The Cinderella Killer (15 page)

‘Half an hour tops. I'd have been there quicker if I hadn't forgotten my coat and gone back to the digs to get it. I still feel guilty about that.'

‘Don't think about it. Guilt is one of the most wasteful of all human emotions.' Given its source, Charles found this an unexpectedly philosophical observation. ‘And you didn't see anyone other than Kenny when you got under the pier?'

‘No.'

‘No one hurrying away?'

Charles shook his head. ‘I mean, obviously I had no suspicions at the time, so it's not as if I was looking out for anyone, but my recollection is of not seeing a soul, even thinking to myself what a sedate place Eastbourne was, with all its inhabitants tucked up in bed by two o'clock in the morning.'

Lefty nodded thoughtfully. ‘And you saw no sign of the murder weapon?'

‘No. Detective Inspector Malik was of the view that it had probably been thrown into the sea, and that the chances of recovering it were minimal.'

‘Oh?'

‘Something to do with the tides round Eastbourne, I don't know.' Another nod from the lawyer. ‘Lefty, I have to ask you … did you find cocaine for Kenny that evening?'

‘Yes, I did.'

‘How did you know where to look?'

‘Kind of thing you pick up if you're raised on the back streets of LA.'

‘You found the stuff very quickly. Presumably you only started looking after Kenny had started drinking and contacted you?'

‘Yes, but I'd done my research beforehand. You'd be amazed at the network of contacts lawyers have. In LA, of course, I deal through respectable sources. Getting drugs there is like any other service. You pay the right amount of money, you get the right amount of discretion. Here I had to take more risks. New place, you don't know quite who you'll be dealing with. But my contacts came up with the goods. Got me a few useful names and numbers here in Eastbourne. Individuals, pubs they might frequent, that kinda stuff.'

‘Why did you do that, Lefty? Why did you think you'd need drugs here?'

‘Because I'd seen Kenny fall off the wagon many times before. And this was the longest time he'd been sober for a while. I knew it couldn't last. And I always like to be prepared for every eventuality.'

Charles was once again surprised at the breadth of the job description for acting as Kenny Polizzi's lawyer and agent. ‘And would you be prepared,' he asked, ‘to let me have those contact details?'

‘I thought you said you'd never done drugs? Strange time of life to change something like that.'

‘No, I don't want the drugs for myself. I just thought it might be useful for me to know for the next stage of our investigation.'

Lefty didn't look convinced. ‘I got all the information we need about that. No need for you to start poking a stick in a hornets' nest. Drug trade here in Eastbourne – like everywhere else in the world – involves some seriously unwholesome characters.'

‘OK,' said Charles lightly, reminding himself that he and Lefty had just agreed to work on the investigation together. If that partnership worked out, then fine. If not, Charles might have to start exploring the Eastbourne drug trade on his own.

There was a sudden commotion the other side of the bar. The weeping girl pushed her chair back and ran out of the room. The man looked embarrassed with relief. He rang for the barman and ordered a double gin and tonic. And prepared himself for a virtuous return to the wife who'd never known of the other woman's existence.

‘Lefty, does the name Marybeth Docker mean anything to you?'

Suspicion returned to the dark eyes. ‘In what context?'

‘In the context of Kenny Polizzi. In the context of a girl he might have met some years back in LA?'

‘Kenny met a lot of girls back in LA.'

‘He might have had a sexual relationship with this Marybeth Docker.'

‘Kenny had sexual relationships with a lot of girls back in LA.'

‘This one is in the
Cinderella
company. Now under the name of Jasmine del Rio.'

Lefty Rubenstein shook his head. ‘Neither name means anything to me.'

‘Because I was wondering whether Jasmine offered some kind of threat to Kenny.' And Charles described the encounter between the two of them that he'd witnessed in the rehearsal room.

But his narrative only prompted another shake of the head. ‘Though I may be like Kenny's nursemaid, I don't have a record of every woman he screwed. Particularly not if we're going back to before the
Dwight House
days.'

‘Oh well, if you do hear anything about a woman with either of those names, let me know.'

