The Rubber Woman Page 6

  If Jonathan had walked into the room at that moment she would have hit him. She took a step towards the bathroom, ready for a slanging match. But then she stopped. What if Jonathan didn’t know about this? Janie couldn’t have called him on his mobile because there was no signal at the place he was staying in Jamaica. What if he’d forgotten he ever gave her a key to his flat?

  Then another voice started up inside her head. It was a voice that sounded like her mother: ‘You haven’t got time for this,’ it said. ‘There are more important things to do.’

  The muscles in Megan’s jaw tightened as she turned round and headed for the hall. Pulling open a cupboard she spotted what she was looking for: the big red mains electric switch. With a flick of her wrist she turned it off.

  As she closed the door of the flat she caught the tail end of a scream. Janie Northcliffe had been plunged into total darkness in a shower that had turned stone cold. Megan couldn’t resist a little smile of triumph.

  When she reached the street she looked for Cameron’s car, but it had gone. She ran across to the place where the other car had been left for her. Turning on the engine she glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Nine-fifteen. In the red light district the women would be out on the streets. She had to get to Pauline’s killer before he got to anyone else.

  It took her half an hour to drive to the area where Pauline had lived. Megan had never been given the exact address – all she knew was that Pauline had lived in a flat in a place called The Broadlands. She hadn’t realised that The Broadlands was three high-rise blocks that housed hundreds of people.

  She tried asking a couple of kids who were kicking a can around outside the lift. They said they had no idea who Pauline Barrow was, or which flat had been hers.

  As Megan stared at the rows of balconies above her she realised she was wasting her time. The police would know the address, of course, but if she asked them they’d know she’d taken the keys from Pauline’s bag.

  She tried calling the number of the charity Pauline had worked for but all she got was an answer-phone message. Of course, she thought, it’s after hours – there’s no one there.

  There was only one other way to find out. She got back in the car, heading for the red light district. One of the girls would know. Someone Pauline had tried to help. All she had to do was find a face she recognised.

  As she drove towards the industrial estate she got the feeling, once again, that she was being followed. When she stopped at traffic lights she peered into the rear view mirror but it was impossible to make out anything in the glare of the headlights.

  She felt a prickle of fear. What if BJ was on her tail again? Could he have spotted her leaving the police station in Cameron’s car? She slowed as she passed the entrance of the industrial estate and the car behind her turned off. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Cruising slowly along, she scanned the doorways of the factories, looking for the shapes of women in the shadows. It was hard to make out their faces. But suddenly she saw a figure she knew. Cheryl Parry was leaning against a lamp post, her broken leg stuck out in front of her and her crutches slung over one arm.

  ‘You don’t know me,’ Megan said as the woman leaned in at her open window, ‘but I’m a friend of Pauline’s – can you help me?’

  ‘I never knew where she lived,’ Cheryl said, after Megan had explained, ‘but I know someone who did.’ She jerked her head towards the corner of the street. ‘Turn left up there. Outside the timber yard – that’s where she stands.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Rosa,’ Cheryl replied. ‘She’s Pauline’s daughter – didn’t you know?’

  Of course! Megan cursed under her breath as she drove away. Why hadn’t she thought of it herself?

  She decided to park the car and approach Rosa on foot. Knowing how bad things had been between mother and daughter, she was going to have to handle this with great care.

  Rosa was exactly where Cheryl had said she’d be, standing under the lit-up sign at the entrance to the timber yard, a cigarette in her hand. There was something about the way she stood that made Megan do a double take. From a distance she looked so much like Pauline it was like seeing a ghost.

  ‘Excuse me…’

  The face that turned towards Megan was scary. Rosa had big eyes with dark circles under them. Her skin was so pale it seemed to glow white in the light of the sign above her head. Her eyes couldn’t seem to focus. She looked like someone who had been in a deep sleep and didn’t want to wake up.

  ‘You’re Rosa, aren’t you?’ Megan went on.

  The woman sniffed. ‘Who’s asking?’

  ‘Megan. Megan Rhys. I was a friend of Pauline’s.’ She held out her hand but Rosa ignored it. ‘She told me about you. Do you…’ Megan hesitated. ‘You know she’s dead?’

