Sacrilege - Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I must have fainted.  On coming round, I recalled the gunshot. “Am I dead?” I demanded of Danny who was kneeling over me, concern etched on his pale face.

Danny grinned. “Not unless I am, too, and I’m still breathing as far as I know.” My hazy vision cleared and I could make out Shifty standing a little farther back. “It’s okay,” said Danny, “he’s a copper.”

I had no immediate answer to that so concentrated on getting to my feet with Danny’s help.

“We need to get out of here now,” Shifty told us in a tone that brooked no argument.

“How can we trust you?” I wanted to know.

Shifty nodded to where Ralph Packard lay bound, gagged and bleeding. “It’s only a flesh wound,” he assured me, said anticipating my next question. “If it was down to me, I’d leave the old bugger to bleed to death. But that wouldn’t go down too well with my superiors so, much against my better judgement, I’ve patched him up for now.”

“Come on, Dad, you can ask questions later,” Danny insisted. “We haven’t time to hang about.”

But I stood firm, confronting Shifty with an accusing look. “It was you, wasn’t it? You killed Ginny Sharp. Don’t deny it. I saw you leaving Grantham Court.”

“Quite possibly since I live there,” said Shifty. “Now, Danny’s right. We need to get a move on, okay?”

“I don’t believe you.” I was in no mood for prevarication. “Why did you kill Ginny Sharp?”

“I didn’t.”

“So who did?”

“I don’t know. I heard a noise. By the time I got there, whoever killed Ginny had already done a runner. It had to be someone Ginny knew, though, that’s for sure. There were no raised voices, no sounds of a scuffle, nothing. I would have heard since I was next door.”

“You were next door?” I was incredulous and even less inclined to believe a word the man said than ever.

“Phil arranged it. He asked me to keep an eye on things after what happened to your brother last time.” Grudgingly, I felt inclined to believe him. He went on, “I saw Ginny arrive at the flat and I saw your brother leave. I saw no one else. According to Ginny’s mobile phone, she hadn’t made any calls that day. The only calls received were from her sister Heather and Miles Packard.”

“Miles Packard, the swine!” I exclaimed involuntarily. Like father, like son. Both had the killer instinct. But Miles…he had to be the serial killer. If I’d had any doubts before, I was certain of it now.

“We haven’t got time for this, we have to find Teresa!” Danny was getting impatient.

“Danny’s right about one thing. We need to leave here…now,” Shifty agreed and glared at Danny, “But no heroics, okay?  I’ll see you to the nearest street exit. Then you and Laurence can make your way back to the widow’s house and leave the rest to the professionals.”

“But the auction…” I heard myself wailing, “It’s here, not Mile End like the police think.”

“I am the police, remember? And I’m right here. So is Phil. Believe me, reinforcements are on their way. All we have to do is find a way to keep things on hold until they get here.”

“Easier said than done,” I said somewhat unnecessarily.

Shifty merely shrugged. “You can always rely on your Phil to come up with the goods. You should know,” he added with a wry smile that didn’t strike me as in the least bit shifty any more. Even so, my fragile sensibilities were quick to react.

“He’s not ‘my’ Phil,” I retorted and then came over faint again as I realized what I had said.

Shifty lent me a supporting arm for which I was grateful. At the same time, it struck me as ludicrous that I should keep thinking of him as Shifty.  Before I could ask him his name, however, Danny took it into his head to run out into the yard.

“Hey, Danny, wait!” Shifty called in a loud, harsh whisper. He removed his arm and left me struggling to keep from falling in a heap on the floor again.

I watched in horror as Shifty, too, disappeared from view. “Wait for me!” I wanted to yell, but remembered just in time to keep quiet. Instead, I ran after them just as fast as my shaky legs would carry me.

There was no moon in view, only a watery light filtering through a low hanging blanket of cloud. It was enough to help me locate Shifty who was standing at one side of the warehouse, staring upwards. I followed his line of vision and let out an involuntary gasp. I could just about make out a figure climbing up a fire escape at the near side the warehouse. It had to be Danny. I could only watch, transfixed with mounting apprehension as he clambered on to the roof and made his way towards what I could only assume was a trapdoor or skylight. Seconds later, he had descended out of sight.

I ran to join Shifty who was less than pleased to see me.

“We have to go after him,” I panted. “There’s no telling what he might do. He’s determined to play the hero and rescue Teresa but…well…I have my doubts,” I confessed.

“You and me both,” Shifty growled. “Look, keep straight ahead for another fifty yards then bear right and you’ll see a gate. Don’t stop till you’re well away from here. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll go back to the widow’s house. I’ll be in touch just as soon as I have anything to say. Now, get going.”

“Not on your Nelly,” I told him straight. “If you think I’m deserting Danny in his hour of need, you can think again!”

“Shit!” Shifty swore softly. “That’s all I need, a have-a-go hero and a bleeding drama queen!” But he saw I was determined. “Okay, but be sure and stay close to me, do exactly as I say and keep your mouth shut, okay?  I don’t want to hear a sound out of you unless it is absolutely necessary, alright? No question, no arguments. You just do exactly as I say, okay?” he repeated. “I don’t want to hear you so much as breathe, understand?” I put my finger to my lips to show that I did. “Give me strength!” was the last thing I heard him mutter before we made our dash for the fire escape.

The metal ladder stretched higher than I had first thought. We were barely half way up when I began to feel dizzy. The moon chose that moment to break through a gap in the clouds, flooding the yard with an eerie white light. At the same time, the back door of the club opened and several figures emerged. Male voices drifted to where we clung to the cold metal rungs, silently praying the men below would not glance up and spot us.

I froze and shut my eyes.

The voices faded and I heard a door slam. I opened my eyes to discover that Shifty had already begun climbing again.

In vain, I willed my legs to move.

“Come on!” Shifty hissed. He had reached the roof and was lying on his belly peering down at me.

Again, I attempted to move but without success. I began to panic.

“Oh, stay there then. See if I care!” Another low hiss nicked my flesh like a bullet. The scene in the shed returned to haunt me.  I forced myself to look up and opened my mouth to whisper to Shifty that I couldn’t move.

But Shifty had gone. The moon, too, had disappeared again. It was nothing short of terror that galvanised me into action. Seconds later, I was crouched on the warehouse roof, too relieved even to be scared any more.

Shifty beckoned impatiently.

We dropped several feet to a mezzanine floor strewn with straw and littered with boxes of various sizes, some open, some not.  There was no sign of Danny. I peered over the edge to the scene below. The auction was well underway. Two naked young women were being paraded on a makeshift stage. Each wore a number. They were in a spotlight that made it hard to make out their features from where I lay.

Where the devil has Danny got to?

“So what am I bid for number eleven?” a cretin I took to be the auctioneer called out while another dragged a whimpering number eleven forward so the customers could get a better view. “A good little earner, great tits…what more could you ask? Oh, and she’s only sixteen.” He called out to the subject of everyone’s eager attention, “Come on, love, show us that cute little bum of yours!”

Cretin number two forced the girl to turn around and slapped her rump before swinging her round again and squeezing her breasts.  There were jeers, cheers and spasmodic applause. “Now, now, Chris, we’ll have no manhandling the merchandise if you don’t mind. No one here wants soiled goods, sight?” he faced the crowd, leering. “Time enough for that when she’s paying off the mortgage for you, eh?”

Raucous laughter made my stomach heave.

“Come on now, who will start the bidding for this luscious, scrumptious, sexy little virgin?”

“A thousand pounds!” someone yelled.

“On your bike!” the auctioneer shouted to the sound of more laughter that sent shivers up and down my spine.

“Five thousand,” someone else called out.

“For a virgin…?” The cretin made no attempt to conceal his disgust.

The bidding continued until the hapless number seven was handed over to a tall bespectacled man who promptly handed her over to someone closely resembling one of the Packard’s gorillas who promptly dragged her away through a side door.

“Now, ladies and gentleman, feast your eyes on this little beauty!” the auctioneer cried and the only young woman remaining on the stage was pushed forward.  I didn’t want to look. It felt wrong. It was with some difficulty that I prevented myself from retching several times already. Even so, my eyes were drawn irresistibly to the stage where the naked young woman was being paraded by cretin number two.  I wanted to shut my eyes but didn’t, couldn’t. Something about the woman struck me a vaguely familiar. I screwed up my eyes to focus more clearly. Somehow, I managed to stifle the cry on my lips.

It was Agnes Musoke.

Not until Agnes was led away, sobbing, through the same side door by another gorilla did I feel Danny’s hot breath on the back of my neck. I wanted to ask what he thought he was playing at, disappearing like that, but he put a finger to his lips and I had to settle for an accusing glare.

