Very Important Corpses Page 8

  ‘It’s not clear yet,’ I said.

  Emily leaned in close and lowered her voice. There was no one else about, but I appreciated the effort.

  ‘Have you seen the state of her room? I had a quick look before it was locked up. How could anything human do that much damage?’

  ‘Good question,’ I said.

  Emily waited hopefully, until she realized I wasn’t going to say any more. She straightened up and smiled brightly.

  ‘If you’re quite finished with me, can I go now, sir? Only the Major Domo can get really testy if we’re not where we’re supposed to be when she wants us to do something.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You run along, Emily. I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.’

  She winked at me. ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’

  And off she hurried, wiggling her bottom perhaps a little more than was called for in a Victorian maid’s outfit. I looked at Penny.

  ‘I have no idea what just happened there.’

  ‘You’re not fooling anyone, space boy,’ said Penny.

  Eventually, we reached the point where we’d been everywhere and seen everything, though not always as close up as I would have liked. And I wasn’t any the wiser. I hadn’t uncovered anything strange or disturbing, nothing that even looked like a clue; and absolutely no sign that any creature had ever entered the House. Not a paw print, or some shed hair, or even a scent on the air. I started back down the stairs to the entrance hall, thinking hard, while Penny tripped lightly along at my side, looking at me expectantly.

  ‘So where do we go now?’ asked Penny. ‘Outside, to investigate the grounds?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s one group of people we haven’t talked to yet. The escorts the principals brought here to entertain them. Sex workers often know a surprising amount about the people they work for.’

  Penny looked at me. ‘And you know that, how?’

  ‘People who live on the borders of society often have links to the hidden world,’ I said. ‘You’d be surprised.’

  ‘I doubt it!’ said Penny. ‘But where are these escorts? We’ve been all over the House and I haven’t seen one anywhere.’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to follow my nose,’ I said.

  I put back my head and breathed deeply, and all the scents in the House came to me. The air only looks empty; to senses like mine, there’s always a lot going on. I was getting dust from the carpets and dry rot from the walls, individual human scents from all the people who’d passed this way … and something else. I fixed on one particular scent and followed it down the stairs, all the way to the ground floor. It was like trying to pick out one musical instrument while an orchestra is playing, but it was a very distinctive scent. I stopped at the foot of the stairs and breathed deeply again. Underneath the polish and wax and cleaning agents, the scent I’d locked on to was still there.

  ‘You ain’t nothing but a hound dog, space boy!’ said Penny. ‘What exactly are you picking up?’

  ‘I’m getting artificial musk in almost industrial strengths, sweat ancient and modern, and a dozen chemicals normally associated with theatrical make-up,’ I said.

  ‘I never know when you’re joking,’ said Penny. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Alien!’ said Penny.

  I pressed on through the ground floor, striding confidently along deserted back corridors, until I ended up outside what looked like the door to a storeroom. But the scent was sharp and clear now, and beyond the closed door I could hear conversation and occasional laughter. I straightened up and knocked politely. It all went very quiet. I tried the door and it wasn’t locked, so I just threw it open and strode in, with Penny right there at my side.

  It turned out to be a private bar, with a surprisingly good stock behind the polished counter. The cosy little room was packed with glamorous creatures, staring silently back at me like so many wild things disturbed at a communal watering hole. All colours of the rainbow proudly on display, with heavily made-up faces and cool watchful eyes. The sex professionals brought in to keep the principals happy. Mostly women, with a handful of men; all of them attractive in an obvious sort of way. Even the well-dressed man serving behind the counter could have been a male stripper on his break. I looked from face to painted face, taking my time, refusing to be intimidated or hurried.

  The escorts were dressed in silks and leathers, high couture and downtown sleaze, strings of pearls and studded dog collars. Everything from innocently pretty to dangerous predator; dark-eyed sirens and cute little sex kittens just waiting to be played with. So many exotic birds of paradise, with their meters turned off. Working people in their work clothes, just killing time until they were summoned again. They sat at tables or leaned on the bar, drinks in their hands, waiting for me to state my business so they could tell me to go to hell.

  There was nothing particularly sexual about any of them, because they weren’t trying. It was like being backstage at the theatre; with actors in their dressing rooms, still in costume but no longer playing their roles. In between engagements, but ready to take on their character again at a moment’s notice. I nodded politely to the room.

  ‘I’m Ishmael Jones …’

  ‘Oh, we all know who you are, darling.’

  A tall redhead stood up from her barstool to face me. Wearing a smart business suit, all pinstripes and shot cuffs, and smoking a cigar. Good-looking in a hard, collected way, with striking make-up and a great mane of hair in a shade of red never known in nature. She nodded to me calmly; one professional to another.

  ‘I’m Scarlett. We all know who you are, and who you work for and what you’re doing here. Don’t look so surprised, darling, you’d be amazed what some people consider pillow talk. We’ve all got the proper security clearances or we wouldn’t be here. We specialize in soothing the troubled brows of the rich and influential, and then keeping quiet about it afterwards. Ask me your questions, and I’ll tell you what you need to know.’

  ‘You can speak for everyone here?’ I said.

