Beyond the Rage (20 page)

Kenny grinned. ‘What you wanting, you old fucker?’

‘Right. Aye. The banter’s fine, but. Got to thinking about the murder of a woman and child before your mum killed herself and I don’t know why it didn’t come into my head straight away.’

‘Yeah?’ Kenny’s stomach twisted.

‘This one was high profile at the time, but the reason I haven’t said anything was because it was a young mother who was killed. No child.’

‘Horrible as that is, Harry, it doesn’t stand out in terms of what we are looking for.’

‘True. True.’ Two syllables and he sounded really disappointed.

‘Tell me the rest,’ said Kenny. Less from curiosity than a need to make Harry feel useful.

‘It’s probably nothing that will help you, but you never know. The papers were full of it for weeks. Such a tragedy...’

Kenny had arrived outside Alexis’ flat in the Merchant City and he was wishing Harry would get on with it.

‘...the woman didn’t die with her son. She was killed by him. With a gun.’

‘A gun?’ Gun crime was still relatively uncommon in Scotland but it was even rarer in those days.

‘It gets worse. The boy was only ten or eleven and he thought the gun was a toy.’

38

With thoughts of such a horrible event filling his mind, Kenny locked his car and walked to the entrance of the flat. How would that boy have felt after he shot his mother? No amount of reassurance would ever allow the boy to reconcile himself with his actions. He wondered where he might be now, how he had turned out. He
’d
be about the same age as Kenny.

Whatever the situation was with this poor boy, it had no reflection on his. The letters from his father mentioned the death of a mother and son. He
’d
finished the call with Harry and asked him to keep drilling his memory bank.

His musings were interrupted by a voice at his ear.

‘Yeah, these are, like, keys. K.E.Y.S. and they open doors.’

Kenny turned to his left to see a small pale face squinting at him. She must have been under five feet, her long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, teeth stained with nicotine and the skin around her eyes had more lines than a plate of spaghetti.

‘You Kenny?’

‘Jo, I presume?’

‘At your service.’ She bobbed up and down and flicked a smile at him. Her hands were in the pocket of her puffed jacket, which along with the hair and minus the lines on her face made her look like a schoolgirl. The words
Must have had a hard paper round
ran through his mind. ‘Look, I’ve been thinking I was a wee bit hasty agreeing to meet you in the flat...’ She looked past him, eyes roving up and down the street. ‘Would you mind buying me a coffee somewhere first? There’s been a lot of weird shit going on around here recently and I don’t want to end up in a bodybag.’

‘None taken,’ said Kenny.

‘Yeah, you don’t look like a killer, but I like the whole breathing thing so much I don’t want to take any chances.’

‘Where do you suggest?’

‘You’re paying,’ – she flicked the smile again and Kenny could see that a month of long lie-ins and a detox later she could be very attractive – ‘so you decide.’

Kenny shrugged, put the keys back in his pocket and began walking. Jo kept up with his pace, her heels clicking a staccato on the pavement. They walked for about five minutes before Jo tried to begin a conversation.

‘You, like, the strong silent type then?’ Jo asked.

‘You, like, the short yappy type then?’

‘Better than being a miserable bastard.’

Kenny laughed. ‘Sorry. I’ve a lot on my mind.’ He had reached his target. He stopped walking and pushed open a glass door, allowing Jo to walk in first.

She held a hand to her heart as she walked past him. ‘My,’ – she pretended to swoon – ‘a gentleman.’

‘Aye. Something like that,’ said Kenny as he joined her in the small café. The room was lined with tables just large enough to take two chairs, and a glass-fronted cooling cabinet displayed a bounty of cakes and pastries. The tables were almost all occupied, which Kenny took as a good sign.

Kenny picked a table at the back of the café. Jo complained.

‘Awww. I like to sit near the window so I can see everybody walking past.’

Kenny ignored her and sat down. ‘I decide, right?’

Jo sat down and looked to the ceiling, playing at being in a huff. ‘I’ll have a latte,’ she said. ‘With cinnamon syrup.’ Then she began to sing to the song playing in the background. It was an old Sinatra number.

‘Want anything to eat?’ Kenny asked.

Jo continued to mouth the words to the song until the chorus ended. ‘Ohmygod,’ she said, ‘I have such a sweet tooth.’ She stood up again. ‘Let me go over to the cabinet and pick something.’ She walked over to the display and bent over towards it, keeping up a monologue to no one in particular. ‘Oh, that carrot cake looks lovely. Oh, and the doughnuts. And look at the size of those empire biscuits. Aye but, I always have a weakness for a nice big slice of Victoria sponge.’