Predictably, Danny merely grinned, adding insult to injury with a mischievous wink. Next, he crawled over to Shifty and put his mouth to the policeman’s ear. By now, I was beginning to get used to the idea that Shifty was a copper. At the same time, I continued to nurse reservations about the man I could not have put into words.  Moreover, as I watched the pair exchange urgent whispers, I began to feel excluded and resentful. Churlishly, I looked away and pretended to be more interested in what was happening on the stage below.

I did not have to pretend for long.

“Now, here’s a real treat for you gents. Isn’t she gorgeous?” the auctioneer was shouting above more jeers, cheers, and abundant wolf whistles.

Looking very scared and wearing only a pair of black panties and matching bra besides the collar around her neck, Jackie was led across the stage on a leash like a dog being put through its paces by none other than Miles Packard.

 Danny poked me in the ribs and indicated that we were leaving but not to stand up and stay in a crouching position. I had cramp in one of my legs and had to bite my lip to keep from complaining as I struggled to get up while contriving to remain bent double. Shifty was already on his feet and seemed to be waiting to take his cue from Danny. 

Away from the edge of the mezzanine platform, we were in heavy shadow so able to stand up, much to my relief. Danny was well ahead and gingerly opening a door I would never have noticed, it blended so well with the surrounds. Shifty was at his side in seconds. I could only limp towards them as fast as my cramp would permit.

Jackie’s frightened expression continued to haunt me.

The door led to a narrow passage way and another to a flight of wooden steps. Danny was wearing trainers but indicated that Shifty and I should remove our shoes. Shifty nodded approvingly. Although I had misgivings about splinters, I complied anyway and crept down the stairs in my socks, one of which I couldn’t help noticing, had a gaping hole in the big toe.  The ground floor was noisy as well as dusty. It was a relief to sit on the bottom stair and replace my shoes.  I could hear the booming yet slightly squeaky voice of the auctioneer calling for more bids and my heart went out to poor Jackie. Poor Agnes, too, it was all so appalling.

How had the Packards discovered Agnes was in London, I wondered, and where was Teresa?

“Police…!” The cry suddenly went up and was soon being echoed in every direction. All hell broke out. Suddenly there were shouts, several shots and the sound of running footsteps pounding the entire building.

Danny did not hesitate but flung open the door and burst into the room. Shifty close on his heels, was now brandishing a gun.

The room was relatively small but crowded. After the gloom of the passageway, the glare from several 100 watt bulbs in lights dangling from the ceiling made it impossible to focus clearly at first.

Several scantily clad women began screaming.

Shifty and Danny were rolling on the floor, grappling with two men. Why didn’t Shifty use his gun, I wondered?  My vision began to clear.  I saw a third man grab one of the women and head for the door. I recognized the woman as Agnes Musoke and blocked their path.

“Get out of my way!” the burly fellow snarled.

“Let her go and I’ll think about it,” I said. It wasn’t that I was feeling in the least bit brave. I simply opened my mouth and the words tumbled out. Nor did I feel any braver when he produced a gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it at me. “Move, or else…!” he snarled again.

I stood my ground. Agnes leaned across and grabbed the gun. They wrestled for it briefly.

The gun went off. Agnes dropped to the floor.

“You bastard…!” I screamed and tackled the brute in a frenzy that lent me more strength than I would normally have been able to bring to bear against someone so much bigger than me.  In no time at all, however, I was on my back, a huge clenched fist about to come crashing down on my jaw bone.

Another shot rang out. 

My assailant swore loudly and slumped forward, pinioning me to the floor. Blood pouring from his mouth and a stale body smell threatened to overwhelm me. Danny dragged him off me just as I was feeling inclined to surrender to unconsciousness and be rid of this nightmare once and for all.

Shifty was standing by the door, gun in hand, covering the third man. “Don’t be afraid,” he told the terrified women, “The police are here to help you, not make things worse.” It was plain from their expressions that they did not believe him.

The women fled, not in the direction I expected but through another door I hadn’t noticed.

Danny knelt over Agnes and cradled her head in his lap. I joined him. “Where’s Teresa? Tell me. Agnes, please,” he pleaded with the inert form.

“I think she’s dead,” I told him and felt for a pulse. I found one but it was very weak and my eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t write her off just yet, don’t you dare!” Danny sobbed over the beautifully arranged head of black hair.

I opened my mouth to protest then closed it again as Agnes opened her eyes and tried to speak. “Teresa…with Vince…the cellar…a way out…” Her voice tailed away and it quickly became obvious that the lovely eyes staring up at us saw nothing.

“Poor, poor Agnes,” I murmured. “She deserved so much better.”

But Danny had already scrambled to his feet and was yelling at the man at whom Shifty was still pointing the gun. “The cellar, which way?” he yelled.

The man remained sullen and silent.  Before even Shifty realized his intention, Danny had grabbed the gun and was aiming it unflinchingly at the figure pressed against the door. “Either you tell me where the cellar is or I will shoot your fucking head off.”  No one doubted that he meant it.

“Don’t be a fool Danny;” cried Shifty, edging forward. “Give me the gun.”

Danny cocked the weapon.  I winced. I’d forgotten he had become familiar with guns in the shady world from which I had rescued him only a few years ago. “You have five seconds to tell me the quickest way to the cellar,” Danny said in a rasping voice I scarcely recognized. “One…”

“He can’t tell us if he’s dead,” I pointed out.

“Then I’ll find it myself,” Danny retorted. He continued counting, “…two…three…” he paused. “We’re wasting time. Are you going to tell me how to get to the fucking cellar or do I have to kill you? I will, you know. I ain’t bluffing.  Now, where is that cellar? Where has Vince Packard taken Teresa Karmali?” he screamed.

“Ah, but wouldn’t you like to know, eh?” a familiar voice enquired sarcastically from the doorway.

It was Miles Packard. He had a grip on Jackie’s arm and was holding a gun to her head. Almost immediately two armed police officers also appeared.

“Unless everyone drops their guns now, our gender bender friend here is dead meat!” yelled Packard.

“He means it!” cried Jackie. “Danny, please…!”

“He means it alright,” I told Danny. “The man’s a killer, you’re not. Do as he says and put the gun down. He means it, Danny!” I repeated.

“So tell us something we don’t know,” said Shifty somehow managing to sound authoritative, cynical and sympathetic all at the same time.

“Drop the guns…NOW!” Packard repeated, “and you buggers at my back can clear off too or, so help me, I’ll…” he pressed the gun barrel hard against Jackie’s temple.

“Do as he says for God’s sake!” Jackie pleaded.

Danny dropped the gun. It fell with a clatter to the floor. The thug Danny had been threatening to shoot promptly dived and retrieved it.  He pointed it at Danny with a grim, determined expression.

The police in the doorway retreated.

“Now, we’re coming through,” announced Packard coolly, “and if anyone so much as blinks an eye, I’ll blast our Jackie’s brains out. Believe me when I say I’d much rather not but…needs must as the devil drives, yeah?” 

The pair crossed the room to the second door.  I caught Jackie’s eye and mustered what I hoped was a reassuring smile.  Not a muscle in her face moved, she was that petrified.  I guessed she only managed to move at all because Packard was prodding her, the gun barrel now stuck pressed firmly against her rib cage. 

They reached the door.

Packard pushed Jackie heavily forward. She staggered, stumbled and crashed into Danny. Both went flying.

The third henchman lunged at Danny’s head with his foot. Danny let out a yelp. The same foot lashed out again. This time, Danny made no response. “Leave him Daisy and get yourself over here!” Packard told the henchman.

Hearing the burly fellow addressed as ‘Daisy’ stuck me as inordinately funny and I burst out laughing. For a split second, I was the centre of attention. It was long enough. Even Packard was momentarily distracted and oblivious to the door behind him opening slowly.

The sight of Philip standing there with a gun in his hand was like having ice cold water thrown in my face. I recovered my composure immediately.

“Drop the gun Packard,” said Philip in a strong but quiet voice that seemed to have a calming effect on everyone. Everyone, that is, except Packard. He did not hesitate but swung round, caught Philip a glancing blow and rushed past him. Philip quickly recovered his balance and ran after him.

Before I realized what was happening, Danny had made an amazing recovery, scrambled to his feet and lunged at the beefy henchman. Again, they grappled with the gun. But Danny made the most of the element of surprise. He soon had the upper hand.  In no time at all, their roles were reversed and Danny had recovered the gun.  Only, on this occasion he did not waste time pointing it but brought it crashing down against one side of the man’s head, rendering him unconscious.  Before the rest of us barely had time to catch our breaths, he had dashed off, waving the gun wildly and shouting Teresa’s name.

