Gun Street Girl (14 page)

‘There's a copy in the library.'

‘I'll get to the book later. For now, just run a few down for me.'

‘All right. Where shall I start?'

‘Anywhere. Have another drink and let me into a few secrets.'

She held up her glass and I topped it up with champagne.

‘I'm afraid they're not very interesting, unless you like sleaziness.'

‘I do,' I replied.

‘Okay, do you see him over there?' She pointed to a stout, red-faced party in evening dress who was looking down the cleavage of a young woman so intently that he was in danger of spilling his drink. ‘That's Sir Stafford Fontaine. He's on the board at Pike's. He likes young girls and old Scotch, not necessarily in that order.' The stout man dragged his eyes away from all that young flesh and, noticing Elizabeth's interest, raised his glass in salute. Elizabeth toasted him back. ‘He tried to get my knickers off when I was thirteen. I'm much too old for him now and he's lost interest.'

‘Foolish man,' I said.

‘Thank you. And over there are a bunch of Pike editorial staff.' She gestured towards a motley bunch of ageing boys and girls in their best suits and frocks. ‘By the way they're dressed, we're paying them too much.'

‘And by the way they're knocking back the vol-au-vents and champagne, you're not paying them enough.'

‘You could be right.'

‘I'm enjoying this,' I said.

‘Good.'

‘Anyone else?' I asked.

‘Him over there.' She nodded her head at a ginger-headed seven-footer who was trying to rescue a cigarette end from his glass of Scotch. ‘Twenty-fifth in line for the throne.'

From the state of him, I didn't fancy our chances if the other twenty-four bought the farm in a plane crash. ‘Good solid stock,' I said. ‘And who's the tough guy who's just come in?'

A tall, good-looking man had appeared at the doorway and was looking around the room. He was about thirty with long hair and a tan. He wore a leather jacket that was so worn that most of the hide had been rubbed off leaving a texture like an old man's face. He wore it over a black T-shirt, tight blue jeans and lace-up black boots. A pair of mirrored shades perched on his nose and a cigarette hung from his lips.

‘Curtis!' she said. ‘Damn.'

‘You know him?'

‘He was the one of no importance. What the hell is he doing here, and who invited him?'

‘Not you?'

‘Obviously.'

‘Catherine?'

‘I very much doubt it.'

‘Cool geezer,' I said.

‘He certainly thinks so. I imagine he's been rehearsing his entrance in front of the mirror all afternoon.'

‘That doesn't impress you?'

‘Not any more. It's all right at first, but the novelty soon wears off.'

‘I can imagine.'

‘And he thinks he's God's gift.'

‘Is he?'

‘To a certain kind of woman.'

‘Not you.'

‘No, I decided I like my diamonds a trifle smoother.'

‘But not much.'

‘No, not much.' And she smiled at me. It was one of those smiles that hits you low in the stomach and leaves you breathless. It can be addictive. I liked it.

‘You're staring again, Mr Sharman.'

‘It's a nice view.'

She smiled again. ‘Catherine looks great tonight, don't you think?'

‘So do you,' I said, refusing to be sidetracked.

‘Thank you.'

As if she realised we were talking about her, Catherine looked over from where she was talking to the very tall, minor member of the royal family who towered over her with the posture of a praying mantis. She waved, excused herself and came towards me. Curtis moved in and blocked her way. She looked at him in surprise. Elizabeth made as if to move towards them. ‘Leave this to me,' I said. ‘It's what you're paying me for. Mingle, it's your party. I'll catch you later.' I squeezed her arm and pushed through the crowd and went up to Curtis and Catherine.

‘, , , I want to see her. but she refuses to speak to me,' he was saying as I got close.

‘Who can blame her?' asked Catherine.

‘That's why I came.'

‘But you weren't invited,' she said.

‘Simon called and told me you were entertaining. I jumped straight in the car and came over. I couldn't miss one of your famous parties.'

‘He would,' Catherine said bitterly. ‘I wish Simon would mind his own business.'

‘Trouble, Miss Pike?' I asked.

Curtis slowly turned and looked me up and down through his sunglasses. ‘Who's the monkey in the funny suit?' he asked. I liked him a lot for that.

