We followed him deeper into the club, up a winding spiral staircase. Out of habit I checked out the nearest exits as we went. Dave the DJ held court at one side of the raised stage area on the other side of the floor. Gary guided Clare across with his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. I was deemed strong enough to make my own way there unaided.
Dave was another of those blokes who obviously spent more time admiring himself in the mirrors down at the gym than he did slouched in front of the TV at home. He'd worked hard on the vanity muscle groups, emphasising his biceps and pecs.
As Gary introduced us to him, his eyes flickered from Clare's face down her body to her legs and back again, with a slow smile forming on his lips as he offered her his hand.
“Delighted, Clare,” he said, holding on to her fingers slightly longer than was necessary. Clare gave him the sunny smile of someone who's used to eliciting such a response from men.
The stare he treated me to was less driven by lust, more by curiosity. I could see him playing mix and match with the relationship between the two of us. Frankly, I didn't much care what combination he finally came up with.
He soon switched his attention back and started asking a few questions about Clare's background. Had she sung before? Had she entered a competition like this before? She answered them all easily enough, leaning forward to talk to him. “So where are you from, Clare?” Dave asked now, scribbling notes on a pad balanced in front of him. His other hand worked the controls of the deck with the sureness of long familiarity.
“I live near Caton village, just the other side of Lancaster,” she said.
“Uh-huh, and what's your phone number?” It was tagged so neatly onto the back of the other questions that Clare nearly fell for it, opening her mouth to speak, then closing it again quickly. She shook her head with a smile and wagged her finger at him.
“Ah well,” he said, “you can't blame me for trying.” He checked the list on his pad. “You'll be up last, but there's only eight tonight, so don't stray too far. If your friend wants to stay about here she'll get the best view.” He put just enough emphasis on the word friend to give it a whole host of meanings.
I smiled sweetly at him and said nothing.
He shrugged, reaching for his microphone. “OK, ladies and gents, this is what you've been waiting for! Another chance to hear the least-talented people in the area step up to the mic and make arse-holes of themselves!”
I was surprised at the intro and didn't try to hide it. Dave grinned at my reaction.
“OK, first up, as always is the reigning champion from last week. Where is she? There she is, can't carry a tune in a bucket, but what she lacks in being musical, she makes up for in volume and guts. Step up to the mic, Susie Hollins!”
Despite this remarkable lead-in, the girl who scrambled up onto the stage was flushed with excitement rather than anger. She was pretty in a conventional sort of way, medium height, blonde streaks running through naturally dark hair, and a blouse that went see-through enough under the artificial lights to show the generous cut of her bra.
There was something vaguely familiar about her that I couldn't place. Funny how you can never recognise someone out of context. I frowned while I dredged through my memory files, but came up empty.
Now, Susie stood fiddling with the microphone and primly adjusted her micro-length skirt as Dave gave his spiel about her.
“You all know Susie. She works behind the meat counter at our local supermarket, and she can weigh out my sausages any time! She's here tonight as usual with Tony – give us a wave, Tone – there he is! Got your own groupie, haven't you, Sue? Mind you, with a voice like this, she needs all the help she can get. Give it up now, ladies and gents, for Susie Hollins!”
Susie launched straight into her number with plenty of gusto, but Dave was right. She did need a watertight container to carry the tune. She didn't have the range to hit the high notes, or the breath control for the phrasing of the song.
Still, you had to hand it to her, she was up there giving it her all, and the crowd were cheering her on. Or maybe they were just trying to drown out the sound of her voice.
One thing was for certain, though. Susie Hollins may have been no great shakes as a karaoke singer, but I didn't think that was reason enough for anyone to want to kill her.
Two
Susie finished her song, bright-eyed and breathless. Dave shook his head at the reception she got, including a very possessive kiss from Tony. He'd elbowed his way to the front of the crowd while she'd been doing her bit. The way he dived on her mouth the moment she hopped off the stage was like a brand.
Tony was short and stocky, with eyebrows that met in the middle over the bridge of his nose. He looked thick as a brick. He was also well on the way to being plastered, and as he pushed his way up to speak to Dave, I carefully stepped back and gave him room.
“We'll be at the bar when you need us,” he told Dave arrogantly, one arm draped round Susie's shoulders.
Dave replied with a quick gesture of fingers to forehead that could almost have been taken as a salute. Judging by the wink he gave me, it was more likely to have meant “dickhead”. Tony didn't seem to notice. He steered Susie away and they swaggered across the dance floor.
The contestants that followed demonstrated clearly why Susie had won so often and so easily. In the kingdom of the blind, she was definitely the one with the monocular vision.
Seventh up was a spotty teenager who clearly thought he was a star in the making. “There you go, ladies and gents,” Dave commented as he left the stage, “perfect boy band material if ever I saw it – can't sing and can't dance, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had a recording contract before the night is out.”
There was general laughter and he paused to nod to Clare. She smiled nervously, clutched quickly at my hand, and was up on the stage. There were a few whistles of appreciation which Dave waved into silence.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but settle down, boys. This is Clare Elliot, and it's her first time up here on karaoke night at the New Adelphi Club, so go easy on her, OK?” There were raucous shouts at that and Dave grinned at them. “Clare's an accounts secretary for the local paper, lives in Caton, and – sorry to disappoint you, boys – but she's already spoken for.” He looked at me as he said that. I held his gaze levelly and gave it back to him without additions or subtractions.
“So, here she is, and even if she turns out to be as tone-deaf as the rest of you lot, at least you can put your fingers in your ears and enjoy looking at her. Give it up now for Clare Elliot!”
As the cheers died down I realised that I'd no idea what song Clare had chosen. It took me a couple of beats of the introduction before I recognised “Cry Me A River”. Clare paused a fraction to gather herself, then closed her eyes and started to sing.
Life's a bitch, isn't it? Not only had Clare been front of the line when looks and brains were handed out, but she'd been right up there in the queue for vocals as well.
The familiar words of the song came out clear and powerful, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. To begin with there was a stunned silence. By the time Clare reached the first chorus it was obvious she was far and away the best there.
I felt someone jostle my arm and glanced sideways to find Tony had returned from the bar, dragging a disgruntled-looking Susie with him. He didn't look any more attractive when he was gawping, and her prettiness had disappeared in the face of jealous spite.