I caught Jackie’s eye. “Well, don’t just stand there,” she half yelled, half sobbed, “Go after him, the pair of you, before he does something stupid.”

Shifty and I gave chase.  Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw several police officers storm into the room so could at least be sure Jackie was now in safe hands.  Only fleetingly did my thoughts turn to Agnes Musoke’s untimely end and I hated myself for brushing them aside. There would be time enough for grief later.

I could only assume footsteps pounding after me belonged to the police but did not look back. Instead I focused on Shifty who was already racing well ahead.

By the time I reached an exit leading into the yard, there was no sign of him, Philip or Miles Packard. Frantically, I tried to recall the instructions that Shifty had given me earlier. My relief on reaching the gate knew no bounds.  Once in the street, I looked in all directions but still no sign of them. I took a chance and ran straight ahead, pausing at a junction to look again.  I spotted a running figure in the distance I thought was Shifty and hared after it.

By the time I reached the next junction, the only people in sight were a couple walking hand in hand some distance away in the opposite direction.  I was about to run on when a sixth sense caused me to take another look.  There was something unnatural about the way the couple were walking, sometimes quickly, sometimes much slower... as if they were out of breath perhaps? At the same time, something about the silhouettes struck a chord.  Yes, they were holding hands but the figure I took to me a man seemed to be urging is companion on or…yes, he was all but dragging her and she was resisting.

The penny dropped. It was Vince Packard and…could it be Teresa?

They turned a corner. I ran as fast as I could.  At the same corner, I lurched to a painful stop. My cramp had returned. Then I spotted them on the other side of the road. 

Packard was tugging at the doors of cars. On finding one that was open, he pushed Teresa (by now I was convinced it was her) into the back seat.  I heard a door slam then an engine revving. The next thing I knew, the car was heading towards me.

Fortunately, I did not have time to think or I would never have found the nerve to dash into the road, arms flung wide, directly in the oncoming vehicle’s path. Not until the very last minute did it veer madly across the road, go into a skid and finally crash into lamp-post.

In spite of my cramp, I loped towards the crash scene as fast as I could.

Smoke was pouring from the bonnet. Teresa’s face was pressed imploringly against the window. I tugged at the door handle. It would not give. I ripped off my shirt and wrapped my right hand in it. Gesturing my intention to Teresa, I smashed it against the rear window. Somehow, although bleeding profusely and obviously in shock, she remained alert to the immediate danger, took my hand and let me assist her to climb out of the car to safety.

It transpired that we only had seconds to spare. I had barely dragged her a few yards when the force of an explosion sent us sprawling.

By the time we had crawled to the opposite pavement and were sat with our backs to a low wall, a small crowd had gathered. The police, too, arrived within minutes.  I tried to take in the scene but everything was no more than a blur. My cramp was considerably worse. My head was throbbing and a ringing in my ears hurt something rotten.

I became aware of someone kneeling beside me and a voice demanding not unkindly, “Are you alright?”

Why, I wondered, did people invariably ask that question to other people who were clearly not alright? I did my damnedest to focus properly. The blur cleared sufficiently to make out Shifty’s concerned expression. I nodded. “Teresa?” I croaked.

“I’m fine. At least, I think so.” It was Teresa herself who answered and squeezed my hand as she spoke. “I ache all over and there seems to be a lot of blood is coming from somewhere but, yes, I’m fine.”

“Don’t try to talk Miss,” a voice I did not recognize broke through the persistent ringing in my ears. I did not even try to look and see who it was but became aware of some movement beside me. The hand, though, did not relinquish its hold on mine.

“Philip, Miles…Danny?” I spluttered.

Shifty merely shrugged.

I must have drifted in and out of consciousness briefly. I wasn’t aware of the scene having changed substantially when a voice I recognized at once reached me from a distance.

“Hey, Dad, are you okay?”

I turned my head in the direction from which it came and saw Danny wrestling with two policemen.

“Let him through!” I heard Shifty shout.

Danny raced towards us. Our eyes met only briefly before his widened in astonishment and joy upon recognizing Teresa. He reminded me of a child opening a birthday present. Danny dropped to his knees. Teresa let go of my hand. Danny seized both our free hands, tears pouring down his face.  I looked past him to the burning wreck all but wrapped round a lamp-post. It was one birthday present Vince Packard could have done without, I reflected without an ounce of compassion.

“Laurie, thank God you’re safe!” It was Philip’s voice that now penetrated my semi-conscious state and held my attention.  I looked up and peered though a smoky haze. He was looking down at me .his features drawn and etched with stress.

“Miles…?” I asked.

“In custody,” said Philip.

“You got your man then. Congratulations,” I managed to say through a fit of coughing.

Philip gave me a pained, quizzical look and went on, “Ralph will soon be under lock and key too, along with a good few other bastards. All in all, I’d say it’s been a good result. It will be a long time before the Packards will be going on any pleasure trip.”

“There’s one that won’t, that’s for sure,” I said and my gaze turned yet again on the wreck opposite. Fire fighters with hoses were now extinguishing the flames. I began to puzzle over why I hadn’t heard the fire engine arrive.

“Laurie, oh, Laurie…!” Ryan Banks was now kneeling beside me in tears. He seized my hand and lifted it to his cheek. A sweet gesture, I thought and even felt like laughing when I saw Philip scowl.

I looked turned my head. Danny was cradling Teresa in his arms. They seemed blissfully unaware of anyone or anything but each other.  Taking my time I looked from one to the other of the faces surrounding me.  Shifty grinned, waved and walked away. I reminded myself that I must find out his name. I can’t keep thinking of him as ‘Shifty’ for heaven’s sake.

I looked from Ryan to Philip and back again. As I did so, I realized that I had just made my choice between the two men.  If I’d suspected I already had, now I knew for certain. I did love Philip and always would. The trouble was I loved Ryan more. I glanced at Philip and could see he had read my mind. His hurt expression cut me to the quick. He turned abruptly on his heels and hurried after Shifty.

My mother always used to say that a decision once made is a burden lifted. Why then, I wondered, was there such a weight bearing down on me? 

Even as I gazed fondly at Ryan’s tear-stained face and squeezed the hand still holding mine, a shudder, not unlike an orgasm, passed through my whole body. Another saying to which my mother had been known to allude now and then sprung involuntarily to mind.

I felt as if someone had just walked over my grave.

To be continued on Monday

Sacrilege - Chapter 17

                                             CHAPTER SEVENTEEN          

A white limousine chauffeured by a gorilla in evening dress, picked us up from the house at 8.00pm sharp. I had already persuaded the widow to go next door, partly in case of any trouble but chiefly to distract Andrew Bolton from looking out of the window and jumping to conclusions. “He already has reservations about the company you keep, including me and Danny,” I reminded her. “The last thing we want is him sticking his oar in and calling the police to say we’ve been kidnapped by gangsters.”

“Heaven forbid he should be right,” she observed dryly, but did as I asked without argument.

Danny looked splendid in his Goth regalia. By comparison, I felt more than a trifle insipid in a suit that usually only ever got an airing at funerals. “You look fine,” Danny assured me seconds before the doorbell rang, “just like an undertaker. There’s nothing like entering into the spirit of the occasion, that’s what I always say.”

I groaned despairingly.

Jackie had called earlier to reassure us that she would be at the Red Admiral but had sounded every bit as tense as I was feeling myself. Suppose something goes wrong…or everything? I reached for a handkerchief to mop a heavily perspiring brow.

“Don’t worry,” Danny whispered, “just follow my lead.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I told him but forgot to keep my voice down, caught the gorilla’s eye in his driving mirror and wished I hadn’t.  His lower lip curled into a vicious snarl. I felt obliged to make further use of my handkerchief. Nor did I relinquish it again until we arrived in Camden Town. How my shaking hands and legs succeeded in clambering on to the pavement without mishap, I shall never know.

“Get a grip,” Danny muttered in my ear. Somehow, I managed to do just that although I suspected it had less to do with Danny’s sharp tone than the fact I’d spotted Ryan Banks entering the Red Admiral through its dark glass entrance doors.

There was n sign of Vince Packard. It was Ralph Packard who was welcoming guests as they arrived. Philip stood beside him, barely the shadow of a smile on his face as he watched us mount the few steps towards him. He remained tight-lipped as the three of us acted out a pantomime of greetings that included hearty slaps on the back from Ralph for Danny and me that soon had me reaching for my handkerchief again.

The gorilla drove away.