She returned to her seat with an apologetic expression. ‘Apart from having a sweet tooth, I have a terrible habit of having a motormouth when I’m nervous. Other than that,’ she grinned, ‘I have no vices.’

A waitress who looked like she had her own personal feeder waddled over to take their order.

‘Somebody ate all the pies,’ Jo whispered. ‘Or should we change that for croissants seeing we’re in the Merchant City?’

‘Help you?’ the waitress asked, her face wearing a faint blush, suggesting that she heard Jo’s comment. She was large, but in proportion. Kenny could definitely see a waist.

Like all thin people, Jo had no idea of the offence she had just caused. ‘You look like you enjoy your scran, babes. What would you suggest?’

‘Ten years of an eating disorder and a copy of
How to Win Friends and Influence People
?’ the waitress replied with an I-dare-you-to-complain smile.

Kenny laughed. So did Jo.

‘Nice one, babes. I asked for that,’ Jo said. ‘Now that we’re best pals, I’ll have a giant chunk of Viccy sponge and a latte. The strong silent one over there will have a black coffee.’

Kenny raised an eyebrow in question.

Jo shrugged. ‘You have black coffee written all over your face, babes.’

Kenny nodded at the waitress. ‘That’ll do nicely,’ he said.

‘Right.’ Jo leaned forward on the table. Her eyes betrayed her concern. ‘How’s Alexis?’

‘Not good. She’s had a real beating this time.’

‘This time?’ Jo’s eyebrows were almost as high as her hairline. ‘I thought Alexis was too good for that. You saying she’s been beat up before?’

‘She didn’t tell you?’

‘How did you get my number again?’

‘On Alexis’ phone.’

Jo made a face. ‘I didn’t think she
’d
kept my number.’ She fidgeted in her pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘This smoking ban’s a pile of shite, by the way.’ She opened the packet, sniffed at the neat row of cigarette tips and then closed it again. ‘That’ll have to do.’ Smile. ‘No, she didn’t tell me. We had a wee fall-out some time ago. But I was the first street-worker Alexis met when she came up to Glasgow. I gave her some tips. Taught her the lie of the land.’ Jo looked towards the window and then back to Kenny. ‘So. She kept my number?’ She made another face. ‘I feel bad. I gave her such a hard time the last time we spoke.’

‘Why? What did you say?’

‘She forgot where she came from. Was becoming too big for her Kurt Geigers.’

‘Eh?’

‘Designer boots. And she looked down her nose at me.’ Jo chewed on the inside of her lip, her eyes leaking a light and being filled with a sense of judgement in which she found herself lacking. ‘There’s nothing like someone telling you an uncomfortable truth to make you hate yourself.’

‘She was trying to set up on her own?’

‘That was the line she gave me last time too.’

‘You didn’t believe her?’

The waitress arrived with a tray and the conversation stopped. It didn’t resume until they had been served. Jo took a sip of her drink. When she lifted her head up she had a milk moustache. She made no attempt to wipe it off.

‘Alexis was always making plans. She hated her pimp, said she was determined to buy herself out of her contract and go back to London.’

‘She’s going to London?’

Jo reached across and patted the back of Kenny’s hand. ‘Poor sap,’ she said. ‘And here’s you thinking you were getting her out of the game.’ Jo cut through her sponge with the side of her fork and spoke with her mouth full. ‘A word to the less than wise. Alexis whatever her name is – and I speak as a friend – is one woman who loves her job. Drop her anywhere in the world and she
’d
find a man, fuck him and then bleed him dry.’

‘No. Don’t believe you,’ said Kenny, shaking his head. This didn’t square with the woman he knew. And fell in love with.

Jo reached across the table and slapped him on the face.

‘Oww,’ said Kenny, more from the reflex that any actual pain.

‘Sorry, but that’s for your own good. Wake the fuck up, mate. You seem a nice guy. You’re good-looking. Why not get yourself a nice–’

‘Look. Can we get back to finding out who might have attacked Alexis?’

‘Sorry. Jeez, I keep saying sorry.’ Jo coughed. ‘You’re right.’ Pause. ‘Sorry.’ Smile.

‘Tell me about this pimp she hated.’

‘That’s the thing. None of us girls ever met him. He had a buddy though. A Yank, or he might have been Canadian.’ She screwed up her face. ‘He is one sick bastard. He never hurt me, like. Knew better.’ She put on what she thought was her tough face but it only made her look young and vulnerable. ‘You know, I’ve never met a nasty Canadian. The nicest peeps in the world. Apart from this guy. If he is Canadian, that is. Anyway, his name is Mason Budge. What the fuck kinda name is that? He must’ve made it up.’

‘Describe him.’

