Death by Beauty (27 page)

Spinner called and Gemma took it in her office, aware of Mike and Hugo arguing about football teams in the living room and
Rafi joining in with excited squeals.

‘I think the gas man is probably the best idea – evacuation because of a gas leak nearby. I’ve got the uniform and ID.’

‘Spinner, you’re a genius. But isn’t that dishonest?’ she asked, teasing him.

‘It’s in a good cause. I’m preventing fornication,’ he said. ‘Especially fornication with
that
woman.’

Gemma collected everything she’d need for an evening in Spinner’s van: a bottle of water, some nuts and dates in case they
got hungry, a cushion to make the long surveillance hours more comfortable, a large glass jar to pee in if things got desperate.
Hugo observed the preparations with much interest.

‘No, Hugo. You can’t come,’ she said in answer to his inevitable question. ‘Another time.’

‘
Please
.’

‘No deal, Hugo. This is a vital operation.’

‘What operation is that?’ Mike asked. ‘What’s on tonight?’

It’s time to come clean, she thought.

‘Mike, I’ll be in Spinner’s van – the one he uses for surveillance. We’ve set up a couple of cameras in Steve’s flat.’

‘You’ve
what
?’

‘It’s okay. I’m working with Steve to get footage of him and Lorraine. We’re going to use it to lean on her so that she’ll
withdraw her false allegations.’

Mike frowned. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘Lorraine is Raimon Fayed’s girlfriend. If he thought she was playing up behind his back …’

‘Okay. Steve with Lorraine. That’s what you’re hoping to get.’

A long moment passed while Mike stood there, silently looking at her.

‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Say it. Say what’s on your mind.’

‘I don’t like it. I’ve already said I don’t like you getting so involved with Steve again. I know the company he’s forced
to keep as an undercover cop, I don’t want that shit coming home to our place. Not here, not ever. Now I find you’re right
in there again, trying to save him.’

‘Mike, be reasonable. This is hardly “getting involved”. And as for “saving” him …’

‘You’re rescuing him, involving yourself with him again. What’s going on, Gemma?’

‘This is a professional job. To help out a friend. Surely you’d do the same?’

He didn’t answer, so she went to the door, looking back over her shoulder hoping he’d say something.

He didn’t.

She hurried to the car. Bloody Mike, she thought. But she couldn’t maintain her self-righteousness for very long. Mike was
an intuitive man. Had he sensed that somewhere in her heart, Gemma was still in love with Steve Brannigan?

Spinner had selected a magnetic strip to run along the side of the white van. This evening he was ‘Ackroyd’s Gas & Plumbing
Services’. The mobile phone number accompanying this went to a message bank with the greeting, ‘You have reached Ackroyd’s
Gas & Plumbing Services. Please leave your name and number and we will get back to you as soon as possible.’ Of course, no
one ever did get back, and no doubt disappointed citizens cursed the unreliability of tradesmen.

They found a parking spot across and down the road a little way from Steve’s flat and settled in, Spinner setting up his laptop
to receive the live feed as soon as Steve came on line.

‘Once I’ve knocked on the door and got them out of there,’ said Spinner, turning to Gemma, ‘you make a call to Steve. A call
he’s gotta take. You’re the solicitor who’s helping him with his legal defence.’

‘Right,’ she said.

‘You have to meet him straight away. Okay? His whole future depends on it.’

‘Got it.’

At ten to eight, Steve called. ‘She’s on her way. She’ll be here in about ten minutes.’

‘That’s okay. We’re in position,’ said Spinner. ‘Everything right at your end?’

‘Yes. Is Gemma there?’

‘I’m here,’ she said taking Spinner’s mobile from him. ‘Everything’s ready this end. And Steve, break a leg.’

There was barely a second’s hesitation. ‘It’s not my leg I’m worried about.’

‘I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion,’ she said, her voice light and innocent.

She smiled. This is a crazy situation, she thought. Here I am, about to watch my former boyfriend making out with a woman
who tried to kill me.

With that thought she grew anxious and restless. She wriggled in her seat, adjusting the cushion, taking unnecessary sips
of water, eating dates and nuts she didn’t even taste. Finally, sound and action lit Spinner’s laptop screen. Gemma sat bolt
upright, staring. Even in black and white, Lorraine Litchfield looked good: her long legs swaying on six-inch heels, big blonde
hair cascading over her shoulders, her sinewy figure wrapped in a tight-fitting sheath, the front of the dress plunged to
her waist, almost completely revealing perfect and impossibly firm breasts.

Gemma scrunched her toes as Litchfield strode into the bedroom, placed her jewelled evening bag on the bedside table, then
changed gear to turn and grab Steve, hauling him against her, fastening her lips on his, rubbing her hands up and down his
back, seizing his hair, pushing his buttocks into her body. She sure wasn’t wasting time, Gemma thought. Steve reacted with
similar vigour, grasping her hair, pressing hard against her, turning them both around so that they fell backwards onto his
bed, Steve on top, still kissing her, grabbing at her dress while Lorraine tried to help wrench it from her shoulders. Steve
buried his face between her breasts, and Gemma had to blink and look away for a moment. Then she looked again, frowning. The
breasts were standing up on their own, like two round balls with nipples, defying gravity. Surgically enhanced.