  The words hung in the air. Rosa’s eyes dropped. She shuffled her feet. Then she looked straight at Megan, her eyes hard and full of anger. ‘I had heard, yeah.’

  ‘I worked with your mum.’ Megan’s voice was soft and low, as if she was calming a child about to throw a tantrum. ‘I want to try and find the person who killed her. Will you help me?’

  Rosa frowned. She said nothing.

  ‘I need to know where she lived.’ Megan mentally crossed her fingers. ‘I’ve got the keys to her flat, but I don’t know which one it is.’

  Something flickered in the woman’s eyes. ‘I could take you, I s’pose,’ she said, glancing up and down the empty street, ‘but you’d have to make it worth my while.’

  She didn’t have to spell it out. She wanted money, of course, for the punters she’d be missing out on if she went to the flat. Not that there were many about tonight, from what Megan had seen.

  ‘Okay.’ Megan took two twenty pound notes from her purse. ‘Will that cover it?’

  With another loud sniff Rosa snatched the money from her hand. ‘I s’pose,’ she said. ‘Where’s your wheels?’

  As they pulled away from the timber yard, a car nosed out of a side street. Megan didn’t see it. It wasn’t close enough for her to realise she was being followed. The driver seemed to know exactly where she was headed.

  When they pulled up outside the flats Rosa jumped out of the car. Before Megan could follow she’d disappeared. Megan cursed herself for being so stupid. She should have made her give her the address before handing over the money. She paced up and down, wondering whether to go and search for Rosa. Roaming about this place in the dark was asking for trouble.

  It was a shock when, a few minutes later, Rosa came out of the shadows. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘it’s on the tenth floor.’

  Megan followed her to the lift. Why was Rosa doing this? She’d obviously scored some drugs – why bother coming back? Did she have some feelings for her mother after all?

  Rosa could hardly keep still as they waited for the lift. When the doors opened a wave of cannabis smoke and stale urine hit them.

  ‘Come on,’ Rosa said again, giving Megan a little push. ‘It’s number two-six-five. I’ll show you.’

  The lift seemed to take forever to reach the tenth floor. Rosa kept pressing the buttons, stamping her feet as she did it. The lift shuddered and Megan felt a surge of panic at the thought of being trapped with a junkie who was getting more edgy by the minute.

  At last the lift doors opened. Rosa led the way down a dingy landing. It looked as if someone had dragged a burst bin bag along the floor. As Megan fumbled with the keys Rosa shuffled from one foot to the other.

  ‘I’ll come in and help you look, if you like.’ Rosa went through the door ahead of her.

  Why is she still here? The words drummed in Megan’s head. Letting this woman into Pauline’s flat felt all wrong: like giving the keys to a burglar. But this was Pauline’s daughter – her only relative – so how could she turn her out?

  Megan glanced about her, keeping one eye on Rosa. Everything was clean and tidy and the walls looked newly painted. The cushions were plumped up and there w
as a vase of wilting pink carnations on the coffee table.

  ‘Nice, innit?’ Rosa plonked herself down on the sofa, resting her feet on the coffee table and almost knocking the vase over. Her eyes had changed. The wildness had gone. Now there was something else. A mean look. Was she jealous of what her mother had got?

  A second later she jumped up, bounding over to the sliding glass door that opened onto a little balcony beyond. ‘Bloody hot in here, though, eh?’ she laughed.

  It was very stuffy in the flat. The sun must have been beating down on that glass door all day. No wonder the flowers were drooping.

  Rosa pushed the door open to let the cool night air into the room. She stood there, clutching the handle, staring. Suddenly it hit Megan. That mean smile, that twitch of the eyebrows. Rosa was waiting. Waiting for the penny to drop.

  ‘You know, don’t you?’ As she said the words Megan felt her mouth go dry. ‘You know who killed your mother.’

  Chapter Ten

  Rosa said nothing, just stared. Megan swallowed hard. She was thinking about the car that had tailed her to the red light district. Was it BJ? Had Rosa set her up?

  She thought she heard something in the hall outside. Footsteps? She spun round. As she did so she saw a flicker of movement from Rosa. A glint of metal caught the light.