  ‘Hardly, darling. I’m just the only one who’s prepared to talk to you.’

  ‘And why is that?’ said Penny.

  Scarlett’s knowing crimson smile widened. ‘Because I used to be a field agent. Before I discovered this job paid better and troubled me less at nights.’

  She took us over to a side table, a little away from everyone else, so we had at least the illusion of privacy. Conversations started up again among the other escorts, who all made a point of not even glancing in our direction. I thought I detected a certain amount of relief, that the investigation had passed them by. I sat down opposite Scarlett, with Penny pressed in protectively close beside me.

  Scarlett was a good head taller than me, well-built, calm and composed, and not even a little intimidated by me or who I worked for. Just looking at her, you knew immediately she could look after herself. She might have been in her thirties, or she might not; the mask she showed the world was entirely of her own creation. I would have loved to ask who she’d been a field agent for, but I knew she wouldn’t tell me.

  ‘Are you here because of the dead agent? Or to protect the Baphomet Group?’ Scarlett asked sweetly.

  ‘Both,’ I said. ‘What can you tell me about either of them?’

  ‘Well, darling, since you ask so nicely …’ Scarlett puffed lightly on her cigar, as she thought about her answer. ‘None of us had anything to do with little Miss Rifkin. Not the kind to lower herself to mix with the likes of us. She was only interested in the principals; and once she found she couldn’t pressure any information out of us, she wasn’t interested. The first any of us knew about her death was when one of the servants found the body and screamed the place down. Several of us offered to examine the body, given that our job often involves medical knowledge, but the Major Domo had it locked away in the freezer with almost indecent haste. Anyone would think she had something to hide … The principals were all really rattled. We had to earn
our money that night, calming the nerves of our respective clients.’

  ‘And if I were to ask if any of them seemed particularly worried or knowledgeable about Jennifer’s death … you wouldn’t tell me, would you?’ I said.

  ‘Got it in one, darling. Though I can tell you some of the principals didn’t want anyone with them that night. Just barricaded themselves in their rooms, behind armed guards. Which might or might not mean anything. But I have to say, they were all back at work the next day as if nothing had happened. Business as usual.’

  I glanced around the room. The other escorts were going out of their way to seem not at all interested in our conversation.

  ‘Do you know all of your fellow escorts personally?’ I asked quietly. ‘Is there perhaps anyone here you’ve not met or worked with before?’

  ‘Darling, the number of boys and girls with our level of security clearance is not large in our line of work. We all bump into each other regularly, at this gathering or that.’ Scarlett ground out the last of her cigar in the ashtray. ‘It’s a small world, after all. Everyone here receives assignments from the same highly exclusive London agency, and we’re all used to working with very important people. If you’re asking if anyone here could be a ringer or an undercover agent, the answer is no.’

  ‘Were you really a field agent?’ said Penny.

  ‘It’s all about keeping secrets,’ said Scarlett. ‘And code names. You didn’t think I was christened Scarlett, did you? Over there at the bar we have Lovely Lola, Range Rider and Wanda Whiplash.’ She smiled as she caught Penny’s expression at the last name. ‘Don’t judge, sweetie. Everyone here has their own speciality, and between us we cover all the angles. So whatever the client is in the mood for, there’s someone here to help them out. It’s all about getting them off; the only difference lies in how you get there.’

  ‘And your particular area of expertise?’ I said.

  Scarlett grinned. ‘I make them grovel. And they love me for it.’

  Other escorts drifted over from the bar to join us, once they saw how easy Scarlett was in our company. They pulled up chairs and sat down, happy to gossip in a general way about various celebrities they’d known. No names, just stories. Penny was fascinated.

  ‘Sex professionals are like doctors,’ said Scarlett. ‘We have to provide complete confidentially or no one could relax with us. But apart from that, it’s just a job. Like a physiotherapist. Manipulating body parts, for fun and profit.’

  ‘Have any of the principals been behaving oddly?’ I said, doing my best to sound casual as I glanced around the group. ‘Has anyone been acting … out of character?’

  There was a general shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders.

  ‘We only met these people when we got here, darling,’ said Scarlett. ‘We don’t know any of them well enough to know what is or isn’t in character. And besides, away from home all clients are different people. It’s only when they’re on their own that their secret selves can come out to play.’

  ‘What about the Coronach creature?’ said Penny. ‘Have any of you seen or heard anything?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ said Scarlett.

  ‘You don’t believe in it?’ I said.

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘You haven’t heard any strange noises at night?’ said Penny.

  ‘Darling,’ said Scarlett, not even trying to hide her amusement. ‘That’s when we’re working hardest. None of us had even heard about this creature until we got here. The servants were full of it. A few of us have taken walks along the loch, hoping for a glimpse of the monster, but no one’s seen anything. The creature is just some old fantasy; and we know all about fantasies.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Who do you think killed Jennifer Rifkin?’

  ‘Yes …’ said Scarlett. ‘It’s definitely a who, not a what. No one here believed that animal attack nonsense for a moment. Your agent was murdered by someone in the House. We were all ready to pack up our things and run, but the principals wouldn’t hear of it.’ She smiled sourly. ‘Not that they could have stopped us if we’d really wanted out. But for the bonuses they were offering …’

  I was reminded of what the maid Emily said. The power of money.