We entered, were expertly frisked and then led into the main area where the party had already started and a DJ was playing 1960s music. Almost immediately, a waiter arrived bearing a tray of champagne glasses. Vince Packard came up minutes later and gave us both hugs that we could have done without if only because whatever cologne or after-shave he was wearing stank something rotten. Danny managed not to spill his champagne but some of mine spilled down my shirt.

“Did you bring me a prezzie?” Packard wanted to know, plainly hurt and offended when Danny shook his head.

“Aren’t we prezzies enough?” Danny demanded.

“True,” said Packard with a sick grin. “I mustn’t be greedy, must I?”

“So when do we start?” I wanted to know, “The sooner we get this over with the better if you ask me.”

“So who’s asking you?” Packard snarled and then seemed to relent, his surly expression transformed by a charming smile. “You’ll want to watch me blow out the candles on my cake, of course. Then we’ll go upstairs and have another little party of our own. The lady can’t wait, by the way. Nor can I,” he added drooling over Danny who had become discernibly tense at the mention of Teresa.  Danny, though, was also something of a chameleon. He flung his arms around Packard’s neck and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

Packard recoiled in horror. “If you ever stick that insolent tongue of yours in my mouth again, I’ll kill you,” he yelled. Everyone paused to stare, easily able to hear above the music. Packard looked around fiercely. Almost at once everyone resumed dancing.

“Me, insolent..?” Danny feigned hurt and surprise that fooled no one. “Sorry, no offence intended I’m sure. I thought you liked a good smacker. I should have remembered you’re a bit on the squeamish side when it comes to getting intimate.”  He saw he had gone too far. Packard was speechless with rage and humiliation. Danny quickly attempted to qualify an observation that had people nearby chuckling nervously. “I mean, not everyone likes tongues. Some people think a tongue in the gob is gross, though it beats me why. Kissing with your mouth shut is so boring if you ask me. But each to his own, yeah? I should have realized you were too sophisticated for that kind of stuff.”

The flattery worked.  Packard’s wicked smile reasserted itself.  “I’ll see you later,” he muttered, including me in a beady gaze that had me reaching for my handkerchief again. I watched him go with mounting trepidation. He was soon swallowed up by what was already a good crowd. But for how long, I wondered, anxiously mopping my brow with the handkerchief?

“I see you’re both determined to make a good impression on our host.” Jackie’s voice, low, earnest and oozing sarcasm came as a welcome relief. “You do realize your every move is being watched? Mine, too, probably. So for heaven’s sake act natural and keep your voices down.”  She fixed Danny with a despairing look. “Isn’t it bad enough that you’re playing with fire?  Don’t antagonize the man. Save it for later, okay? The Packards have had people shot for less. Besides, for this idiotic plan of yours to stand the ghost of a chance of working, we need to keep dear Vincent sweet. Who knows? Catch him off guard and we might even get out of here in one piece.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Danny grumbled.

“I wish!” Jackie muttered. “I had better circulate, I suppose. The more we keep our distance, the better. It wouldn’t do to be spotted huddled together like plotters, would it? People might get the right idea, and then where would we be? She moved away before either Danny or I could respond.

“Oh, she of little faith…!” Danny complained.

For my own part, I was wondering whether Jackie and Marc had patched things up yet and hoped they had or would do so sooner rather than later. There was no arguing that theirs was an unusual relationship, but neither was there any denying they were good together.

A pretty young woman attracting admiring glances for carrying off the shortest dress I had ever seen dragged Danny on to the dance floor. I watched them with a mixture of envy and amusement. The dress barely covered either the girl’s breasts or thighs. Danny, in Goth mode looked like something out of a comic strip. Oh, for the unselfconsciousness of youth, I mused, stifling a yawn before going in search of another waiter.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on yet?” I turned to find Ryan Banks regarding me with a mixture of pleasure and suspicion.

“You knew I was invited,” I said lamely.

Ryan shrugged. “Okay, have it your own way. If you don’t trust me…”

“Of course I trust you,” I protested, “it’s just that there are some things that take too long to explain and there aren’t enough hours in the day.”

“So there is something going on. Why won’t you tell me?”

“I might have to if it all goes terribly wrong,” I confessed without meaning to, “but in the meantime, believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“But I do. You’re obviously worried sick and….” He stopped in mid-sentence. “You’re not just worried are you? You’re scared. You’re scared stiff. Come on, Laurence, tell me. Is it Vince Packard? Does he have some kind of hold over or grudge against you? It has to be something like that or you wouldn’t have that Goth pansy on your arm. Everyone knows Vince Packard has a thing about Goth boys.”

“I told you Danny would be coming with me.”

“Yes, but not that he’d be looking like something out of a Hammer Horror movie.”

“It’s…complicated,” I told him.

“So? I’m listening.”

“It’s… complicated,” I repeated miserably.

“Hey, hold on a minute. Don’t tell me you’re up for a threesome…you, Vince and that piece of Goth rubbish?  You are, aren’t you? You’ve got something going with Danny, haven’t you? And all this time I thought you and me were going somewhere.” 

“We are,” I said, “You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Oh? So put me right.”

“I can’t,” I wailed. Much as I was dreading the event, I almost welcomed the DJ’s announcement that the birthday boy was about to cut his cake. Distraught, I forced myself to concentrate on the scene immediately ahead.

Along with his brother and another gorilla, Vince Packard emerged on stage from one side while, from the other, Ralph Packard and a woman carried a cake bearing a single large candle.

I turned to pass some humorous observation to Ryan but he had slipped away without my even realizing he had gone. I tried to pick him out in the crowd but just then the lights dimmed and everyone began singing “Happy Birthday, Vincent.”

Afterwards, there were cheers and some carefully orchestrated applause before Vince actually got around to blowing out the candle after three attempts.  Ralph Packard made short speech in praise of both his sons to which everyone not only clapped and cheered but broke into a chorus of “For he’s a jolly good fellow!” It crossed my mind that anyone could have been forgiven for thinking it was Ralph’s birthday, not his son’s.

Finally, the stage was cleared, DJ reinstated, room reverberating to the sound of Elvis Presley singing Blue Suede Shoes. Vince, I had discovered was a great Presley fan.

I looked around desperately for Jackie and was relieved to catch her eye.

“Who’s in for a treat then?” I turned to find the same gorilla that had chauffeured us earlier at my elbow. “Mister Packard is dying to see you although I imagine it’s your pretty Goth friend he’s got it up for.” I longed to make some cutting remark that would wipe the smirk off his ugly bulldog face. But he was bigger than me.

Needless to say, I went quietly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Danny being propelled towards me by another gorilla. The young woman in the short dress protested loudly and received a hefty slap in the face for her trouble.

In no time at all, we were being escorted out of the room and up two flights of stairs by three gorillas.  We stopped outside a door marked ‘Private. Knock Before Entering’. One of the gorillas knocked.

“Who’s there?” I recognized Vince Packard’s voice.

“Room service, guv,” the same gorilla chuckled.

“Enter.”

Danny and I were pushed unceremoniously into a brightly lit room and the door slammed behind us. Two gorillas remained inside, blocking what, as far as I could see, was the only exit.

Vince Packard was reclining naked on a chaise longue on the far side of the room. Between him and us was a four poster bed, curtains drawn around it.

Packard nodded to Danny. “Would you like to do the honours? Oh, isn’t this exciting,” he tittered. “I do so love to bring old friends together.”

Danny tugged at the curtains on the near side of the bed.

Seconds later, I couldn’t stop myself from crying out in shock and alarm. For the naked woman on the bed looking very frightened was not Teresa.

It was Agnes Musoke.

Danny took one look and rounded on Packard with such an expression of cold fury that our host felt obliged to signal one of the gorillas. In three giant strides, he reached Danny and quickly had him in an arm lock. “Sorry to disappoint you and all that,” Packard told Danny in creepy tone of mock apology that sent shivers down my spine, “but Theresa is very precious to me. I could hardly risk losing my lovely Baganda a third time, could I? Besides, don’t be such a fussy hussy. Agnes is just gagging for it, can’t you see?”  He turned his beady gaze on me. “Don’t be shy, Fisher. You don’t want to miss out on all the fun, do you? Come and help our young Goth friend off with his clothes.”

It was my turn to be manhandled by the second gorilla and I was part shoved, part dragged to the bed.

Danny was released. We stood staring at each other and I knew exactly what was going through his mind. What the devil was Jackie playing at and what would we do when the lights went out anyway? In addition, Danny’s expression warned me that I should not even think about saying, I told you so.

“Have they hurt you?” I asked Agnes, playing desperately for time. Mutely, she shook her head. I glared at Packard. “They should lock up people like you and throw away the key. You’re sick.”

