Thorn In My Side (16 page)

'Please, God…
Please, God,' she whispered. Then, a moment later, joyously, 'Thank
you… Thank you!' as a large key fell from the envelope into her
hand.

'It’s gotta be
for the back door,' she muttered, overjoyed at her find, the only
good thing to have happened in the last twenty-odd hours. The very
worst hours of her whole life.
Guess good things have gotta
happen some of the time.

'Thank you.'
She kissed the key.

'Whoa,' she
said a moment later, heading out the door, as she wobbled and hit
her shoulder on the frame. Knowing that her sugar levels were
dropping rapidly, and that she was well on her way to a bad hypo or
worse, she tried to hurry. But her legs were dragging, each step
slower than the one before, as she rocked from side to side like
someone on the outside of more than one bottle of wine.

It felt as if
she was plodding through treacle. Pretty soon she just wouldn’t
care any more.

She might have
a few minutes, or the next step could find her on the ground.

Evan and Danny
stepped out of the police station. Silently lost in their own
thoughts, they headed towards Evan’s flat. Neither noticed the two
men emerge from the dark side street, and follow them down the
road.

Still without
saying anything, Evan because he had nothing to say, and Danny
because he didn’t know what to say without putting his foot in it,
they reached the door to Evan’s flat. Evan put his key in the lock,
turned it, and was suddenly pushed from behind. Losing his footing,
he landed inside on his hands and knees.

'What the hell
are you doing, Danny, you bloody idiot?' He turned as he got up,
the angry expression on his face changing to one of puzzlement when
he saw Danny struggling to pull Liam’s large hand off his mouth. He
found himself standing eye to eye with Gary.

'What?' he
asked flatly.

'Inside.'

Liam dragged a
struggling Danny through the door, kicked it shut behind him, and
followed Gary, as Evan backed down the hallway.

'Sit,' Gary
snarled, when they were all in the sitting room. Evan sat down
quickly, while Liam pushed Danny down onto the settee.

'Fuck off, yer
ugly prick,' Danny shouted, when Liam finally let go of his face.
'Who do you think you are? Acting like a pair of friggin’ thugs,
you… you...'

'Shut it,' Gary
hissed.

'No, I won't
shut it. His fucking hands stink of garlic. Have you never heard of
soap and water?' Danny spat the taste of garlic out of his mouth
and, lifting up a corner of his T-shirt, rubbed his lips. Glaring
at Liam, he muttered, 'Scruffy bastard.'

Liam shrugged
and sat on the chair facing them, as usual leaving what was to be
said to Gary.

'Right, yer
stupid twat, where the fuck is she?' Gary’s question was directed
at Danny, while Evan looked on, totally out of synch, feeling as if
he was on the inside of a fish tank receiving the world five
seconds after everyone else. All he could see was Alicia’s pale
face. Right now it was all he wanted to see. He couldn’t have cared
less what was going on around him.

'I don’t know,'
Danny yelled back. 'Do you think for one minute I’d be sitting here
if I did? Anyhow, how did you know that… that me and Shelly were,
er…' Deliberately, they had not told Shelly’s brothers that they
were together, because she was adamant that she had to prove
herself without them. She had big plans, had Shelly. Sometimes,
when she was in full flow, Danny wondered if he was part of these
future plans.

'Living
together,' Gary put in. 'What do yer think we are? Like we’re gonna
let our little sis go walkabouts? Like we didn’t know she was
shacked up with you? We knew from the beginning… She seemed happy,
it’s what she wanted.' He shrugged. 'OK, it hurt when she turned
her back on us, but we gave her the space she wanted…
And look
what the fuck happens.'

Danny recoiled,
his head pressed back on the settee to escape Gary’s face, which
was now only four inches from his.

'She, she went
out two days ago, and that’s the last I saw of her. I was gonna
start looking today, honest. Then the next thing I find,' he
glanced quickly at Evan, 'well, you know.'

'Know
what?'

Danny swallowed
hard. He practically whispered,' The dead girl.' He looked out the
corner of his eye at Evan, but it seemed Evan was totally unaware
of his surroundings. 'It, it’s Alicia, Evan’s girlfriend.'

