Blackstone's Pursuits (20 page)

‘Sure is. How do you think they went about it.’

‘I’d guess that she phoned Willie, and told him she wanted to see him, alone. Lucky Linda: Dawn was away, so Willie said, “Okay, come to the flat on Wednesday.” You said that when you phoned in the evening a woman answered the phone. That must have been her. Think back,’ she said. ‘Was it?’

I thought back. ‘I couldn’t swear to it,’ I said, honestly. ‘It was a funny voice.’

But Prim was in full flow. ‘I guess she must have turned on her fading charms for her husband. Something like, “Please come home, Willikins! Let me show you how sorry I am.” From the way it looked, Willie fell for it, and ...’ She grimaced, and faltered. I picked up the story.

‘The wee man’s crowning glory is in the ascendant, when ... Linda’s left the front door on the latch. Ricky Ross slips into the house, and into the bedroom. Poor wee Willie has the orgasm of his life ... probably Linda does too, for that matter.’

Prim looked up at me. The windows of the Nissan were misting up. I was glad that no-one could see in, otherwise they’d have thought we were having a serious argument. ‘There’s no other explanation is there?’

‘No. None at all. After they killed him, they’d have searched for the fiver. I bet they looked everywhere but in that muesli jar. I suppose Ross asked Dylan next day to report on every single thing his people had found, and Dylan must have mentioned the torn banknote. Hence his sudden interest in getting it back.

‘High-flying DIs can be brought down fast if they upset the wrong superintendent. I imagine they can be scared right out of their Loake moccasins too, if they upset Ricky Ross.’

‘Can we prove any of this?’

‘Not a cat’s chance in hell, my dear. We’re the ones holding the hot fiver, remember.’

I must have sounded more than a bit frantic, because she took my hand, and wound her fingers through mine, rubbing, soothing. ‘So what do we do now, Maestro?’

‘We get the hell out of town, chum, that’s what we do. Just two calls, and then we’re away. Off to do the only thing we can; off to Switzerland to get that money. Agreed?’

She seemed to think about it, for about two seconds. ‘Agreed. I guess it’s gone too far for us just to give Archer back the fiver.’

‘Yes. Ross would probably arrest all of us for being parties to a theft, just for spite. Alternatively he might just kill us. We’ve got to get the money out of his reach. That’s the only answer.’

She nodded. ‘Okay. You said we’re going to make two calls before we go? Where?’

‘I’m going to phone Ali and get him to pick up our passports from the loft. Then we’re off to see a laundry lady I know. It’s one thing being fugitives, but it’s something else wearing last weekend’s clothes!’

In which Jan’s open secret is revealed to Prim, and in which we find that the heavy has picked up our trail.

After the break-in there was no way we were going back to the loft. We reckoned that there was too big a risk of Ross having it watched.

Rather than use my mobile - that’s how paranoid I was - I phoned Ali from a public call-box near Haymarket.

‘What’s going on, Oz?’ My pal was concerned. ‘What sort of bother are you and the bird in?’

‘Nae bother, Ali, nae bother at all. The flat’s such a mess just now that we couldn’t face it. We’re heading off for a holiday. You’ll keep on looking after the green one for us, will you
^?
’

‘Aye, of course I will. Ah don’t believe a fuckin’ word you’re telling me, but then you always were a hare-brained bugger, Blackstone. Ah like this “us” stuff, though. It’s about time you had somebody holdin ‘your joystick, permanent-like. She’s the real thing, this lassie, is she?’

‘She sure is, pal. I’m glad you approve. It’s been worrying me all weekend.’

‘Sarky bastard! Here, she hasna’ got a sister has she?’ If only you knew, my dusky China.

‘Was he there?’ Prim asked as I got back into the Nissan.

‘Ali’s like the Windmill, love; never closed. He’s a good lad, for a grocer. I’d have asked him to bring us some fresh clothes, but if anyone is watching the loft it’d give the game away.’

She nodded, surprised by my unaccustomed thoroughness. There’s nothing like a good dose of fear for sharpening the mind ... and loosening the bowels. ‘Where does Jan live?’ she asked, as I pulled away from the kerb. ‘I take it Jan is your laundry lady.’

‘Who else? Her place is in Castle Terrace.’

‘It isn’t five o’clock yet. Will she be home?’