“Undress him,” was all Packard said and the gorilla standing directly behind Danny produced a gun.

“I can undress myself,” Danny declared forcefully.

“I’m sure you can. After all, you’re a big boy now. But you can show me just how big later. For now, I want to see your pimp rip your clothes off.”

It was small comfort but the use of the word at least told me that my true relationship with Danny hadn’t been rumbled.

“Hey, don’t start with my belt or my trousers will fall down,” said Danny jokingly.

I took the hint and began to fumble with the elaborately designed belt at his waist.

“What do we do now?” he whispered between clenched teeth.

“You tell me,” I whispered back, fumbling with the large silver buckle.

“We’ll just have to play it by ear and take our chances.”

“Hey, no whispering, If you’re going to talk dirty I want to hear it!”  Packard roared, and then began to giggle. “Go on, Fisher, give him a smacker.”

“What?” I swallowed, nonplussed.

“Have you got butter fingers or what?” Danny shouted and began to remove the belt.

Then all the lights went out.

I heard a swishing noise and realized Danny was swinging the belt in mid-air. I also heard the gorilla’s yelp as leather met flesh with a vengeance. I sensed movement at my side and, without thinking, lashed out with my foot. The second gorilla fell to the floor. I lashed out again and heard his jawbone crack. Meanwhile, Danny had grabbed the gun.

Agnes Musoke screamed.

The door opened and the third gorilla barged into the fray.

A shot rang out.

This time it was Packard who screamed.

By now, my eyes were better accustomed to the gloom. As the third gorilla dashed into the room I head butted him in the stomach. He staggered only slightly, grabbed me and tossed me on to the bed. As he lunged after me, Agnes lurched forward and began clawing at his face.  He put his hands to his eyes and began yelling blue murder.  Agnes continued to lash out. I ducked under her arm, grabbed a lamp from a small table beside the bed and seized the first opportunity to bring it crashing down on the gorilla’s head.

It all happened so fast, none of us had barely time to draw breath.

Danny was standing over the prostrate body of his assailant, gun in hand, shaking like a leaf. Even in the gloom, his face stood out a ghastly shade of pale. In spite of the state he was in, however, he still managed to point the gun directly at Vincent Packard who was cowering on the chaise longue whimpering, “Don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me,” he kept saying.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Agnes was hurriedly throwing some clothes on.

“Shouldn’t we shut him up?” I asked Danny, indicating Packard.

“Shut the door before anyone realizes what’s up and we have the whole pack on our backs,” he replied.

“We must go, quickly,” said Agnes.

“What about Packard?” I stammered, starting to panic. If reflex actions had got me through the last few minutes, these were now replaced by a gut terror of getting caught. “We could use him as a hostage, I suppose?” I suggested.

“No. We must go now,” Agnes repeated, “before the lights come on again.”

“Get up,” Danny told Packard who did as he was told without any hesitation. “Now, turn around and kneel down.”

“What are you going to do? Don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.” Suddenly his tone changed and he became more aggressive and threatening. “If you kill me my father and brother won’t rest till you’re all dead and don’t think it will be quick either,” he snarled. “You’ll wish…” But we never heard what Vince Packard wished for us because Danny brought the gun down hard against the side of his head and he went sprawling.

Danny turned to Agnes who, by now, had one hand on the door handle. “Where’s Teresa?” he demanded.

“We haven’t time for that now.”I told him. “We need to get out of here…fast. They’re bound to have a spare generator. The lights could come on again any second.”

“He’s right,” agreed Agnes breathlessly and would have flung open the door had Danny not rushed forward and prevented her.

“Where is Teresa?” he repeated.

“Not now Danny,” I pleaded.

“Yes, now.”

Agnes seemed to be making a decision. “She’s at the auction,” she said at last.

“Why?” I was puzzled. “What possible interest…” I began. Then the penny dropped.

“She will be the last to be sold,” Agnes went on. “The bastards intend to make her wait until the end.”

“We have to do something!” Danny cried.

“First we need to get out of here in one piece,” I pointed out, “It’s not as if we can even rely on the cavalry  turning up at the last minute. I imagine the Met’s finest will be at Mile End.  You can bet Jackie will have found a way to let them know and…”

“Mile End, what about Mile End?” Agnes interrupted sharply.

“It’s where the auction is taking place,” I told her absently. My first priority was to make Danny see sense and get us out of The Red Admiral.

“No, no, you’re wrong!” Agnes declared with such fear and pain in her voice that both Danny and I immediately took notice. “The auction is here at the Red Admiral. There is a warehouse at the back. It will take place at three o’clock in the morning.”

“But Miles Packard told Jackie it was in Mile End,” I gasped.

“That’s right, I did,” said a familiar voice behind me.

No one had noticed the door opening. In the doorway, covering Jackie with a revolver with which he seemed more than comfortable, stood Miles Packard, the handsome features distorted by a malicious grin.

Suddenly, the lights came on.

“Oh, my head…! Vince Packard groaned and tried to get to his feet but quickly sunk to the floor in an untidy heap.

“Help him up,” Miles told Danny then spared a glance for the two prostrate gorillas. He turned to me, indicating with a nod the one Danny had shot. “Is he dead?”

“How should I know?”

“Then I suggest you find out.”

I went and knelt down beside the body and felt for a pulse. There was none. I shook my head. “How about the others, are they still breathing?”

“They’re just out cold,” Danny told him, staggering under Vince Packard’s weight. Vince continued to alternately groan and whimper. “Dump him on the bed, for heaven’s sake,” said Miles. “He’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“My word, haven’t we been busy?” Miles Packard sneered but I thought I detected a note of grudging admiration in his voice. I recalled quite liking the man once. He had to be the best of the bunch, I thought. But if I was tempted to attribute a better nature than his father or brother to Miles I was sadly mistaken.

The sound of pounding footsteps brought another two gorillas, each brandishing guns, to stand beside Miles, plainly awaiting instructions.

Vincent continued to groan.

“Escort our guests to the warehouse,” Miles snarled, and take Agnes while you’re about it. Her friends might enjoy seeing her sold off to the highest bidder.”

“You swine…!” I yelled, “You won’t get away with this. The police are on to you.”

“I’m sure they are. But by the time they realize they are wasting their time in Mile End, we’ll be done and dusted here. No hard evidence, no case. Isn’t that how a copper’s cookie crumbles?” he let rip with a short burst of dry laughter that made me see red.

“What about us?” I demanded. “What about Danny, Jackie and me? Planning to sell us off too, are you?”

“Ah, you guessed. Aren’t we a clever boy then, Mister Fisher?”

I could only stare speechless with incredulity.

“You can’t do that!” Jackie shouted, “It’s bad enough selling off illegals to pimps and dirty old men. But we’re British. You can’t sell us. This is the twenty-first century. The white slave trade…”

“…is alive and kicking all over the world,” Miles told her, leaving no one in any doubt that he meant it.

“You’re mad!” Jackie raged.

“A sex bomb like you will fetch a good price for a start,” Miles observed, “the freaks always do.”

“Why, you…!” Jackie lunged forward and her hands had all but closed around Packard’s neck before a gorilla dragged her away, knocked her senseless and slung her over one broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Miles loosened his tie and the top button of his shirt. “Get them out my sight!” he shouted hoarsely but then called one of his henchmen back and whispered something in his ear. For the second time that evening, we had a gorilla escort through the club. Only, this time we carefully avoided the partygoers. Nor did we have the benefit of Danny’s grand plan to drive us forward regardless of the consequences, only guns and verbal abuse.

We were taken to a small shed at the far end of an expanse of grass and tarmac behind the club premises. It stood only a few yards away from a building I took to be the warehouse where the auction would later take place. There was only a dim light showing inside. We could make out some boxes stacked at the rear but that was all.

Jackie had recovered consciousness and was on her feet, looking haggard and anxious. Agnes Musoke, too, looked on, wide-eyed with terror, a gorilla poking a gun in her ribs every time she so much as trembled as Danny and I were bundled inside. Once our hands and legs had been trussed with the same tape used to gag us, they departed, alternately dragging and prodding poor Agnes and Jackie along with them. One returned briefly to switch off the light, leaving Danny and me to contemplate our fate in darkness and abject misery.

I prayed Ryan would miss me and raise the alarm. Philip, too, will realize something is wrong, surely?  Yet what could they do, I kept asking myself. Philip might find a way to alert his colleagues, I supposed. Yet, half the Metropolitan police force was probably poised to raid a hoax location in Mile End.  As for Ryan, he had seemed willing enough to think the worst of me earlier. Somehow I doubted whether he would care much whether I stayed on at the party or not.

