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‘Come on Worzel, I really don’t want to have to hurt you again,’ said Square, which made Billy chortle. His crew always said that if ever there was such a thing as a walking, living, breathing scarecrow, it was Orville Bell.
‘Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. I went to see Uncle Benny up at the beauty spot above Slattercove and there was a woman up there, on a bench, looking at the view. Sitting duck. I toldher to give me her keys and she did.’ He nodded and let the truth, minus a few choice details, sink in.
‘Just like that, Orrible? I’m impressed,’ Billy said eventually, his eyebrows lifting as far as the Botox would allow, which was further than usual because he was due for a top-up.
‘Well, yeah. She obviously feltfreatened.’
A beat and then Square, Billy and Big Charlie, who was adding up some receipts at the desk in the corner, burst into laughter at the thought of this lanky streak of piss being able to threaten anyone. Then, Billy snapped off the laughter and Orrible shuddered.
‘Talk me through the truth, Orrible. And I warn you: lie, and Charlie will damage your jacobs.’
Orrible gulped because Charlie had form for damaging jacobs. It was his signaturemodus operandi.
‘Okay, well…’ Orrible paused to wipe the sweat fast forming in beads on his forehead and top lip. ‘So Saturday, I thought I’d go and see my Uncle Benny, say hello like. He weren’t there but that woman was, just sitting on a bench. There was no one else there. I couldn’t have missed that opportunity, could I? She did ask me to leave her the luggage in the boot but… well, I wasn’t going to do that, was I? There might have been valuables in it… that I could have given to you.’
‘There might indeed,’ said Billy, nodding sagely.
‘I asked her for her handbag because I didn’t want her ringing the police on her phone. But there was a bit of a… sort of a… scuffle and it ended up… sort of… flying over the cliff edge.’ Orrible gave a horrible smile, his teeth the stuff of Billy’s nightmares, and an eel of revulsion rippled down his back.
‘What happened to the lady, Orrible?’ asked Billy, his voice low, his eyes still black.
‘Well… she sort of… fell.’
‘Lot of “sort of”s in your recounting,’ Square said. ‘Did she fall or didn’t she?’
‘Well… I… she sort of fainted. And she banged her face on the iron fence as she went down. Not hard though, just a bit.’ Orrible was at pains to point that out, because for all his faults – and there were many of them – Billy did not condone violence towards women. He had three daughters he doted on, a wife he adored and a mother he idolised.
‘Where is this woman now?’ asked Billy.
Orrible shivered. The air seemed to have chilled by degrees in seconds.
‘I dunno, Bill. She just… sort of… slumped. I left her in the recovery position though, and I knew my Uncle Benny was due back any minute. He’ll have sorted her, I know he will.’
Billy let all that sink in before he began to speak again. Orrible felt sweat slide between the hairs on his head and slither down his neck.
‘I’m not liking what I’m hearing, Orrible. What have I told you about shitting on your own doorstep? Too many people know you in Slattercove, including the police, and you’re going to be on their radar when that lady goes to them and tells them some manky little prick in a stupid hat and string round his middle has nicked her car, presuming she hasn’t come to permanent harm. If anything what you did on Saturday leads back to me, you and Charlie will be taking a trip up to the beauty spot for some flying lessons, if you get my drift.’
‘Yes sir,’ said Orrible.
‘You better find out where this woman is, Orrible. I want eyes on her.’
‘Yes, Billy. I’ll find her.’
‘Thank you for thecatalypticconverter. But you still owe me a car. Now piss off,’ said Billy.
Orrible got out of there as fast as he could. The rings on the woman’s fingers had all been just silver, not white gold or platinum, and netted him a mere tenner at the pawn shop. They’d laughed when he’d asked how much for the watch. All that for nothing. He hadn’t thought this through at all. Then again, if that woman had gone to the police and given them a description, they’d have been round at his and Tina’s house in a flash. So why hadn’t they? What if she’d somehow rolled off the cliff? A cold wash of dread claimed his scalp. He took out his phone to ring Uncle Benny for a ‘Hi, long time no see. Anything interesting been happening?’ chat. He figured he’d leave the blackmail for another day.
Bev left not long after but Sylvie had no intention of following her for a while. She sat back against the cushions of the sofa and bided her time. Out of all of their houses, she liked Marielle’s the best. This big open-living-kitchen with the sea view and the huge squashy sofas. More than just the furniture though, it was filled with an ambience that was quite simply ‘Marielle’. She’d long thought someone should capture it and make it into reed diffusers. She’d buy the lot and put them in her salon.
‘Come on then, what’s on your mind?’ asked Sylvie when Marielle didn’t automatically confess what was on her mind, because something definitely was.
‘Oh it’s nothing,’ said Marielle, waving her concern away. ‘Want a top-up? Coffee or wine?’
‘Do you need to ask?’ came the reply. ‘And don’t kid a kidder.’
Marielle got out two glasses and filled them with malbec. She took them over to the sofa, set them on the coffee table and then sat down heavily. The two women had only met ten years ago, when Marielle tried out Sylvie’s salon, but they both felt as if they’d known each other for so much longer.
‘Is it Cilla? I know she’s on your mind,’ said Sylvie.