'Ohh.' Gary
swung his head towards Evan. 'Sorry for yer loss, mate. Truly we
are. If there’s anything we can do, yer’ve just gotta ask… But yer
gotta understand here, mate, because of her condition, we’ve gotta
find our Shelly.'

Evan went right
on staring at the fireplace, his expression a total blank.
Everything Gary had said had gone straight over the top of his
head. Gary turned back to Danny. He glared at him for a minute that
seemed to stretch to ten. When Danny began to fidget, Gary said at
last, 'She’s a fucking diabetic, yer stupid prick. She can’t just
go walkabout, no way. And she wouldn’t anyhow, not unless she was
terrified of something. And you’ll know as well as we do, our
Shelly isn’t easily frightened… So what the fuck’s been going on?
You beating her up, eh? Are you? 'Cos if you are...' He lifted his
fist. 'I swear I’ll fucking well kill you.'

'No, no,' Danny
protested, horrified that anyone could even think that he would hit
a woman. 'I wouldn’t…' He sighed. His eyes full of tears, he
repeated, 'I wouldn’t. Honest to God.'

'OK.' Gary
stepped back, letting his hand, still clenched in a fist, fall to
his side. 'Let’s say I believe yer, just for the time being. OK… So
who’s her best mate up here? You know, the one she hangs out with
the most?'

Danny looked at
Evan again. 'Al… Alicia.'

'Thought as
much.' Gary stopped himself just in time from saying,
And look
what happened to her.
'There must be others?' He frowned at
Danny.

'Yeah, a
couple, I was going to look them up today.' He nodded, eager for
Gary to think he was on the case.

'Right. We’ll
go and grab something to eat, then we’ll come back for you, OK… So
don’t do any sort of disappearing act. ‘Cos we’ll find you. And God
help yer when we do.'

Eyes wide,
Danny nodded again, wanting rid of them for Evan’s sake, but
pleased in a way that he had them onside in his coming search for
Shelly
.
Some of the creeps he had to visit, he’d rather have
a bit of muscle with him. Plus he needed some time to come to terms
with what had happened to Alicia. He couldn’t shake off the black
thought that Shelly might have suffered the same fate.
But if
she has, where
the hell is she?

Is she lying
in some godforsaken hovel, like a piece of discarded rubbish?

Please God,
don’t let her be lying somewhere all alone
,
not that,
please not all by herself,
he begged.

Sighing deeply,
he got up to see them out. He had only taken a few steps when there
was a sudden pounding on the door. Passing Gary and Liam, he
hurried down the hallway. Opening the door, he found Alicia’s
family standing outside. Her mother, grandfather and two uncles,
the only family she possessed, apart from three small cousins.
Danny ushered them in.

'I better put
the kettle on,' he whispered to Gary and Liam. They nodded, and
made their way to the door. 'See you in a bit,' Danny said, closing
the door just as Alicia’s mother started crying. With a heavy
heart, he went back into the sitting room.

Mike spun the
pen through his fingers like a majorette’s baton. After it had
clattered on the floor for the fourth time, Kristina said loudly,
'For Christ’s sake, Michael.'

'Oh, oh, I’m in
trouble…
Michael!'

Kristina, like
Aunt May and a few good friends, only ever used his full name when
they were annoyed with him.

'I’m trying to
concentrate here.' She scowled, and he smiled at her. Ignoring his
attempt to charm her, she turned back to her computer. 'Go and find
someone to arrest.'

'Now, that’s a
good idea. Any suggestions?'

She narrowed
her eyes, and he knew he was heading into deep water. 'OK, sorry.
Fancy a drink?'

'A coffee would
be good.'

Pulling a sour
face, he said, 'Yeah, OK. Though why you still drink that
poison...' He waved as he headed out of the office. Only then did
Kristina allow herself a smile.

She’d loved
Mike once, probably still did a little. Who wouldn’t love a man who
took time out of his busy life to help train a bunch of
football-mad kids, visit his maiden aunt as often as he could, call
in at the RSPCA at least once a month with a tray of dog food? It
was only because he spent so much time away that he didn’t have
half a dozen mangy mutts of his own.

But, boy, could
he be as pig-headed as he was charming.