‘With a bit of luck. Jan’s a jobbing accountant. She does my tax work as well as my books. Apart from me, she’s got a nice wee client list. She does quite a bit of her work at home, so she might well be there. If she isn’t we’ll go for a walk in Princes Street Gardens.’

She laid a hand, gently on my thigh, as I drove. ‘Oz, how will Jan be about me? She was nice enough when we met, but turning up on her doorstep with one bag between us and our dirty laundry, that’s something different. I mean you and she have done some heavy breathing together in the past. Are you sure she doesn’t still hope you might wind up together. I know her Mum does ... or did, anyway.’

I smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry about it. Jan and I are a sister and brother act; okay, we’ve been incestuous now and again, but that’s in the past. Anyway, her heart belongs to another.’

Her eyebrows arched, perfectly. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘You’ll find out.’

There was an empty bay across the street from Jan’s place. I put a parking ticket in my windscreen and kept my fingers crossed that my tax disc would attract no fresh attention. Just as I was about to lock up a heavy shower of rain came out of nowhere. I grabbed my anorak and Prim’s jacket from the back seat and hustled us both across the street.

Jan’s flat is on the second floor. The label beside the entryphone button read ‘Turkel/More’. Prim looked at it in surprise as I pushed the plastic stud. ‘You mean she lives with someone?’

‘That’s right. She has done for the last four years. It’s a bit turbulent from time to time, but overall they’re pretty happy.’

Jan’s voice sounded like everyone else’s on the wrong end of an entryphone: a bit like a polite Dalek. ‘Yes?’

‘Hi Jan, it’s me and one other. Can we come up?’

There was no answer, only the buzz of the release button being pressed, and a click as the door catch sprung. Jan’s stairway is a lot nicer than mine. It’s carpeted and there’s a chair and cut flowers on each landing. She was waiting for us in the doorway as we reached the second floor, dressed in a white blouse and tight fawn skirt, which showed off her long legs. Jan’s legs are her best point, and the rest of her is pretty near to competition class too. ‘Hi pal. Hi Prim.’ She nodded towards the bag. ‘Planning a long stay?’

I was going to spin her a yarn about my Bendix being knackered, but the truth slipped out when I wasn’t looking. ‘We need some help. Can we run this lot through your washing machine?’

‘Sure,’ she said, ushering us into the narrow hall. I led the way straight through to the kitchen. ‘What’s the problem? Mum said you two showed up out of the blue on Friday night.

‘Here, that reminds me. What’s the score with your Dad and my Mother? I’m beginning to wonder about them.’

‘Work it out, Janet. Pre-crumblies can get up to the naughtiness too. When’s she going to make an honest man of him? That’s what I want to know.’

She threw her hands up to her face in a comic gesture and dropped into broad Fife. ‘My Goad! Can you imagine fit they’ll say in Enster, like!’

‘You know what they’re like. They have to have someone to talk about.’ I emptied the bag into the washing machine, loaded Ariel into the sachet thingy, and dialled up a quick wash-dry programme.

Jan gave each of us a beer from the fridge, then pointed us towards the living room, while she went into the bathroom. ‘Lock the door this time!’ I called after her.

I watched Prim as she looked around Jan’s sitting room. You couldn’t imagine a bigger contrast to Linda Kane’s severe salon. Everything about it fits everything else, and everything in it was chosen for pleasure not appearance. There’s a small sofa and two recliner armchairs, all in soft grey fabric, and set around a low coffee table. The floor’s varnished but mostly covered by a huge Indian carpet. Over the fireplace, there’s an original oil of a beach scene, and a few very tasty watercolours are hung around the walls. The inlaid sideboard was handmade by a guy in Musselburgh. I’ll never forget Jan telling me how much it had cost.

‘This is lovely,’ said Prim. ‘It’s saying something to me, but I’m not sure what it is.’

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ I said. She took hold of my shirt front, and would have had more out of me, if Jan hadn’t come in just then.

She looked at us thoughtfully, for a few seconds. ‘Yes, Mum was right. About you two, I mean. She phoned me to tell me that Oz had met his match at last. She approves. So, by the way, do I,’ she added, in a very matter-of-fact tone. ‘Not least because, hopefully, it’ll let Mother get me sorted out in her head.’ Before Prim could follow up the begged question she changed the subject.

‘Right, fugitives. What’s the story?’