‘Sure will.' Lefty seemed more relaxed as he took another long swig from his bottle. That finished the contents, so he rang the bell on the bar for a refill. Still being sociable, Charles ordered another large Bell's.

The other drinker in the bar downed the remains of his gin and tonic and walked out, back to his unsuspecting wife with a step that was almost jaunty.

‘How long are you going to stay in England?' asked Charles once they were again seated.

‘A little while yet, I think. Need to be near the police investigation, be one of the first to know when there's any progress. My staff back in LA can handle the US media. Besides, given the scale of Kenny's name, a lot of the papers and TV companies will probably be sending their news teams over here – if they haven't arrived already. I need to be around here to manage how they report the story.'

‘I can see that.'

Lefty looked at his watch. ‘I gotta get back up to my room. Lotta emails to do.'

‘Well, it's been good to see you.' Charles reached across the table to shake the lawyer's hand. ‘And we're agreed – any useful information either of us gets on the investigation – we share it.'

‘Sure thing,' said Lefty.

Charles held on to the man's hand. ‘And I think that should include you telling me who the contact was in Eastbourne through whom you got the cocaine for Kenny.'

There was only a token remonstrance before Lefty gave in. He gave the name of a pub and the name of a man to ask for there.

‘But be careful, Charles,' was his parting shot. ‘People who deal drugs are rarely the nice guys.'

BUTTONS: But will you love me in the end?

CINDERELLA: No, but I'll always be your friend.

T
here were two pieces of news at the start of rehearsals on the Monday morning. One was about recasting. The elevation of Charles Paris to the role of Baron Hardup had left the production one Broker's Man short. And following the bizarre process that goes under the name of ‘celebrity casting' in pantomimes, it had been decided that Mick ‘The Cobra' Mesquito should be paired up with another boxer.

During his career in the ring he had had an ongoing rivalry (in small part genuine, in large part puffed up by the media) with a fellow welterweight called Garry ‘Bomber' Brawn. They had had two memorable fights (‘memorable' being a relative term since they were both British and there have never been any truly memorable boxing matches that didn't involve Americans). In the first the ‘Bomber' had taken Mesquito's British Welterweight title, in the second the ‘Cobra' had regained it. Both fights had been uninspiring contests with the fighters doing a lot of holding and leaning against each other, shuffling round the ring like superannuated ballroom dancers. And both had been won on a split points decision.

But for some reason – perhaps lack of competition or rose-tinted recollection – they had gone down in the British sporting memory as epic encounters. So the introduction of Garry ‘Bomber' Brawn into the cast of
Cinderella
was reckoned to be something of a publicity coup (not that after the murder of Kenny Polizzi the production really needed any more publicity).

The casting of a second boxer also cheered Bix Rogers enormously. Ever since he'd seen
Rocky
he'd wanted to choreograph a boxing match, and finally his opportunity had arrived. The interpolation of another irrelevance of course wreaked further havoc with
Cinderella
's plot, but the director had long since stopped caring about that. And Danny Fitz was once again driven to silent fury by the elbowing of another of his traditional pantomime routines.

The other piece of news on that Monday morning's rehearsal was that Jasmine del Rio had disappeared.

At the lunch break Charles found Kitty Woo, predictably enough standing in the cold outside St Asaph's Church Halls, puffing away at a cigarette as desperately as if it were her oxygen supply at the top of Everest.

‘Presumably you haven't heard any more from Jasmine?'

The dancer shook her head. The lids around her black eyes were puffy. She'd been crying.

‘And you haven't remembered anything about her time as Marybeth Docker?'

‘Like I said before, she never mentioned the name.'

‘I was just thinking, Kitty, you said you had a text from Jasmine on Friday evening about nine …?'

‘Yes. It said she was a bit delayed.'

‘Anything else?'

By way of answer Kitty whipped out her mobile and, with that young person's dexterity that never failed to amaze Charles, clicked icons to produce the relevant text.

‘
Running a bit late. Looking forward to the Chinese – and will pay you back, promise. X J.
'

‘What did she mean about paying you back?'

‘I guessed she meant she'd cook for me another night.'

‘Sure it wasn't money? You said she'd borrowed some from you.'