It was a sobering thought.

We completely lost track of time, Danny and I. Cold, uncomfortable, and with parched mouths, we were left to lie on the stone floor of that dark, damp, smelly shed for hours.

Eventually, the door opened and a shadowy figure entered. It was Ralph Packard. He shut the door quietly behind him, turned on the light and regarded us with smug satisfaction. “It’s not quite what I had in mind but it will do. Yes, it will do nicely,” he told us then came and ripped the gags from our mouths.

It hurt.

“You won’t get away with this,” I muttered and struggled ineffectually to free myself.

“Oh, but I will. True, I’m more used to smuggling people into the country than out of it but what’s a variation on a theme, eh?

“Where’s Teresa? What have you done with her, you bastard?” Danny demanded hoarsely.

“Teresa is being well taken care of. So, too, is our transgender friend. You should fetch a good price. I have to say,” he said and looked directly at Danny, crooked, nicotine stained teeth bared and beady eyes unnaturally bright. “Oh, yes, I’m sure someone will pay a lot to have you all to themselves.”

“You’re sick!” cried Danny, but there fear in his voice, so much so that I imagined  I could have reached out and touched it had my hands not been tied.

“Sick, you say? No, I don’t do sick. I leave that to others. I’m simply doing a friend a favour. It’s nothing personal. Let’s face it. Once an old friend decides to call in a favour, what choice do you have?

My jaw dropped. “Fat Georgie…!” I stammered. Packard nodded. His twisted expression filled me with terror, the more so, as the full, fleshy mouth relaxed into a benign smile.

“It wasn’t you who kidnapped and tried to kill me, that’s for sure,” said Danny. “It was a much younger guy, not some old rat bag like you.”

Packard flinched at the jibe, but visibly kept a tight rein on his temper. “It’s true I don’t usually do my own dirty work these days, but I like to keep my hand in. Scaring people is hard work for stiff joints. Killing them, though, that’s much easier. I only have to pull a trigger, after all. Besides, one has to lead by example, show the rubbish element who’s boss.’ He pointed the gun at me. I could see it was fitted with a silencer. I groaned inwardly. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance. “Somehow Fisher,” he went on almost apologetically, “I don’t think anyone will want to pay much for you. It will be cheaper, I think, just to kill you and be done with it.  Fat Georgie said I should take my time, start with your kneecaps perhaps and then your balls. I’ll have to gag the pair of you again, of course, but I’ve enjoyed our little chat. It’s like I said, I needed to be sure you realize it’s nothing personal.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Slipping the gun into his jacket pocket, Packard first replaced Danny’s gag then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. At the same time, I saw the door of the shed open a shade wider. I recognized the newcomer at once as the very person I suspected Fat Georgie of hiring to be rid of certain thorns in his side, Ginny Sharp to name but one. 

 “You’re late,” Packard growled without turning round.

“Sorry, boss, I got delayed.” He shut the door.

“The rubbish element, I presume,” I flung at Packard, nodding towards the other man.

“One can always use a little help.” Packard’s expression had changed yet again. His mouth was set determinedly, eyes shining with anticipation.

Danny gave a little squeal, much as you might expect to hear from an animal in pain.

“You can’t do this!” I managed to croak.

“Oh, I think you’ll find he can,” said the newcomer.

It was Shifty.

Packard replaced the tape over my mouth. I closed my eyes.  A big brown bear came lumbering towards me on its hind legs, its tongue lolling. I was not scared. Why should I be? We were old friends, the bear and me. It was a comfort to feel the beast’s hot, wet tongue licking my face, its fur brushing my skin…

       The muffled but unmistakable sound of a shot exploded in my head.

To be continued on Friday

Sacrilege - Chapter 16

                                                CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Danny stayed out all night. Back at the widow’s house, no one got much sleep after we heard on the radio that there had been another murder.  A young gay man had been found with his throat cut in Camberwell Park, an area of south London. This brought the number of murders to six over a period of some fourteen months. While the police had made it known they were linking them to the same killer, there was never any mention of a pink carnation…or the murderer’s other ghastly ritual.

Since Danny isn’t gay there was no rational reason to suspect the worst. But rationality doesn’t always play a part where feelings of the heart are concerned. Besides, how could the killer be certain his victims were gay? Possibly, he followed them from gay bars, but a lot of straight people, including Danny, enjoy the atmosphere of such places. Gone were the days when they were the sole bastions of gay men and women. 

Miles Packard’s face continued to loom larger than life in my mind’s eye. I tried in vain to put it aside. Possibly it was only my semi-conscious state, as I hovered in and out of that no-man’s land between half-awake and dreams, that attributed so evil an expression to it. 

In the event, no one heard Danny come in.  The widow found him snoring on the sofa in her living room not long after daybreak.  I was lying full clothed and wide awake on my bed, heard her go downstairs and followed soon afterwards only to be greeted by a warning finger on her lips as I entered the living room. “Hush. Let him sleep,” she whispered.

We tiptoed into the kitchen and quietly closed the door. “I could kill him!” I told the widow. “He could at least have phoned. I haven’t slept a wink.”

“From what you told me, he was very upset and angry,” she replied, typically calm and unruffled. “Few young people handle their emotions very well. It comes with practise, as well we both know. Now, Laurence, what will it be? Would you like a full breakfast or just some toast?”

“Toast will be fine thank you,” I said and gave her what I hoped would be construed as a grateful smile. Not for the first time, I was lost in admiration for the old lady’s uncanny ability to carry on ordinarily in the face of the extraordinary.

Danny joined us half an hour later. “What’s for breakfast, grandma? I’m starving?”

I looked up sharply, not only irritated by his cavalier attitude but also the familiar way he addressed the widow. She, for her part, flung me such a withering look that I thought better of it and took another bite of toast instead. Later, I sloped off into the living room and was relieved to take a call from Marc to say that he and Jackie had spent the night at a hotel and they were now on their way to the flat. “Philip said it would be okay,” he added, and then hung up.  I was glad. It would have been difficult, if not impossible, to continue the conversation without mentioning Ginny Sharp. As it was, her face stared blankly up at me from the carpet. I shut my eyes. When I opened them again, someone else was peeping through the flowery shapes.

This time, it was Shifty. Instantly, I was wracked with guilt about losing my temper and not telling Philip I’d seen Shifty leaving Grantham Court. Thankfully, Ryan chose that moment to call and I was soon on my way to Bow.

Basic instinct told me to keep quiet about the events of the night before. But I was feeling over-tired, anxious, and generally sorry for myself, not to mention still furious with Danny.  No sooner had Ryan and I jumped into bed than I lay my head on his chest and found myself telling all. “It was horrible,” I heard myself repeating, “…horrible. I couldn’t stand the woman, but…no one deserves to die like that. It was like I could hear her last choking breaths in my ears all night. What with that and being worried sick about Danny, is it any wonder I’ve had no bloody sleep?”

He stroked my hair and kissed me. “So get some now and you’ll feel better…unless you’d rather have sex first?” he added with a wicked grin.

But I was already asleep.

It was around two o’clock in the afternoon by the time I awoke. There was no sign of Ryan, just a scrap of paper on his pillow telling me to make myself at home and help myself to whatever from the fridge. I did just that and was soon enjoying a fry-up wearing only Ryan’s short silk dressing gown.

Painfully aware that the day of Vince Packard’s birthday was getting dangerously closer all the time, I decided to stay at Ryan’s place until then and made my way back to the widow’s house to fetch some clothes. Being with Ryan was the best way I could think of to help block out my worst misgivings, if not altogether then at least to a degree that would make a shade life more bearable. Each time I found myself going over Danny’s mad plan in my head, the more forcibly it struck me as doomed to unmitigated disaster.

Plan, did I say plan..? I sighed. Making my way to the nearest tube station, I let my thoughts stray to Ryan’s naked body, imagining its sweet-smelling sensuality and sexual heat on mine.

“A penny for them…?” I was jolted out of my daydream by a vaguely familiar voice.

It was Shifty. “I think you and I need to talk, don’t you?”

“Get away from me!” I shouted and ran. 

“Hey, wait!” he yelled and ran after me.

Not daring to stray from the main road, I ran past Bow Road station and nearly all the way to Mile End.  All the time, I kept looking over my shoulder. However, much to my surprise and relief, he only attempted to follow me a short way. “Stay on the main road,” I kept telling myself, panting and wishing I was in better shape, “He won’t dare try anything in broad daylight and with so many people about.” 

