Black Widow. Jessie Keane
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I heard Layla singing that funny little French song she liked…’ Jeanette took a faltering breath. ‘Poor little cow. I heard her yell, then nothing. The one who’d shot Jonjo and drugged you told me to be quiet or I’d get a bullet too.’
‘What did he sound like?’
‘Um…British, I suppose.’
‘Oh come on, you can do better than that.’
‘I dunno.’
‘Irish? Was he Irish?’
‘Um…oh fuck it, how should I know? He could have been.’ Jeanette was squirming in her seat.
Then maybe he’s the one who phones me, thought Annie. Or maybe not.
‘Did he have any distinguishing marks? Describe his face.’
‘I didn’t see his face. He had a mask on, they all did. And gloves. They were covered right up; I couldn’t see anything of them. I saw the one on the other side of the pool grab Max under the arms and drag him off into the bushes, and the one on our side of the pool hauled Jonjo into the pool’
‘Strong man,’ said Annie. ‘Jonjo was pushing sixteen stone.’
Jeanette nodded. ‘He lifted him like a fireman, you know? The fireman’s lift thing, over his shoulder, and dumped him in the pool.’
Sixteen stones, dead weight. It would take a very strong man indeed to lift that.
So what do I have? thought Annie. One small and slender. One big and exceptionally strong. One big and unknown, but he must move like a cat to get up close enough to do Max, because Max was sharp and fast, all instinct and movement and power…
Or he had been, anyway. When he was alive.
That made it three people, not four. But so what? Where did knowing that get her?
Annie turned back to the window and stared up above the rooftops to grey depressing skies. There was no hope, and she had to admit it.
But she couldn’t.
‘Okay Jeanette, you can go,’ she said, not looking round.
Annie heard the door close. Then she looked again at the safe in the corner. It had a combination lock, and she didn’t know the code. She wondered who did. Then she let out a sigh, dropped her head on to her chest and closed her eyes in despair.
It was all going according to plan. Phil Fibbert had got the boat sorted and they were going to move after dark. Vita had calmed the fuck down after the hood incident: everything was good to go.
Danny was pleased.
He sat out in the late afternoon sun on the terrace and felt that he had everything nicely under control. And then he heard the normally quiet Phil (fucking boring, actually) kicking off at Vita in the kitchen, and soon Vita was screaming and yelling so loud that he had to rouse himself and go and see what the fuck was going on now.
‘What the hell?’ he demanded when he got into the cool, dark kitchen.
Phil just stood there, arms folded. Man could bore for Britain, thought Danny irritably.
Vita was silent, looking surly.
‘Look,’ said Phil, indicating the stuff on the table.
There was a bag of groceries. Rolls and fruit and stuff poking out of the top.
Danny frowned.
There was a woman who came in to bring their food, Marietta. They were renting this place in the winding back alleys of Palma from Marietta’s husband, Julio, and the deal was, Marietta—who did not speak a word of English, and that was part of the master plan too—came in and cleaned every day, and brought provisions at 9.30 in the morning. So what was all this new stuff doing on the table at three in the afternoon?
Also on the table was a fuchsia-pink bag from one of the boutiques. Peeping out from this bag was a pair of Nubuck Majorcan sandals—you saw them everywhere in the shops here, in all colours of the rainbow. These were a bright, clear turquoise—Vita’s favourite colour. She often wore it.
‘Look, it’s no big deal,’ said Vita hurriedly, seeing the direction of Danny’s eyes. ‘I was going stir-crazy cooped up in this place. I got fed up just sitting here painting all day, so I went and got some more food in, and I looked in the shops and went to the flea market on Villalonga, and I had a walk down to the harbour.’
Danny went straight across and slapped her, hard.
Vita reeled back, clutching her cheek.
‘Listen, you silly cow, we stick to the plan. Remember the plan? You’re getting right up my nose, you really are. The plan is, we stay here. We don’t go out flashing the cash about. We don’t want no one knowing we’re here except Marietta and Julio, and to them we’re just tourists, that’s all. Marietta brings in the food, she cleans, she fucks off. We don’t ever let her go out in the garden, just in case you were going to invite her out on to the terrace for tea and effing cakes, you got that? Oh—and every time you go near the girl you put your fucking hood on.’
‘All right, I hear you,’ mumbled Vita.
‘Good. And you.’ He turned, glaring, to Phil. ‘Don’t kick off at my sister, you got that? If you got anything to say, you say it to me.’
‘Sure,’ said Phil moodily, shrugging and putting his hands in his pockets. Sure thing, Blondie, he thought. Blow it out your arse, Blondie. You fucking maniac.
‘You got the boat sorted? Everything okay?’
‘Yeah, it’s lined up for eleven,’ said Phil, thinking that he for one would be absolutely fucking delighted when they got back to England, got their money, and went their separate ways. He could not wait to see the back of this crazy pair.
‘Okay, we’ll clear up at ten and be out of here and down at the harbour by a quarter to eleven—and by the way, Vee, we will be wearing our hoods when we fetch the girl, okay? Then we’ll give her a good dose of stuff, blindfold her, and get her on board the boat and that’ll be that, okay?’
Vita nodded, one hand nursing her reddened cheek.
‘I said okay?’ repeated Danny.
‘Okay,’ she said.
When Annie got back to Limehouse it was business as usual—punters arriving, punters leaving, Una knocking the living crap out of some poor twisted bastard up there in the back room that Aretha used to occupy. Darren was entertaining a gentleman from the City, Dolly told her over a cup of tea in the kitchen, and Ellie was busy with a chubby-chaser—very popular too, she was.
‘It’s all hands to the pump, if you’ll pardon the expression,’ said Dolly, putting her cup down. ‘So how’s it all going?’
‘Oh, peachy,’ said Annie. ‘My baby girl’s been snatched, my husband’s been hit, and now I find his clubs have been turned into strip joints.’
‘Ah.’
‘You knew?’
Dolly shrugged. ‘Everyone did, it’s no big secret. Jonjo Carter made the changes. No one questions the Carter brothers over what they do. Everyone thought Max knew about it.’
‘No,’ said Annie positively. ‘He couldn’t have. He’d have hated it.’
She’d been appalled at what had happened to the