is, I don't think you know what you want, Stella.'