Only once I’d convinced myself that he’d given up the chase and felt marginally safe, did I duck into a pub.

Breathlessly, I leant on the bar. I was served quickly by a busty blond young man whose tee shirt had to be at least a size too small and showed off tattoos on his arms and midriff as well as the kind of muscles I’d have died for at his age.  Huh, fat chance of that, I couldn’t help but reflect. Look at you now, Laurie Fisher, I told my reflection in the highly polished bar surface. Nor did I mince my words. You’re wheezing like a steam engine. You’ve got the cramps just about everywhere and you’re so shit scared still you can’t even drinks a glass of beer without spilling half of it.  If the latter self-accusation was something of an exaggeration, it was the only one.

I staggered to a seat, too exhausted to make any reply to the barman’s disgustingly cheerful “Are you okay mate?” ringing in my ears.

It was a while before I became aware of two women huddled in corner giving me occasional but intense glances. Over the rim of my glass I looked directly at them just as the one with her back to me flung a brief look over her shoulder. It was obvious I was the subject of their conversation and my hackles rose. Almost certainly, I looked a wreck. Even so, that was my business and no one else’s. The woman looked away. I was trying to decide whether or not to go and give them a piece of my mind when my bladder called upon my legs to make a dash for the toilet with burst of renewed energy that surprised even me.

The toilet was nearer the two women than where I had been sitting. On the way back to my seat, therefore, I had a clearer view. Barely had I summoned an expression of high dungeon when it fell away and was replaced by one of frank astonishment. That one of the women should be Jackie’s sister, Heather, was surprising enough. It was her companion, however, who held my attention.

It was Agnes Musoke.

“What the devil…?” I spluttered.

“You might as well join us, I suppose,” said Heather.

I fetched my drink,  pulled up a chair and sat down. “You’re taking quite a risk,” I told Agnes.

“As if she didn’t know,” commented Heather dryly.

“I had to come,” Agnes explained. “Two days ago Ginny contacted me and asked me to meet her at Victoria station in Manchester. She said she had something important to tell me about Teresa but could not talk on the telephone. She was not on the train she said she would be on. I waited for hours but she did not turn up.  I have been so worried. Ginny was good to me. She helped us escape, Teresa and I. I thought perhaps Heather would know what is going on.”

I looked from one woman to the other.

“Agnes and Teresa stayed at my place briefly,” Heather explained. “Ginny can be a bitch when she likes, but she has her good points too.  The only thing she likes about those damn Packards is what they pay her.”

I began to feel sick. The very fact that she was talking about Ginny in the present tense could only mean she had no idea her sister was dead. “You haven’t seen Jackie?”

Heather shook her head. “Not for a few days. Why?”  My expression must have been a give-away because the blood rushed from her face. “Why?” she repeated, “What’s happened?”

“Ginny’s dead,” I told the glass in front of me, unable to look either woman in the eye.

No one spoke for several minutes. I had expected cries of disbelief, a barrage of questions. Instead, a ghastly silence hung over us. I drained my glass. “Can I get your ladies another drink, a brandy perhaps?”

“Make it a double,” said Heather.

“Thank you, no. Nothing for me,” murmured Agnes so softly I had to strain to hear.

By the time I returned, the heavy silence I’d put down to shock had lightened perceptibly. In its place, an unnerving acceptance persisted through which I had the weirdest feeling I was listening on a conversation rather than actively participating in it.

“How did she die?” Heather wanted to know.  I told her as much as I knew. “Strangled, you say?” I could only nod.  “Those damn Packards! I warned her she was playing with fire. Would she listen? Of course she wouldn’t bloody listen. She always did have a mind of her own, our Ginny.”

“It is my fault,” Agnes sobbed. “They must have found out she called me.”

“Not necessarily,” I said and immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Oh?” Heather was quick to react. “So what are you holding back? You might as well, tell us. You’re not leaving here until you do, that’s for sure.”

I sensed she meant it. “There was a note on the body. It doesn’t rule out the Packards altogether, I suppose, but it was signed by someone called Georgie.”

“Fat Georgie…? The bastard, I should have known.” Heather hissed “As soon as Ginny let slip about Danny being alive, I knew, I just knew we hadn’t heard the last of our Georgie.” She turned to me. “I warned her. I told her time and time again. Keep away from Danny, I said, keep right away from Danny.  If Fat Georgie gets so much as a whiff  that Danny isn’t dead and you’re in on it, I told her, you’re as good as dead yourself.”

“Who is this Fat Georgie?” Agnes asked.

“You don’t want to know,” I told her without looking away from heather’s tense expression.  “I’m so sorry, Heather. We shouldn’t have come back. But Danny…”

“Danny is stuck on Teresa, I know. And what Danny wants, Danny gets. It was the same with Poppy”

“Poppy?” Agnes was plainly confused, but neither Heather nor I could be bothered to explain.

“Jackie told me,” I said hesitantly, “about Poppy being Ginny’s daughter.”

“Poor Ginny, she was only a kid herself. But she loved Poppy. That’s why she gave her away, so she’d have a better chance in life. Huh, fat chance! After Poppy died, I guess it helped to give some of that love to Danny. He never knew why of course. Mind you, they’re two of a kind, Ginny and Danny.”

I wasn’t sure I quite agreed with that but said nothing and rose to leave, anxious for some fresh air. Besides, what was to be gained by staying? I’d have liked to give both women a big hug. Instead, we solemnly shook hands.  I remembered just in time to urge total discretion. “We have to keep quiet about what’s happened to Ginny, at least for a few days. Please don’t ask me to explain. Trust me, it’s for the best. I’m sure Jackie will fill you in when you see her.”

“Why haven’t I seen her, that’s what I want to know?” Heather exclaimed. “I’m entitled to know my own sister had been strangled, surely?  Honestly, Jackie can be such a cow when she likes. She only ever thinks of herself, that one. Corrective transgender surgery or no, it makes no difference to the kind of person you are.  Oh, she likes to think she’s a cut above the likes of Ginny and me. Who does she think she’s kidding?  Huh! Let’s face it. She’s from the same bloody stall.”

Still mumbling vague condolences and an apology of sorts, I left.  At the exit, I could hear Heather’s voice calling for another brandy at the bar and trying to persuade Agnes to join her. At the same time, her condemnation of Jackie earlier continued to haunt me. Why hadn’t Jackie been in touch to tell her sister about Ginny’s murder?  She had, after all, expressed every intention of doing so, bearing in mind Philip’s call for caution in the short-term.

What the devil was going on?

Instead of returning to the widow’s house as I had intended, I made my way to Grantham Court.  Marc’s voice over the entry phone sounded hoarse. As soon as he let me into the flat, I saw why. He had obviously been crying. I tried to hug him but he pushed me away.

“Where’s Jackie?” I asked.

“I’ve no idea. Help yourself to a drink, why don’t you? I’m on the Geneva gin myself, large ones. There’s rum, scotch, red and white wine. Oh, and there’s some   disgusting sherry too. Take your pick. There was some beer in the fridge,” he added as an afterthought, “but not any more, there isn’t.”

His voice was slurred. How long had he been like this, I wondered as he thrust an empty glass into my hand, flopped on to the sofa and watched, sullenly, as poured the drinks. 

“Have you two fallen out again?” I ventured to ask.

“You could say that I suppose,” he muttered.

I looked around. The flat looked so…normal…it was surreal. Involuntarily, my gaze stopped at the bedroom door. I could hardly believe it had concealed a dead body from us as we’d sat drinking, just as we were now, barely twenty-four hours ago. It was not only a sobering thought but also reminded me why I had come although I was already doubting the wisdom of putting the question on the tip of my tongue to poor Marc in his present state.

“How did she get in?” I asked at last, “Ginny, how did she get in?”

He shrugged. “How should I know?  She must have got in while I was out or someone brought her here and killed her.”

“But how did she or they get in?” I insisted. “There were no signs of a forced entry.”

“Now you sound like Philip. He asked me the same question. He wouldn’t let it go either.  How the hell do I know?  I was pissed before I went out and pissed when I got back. Maybe I left the door open. I don’t remember. Besides, anyone can pick a lock if they know how.”

It was true.

“I shouldn’t have gone out.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” I told him. “Even if you did leave the door open, there’s no way what happened to Ginny is your fault.”

“But if I hadn’t stormed off the way I did…” his voice trailed off and he staggered to the drinks cabinet.

“What do you mean, you stormed off?” I was confused. Was he referring to his row with Jackie now?

Marc turned to face me, drink in hand, tears rolling down his cheeks. “She asked for my help, Laurie and I told her to go to hell.”

“You told Jackie to go to hell?”

