The Grave Tattoo. Val McDermid
short-term memory loss. She seemed to be missing crucial logical steps in the conversation.
‘Geno.’ Tenille spat the word as if trying to rid her mouth of a bad taste.
‘Sharon’s boyfriend?’ The cold hand of apprehension took hold of Jane’s chest.
‘Sharon’s fucking bastard boyfriend.’
Oh shit, oh no, oh shit. ‘Wasn’t Sharon there?’
‘Sharon’s on nights. She says he has to stay over to make sure nothing bad happens to me.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘She’s too fucking stupid to see he’s the bad thing waiting to happen.’
Jane rubbed her back. ‘Has he been…bothering you?’
‘He looks at me. You know?’
Jane knew. ‘What else?’ She dreaded the answer.
‘He’s said things, when Sharon’s out the room. How he likes sweet young flesh, that sort of shit talk. Man, I knew he was just waiting his time till she was on nights.’
‘What happened, Tenille?’
She began picking compulsively at the zip on her jacket. ‘First couple of nights, he was pissed and passed out on the sofa. But last night he was waiting. Soon as I came through the door, there he was, standing in the doorway, undoing his trousers.’ She shuddered. ‘Told me it was time I tasted some real loving.’ Her lip curled in contempt. ‘Bastard. I tried to get back out the door, but he was too fast. He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the living room and threw me down on the sofa.’ She shook her head, as if to shake off the memory. ‘Then he got his cock out. Man, I never been so scared my whole life. I thought for sure he was going to rape me. Then I realise he wants me to blow him. Just the fucking idea made me want to throw up. So I grabbed the lamp off the table and I smashed him over the head with it.’
Jane felt her heart contract in fear and pity. ‘You did the right thing, Tenille.’
‘I didn’t hit him hard enough. I should have fucking killed him. But he was just stunned, like. So I jumped up and ran for my room. I pulled the drawers and the bed across the door so’s he couldn’t get in. I was shaking, man, fucking shaking. The next thing is he’s hammering on the door and screaming like a fucking animal. Jane, I didn’t know what to do. He was like a crazy man. The door was shaking, I thought he was going to break it down.’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘Then I got salvation.’
‘What happened?’
‘You know that asshole lives next door to us? Big fat greasy biker geezer?’
Jane nodded. ‘I’ve seen him. Ugly bastard, right?’
‘Ugly and mean. Next thing I know, he’s at the front door, telling Geno to keep the noise down or else he’ll break the fucking door down and rip Geno’s liver out. And suddenly it all goes quiet. Last thing I hear is Geno standing outside my door, saying, “You can’t stay in there forever, bitch.” I nearly pissed myself. I tell you, I never closed my eyes all night. I waited till I heard Sharon come home, then I was out the door and down here. Man, I was praying you were home.’
‘You did the right thing, Tenille.’ Jane gathered her woolly thoughts around her. She was going to have to do something about this. Tenille couldn’t be left at the mercy of Sharon’s sick bastard boyfriend. ‘You can stay here for now,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to be going away today for a couple of weeks, but I’ll get this sorted before I go.’
Tenille looked incredulous. ‘You? Whatchu gonna do? Geno’s not going to listen to you. And there’s no point telling Sharon, she’ll just twist it round so it’s my fault, like usual.’
Jane got to her feet. Tenille might be the streetwise one of the pair of them, but Jane knew something the girl didn’t. It might just be estate gossip, but she had a feeling it was more than that. And if she was right, it would give her a weapon that would make Geno head for the hills faster than a speeding bullock. Jane straightened her shoulders, trying to look like someone who could take care of business. ‘Trust me, Tenille. I’m going to fix this.’
Jake slipped off his sandals and let the cool marble work its magic. He felt overheated, which was crazy, given the pitch of the air conditioning inside Chania airport. He suspected the dark blue, grey and white décor was meant to be soothing, but it wasn’t helping him feel any less out of sorts. Funny to think that only the day before he’d been indulging himself with dreams of home. But now that he was in the departure lounge with a ticket for London in his pocket, he felt a curious mixture of apprehension coupled with determination to prove to Caroline that he could cut the mustard.
It had all happened so fast. Within minutes of their initial conversation, Caroline had been online, searching the bucket shops for a plane ticket for him. When he’d tried to ask her what she had in mind, she’d shushed him with an impatient, ‘We’ll talk, Jake. Now let me sort this out.’
Long minutes had passed before she exclaimed, ‘Perfect.’ She clicked the wireless mouse a couple of times then sat back, a smile of satisfaction neatly in place. ‘There you go, Jake,’ she said, turning the screen to face him. Apparently, he was now booked on a flight from Chania to Athens, with an onward connection to Heathrow. The following day.
‘You’re not coming too?’
Caroline gave him a puzzled look. ‘This is your show, Jake. I’d only cramp your style. You surely don’t think Jane is going to be thrilled to see you if I’m hanging on your arm?’
‘I don’t understand what you want me to do, Caroline.’ He tried to sound casual, but it came out petulant.
‘It’s very simple. You’ve just opened up the possibility of a fascinating and valuable find. I want you to track it down. And if you can’t manage that yourself, I want you to be glued to the side of the person who does.’
He pushed his hair back from his face in a gesture of exasperation. ‘But, Caroline, we’ve no evidence that the bloody thing exists.’
‘According to you, Jane seems to think so,’ she said, sweet reason in a sundress.
‘It’s just a crazy theory.’
‘Believe me, I’ve made some great finds chasing wilder geese. Look at it this way. Jane is in a unique position. She’s a Wordsworth scholar. And she comes from Fellhead. Now, in my experience, serious scholars don’t get worked up about things like this unless there is some spectacularly good reason. Bear in mind, Jane may not have told you everything she knows.’
Doubt chased surprise across Jake’s handsome face. ‘Why would she hold back? Are you saying she didn’t trust me?’
Caroline chuckled. ‘When academics have something they think might give them an edge, they trust no one. Sweetie, no matter how much Jane loved you, you can bet your bottom dollar that if she had knowledge that might be parlayed into professional stardom she’d have hugged it to her bosom. And this body in the bog could be the catalyst that gets things moving in a more urgent way.’
‘This is insane,’ Jake said.
‘No, Jake, this is business. If you seriously want to make a career of this, you’re going to have to be prepared to exploit your contacts and find ways to make sure that when something good turns up, you’re standing at the shoulder of whoever has their sticky hands on it.’
‘I get that,’ he said, feeling patronised and belittled but unable to find a way through to asserting himself. ‘What I don’t get is what you expect me to do. In practical terms.’
Caroline exhaled a thin stream of smoke. ‘Go and see Jane. Mend as many of your fences as you need to get alongside her. Be contrite. Tell her you read the story in the paper and it made you realise you were wrong not to take her theories seriously. Persuade her that she is the one and only person who can track down this bloody manuscript, and make her do it. That’s what I want you to do.’ She turned her head to look out across the bay,