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Authors: Mark Billingham

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BOOK: Rush of Blood
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ELEVEN

The manager of the Pelican Palms was a short, weasel-faced individual named Cornell Stamoran whom Gardner did not consider
one of the nicer people that the Amber-Marie Wilson case had brought him into contact with. He had hair that was suspiciously
dark for a man in his fifties and today he wore a checked golf sweater over a lemon-coloured polo shirt and khakis. At least
one layer too many for the June temperature outside, but Gardner guessed that Cornell Stamoran would do his very best to avoid
leaving his nice, air-conditioned office unless he absolutely had to.

Stamoran stretched an arm towards the window, the pool visible beyond, the shouts and splashes clearly audible above the drone
of the air-con. ‘She’s been out there since ten o’clock this morning,’ he said.

‘I know.’

‘She just sits there.’

‘Right.’

‘She doesn’t
do
anything.’

‘I understand your position,’ Gardner said.

‘You do?’

Gardner nodded, thinking: yes I do, because you’ve been calling us
every other day for the last few weeks, whining like a little bitch and
telling
us your position. ‘Of course,’ he said.

‘Good, because this can’t go on.’ Stamoran opened a large ledger on his desk and began turning the pages. He shook his head
and clicked his tongue. ‘We had quite a few cancellations right after the girl went missing. Families, you know?’ He waited
for a reaction, acknowledged Gardner’s sympathetic look. ‘Well, I’m sure you can appreciate that what happened wasn’t exactly
the best advertisement for the place, but myself and my staff are knuckling down and trying to turn it around. So, I guess
what I’m saying is … the
last
thing we need right now is for her to be sitting out there like … what do you call it, like the spectre at the feast or something.’
He glanced towards the window, began straightening things on his desk. ‘Looking the way she does and spoiling other folks’
vacations.’

‘I’m here to talk to her,’ Gardner said.

‘I really wish you would.’

‘Well then …’

When Gardner stood up, Stamoran did the same, then came quickly around his desk to shake the detective’s hand. ‘The last thing
I want is for you to think I’m unsympathetic, by the way.’

‘Of course not.’

‘What happened to that poor woman is just beyond awful. I mean, you remember that me and the rest of the staff passed the
hat, right?’

‘I remember.’

‘Fifteen hundred dollars, give or take. So, you know.’

‘I’m sure she’s grateful,’ Gardner said, turning away. He heard Stamoran saying something about waiving all rental charges
on Miss Wilson’s vacation cabin as he opened the door and walked out towards the pool.

Despite the manager’s concerns about how the place was doing, it certainly looked busy enough. There were half a dozen people
in the water and maybe three times that number sunning themselves pool-side. Gardner could see many of them watching him over
the tops of
their newspapers and magazines as he walked towards the far corner of the deck. It was understandable. Not too many people
favoured a grey suit in ninety-degree heat and he guessed that most of those who didn’t have him pegged as a cop would think
he was a salesman of some kind. Maybe someone who had stopped by for a dip on his way to church.

He was certainly tempted.

There were as many eyes on the woman he was walking towards; the one sitting at the table in the shade beneath the coconut
palm. Some clearly knew exactly who she was, but Gardner could easily believe how even those to whom her identity was unknown
would find something compelling about the figure at the table. Her stillness. Her total lack of interest in
them
. The way her dirty-white sneaker tapped against the tile, and her arm snaked slowly forward every few minutes to her plastic
water bottle or cigarette pack. Just sitting in the corner, staring out across the pool towards the white-painted fence and
the street beyond.

Patti was wearing denim shorts and a Budweiser T-shirt, the same Atlanta Braves baseball cap she usually had on. She was also
wearing sunglasses, big ones, but Gardner saw her head shift just a fraction as he approached the table. He saw her shoulders
tense. He shook his head, a small shake, just to let her know that she could relax, that he was not there to deliver news.

‘Hey, Jeff.’

‘Patti.’ He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair before he sat down. He loosened his tie. ‘Nice to be
in the shade.’

‘You want some water?’

‘Sure.’

She reached down to a coolbox beneath the table and took out a small plastic bottle. ‘Got enough in there to last me the day,’
she said, handing the water over. ‘Plus a couple pieces of fruit, something for my lunch, whatever.’

Gardner opened the water, took a swig, then a deep breath. Said, ‘What’s all this for, Patti?’

‘All what?’

There appeared to be no expression, but of course he could not be sure what was happening behind those big sunglasses. ‘What
good can it possibly do?’

‘I don’t have any choice.’

‘Sure you do.’