I know three people in the world who could have handled the truth about our predicament. Happily Jan’s one of them. So I pulled Prim on to the sofa beside me and we told her; just like we’d told my Dad, only this time there was an important fact to add which two days earlier had been simply a hunch, plus the part about our narrow escape in Auchterarder.

When we had finished, Jan spread herself in her recliner, her skirt riding away up over her thighs, and looked at us. ‘Astounded’, just about covered her expression. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on me. ‘You know, Oz, I was starting to think that you were turning into a young fogey. A BYF; know what I mean ... Boring Young Fart. Now here you are, trippin’ over corpses, boakin’ on traffic wardens, accessory after God knows how many facts, and on the run from a renegade copper.

‘Sunshine, you don’t just turn over a new leaf. You turn over the whole fuckin’ tree!’

She stood up, smoothing down her skirt. ‘So what can I do to help?’

‘You’re doing it. We’ve decided to head south as fast as we can, with the clothes we’ve got in that bag. As soon as they’re dry, we’ll be off.’

‘How are you for cash?’

‘No problem there. I’ve got my chargecard, and my PIN number’ll work in Europe. Coffee and a sandwich would go down well though.’

She shook her head. ‘I can do better than that. I was making a stir fry tonight; I can stretch it to do four. Come on.’ She led us back through to the kitchen and busied herself washing and slicing vegetables. Jan’s as good a cook as her Mum, but from a different era. Where Auntie Mary works miracles with baking tins and saucepans, Jan tends to use a Wok.

We did our best to help. Prim skinned and boned the monkfish, while I tackled the tough job, cooking the rice. I was watching it intently, and so I didn’t see the figure when first she appeared in the doorway.

‘Hello Oz. I thought that was your limo outside.’

Anoushka Turkel and I had a difficult relationship until Prim came along. Where Jan’s Mum probably saw me as a figure of hope, I’m sure that to Anoushka, I was something of a threat. The old boyfriend, the ever open door when things erupted between them as sometimes they have done, or when Jan’s bisexuality caught up with her and she needed a man.

There’s nothing bi- about Anoushka. She’s a lesbian, and not in the least uncertain, or self-conscious about it. She’s a very serious person - a smile from Anoushka’s like a rainstorm in the Sahara - but she’s kind and she loves Jan to bits. And Jan loves her too. Early on, when first they met, she and I discussed how she felt.

How could I forget! We were in bed together at the time.

As a lover, Jan was one of those people who put everything into it, without ever really getting there herself. I never made the Earth move for her as memorably as she did for me. It was the same that night, only this time I sensed that Jan wasn’t putting quite as much into it as usual. So I asked her what was wrong and, being Jan, she told me: how she’d met this corporate lawyer in the office where she was working at the time, and how they’d gone for a few drinks, and how one thing had led to another, and how she’d had the first real, full-blown, screaming orgasm of her life.

I don’t think I handled it too well - well, I mean, what bloke would? — until she told me that the corporate lawyer was a woman. Somehow - and I’ve never figured out how or why - that made it tolerable in a way. With macho rivalries out of the way, I understood what she was saying, and I did my best to help her. I didn’t exactly encourage her to set up home with Anoushka, but I said that if she loved her, it was okay with me. When Auntie Mary found out, and it all blew up at home, I stood up for her, and that helped her. Anoushka’s never been to Anstruther, but at least after a sticky spell, things are all right between Jan and her Mum.

Of course, the fact that I wasn’t in love with Jan helped me be the Boy Scout through it all. Yet I can’t deny that on the odd occasion during the year when my doorbell rang late of an evening, and she was there, wearing a look that told me she had a change of knickers and tights in her handbag, well, it didn’t half pump up the male ego. Anoushka must have suspected that we had the odd encounter, but, whether out of fear or consideration I don’t know, she never raised the subject.

Now she stood there in the kitchen doorway, giving me her odd sizing-up look once again, trying to gauge the significance of Oz Blackstone in her kitchen, helping her girlfriend prepare supper. And then Prim, seeing my gaze, stepped out from behind the door.

A bad analogy, I know, but I took the bull by the horns. I stepped forward and kissed her on her high Slavic cheekbone. ‘Hi, Noosh,’ I said, as warmly as I could. Then I took my new lady’s hand and drew her to me. ‘This is Primavera. We’re in lurv. Prim, this is Anoushka, Jan’s partner.’