‘Kinda non-descript kinda guy. Lean. Looks like he knows how to handle himself. Same height as you, mibbe? Or just a wee bit shorter. Cropped dark hair.’ She took a sip from her coffee and acknowledged the waitress, who had returned with the bill. ‘Gorgeous cake this, hen. Did you make it?’

‘No,’ the waitress replied, clearly still unsure how to take Jo.

‘And where might I find this Mason guy?’

‘Oh, you don’t find Mason. He finds you.’ Jo shivered. ‘And you pray that you’ve got a can of mace on quick-draw if he does.’

‘There’s always a way,’ Kenny said, more to himself. ‘Do you know if he works exclusively for this pimp guy or if he does other work?’

Jo shrugged. ‘Haven’t a clue.’

‘What about the pimp? Any ideas who he might be?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘Alexis never gave you any hints?’

‘Just that he had layers of people between him and the less savoury side of his work. She called him Teflon Guy.’

‘Ever heard of Tommy Hunt?’

Jo shook her head. ‘Should I?’

Kenny stood up and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He counted out four tenners and threw them on the table. ‘That’s for your time. Thanks.’

‘Hey,’ said Jo, making a sad face. ‘You never got to try out the Jo Jo special.’

‘Another time, eh?’

‘Too bad, babes, I would have rocked your world.’

• • •

Back at his flat and Alexis was still sleeping. He fed the guys some notes and asked them to stay on standby.

His mind reeling with all of the recent events in his life and the information provided by Jo, he went into his spare bedroom, stripped and slipped under the covers. So, according to Jo, he was kidding himself on. Alexis would only ever see him as a hard cock with a wallet.

The curtains remained open all night and all night he studied the stipple on the ceiling and how the moon shadowed the bulb and slender pendant of the light fighting.

The shape stretched like a warning across the ceiling in the shape of a giant noose.

39

He woke early and automatically reached for his mobile. And then checked himself. The person he
’d
normally be looking for was in his bed, while here he was in the spare. The light from his phone showed that the time was six fifteen.

Feeling pressure on his bladder he walked through to his bathroom and did the necessary. Over the drum of his piss on the toilet water he could hear voices. He paused before he pulled the flush to listen. The voices were coming from the living room.

Planting his feet with care he walked over to the living room door and looked in. His TV was flickering light into the room and with the help of this he could see the small shape curled up on his sofa, wrapped up in a quilt.

Alexis lifted her head, spotted him and cleared her throat. Even in the dark he could read the discolouring on the pearl of her face.

‘You coming in?’

‘I’m naked,’ Kenny said, pointing out the obvious.

Alexis shrugged. ‘And it’s chilly. Come here and keep me company.’

He walked over. She lifted the quilt up and he slipped in behind her.

‘Mmmm,’ she said. ‘Nice to have you nearby.’

Kenny slipped a hand over her stomach and studied the TV.

‘What you watching?’

‘No idea,’ said Alexis. ‘The voices were just company.’

‘Why are we whispering?’ asked Kenny.

He could feel her answering shrug. ‘It just seems suitable for this time of day. Most of the world is asleep.’ She moved her bum back towards him, pressing against him. To Kenny it felt like a movement a girlfriend might make for heat and comfort, nonetheless her backside was pressing against his penis and the inevitable happened.

Alexis stretched back and grabbed his solid shaft. She stroked it slowly. Kenny groaned.

‘You want me to...’

Kenny savoured the feel of it for a moment before answering. ‘No, it’s fine.’

‘You might be saying so, but little Kenny’s telling me something different.’ He could hear the smile in her voice. And, surprisingly, the longing.

‘S’okay, let’s just lie here and enjoy the company and the cuddle.’

Alexis released her grip, twisted round towards him and allowed her head to fall onto his chest. ‘Thanks for looking after me, Kenny. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.’

‘Welcome.’

They settled into silence, soothed by the smooth tones of the news presenters. A world in distress flitted across their screen and neither of them registered any of it.

Kenny considered telling her that he had met with Jo the day before but something held him back. Jo’s words hadn’t stopped running through his mind all night. Alexis loved her job. In order to gain Jo’s sympathy, he had pretended he was in love with Alexis and told her his aim was to take her out of the business.

It was only now with Alexis in his arms that he realised that this ambition wasn’t too far from the truth.

Alexis was probably used to her punters falling in love with her. This time might be unusual because he had all his own teeth and didn’t need to resort to Viagra. But it was never going to happen, was it?

‘What are you thinking, sweetheart?’ Alexis asked and Kenny felt a stab… of what... disappointment? Loneliness? That was a question any ‘normal’ girlfriend might have asked her man.