‘Hey, boss,’ said Spinner, drawing on memories of his racing days and riding the gallopers, ‘remember this is like crooked
racing: it’s making sure you look like you’re riding for a win when all the time you know the instructions are to pull up
well back in the field.’

‘Doesn’t look like pulling up well back in the field to me,’ she said in a voice she didn’t recognise.

‘It’s okay. Steve’s doing a job. So are we. Come on, things are hotting up in there. Time the gas man called, I think.’

By now, Litchfield was naked from the waist down. Steve had pulled off her shoes and thrown them to the floor, interspersed
with ripping off his shirt, and climbing all over her, kissing her wildly, imprisoning her, his hands pressing down on her
outstretched arms.

‘Right. That is quite enough. Time to go,’ said Spinner, taking off his polo shirt to reveal the businesslike overalls underneath
with their tradesmen’s logo on the pocket.

‘I’m wired too.’ He winked at Gemma. ‘You can hear my progress. Okay? Use those headphones.’ He indicated the headphones attached
to his laptop, grabbed his wallet from the console with the fake ID and was out of the van in a flash.

On the screen, Lorraine had managed to free herself from Steve’s pinioning embrace and was grabbing at the front of his trousers.
The two writhed together on the bed, Lorraine’s legs wrapped around Steve’s, clawing his back, looking as if she were trying
to
dissolve
him into her body.

Gemma was aware of how fast and hard her heart was racing. The scene was rousing all her denied desire for Steve, enhancing
her deep regret that she was not the woman on the screen with him.

Just when she thought she could stand no more of it, she heard Spinner banging on the door of Steve’s flat.

Back on the screen, the couple on the bed stopped wrestling. Steve sat up, dishevelled, hair falling across his forehead,
and hurriedly did up his trousers while Lorraine, tousled and panting, adjusted her dress down over her hips and up over her
breasts, her angry face turned to stare after Steve. Slowly, unwillingly, she slid off the bed, grabbed her shoes, picked
up her evening bag and smoothed over her wild hair. She gave herself an approving glance in the mirror before moving out of
camera range.

It was easy for Gemma to imagine the rest of the scene with the audio coming through, loud and clear as she held one of the
headphones against her ear.

‘What gas leak?’ Lorraine demanded, her high-pitched voice edged with anger and frustration. ‘I can’t smell anything!’

Gemma strained to hear Spinner’s reply.

‘No need to panic, ma’am. Just a precaution. We want everybody out of this block. One of the mains has been leaking badly
and there’s been a suspected build-up in the pipes under this area. Better be safe than sorry.’

‘I’m sorry, baby.’ Steve’s voice. ‘Better drive you home.’

‘Just like that? Right now? You’re just going to
drive me home
?’

‘I’ll call. Soon. Come on, baby. Don’t punish me for a gas leak.’

‘It should only be for about half an hour,’ said Spinner.

Lorraine’s voice was harsh. ‘I’ll get a taxi, thank you very much.’

She doesn’t want to take the chance Raimon might see her in a car with another man, Gemma thought.

‘Baby, I promise I’ll call you.’

‘Don’t bother!’ said Lorraine.

‘Don’t torture me, baby!’ said Steve. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.’

Then Steve’s voice again. ‘Taxi!’

Spinner’s voice. ‘I’ve got five other buildings to alert, sir. I’ll let everybody know when it’s safe to go back inside.’

Back in the van, Gemma and Spinner were reviewing the footage taken from Steve’s bedroom when Gemma’s mobile rang. Steve.

‘I was about to call you,’ said Gemma, ‘as the solicitor who’s going to try to save you.’

‘Spinner saved me. Thank God for the gas man,’ he said. ‘I was terrified she’d make a lunge for me and discover that – well,
the hydraulics weren’t kicking in.’

‘It looked pretty convincing to me,’ said Gemma.

‘That’s good,’ he said.

Spinner nudged her. ‘Tell him to come over and take a look at what we’ve captured.’

This is bizarre, thought Gemma, squashed up in the front of the van some minutes later, watching the footage again with Steve
on one side of her and Spinner on the other.

‘Not bad,’ said Steve. ‘That is definitely R-rated footage. Fayed won’t like it. I think I did a pretty convincing job,’ he
said with the hint of a smile.

‘You’re a natural at subterfuge,’ said Gemma, elbowing him. And they laughed, eyes locked, and for a moment it felt as if
they had never parted.

‘I’ll email this footage to you both,’ said Spinner.

‘What’s next?’ asked Steve.

‘I’m going to set up a meeting with Litchfield,’ said Gemma, ‘with this footage on my mobile. I’ll show it to her then I’ll
put it to her: she retracts her allegations, or we send this to Fayed.’

‘I’ll extract a good still from this lot,’ said Spinner, ‘and send it on to you.’

‘The bait,’ said Gemma.

‘You’re not going alone,’ said Spinner. ‘You need back-up with that she-devil. She could easily be packing that M1911 of hers
in her handbag.’

‘We’ll both be there, Spinner,’ said Steve.

‘Hang on, the pair of you. Let’s just see whether she contacts me first. I’ll explain to her that if she wants to see the
rest of the footage, she’d better agree to a deal or I’ll send all of it straight to Fayed.’ She paused, thinking of the photo
she had of his ex-wife – what was left of her face after the acid attack – ‘I’ve got another photo to show her, too. In case
she hesitates.’