‘This is Nick Sharman,' said Catherine. ‘He's looking after a few details about the estate for us.' That story was getting lamer by the hour.

‘I just bet he fucking well is,' said Curtis.

‘Did I hear you say that he wasn't invited?' I asked, ignoring Curtis and his mouth.

‘Simon asked him,' said Catherine, with a catch in her voice. ‘It's all right.'

‘Are you sure?' I asked.

‘She said so, didn't she?' interrupted Curtis.

For the first time I acknowledged him directly. ‘Are you talking to me?' I said. ‘Or chewing a brick?'

‘You are scraping the barrel, Catherine,' said Curtis. ‘What gutter did you drag this vermin from?'

I spoke to Catherine. ‘I'll put him out if you like.'

‘Just try,' said Curtis.

‘No, it's all right, Mr Sharman. Let him stay.'

‘If you say so, Miss Pike.'

‘And get lost. I want to talk to the lady in private,' said Curtis.

I raised an eyebrow in Catherine's direction.

‘Don't worry,' she said.

Curtis grinned and stuck a Rothman into the grin.

‘I'll be close,' I said.

‘That's reassuring,' said Curtis. ‘Give me a light before you go, will you, Sharman?'

I hesitated, then pulled out my lighter and burnt out the end of his cigarette. I noticed that I wasn't shaking at all outside. I smiled and backed away like a good flunky.

As I did so, I felt a tug on my sleeve and looked round. There, standing next to me, wearing an orange dress that was tight enough to display every bump and hollow of her figure was Fiona. ‘Hello, Nick Sharman.'

‘Hello yourself. What's cooking?'

‘My feet in these bleeding shoes,' she replied.

I looked down at her legs which, believe me, was no chore. Her feet were jammed into a pair of orange high heels with platform soles that were so extreme as to be almost surgical. ‘That bastard swore they were fives,' she said. ‘But I bet they're fours with the size rubbed off.'

‘Very stylish,' I said.

‘Don't take the piss. They're what I wear.'

‘So what are you doing here?' I asked. ‘Something told me last night that you weren't number one on the local chart.'

‘With a bullet, maybe,' she said. ‘No, I'm here with some right honourable friend of Elizabeth Pike's. He's a drag. He can't get it up. He's always snorting shit. Too much stimulation can be bad for the bollocks. I only came to see you. You never phoned me.'

‘You only gave me the number the other night,' I protested.

‘Most men I give my number to ring me the next day.'

‘I'm not most men.'

‘And I bet you ain't a collator or whatever bullshit you said you were either. Are you sure you're not Old Bill?'

‘I'm sure,' I said.

‘You used to be?'

I knew she wasn't going to leave it alone. ‘All right, Fiona,' I said, ‘I give in. I was a copper once.'

‘I knew it, see, I'm never wrong. So why are you really here?'

‘Security.'

‘For those two?' I assumed she meant Elizabeth and Catherine.

‘That's right.'

‘What are they scared of, the fashion police?'

‘Don't be bitchy, Fiona.'

‘All right, I won't. Anyway, what were you doing with that creep?'

‘Who?'

‘Lover boy in the shades. You looked as if he'd stood right on your favourite corn.'

‘I was going to throw him out, but Catherine stopped me.'

‘Watch it, Nick, he's a right nasty bastard.'

‘So am I. Do you want a drink?'

She nodded. I led her over to the bar and I ordered us both a drink. I leant my elbow on the top and watched as Curtis and Catherine had an animated conversation. He grabbed her arm at one point. She shook him off, and her look told me to stay where I was. My stomach was burning the roast beef I'd eaten to charcoal, but I did nothing.

I scanned the crowd for Elizabeth and couldn't see her, but I did notice another tall individual enter the room and peer around myopically.

‘Oh Christ, it's the Right Hon,' said Fiona. ‘I'd better go and change his incontinence pants for him.'

‘Yeah,' I said. ‘See you.'

‘Call me.' She put down her glass on the bar top and kissed me on the cheek.

‘Count on it,' I said, and she was gone.

Eventually Catherine extricated herself from Curtis and came over to me. I could see the sneer on his face as he watched. I squeezed my glass until it almost shattered.