‘Yes, I suppose it might have been that. I didn't really think about it.'

‘But if that's what she meant, it might imply that she was going to get some money on the Friday night.'

‘Could do.' Kitty sounded listless. Her level of hope was low, she was close to despair.

‘Hm.' Charles looked pityingly at the girl. ‘And otherwise … I assume you've heard nothing?'

‘Not from Jazzy, no.'

‘But you have heard from someone else?' he asked keenly.

‘Text from Laura Hahn.' The name meant nothing to Charles. ‘Woman Jazzy lived with for a while. Theatre director. I'm sure I mentioned her.'

‘Yes, you did, but I don't think you told me her surname.'

‘Ah, right. No, I probably didn't. Anyway, Laura's heard about Jazzy being missing and she's dead worried. I think she's probably still in love with her a bit. She's coming down here from London this afternoon.'

‘To look for Jasmine?'

‘Yes, though I don't know that she'll have any more success finding her than we have.'

‘No.'

‘Actually it might make sense, Charles, if you met her too.'

‘Oh?'

‘Well, you can talk to Laura about the possible Kenny Polizzi connection. She might know something.'

‘Yes, I suppose she might. If they lived together. Must've talked about all kinds of things, possibly including Jasmine's time as Marybeth Docker.'

‘Mm. You haven't heard any more from the police, have you, Charles?'

He shook his head. ‘Why should I have?'

‘Well, I was just thinking, now Jazzy hasn't turned up to rehearsals, it's kind of like she's officially missing. The police will be wanting to find out more about her movements on Friday. I wouldn't be surprised if I get another call from them.' She closed her eyes and clenched her hands tightly together, almost as if she was praying. ‘Oh, I hope to God nothing's happened to her.'

‘Well, if she's disappeared, there must be a reason.'

‘She's been abducted.'

‘Not necessarily.'

‘Why not? Why else would she suddenly disappear off the face of the earth?'

‘To escape.'

‘Escape from what?'

‘Kitty, if there was some past history between Jasmine and Kenny, then she might have confronted him about it. Kenny might have pulled out a gun …'

‘And shot her?'

‘Jasmine's body hasn't been found.'

‘But Kenny's body has been.'

‘Exactly.'

‘Charles, are you suggesting that it was Jazzy who shot him?'

‘Well, it's a possibility.'

Laura Hahn was tall and elegant in grey trousers and cream silk shirt under a dark blue knitted jacket. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed a bright scarlet which made no attempt to ape anything in nature. As with most of the gay people of Charles's acquaintance, if the subject hadn't come up he would never have guessed her sexual orientation.

She had a lot of poise and, although she was clearly worried about Jasmine, she seemed to be completely in control of her emotions. Charles thought she would probably be a very good director. She had an air of calm competence. He and other actors would relax under her authority.

The three of them met later that afternoon in a coffee shop, which felt a bit odd to Charles. He'd nothing against coffee, but not having an alcoholic drink after rehearsal didn't seem quite natural. He had hardly ever been in a coffee shop. The Starbucks revolution had passed him by. There had always been a pub close enough for him not to seek out any teetotal alternative.

The women both ordered sticky cakes too, which again felt strange. He'd never had much of a taste for sweet things, so he stuck to a double espresso. The smell brought back to him a dreadful farce set in a restaurant in which he'd played an Italian waiter. (‘Charles Paris's accent kept slipping like a recalcitrant bra-strap.'
Teesside Evening Gazette
.)

Kitty quickly brought Laura up to date with the last contact she and Charles had had with Jasmine. She didn't mention the recent suggestion that the dance captain might have murdered Kenny. ‘Have you heard anything from her more recently?'

Laura shook her head with something like wistfulness. ‘No, since she moved out, contact with Jasmine has been intermittent at best.' Charles was interested to hear the use of her full name. Clearly ‘Jazzy' was something just Kitty Woo used. ‘I had a text from her saying she'd been dumped by the latest man and got this
Cinderella
job, but that's probably three weeks back. I couldn't resist coming down here, though. There's been so much in the press about the murder. I've just got a bad feeling that something terrible's happened to Jasmine.'