Sighing, she
shook her head. And now, from what he’d told her, he had another
couple of lost souls under his wing.

She pressed a
few more keys, then sat back in amazement. Quickly she read down
the page.

'
Mike!
'

Shelly knew she
had to reach the fridge, but the reason why was fading fast. Drink?
Eat? Drink? The fridge seemed a thousand miles away and travelling,
as, wobbling from side to side, she slowly crossed the kitchen
floor. 'Gotta get there,' she muttered, 'just gotta get there.'

She stared at
the tiled floor for a moment; red and white tiles
. OK,
take one at a time.

'Why?'

Sugar, I
need sugar, that’s why. I have to have it. Have to
or
die.

Reach the
fridge, gotta reach the fridge.
She stared at the large white
door.
There’ll be food inside.

'Why bother?'
she muttered, her foot hovering over a red square.

''Cos, 'cos
them bastards will, will, win if, if I don’t get there, there.'

Putting her
right foot down, she dragged the left foot forward. Slowly, one
step at a time, her mouth set in a stubborn line, she reached the
fridge. All she wanted to do was rest, but something was driving
her on. She knew deep inside that to stop now would be fatal, but
her reason for crossing what had become an immense space was fading
fast.

She stared at a
fridge magnet of the Tower of London as her hand scrabbled weakly
at the fridge door. Her fingers might as well have been feathers
for all the good they were. Her heart was pounding so hard and fast
now, it seemed as if it would burst.

Rapidly she
blinked. Her eyes were full of glittering shards. She shook her
head to dispel them as her fingers finally settled on the handle.
She pulled at the door, but it seemed to be stuck tight.

'Open, damn
it.' Her words were slurred. She wanted to sit down, anywhere would
do, she really couldn’t care less now.

With a sigh,
she gave up and slowly started to slide down the side of the
door.

'What?' Mike
frowned, putting his head round the door. 'A mouse in the
house?'

Kristina
tutted. 'As if… No, look.' She pointed urgently at the screen of
her PC.

Mike moved into
the room. A moment later, he said, 'Well, that was kept quiet. How
the hell has this not been heard of before now? Jesus Christ… Come
on, Kristina, it’s just about one of the nastiest things we’ve ever
seen.'

'A need-to-know
basis perhaps?'

'Get me that
guy on the phone.' He moved to the world map that took up half the
office wall, and concentrated on a small town in France.

When the call
came, it was from a Detective Benoit Moreau, whose English was
impeccable.
More than can be said for my
French,
Mike
thought, as he said, 'Hello, this is Mike.'

'Hello, hello,'
Moreau replied. 'You are enquiring about a body of a young man
found in a bed early last year, yes? A body that had been
scourged.'

Mike winced,
seeing the girl’s back all over again. 'Yeah. Sickening, isn’t
it.'

'I had
nightmares for months,' Moreau said. 'He reminded me so much of my
son. Same age, same colouring.'

'Is there
anything you can tell me about the case? Did you arrest the
murderer?'

'No… it was, as
you say, a one-off. No leads, nothing. When his partner committed
suicide, the case was closed.'

'She committed
suicide?' Mike frowned at Kristina.

'It was not a
she.'

'What... Oh, so
they were gay?'

'Such a silly
word for homosexuals, but yes, they were gay. The case was
closed.'

'And you were
happy with that?' Mike sensed a note of discontent in Detective
Moreau’s voice.

'I had no
choice. The orders came from way above me. I was ordered to let it
go. But Detective Yorke, I had… have a feeling that it was a
warning.'

'A
warning?'

'Yes.'

Mike felt as if
he was trying to pull teeth. Moreau wanted to talk, but there was
something holding him back, and he was choosing his words very
carefully. 'You mean it wasn’t the partner?'

'No. The
partner’s alibi was sound. He was on stage, three hundred miles
away, at the time of death.'

'Hmm. Famous,
was he?'

'On the brink
of international fame. According to my son, that is. He would
travel all over France to the concerts.'

'So how did he
die?'

'He killed
himself two days later, a drug overdose. He was found in his hotel
room.'

'OK, so who do
you think the warning was for?'

'I have no
idea… I really must go now. I hope I have been of some help… If you
find whoever did this, please be so courteous as to let me
know.'