‘Don't ever do that to me again,' I said when she reached me.

‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' She was obviously agitated. ‘It's difficult. Curtis was such a swine to Elizabeth, but she kept going back for more. You never know where you are with those two. One minute she loves him, next minute she hates him.'

‘I get the picture,' I said. ‘I think we're in a hate mode at the moment.'

‘Good, he gives me the creeps.'

‘Where's Leee?' I asked.

‘Upstairs, still getting dressed. I'll go and hurry him up.'

‘I'll come too.'

‘No, it's okay. I'm only going to my room. Anyway, Leee would be furious if anyone saw him before his grand entrance.'

‘If you're sure.'

‘Of course I am. I'll only be a moment. I want you to keep an eye on Curtis and Elizabeth. I don't like them to be in the same room together.'

‘Sure,' I said, but nothing more.

I watched her as she left the room. She had a walk that could corrupt a Boy Scout. I turned back and watched Curtis and Elizabeth gravitate slowly towards each other until eventually they spoke. Or at least Curtis spoke and Elizabeth ignored him, standing with a disinterested look on her face and a champagne glass in her hand, staring past him as if he didn't exist. I saw him get more and more excited until he grabbed Elizabeth's shoulder and spun her round. Her glass flew out of her hand and hit the floor. I took off fast, pushing through the bodies that separated us. I grabbed Curtis from behind and put a neck lock on him. He tried to stamp on my foot but I shoved his legs together and pushed him against the wall. ‘Leave it,' I said. ‘It's not nice.'

‘Let me go.' His voice was muffled by the wallpaper. ‘Get your dirty hands off me.'

‘If you'll be friendly.'

He struggled, but I had him and he knew it.

‘Well?'

‘All right,' he spat and I let him go.

As he turned, I sensed rather than heard a scream. As I looked for the source, the glass roof of the conservatory imploded in a shower of glass and blood. It was unbelievable, like a bomb had hit the place. I was frozen to the spot.

There were shouts and screams and the crowd parted like the Red Sea under a sea of red. I recognised the golden dress and caught a cry in my throat. Catherine's head and torso crashed through the glass and a shard as long and wide as a butcher's cleaver was forced into a bloody wound in her stomach. She was caught by one of the wooden beams that supported the glass so that she hung down like a piece of meat. Her hair was stained red and covered her face like a curtain. The first gush of blood that had splattered the floor subsided to a stream, then a trickle that dripped from the edges of the material of her dress and ran down the one arm that dangled into the room.

I walked across the empty space left by the crowd and squelched across the gore, feeling the soles of my shoes sticking to the wooden floor. Then slowly the blonde hair peeled from the scalp and flopped to the ground. Someone screamed, and was cut off abruptly as if they'd been slapped. I looked up and as blood dripped onto the shoulders of my jacket I stared into Leee's eyes.

I looked for wnhat seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds, then I snapped back to reality. ‘Somebody call an ambulance and the police,' I shouted and turned and ran out of the room and towards the front of the house. The lift was stalled on the top floor. I hammered on the button but it didn't engage the machinery. I swore and took the stairs two at a time. I was breathing hard when I got to the top floor and I bounced off the walls as I ran along the hall to Catherine's room. I slammed open the door and saw Catherine standing on the balcony looking down. When she heard the door hit the wall she straightened up and turned towards me. One hand was coverig her mouth and her eyes were wide. ‘What happened?' I shouted. ‘What did you do?'

‘Nothing,' she said. ‘Nick, I've done nothing. He was on the roof. He went to pick us a flower each for our hair, from the roof garden, like I wore last night. He said he'd be right back. I was standing here and I heard a noise up there.' She pointed to the ceiling. ‘He fell right past me. He was screaming.' Her face crumpled and she launched herself at me and clung on tightly. I could feel her hands working on my upper arms. I held her for a second, then peeled her off and held her at arm's length.

‘How do I get up there?'

‘There are stairs along the hall, a brown door.'

I hopped and pulled the Baby Browning from its ankle holster, checked the load, slipped the safety and pumped a round into the chamber. I ran to the brown door and up the narrow flight of stairs to an exit set in a sort of hut built on the roof.