  Christ! She’s got a knife. Megan froze, her eyes fixed on the blade. Rosa took a step forward.

  ‘Rosa…’ Megan’s voice was hoarse with fear. She was racking her brain for something to say: something to stop the woman coming any closer. ‘Please…he’s not worth it!’

  Rosa’s eyebrows flicked up. She made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a snort. ‘You think I’m doing this for BJ? For that pile of shit? Ha!’ She stabbed the air with the knife. ‘Why d’you think I went to all the trouble of getting a rubber full of his cum to stuff in the old tart’s gob?’ Her nostrils flared as she tossed her head. ‘To drop the bastard in it, that’s why! Killed two bloody birds with one stone!’

  ‘You?’ Megan blinked.’

  ‘Yes – me!’ Rosa’s eyes glittered as she brought the tip of the knife level with her mouth. A slow smile parted her lips, showing small, crooked teeth. ‘So bloody easy, it was. She was that desperate to make things up.’ Her head cocked to one side and she rolled her eyes at the ceiling. ‘Just call me, Rosa – any time. ’ The voice was a mocking take-off of Pauline’s. ‘So I did.’ She gave another grunt. ‘I just called her mobile and she came running – stupid cow!’

  Megan flinched as the knife whipped the air.

  ‘But BJ – that was dead clever, you know?’ Rosa’s lips slid into a smug smile. ‘Know how I done that?’ She stared at the wall over Megan’s shoulder, as if she was playing back the scene in her head. ‘Give him a blow job, that’s how. Spat it into a Durex and Bob’s your uncle – ’bye ’bye BJ!’

  The knife flashed as Rosa held it up to Megan’s neck.

  ‘Put it down, Rosa.’ She was trying to stop her voice from shaking, trying not to let on how terrified she was. Outside, somewhere far below, she could hear the hum of traffic. Keep her talking, Megan thought. Keep her talking while you work out what to do.

  ‘You’ve fooled them, Rosa – you really have.’ She could feel the blade against her throat as she spoke. ‘They’re going to lift him for stabbing Jackie Preston too – did you know?’

  Their faces were inches apart. Megan saw the pupils of Rosa’s eyes contract.

  ‘Stupid bastard told me all about that.’ She tapped the point of the knife with her finger. ‘Said Jackie’d never tell ’cos he’d threatened to kill her kids if she did.’ She gave a loud sniff. ‘That’s when I saw my chance. I knew if I did it right then, right after Jackie was done, they’d all think it was him. ’

  Megan’s throat was bone dry. She wanted to swallow but the knife was pressing against her windpipe. ‘Rosa,’ she said, her voice a hoarse whisper, ‘I know you felt let down by Pauline. I understand that – really I do.’

  ‘She was so two-faced.’ Rosa hissed. ‘Thought she was Mother bloody Theresa! Couldn’t do it for her own kid, though, could she? Couldn’t care less when it really mattered!’ She stared at Megan, her eyes like slits. ‘Why did you have to come poking your nose in?’

  ‘Rosa.’ Megan felt the edge of the knife graze her skin as she spoke. ‘Please listen to me – killing me isn’t going to make things any better. If you tell the police what you’ve told me…’

  ‘Don’t give me that shit!’ She pulled the knife back and lunged at Megan’s chest. Megan shot sideways, dropped to the floor and launched herself at the woman’s legs. Rosa let out a cry of surprise and staggered backwards, her arms flailing. Megan made a grab for her wrist. But Rosa was stronger than she looked. With a yell she jerked her arm back, pulling Megan with her. Together they tumbled through the doorway onto the balcony.

  Megan saw a sea of orange lights in the darkness. They made her feel giddy. As she fell onto the metal railings she felt Rosa’s nails clawing at the flesh of her arm. There was a loud bang. And then nothing.

  Afterwards, she couldn’t remember how it happened. Was it the crash of the door that did it? Was it the sight of Cameron and his men storming the flat that made Rosa jump from the balcony? Or was it her doing? Had she pushed Rosa over the railings as she blacked out?