“No, not Jackie, I wouldn’t do that. It was Ginny. I told Ginny to go to hell. By the time I got back she was dead and I didn’t even know. I just sat around drinking and all the time…” He staggered back to the armchair and tumbled into it. “How was I to know she was lying dead in the bedroom? I had no reason to look in the bedroom. For all knew she’d …left.  You were here. You saw I had no idea.  I had no idea, no idea,” he kept repeating.

Meanwhile I was trying hard to get my head around what I had just been told.  “Why didn’t you say so before?” I demanded.

“I didn’t want Jackie to know. Oh, she pretends to hate Ginny’s guts but a lot of that’s an act. They’ve always been at each other’s throats, yes, but deep down there’s always been something there. The trouble is they have always been too stubborn to admit it.”

“You say Ginny asked you for help?” I prompted.

Marc nodded. “First of all, she said she needed to see Jackie. When I told her we’d had a row and I wasn’t sure where Jackie was, she asked about Danny. I told her to mind her own bloody business and piss off.  Then she started crying and said I had to help her, that it was a matter of life and death. I yelled at her to piss off.  She was doing my head in Laurie. Then she started yelling back, saying as how I was bad news for Jackie just like I’d been years ago. She was hysterical. I couldn’t handle it, Laurie. I just…stormed out, like I said and went for a long walk. Not that it cleared my head, it didn’t.”

“What do you mean, like you’d been years ago?” I was hanging on to my brother’s every word like man dangling from a cliff edge. I thought I knew all Marc’s moods but this was something new…and scary.

“I knew Jackie years ago,” he said after a long pause, “when she was a man. We fell in love but my head was all over the place in those days and I didn’t have the guts to come out.  When we met up again, the years just fell away and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to start again where we’d left off.  It didn’t matter about the sex change. Man or woman, I loved him just the same.”

“Did you know Ginny then?”

Marc shook his head. “I didn’t realize who she was for a long time. Apparently, Jack went completely to pieces after I walked out on him.”

“And Ginny never forgave you.” It wasn’t a question.

Marc shook his head again. “I’m right, you see. She does…or did care for Jackie. How could I tell Jackie I’d turned her sister away and helped get her murdered?”

The penny dropped. “But you have told her.” Again, it was not a question.

Marc nodded and burst into a fit of sobbing.

Stunned, I left him to it.  I must have made my way back to the widow’s house in a trance because, to this day, I don’t recall letting myself in, going to my room and dozing off on the bed.

The next thing I heard was the sound of someone coughing. I opened my eyes. Fat Georgie was leaning over me, hands poised to seize my throat. I screamed. Only then did I wake up, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. My head was throbbing. I shut my eyes until someone coughed again and they flew open. For an instant, I was terror stricken. Then I saw it was Danny standing there, such a concerned expression on his face that I jumped up and hugged him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, returning the hug.

“I had a nightmare.”

“But it’s not even six o’clock yet.”

We broke apart. Danny’s face now worse such a bemused expression that I burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” I told him. “One minute you’re a hard nosed, streetwise kid and the next you’re as vulnerable as the rest of us.”

“I’m not a kid any more,” Danny protested, “and I’d take a bath if I were you before you stink the place out and Grandma Finn has your guts for garters.” He grinned and poked out his tongue.

“You shouldn’t call her that,” I said without thinking, “It’s disrespectful.”

“The old girl loves it. You know she does, just like you love it when I call you Dad.  So what’s wrong with that since we’re like family anyway?”  The grin on his face dissolved into a shy, twinkle-eyed expression, one he invariably reserved for occasions when he’d get so close-up personal he’d start to feel out of his depth.  Reverting to form in an instant, he tossed me a cheeky wink and abruptly left me to my thoughts.

Whoever first coined the phrase, laughter is the best medicine, was spot on. I felt better already.

Five minutes later, a long, hot bath brought even greater relief to both my body and state of mind, especially as I’d helped myself to one of the widow’s bubble sachets.  There is something about a bubble bath that makes the outside world go away and leaves you floating on soapy clouds of utter contentment. Sadly, it can only ever be a brief flirtation with wishful thinking as bath water has a nasty habit of getting cold.

I resolved to tell only Philip about my traumatic encounter with Shifty or seeing Agnes Musoke.  I could always use Ryan’s mobile phone to contact him if he did not call me first.  However, I forgot.  Don’t ask me how I forgot, I just did.  Perhaps it was simply that I preferred not to remember. Being with Ryan swept everything else under the carpet although ‘under the duvet’ might be a more appropriate expression. After all, I was in love…Well, wasn’t I?  Sex between us was electrifying. I could gladly have made love all day and all night. His touch, his kisses, everything about the man excited me. More importantly, I sensed he felt the same about me.  Our lovemaking took us to pinnacles of mutual desire and need that left me feeling better about myself and the world than I had in ages.

It was especially good to feel needed again. I had lost that with Philip. Without either of us quite realizing it, my relationship with Philip had become…boring.

Boring?  It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on my head. It was a pretty poor excuse for falling out of love with someone. Even I, in my heady state, could see that. Better not to dwell on it, I decided. Better to enjoy what I had with Ryan and block out any intrusive thoughts.  There would be time enough to get real once Vincent Packard’s birthday had come and gone.

Time flew.

Friday came, and I returned to the widow’s house after lunching out with Ryan at a delightful café in Camden Town. “Come back with me later and we can go to the party together.” Ryan was very persuasive but I made the excuse that I needed to make sure Danny was dressed and ready on time.  Naturally, Ryan knew that Vince Packard had invited Danny and me to the party although I hadn’t told him why. If it became necessary, I would. Not before. Wasn’t our relationship was carrying me to dizzy heights in chariots of fire?  Why should I risk putting us on a collision course with the Packards or anyone else?

In other words, I was in complete denial.

Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately from my misty, rose tinted point of view, the same could not be said for Danny. He was dressed and ready by the time I returned to the widow’s and we would not be leaving for hours. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

“Having lunch with Ryan, and don’t take that tone with me, young man. We have plenty of time yet. I only need to take a bath and change. That won’t take long. The less time we have to sit and chew our nails, the better, surely?”

“I need to go over everything with you. I know you, Laurence. You’ll mess up if I don’t take you through every little detail. Not that it will guarantee a good result but at least I can try.”

“Oh, ye of little faith…” I mocked. But Danny remained uncharacteristically tight lipped and serious.

“And what about Jackie, does she know what to do?”

Danny nodded. “She was here last night. But I can rely on Jackie to play it by ear. You, on the other hand, are so smitten with Ryan bloody Banks, I’m not sure I can even rely on you to even remember just why it is we’re going to this party in the first place.”

“It’s not why we’re going that bothers me,” I retorted, “so much as why we’ve been invited. Suppose it all goes pear-shaped? Do I have to remind you that Packard expects you, me, and Teresa to have sex together while he sits back leaking into his underpants?”

“It won’t come to that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Trust me, yeah? Everything will go like clockwork, just as we planned.”

“Trust you? I’m not sure I trust anyone any more. Frankly, Danny, I feel like catching the next train back to Manchester and leaving all of you to stew in your own juice.  I’m past caring…about you, Teresa, Philip…the whole damn lot of you.”

“You’re just nervous, that’s all. It’s understandable.”

“Nervous? I’m terrified.”

“It will be okay, I promise.”

“Yes, and pigs will fly,” I snapped.

“Who knows? In the meantime, let’s have a nice cup of tea and go over a few things, yeah? Grandma Finn’s next door with that idiot boyfriend of hers so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“You’re as bad as the widow,” I flung at him accusingly, “She thinks everything can be sorted with a cup of tea too.”

“Maybe not quite everything…” Danny agreed with wicked grin, and then gave me an unexpected hug. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you, you know that.”

I was incredulous. “How can you say that with a track record like yours?”

“So maybe I don’t get it right all the time but neither do you so that means we’re quits, right?”

“If we’re quits,” I pointed out, “give me one reason why I should stay instead of catching the next train to Manchester.”

“I can give you more than one. You can pretend not to care about me and Teresa if you want. But there’s no way you’d get that thick head of yours around Ryan Banks or Phil if you were stuck up in Manchester.”

“Of course I care about you and Teresa,” I protested.

“Good. Now that’s settled, let’s go and put the kettle on and I’ll fill you in about tonight.”

“You’re impossible!” I shouted angrily.

“I know. I love you too. Oh, and Grandma Finn has been baking scones so we can have some with our tea.”

Danny disappeared into the kitchen. I followed, wearily resigned if no less fraught with anxiety than I had been since I arrived.

To be continued on Monday