  ‘When we’re not working we lock ourselves in our rooms or stick together,’ said Scarlett. ‘Like here. Free drink, good company, and a stout door. That the Major Domo let us have this place surprised me, because I didn’t think she approved of us. The only thing I can tell you for sure is that the killer is definitely not one of us. Because we know better than to shit where we eat.’

  I could happily have spent more time there, drinking and talking, but I had work to do. I made my goodbyes, courteously, and left. I almost had to drag Penny along with me, she was enjoying the conversation so much. We headed back to the reception area, and that was when someone with a very familiar face came striding down the corridor towards me. I stopped dead, and so did he. Penny looked back and forth between us, alert to the sudden tension on the air.

  ‘Ishmael? Who is that?’

  ‘Someone I know,’ I said. ‘And someone who knows me. We have a lot in common; including the fact that both of us still have the exact same face as when we first met. Back in 1964.’

  ‘Are you … friends?’ said Penny.

  ‘Depends,’ I said.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On which side we’re working for.’

  I started forward slowly, and he advanced just as cautiously to meet me. A sturdily built medium-height man, wearing a distinctive red-leather jacket and moving with the easy grace of a natural predator. His face was nicely anonymous, the usual field agent’s practised mask. He could walk past you in the street and you’d never notice him – until he slipped a package into your hand or a knife between your ribs. He had the look of a man in his twenties, just like me, even though he had to be in his seventies now. We finally came to a halt again, standing face to face. His gaze was cool and thoughtful, and I had no doubt mine was too. Penny stood close beside me, being supportive.

  ‘So,’ I said finally, ‘what name do you prefer these days?’

  ‘Christopher Baron,’ he said, in a light easy voice. ‘Call me Chris. And you’re Ishmael Jones. These days your reputation precedes you. Which can be dangerous in our line of work.’

  ‘You should know,’ I said.

  ‘They told me you were coming,’ said Baron. ‘And I wondered if you’d still look the same. Of course you do, you always do. But I keep hoping that one day time will catch up with you.’

  He let the quiet accusation just lie there on the air. I ignored it.

  ‘You know who I’m working for these days?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course,’ said Baron. ‘I like to keep track of the people who matter.’

  ‘I wasn’t told about you,’ I said. ‘But then I wouldn’t have recognized the name. You do like to hide your light behind all kinds of bushels. What are you doing here, Chris?’

  ‘I was brought in to be Head of House Security,’ said Baron. ‘No kind words, Ishmael? No welcome for an old friend?’

  ‘We were never really friends,’ I said. ‘Just colleagues, on occasion.’

  Baron glanced briefly at Penny. ‘I know your name too, my dear. Delighted to meet you.’ He didn’t offer to shake hands, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Penny smiled dazzlingly back at him, pretending she hadn’t noticed. Baron looked at me thoughtfully. ‘A partner … That’s something new for you, Ishmael. You were always the proverbial lone wolf. Apart from the old Colonel, on occasion. But then he was your boss. What happened? Started feeling lonely in your old age, did you?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘That’s classified. I could tell you, but then I’d have to rip out your windpipe.’

  ‘You two worked together in the past?’ asked Penny. I could feel her trying to make sense of the undercurrents running between Baron and me.

  ‘We bump into each other from time to time,’ I said. ‘Sometimes as allies,
sometimes as enemies. Hardly surprising, given the number of subterranean groups we’ve worked for in our time. Who are you working for these days, Chris?’

  ‘Strictly freelance now,’ he said easily. ‘It’s the only way to be in these complicated times. I’m here because the Baphomet Group refused to accept the House’s previous Head of Security. Apparently he didn’t have a high enough security clearance. Fortunately for them I was available. Frankly, they’re lucky to have me.’

  ‘Have you ever been here before?’ I said.

  ‘In this desolate back of beyond? I wouldn’t be here now if the money hadn’t been so tempting.’

  ‘And yet the Group is only here for a few days, and already someone is dead,’ I said. ‘On your watch.’

  Baron raised an eyebrow. ‘If I hadn’t been brought in at the last moment, I would have insisted on setting up some proper defences. I’ve ordered more armed guards, and they’re on their way. Are you accusing me of something, Ishmael?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘But I’m working on it. Why did they pick you, in particular, to run security here?’

  ‘Because of my illustrious reputation,’ said Baron. ‘My current identity is spotless, and they don’t need to know about all the other people I’ve been. You should appreciate that, Ishmael. Still, I suppose I’m glad you’re here. This hasn’t been the easiest of positions, with so many vested interests all pulling in different directions. Hopefully, we can use your Organization authority to make some of these idiots play nicely together. I seem to spend most of my time breaking up arguments before they can turn into fights. Just pissing contests, really; my principal is bigger than yours, so my needs must be more important than yours. The usual.’

  He stopped, and looked at me thoughtfully. ‘So … you’re with the Organization these days. How long do you think that will last?’