  ‘You don’t remember telling us about Jackie Preston, do you?’ Cameron had a puzzled smile on his face. They were in his office – a big, sunny room with a stunning view of Cardiff Bay. ‘You started mumbling something when the medics got you on the stretcher. None of us could tell what you were saying at first.’

  Megan shook her head slowly. ‘I think I was probably trying to tell you to get to Rosa: get her to tell you what she’d told me about BJ. I didn’t know that she was already dead.’

  Cameron nodded, a lock of brown hair falling across one eye. ‘Well, we got him in the end – just repeating what you’d said was enough to make Jackie Preston talk – but you nearly got yourself killed.’

  ‘You could have come earlier…’ She gave him a look that was a cross between a smile and a frown. ‘How did you know, anyway?’

  He answered her with an upward flick of his eyebrows and a lopsided grin.

  ‘Was it you in that car?’

  He nodded. ‘The CCTV picked up on you nicking Pauline’s keys – we’re not as stupid as we look, you know.’

  There was an awkward silence. Megan was staring down at the table. She wasn’t going to say sorry, because she wasn’t sorry. Would the truth about Pauline’s murder and Jackie Preston’s stabbing ever have come out if she hadn’t taken the keys? She doubted it.

  She got to her feet, avoiding his eyes, aware that he had stood up too. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if there’s nothing else…unless, of course, you’re thinking of doing me for theft?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s necessary, no.’

  There was something about the way he said it that made her look up. He was staring at her in the same way he’d stared in the car the night Rosa died. As if he wanted to ask her something but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

  She hesitated for a fraction of a second. Did he want her to stay? Was he about to ask her to go for a drink with him or something? And if he did, what would she say?

  ‘Was there something else?’ She’d meant to say it in a neutral way, but somehow it came out wrong, as if she was fed up of him taking up her time.

  ‘I…er…I wondered if you’d like to go for a meal sometime?’ He blinked, and she could see that his cheeks were going pink. ‘By way of a thank-you.’

  ‘Oh, I…’ She tailed off, feeling the colour rise in her own face. Part of her thought yes, why not? He was good-looking, charming…but somewhere inside her head a voice was saying no. Was it Jonathan? Was he the reason she didn’t want to start anything with anyone else? She thought of that woman in his flat. Did he deserve any loyalty after that? She didn’t know. But she did know that she missed him.

&n
bsp; ‘I’m sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve got to go back to Birmingham. Some trouble with one of my students – I’ve got to go and sort it out.’ It was a lie. Something in his face told her that he knew this, but in a second his mask was back in place.

  ‘Don’t worry – I understand.’ He smiled as he showed her out.

  It was another six months before Megan went back to Cardiff. Jonathan had got into the habit of coming to her place at weekends, but now he was away again – in Australia this time. So it wasn’t for him she’d returned to the city. She’d come back to see Kelly Jebb.

  It was strange, watching her unload the condoms from the boot of her car, just the way Pauline had done.

  ‘I knew you’d be great for this job,’ Megan said as they sat in the greasy spoon café later on. ‘Do you like it?’

  Kelly nodded, pushing her long blonde hair back from her face. ‘Getting off the game was the best thing that ever happened to me.’ She grinned. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you putting a good word in, though – or without BJ behind bars.’

  ‘How’s Tracy?’

  ‘Oh, getting there, you know?’ Kelly shrugged. ‘Took her a long time to believe it – that he wasn’t coming after her.’

  Megan nodded. ‘And Cora?’

  ‘Finally got her into a hostel.’ Kelly rolled her eyes at the ceiling. ‘Right case, she is. “I’ll move out of the shed,” she says, “But only ’cos it’s so friggin’ cold!” She’s threatening to go back when the weather warms up – let’s hope we can get her off the booze before then…’ Kelly tailed off, rubbing her chin

  ‘Pauline would be so proud of you, you know.’

  Kelly’s eyes clouded. ‘Do you think so? It’s all that keeps me going sometimes.’ She traced a scratch in the table with her finger. ‘You get so much shit. From the pimps, the police – even the girls sometimes – and you wonder if it’s all worth it.’

  ‘Oh, it is,’ Megan said. She was staring out of the window into the darkness beyond. Watching cars slow to a crawl as they pulled onto the industrial estate. ‘Believe me, it is.’