She shook her head and reached across for her cigarettes. ‘I can’t leave her.’ She took out a cigarette but the movement was
fumbled. ‘You think I should leave my daughter?’

‘No. I’m just saying.’ Gardner picked up her lighter and leaned across with it. ‘Why does it have to be here?’

She sighed out smoke, looked out across the water. ‘This was the last place I saw her,’ she said.

‘I know, but—’

‘We came back from lunch and she wanted a swim, so I went back to get her swimming things from the cabin. She promised she’d
wait for me right
here
.’ Patti Lee touched the grimy glass table-top, then spread her arms out wide. ‘I was five minutes. Five …’

‘I understand,’ Gardner said.

‘Do you?’

‘Really, I can see why this place would be … significant for you. But if she comes back …’ He caught the tilt of her head
on the word
if
and tried not to hesitate. Tried to pretend that he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. ‘You really think she’s going to come
back here? Amber-Marie’s going to come waltzing in here like she just popped out to get a candy bar?’

‘She went to get an Easter egg.’

Gardner nodded. He had heard it before. He had heard it
all
before.

‘When we were on the way back from lunch, she saw this egg in one of the windows. Just stood there staring at it, you know?
Enormous thing, all wrapped up, shiny and red. She said she wanted it and I told her I would think about it, I mean it was
like fifty dollars or something stupid like that.’

‘That’s a lot of money.’

‘Right, what the hell was I supposed to do?’

‘Patti …’

‘I think that’s what she did.’ She drew hard on her cigarette, leaning towards Gardner and nodding fast. ‘No … I’m
sure
it is. I don’t even know if she would have remembered the way, but the fact of it is, Amber-Marie walked out of here to go
back to that shop, like they were just gonna give that stupid Easter egg to her if she told them she wanted it. She never
quite understood that life wasn’t like that, you know? That people wouldn’t just hand stuff over if you asked them nicely.’
She turned away and took off her sunglasses, just long enough to wipe a finger across each eye, for Gardner to see just how
red and wet they were. ‘You didn’t come over for a chit-chat, did you, Jeff?’

‘You need to get yourself home now,’ Gardner said.

She looked at him for a few seconds, then stubbed out her cigarette. The ashtray needed emptying. ‘Is this about the cost
of the motel?’

‘No.’

‘You sure?’

‘It’s nothing to do with the money,’ he said.

‘Because, you know, flashy joint like that, I certainly don’t want to be responsible for bankrupting the city.’

Gardner shook his head, loosened his tie a little more. The Police Department had been paying for the room over at the Brigadoon
Suites since the day Amber-Marie had disappeared. It was far from being the most expensive place in town and if the powers-that-be
were starting to grumble about the cost, he had certainly not heard anything. The city was not stumping up for any kind of
day-to-day expenses though, at least not as far as he was aware, and he was curious.

‘What are you living on?’

‘I had some spending money left,’ she said. ‘Plus the cash that the manager here raised for me. He’s been very kind, you know?
Very supportive.’

‘Right.’

‘’Sides which, I don’t need much.’

‘It’s going to run out.’

‘I know that, which is why I was thinking I might get a job.’ She nodded towards the street. ‘One of the restaurants or bars
maybe. I’ve worked in plenty of bars.’

‘It’s no good,’ Gardner said.

‘What isn’t?’

‘You need to be at home, Patti.’ He leaned towards her. He thought just for a moment about putting a hand on her arm, then
decided not to. ‘You need to be around the people that care about you.’

‘Which people might they be, Jeff?’

Gardner knew that neither of Patti’s parents was close to home, that there were no siblings. He knew that Amber-Marie’s father
had long since left the picture and could not even be sure that the man knew his daughter had gone missing. ‘There must be
someone,’ he said.

‘You would think.’

‘You seeing anyone down here?’ The manager at the Brigadoon Suites had told him a couple of weeks before that a man had been
seen leaving Patti Lee Wilson’s room on more than one occasion. Different men maybe, the manager could not be certain. Gardner
had not been overly concerned. He could hardly begrudge the woman seeking a little comfort after what she had been through
and clearly any man she had met since her daughter had disappeared could not reasonably be considered a suspect.

‘Nobody worth talking about,’ she said.

So, nobody who might be interested in taking her back to Atlanta and caring for her. Equally though, nobody worth staying
in Sarasota for. ‘It’s time for you to go, Patti.’

She swallowed and shook her head, but now there was little vehemence in it. ‘I can’t leave her.’

‘You won’t be leaving her,’ he said. ‘Because she’s in your heart.’ She nodded, slowly. ‘And while you’re back at home where
you should be, I want you to know that I’m here for Amber-Marie one hundred per cent, whatever happens.’