‘Nothing, babes. Get some sleep.’ He pulled a hand from behind the quilt and began to gently stroke Alexis’ forehead – the undamaged side – and from this angle and with the help of the light from the TV, he could see down the swell of her cheek, to the bump of her lips and to where the light dropped off the curve of her chin.

As he stroked he could hear her breath settle, slow and lengthen. He kept going until he was certain she was sleeping and then with the voices in the background an indistinct hum he felt himself follow her into sleep.

• • •

He wasn’t aware of any dreams. He felt her weight rest on his hips, her wetness surrounding his hard flesh and his breathing harsh with pleasure. The feeling grew in his thighs, his buttocks, his gut. He felt his balls so tight they ached; his cock so hard...

‘Fuck. This is...’

‘Shhh,’ Alexis leaned over him, her lips light against his ear. She leaned forward further and Kenny felt the trail of her hair over his forehead before her breast was offered to his mouth. He took it in and nibbled at her nipple while her hips continued their rhythm.

‘Stop... before...’ He didn’t want the feeling to end. But Alexis, reading the speed of his breathing, increased her rhythm and before Kenny knew it he was shouting his climax into the warmed air above them.

Alexis fell into his chest as if felled.

Kenny cleared her hair from his face and shifted his weight so that they were side by side. Alexis curled into him and Kenny exhaled.

‘That was...’ he said and stopped. It felt crass to try and offer a category. In any case, ten out of ten didn’t quite cut it. He turned his head and kissed her forehead, tasting her sweat.

‘Love you,’ he said and the words were out before he could even identify the thought. His chest was tight with it. He could no more hold the words back than he could stop his heart from taking its next beat.

Alexis pushed up until she was leaning on an elbow. Her expression shifted from one emotion to another. As soon as Kenny gave one a name it was replaced by another; surprise, joy, fear and finally she settled on sorrow.

‘You can’t love me, Kenny. I’m flawed. I’m not good enough for you.’ A tear gathered on her eyelid before sliding down the side of her nose.

‘Do I not get to decide?’

She turned in to his side, hiding her face behind her hair. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered.

Words crammed his thoughts but none found their way from between teeth and tongue. His throat tightened.

‘Don’t,’ she said again but this time her voice had an edge.

‘I… I… don’t know where that came from...’

‘You were grateful. A fantastic shag and you were grateful.’

Kenny retreated. Allowed his head to fall back onto a cushion. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘And what a shag it was.’ He laughed and found the noise was tinged with relief. Alexis was giving him a get-out clause and he accepted it gratefully.

‘Fancy a cuppa?’ he asked.

‘Thought you
’d
never ask,’ she said and sat up as if lighter. The crisis had passed and they could both now relax. Their relationship had threatened to shift, but was now back onto familiar ground. Client and customer. Victim and protector. Love was a dangerous element to add to the mix and Kenny was forever grateful to Alexis for allowing the moment to slip by. A storm reduced to a breeze by a simple lack of attention.

Who was he kidding, thought Kenny as he walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle. ‘Love’ was a word that, once said, could never be revoked. In his experience it brought a cost. He would just
have to wait and see what that cost might be.

Minutes later he brought a pair of mugs back into the living room. Alexis made herself comfortable before reaching out with both hands for the drink. Her eyes unable to meet his.

And so it begins, thought Kenny, the quiet erosion of whatever bond they had built up. He did not accept this feeling with regret, but more with relief. He may have acknowledged his feelings for her but just as easily as the words slipped from his mouth he could dampen them down. He
’d
done it before. He couldn’t afford to fall in love.

He sat beside her, claimed back part of the quilt with a grin to her mock complaint and sat down to face the television. How many couples, how many families, across the world allowed their emotions to re-group behind the blaze and blur of a TV screen?

Except this TV was clear and strong and showing an image of a face he recognised. He tuned in to the voice of the presenter.

‘After the tragic death of another addict, will Josephine Connelly’s overdose be the one that finally gets the authorities hunting down this recent batch of fatal heroin?’

Could it have been just the previous day when he
’d
sat across a table from that very same woman? The photograph was an old one and her face at that point in her life was lightened by a life well lived. Whatever poor choices she was about to make, or be forced into, had yet to show their disturbance on her face.

This was too much of a coincidence. He spoke to her yesterday and just hours later she was dead? Was it the money he gave her? Enough for one more fix. Or did something more sinister happen to her?

Alexis’ head swung round. ‘Did you know her?’

‘No.’ Kenny said, fixing his gaze on her, not quite understanding why he decided to lie. ‘Did you?’

Alexis turned back to study the TV. Swallowed. ‘Never seen her before in my life.’