Lorraine took another deep drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke drift from her mouth. ‘You ever heard of a movie star called Raymond Vallance?’
‘Yeah, you know me and movies. He used to be fantastic-looking. Is he involved in your investigation?’
They both jumped when the entry phone buzzed and it took Lorraine a while to drag Tiger away from the front door. Standing on the step was a sheepish Bill Rooney, holding a faded bunch of flowers.
‘Hi, how you doing, eh?’ he said, and squeezed Lorraine so hard against his expansive chest that she gasped for breath.
Lorraine gave him a tour of the apartment while Rosie made a fresh pot of coffee. Rooney nodded and congratulated Lorraine on her taste but she knew he must have had a few drinks because he muttered to himself as he followed her from room to room, telling her that now he liked putting his feet up and watching football on the TV and the best part was Rosie bringing him his dinner on a tray. ‘I’ve done enough travelling, for a while,’ he said, and then nudged Lorraine like a naughty schoolboy. ‘Don’t repeat that. God knows where she’s planning on going next, but me, I’ve gone soft. TV, football, a home-cooked meal and fast asleep by eleven. Lovely!’
Lorraine found it sad that he seemed to need to repeat himself. He had got even fatter and his bulk made the wide four-seater sofa in the lounge seem small. He seemed ill at ease, knowing that Rosie was annoyed with him for intruding on her evening.
Rosie had the coffee ready and waiting now. She’d even found some biscuits and laid them out on a silver plate — solid silver, she had noticed. As she poured the coffee, there was a strange, uneasy silence that continued until Rosie banged down the coffee pot and nudged Rooney. ‘Before you barged in and interrupted us, Lorraine was just telling me about this case she’s working on. Do you remember a movie star called Raymond Vallance?’
‘No,’ Rooney said, selecting a biscuit.
‘Tell him, Lorraine,’ Rosie said, settling back on the sofa beside her husband. The pair sat riveted as Lorraine filled them in on the case. She was concise but made sure she left nothing out — except the threats on her life. She didn’t want to worry her friends. When the silence fell again, it was like old times. Rooney was leaning back, eyes closed, but not sleeping even though it was way past eleven. He was ‘thinking’, and so was Rosie, twisting a strand of hair round and round in her fingers.
‘Well, you got all the facts, almost.’ Lorraine looked at Rooney, wanting him to give her the answer she couldn’t put her finger on. His eyes opened, but he shook his head, pulled himself onto his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
Rosie broke the silence. ‘I think it’s Vallance. He, out of everyone, had the most to lose, am I right? Do you think it’s him, Bill?’ Rosie was excited, her cheeks flushed: from what Lorraine had told them, everything pointed to the actor.
Rooney still said nothing. Lorraine was fascinated because he had suddenly become his old self: Rooney the cop. He was acting the way he used to, not wanting to give away too much, not wanting to make a mistake by jumping the gun, staring at the wall, not meeting Lorraine’s eyes. Finally, his hands digging deeper into his pockets, the loose change jangling as he turned a coin in his fingers, he said, ‘I think there’s a hidden agenda. Christ only knows what it is, but there’s something. It may even be staring you in the face, sweetheart.’
‘Is that it?’ Rosie blurted out.
Rooney’s eyes now met Lorraine’s, a steady rather unnerving gaze. He touched her hand. ‘I’ll call you, all right? Let me sleep on this.’ Then he caught Rosie’s hand. ‘We should go, darlin’, it’s late.’ There was a firmness in his voice and Rosie didn’t argue. They said their goodbyes, waving from the car, blowing kisses to Lorraine by the open window, watching them drive away. She didn’t wave, she just stood, arms folded.
Rosie took a sidelong look at her husband. She had been about to tell him about the new man in Lorraine’s life when he swerved to the side of the road and pulled on the handbrake like his life depended on it.
‘What happened? I didn’t see anything,’ Rosie said, looking back to the road.
‘I just needed to think,’ he said in a gruff voice that made him sound like a stranger. He had known Lorraine for a long, long time. He knew her heartbreak and had witnessed her pain. He had been disgusted by her spiral into the gutter and would never have believed she would climb back, just as he would have laughed if someone had said he would end up not only working alongside her, but admiring and loving her.
‘I know her, Rosie, God help me for saying this, but I have known her when she was not worth the shit on my shoe. I have seen her humiliated and heartbroken. She’s been beaten within an inch of her life and I’ve picked her up out of stinking, garbage-strewn gutters.’
‘Is all this going someplace?’ Rosie asked, staring out of the car window rather than looking at her husband. He was unapproachable, made her feel uneasy, and she almost cringed back from him when he hit the steering wheel with the flat of his hand, hit it so hard the car rocked.
‘Yes, it’s fucking going somewhere, for Chrissakes. I just needed to work it through, to think about it, because she was fucking hiding something. She wasn’t telling us the truth.’
‘Why would she lie?’ Rosie said, easing round to look at him.
‘I know her so well, Rosie.’ He ran his finger round his collar: he was sweating.
‘Yeah, you said, and so do I. We both know her pretty well, I’d say.’ She rolled down the window, feeling hot herself.
‘Rosie, I have never seen fear in that woman’s face, no matter what she has been through, not once, not ever. I saw it tonight. She tried to hide it but I know she’s in trouble and I’m afraid for her.’
Chapter 13
Next morning, Lorraine leaped back into action: her flight was at noon, and Rosie’s visit had taken up virtually all of the previous day. Jake had called and said that as he happened to be off duty, he would like to see her and drive her to the airport, and that today he could take Tiger for her.
Lorraine had packed an overnight bag, changed and tidied the apartment, and was now becoming impatient, afraid she would miss her plane. He was late, only arriving at ten thirty. In the car, she gave him instructions about Tiger, plus Rosie and Bill’s telephone number in case the dog was in the way, or she had to stay longer in the Hamptons than she expected. ‘You think you might?’ he asked, as they hurried through the terminal building.
‘No, but you never know, just covering all the options,’ Lorraine said. It had crossed her mind that the legacy to Sonja Nathan would not take effect until midnight the following night, and she wondered whether the next forty-eight hours might be more eventful than she was anticipating — but there was no point in worrying him. She handed over her ticket to a stewardess, who said that the flight was already boarding and she should go straight to the gate.
Jake kissed her, and Tiger almost choked himself on his lead as he tried to follow her into the departure lounge. Lorraine walked away, but then had an urge to turn back, so strong she couldn’t resist it. Jake was still standing there, and Tiger still straining at his lead. Jake waved, mouthed that he loved her, and their eyes locked. She wanted to run back to him, stay with him, but she forced a smile and hurried out of sight.
The duration of the flight was only five hours, but with the time difference between the west coast and the east, they wouldn’t arrive until almost eight thirty in the evening. Lorraine had been in such a hurry she hadn’t brought any books or magazines, so she read the inflight journal over dinner, and slept for the rest of the flight. After the plane had landed and she had retrieved her bag, she caught a taxi to Queens and waited for the last Jitney bus to the Hamptons.