She looked at him. Whispered, ‘You swear? Because I would need to know that.’

‘I swear. Finding your daughter is my number one commitment, that’s the plain truth, and any news, you will be the first to
know. I can guarantee that.’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘So, I want you to think about what I said, OK? I really want you to think about going home.’

This time she did not even bother taking the sunglasses off, just pushed a finger up behind each lens. ‘Fifty dollars isn’t
so much,’ she said, her voice catching. ‘I should have just bought her that stupid egg, shouldn’t I?’

TWELVE

Ed appeared in the bedroom doorway holding up two shirts.

‘Which do you think?’

Sue was sitting at the dressing table in black bra and panties. She glanced in the mirror, then switched off the hairdryer
and turned. ‘Either’s fine,’ she said. ‘They’re both great.’ She looked back to the mirror, watched as Ed tossed the shirts
on to the bed. ‘You’d better get a shift on.’

‘We’ve got bags of time,’ he said. ‘An hour tops to get there, I reckon.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed behind her and
unbuttoned his shirt. He kicked his loafers off, lay back and unzipped his jeans.

Sue thought the journey would be more like an hour and a half, but said nothing. She switched the hairdryer back on.

‘What do you think the house will be like?’ Ed shouted.

She switched the hairdryer off again. ‘What?’

‘The house? Angie and Barry’s.’

Sue thought about it. ‘Blimey, I’ve got no idea. Modern … uncluttered. Very clean, I’m guessing. She struck me as a bit of
a clean freak.’

‘Big TV, definitely.’


We’ve
got a big TV,’ Sue said.

‘Yeah, but ridiculously big. You know how it works … the less taste the people have got, the bigger the screen. Fifty-inch
plasma to watch
Deal or No Deal
. Surround sound speakers so they don’t miss any of the dialogue on
EastEnders
.’

‘Garden gnomes?’

‘Every chance,’ Ed said. ‘And some of those little stone animals on the patio. Oh, and I bet you they’ve got one of those
signs over the front door, with the name of the house made up from their own names.’

‘Definitely,’ Sue said. She rubbed moisturiser into her hands.

‘Barrangela.’

‘Angelarry.’

Ed laughed: dry and fast. ‘Just like their ridiculous email address,’ he said. ‘Angiebaz, for God’s sake …’

In the mirror, Sue watched as her husband stood up, wearing only his underpants, and took the step across to stand behind
her chair. She saw the look on his face. She turned.

‘Really?’

‘Bags of time.’

He reached down for her arm and lifted her from the chair. She was breathing heavily as he eased the thin straps from her
shoulders, ran his hands across them, then pushed her down on to her knees. As soon as she had removed his underpants, he
moved his feet apart a little to steady himself. Took a handful of damp hair into his fist.

Said, ‘Do it.’

They were no more than a few feet away from the window and, looking down, Ed could see a woman walking a dog on the far side
of the road. He watched her as he pushed his hips forward, willing the dog-walker to glance up and see him, but she did not.

Sue looked up at him though, her eyes wide as she worked.

‘I think their house will be full of cheap, ugly tat,’ he said. ‘Trinkets and tat.’ His voice was quieter now, spitting out
the words like they
were hairs in his mouth. ‘I bet there’s crystal glasses from a petrol station and nasty white leather sofas. I bet we’ll have
Simply Red on the stereo and after-dinner mints. I bet there’s built-in his-and-hers wardrobes and a bidet in their ensuite
and I
guarantee
there are nice matching bedside tables, where he can stuff his wank-mags underneath his copies of the
Reader’s Digest
and she can hide her Rabbit in among her knickers …’

Sue moaned in agreement, in approval.

He pulled away and told her to get up.

To get on the bed.

‘I’ll need another shower,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘I like the smell of it on you. I like being able to smell
myself
on you …’

‘Who am I?’ She dropped on to the bed, turned over and crawled towards the wall. ‘Who do you want me to be?’

Ed stood by the dressing table, touching himself. The woman with the dog had walked past. ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Marina?’

‘Maybe later.’

‘Maybe in the car on the way back.’

‘Lie flat,’ he said.

He got on to the bed and moved towards her. She swept the pillows on to the carpet, pressed her face into the mattress as
he nudged her legs apart with his knees. He lay down on top of her – his full weight on her back and buttocks – and put his
mouth close to her face.

‘I was watching you today on the tennis court,’ he said. ‘You knew that though, didn’t you,
Carol
, you knew I was watching? You were putting on a show …’

Sue whispered, ‘Yes,’ and closed her eyes.

BOOK: Rush of Blood
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