Falls was on her eighth night of trawling. Jeez, she thought, this life of single bars and clubbin is boring. Every guy in south-east London with the same prized line: ‘Grab yer coat, you’ve pulled.’
At least the women had variety-‘Lemme apply yer lip gloss’ through ‘Same old pricks, hon, try something feminine.’ Like that. Earlier she’d vented on McDonald, ‘I hope you’re watching my back.’
‘Don’t you fret doll, you’re not supposed to see me.’
‘Well, I haven’t, not once.’
‘I’m there, count on it.’ But she didn’t.
Asked Brant, ‘Is McDonald reliable?’
‘No.’
‘Sarge?’
‘What?’
‘Gimme some encouragement.’
He handed her a canister, said, ‘Take CS gas, it’s encouraging.’
‘Isn’t it illegal?’
‘I doubt yer attacker will report it … though, nowadays…
Brant was quiet, then asked, ‘Would you carry a shooter?’
‘You’re joking … aren’t you?’ He gave her the look.
She took the CS gas.
Rosie was at home. Jack was working nights. She lined up twelve sleeping pills, all in a neat line. Took another hefty swig of the rum, the litre bottle going down. She was gently singing, ‘I like sailors cos sailors like rum and it sure does warm my tummy, tum, tum.’
Dressed in a worn pink dressing gown, it made her feel domestic, said, ‘Now to pop two of those lads, there yah go.’
It was the best she’d felt in weeks, thought, Oh God, the note … the police hate it when there’s no note.
She got one of her special notelets, a Christmas present from Falls. They had a rose motif and along the top it read ‘Because Rose Cares’. She carefully cut that off. Then wrote the note quickly.
The bath was nearly full and she turned the tap off. It sure smelled wonderful. She’d put in patchouli oil and mandalay scent. The steam had obliterated the mirror. Not that she’d have looked. Considered very briefly as she popped more pills what the verdict would be. How many times had she heard ‘death by misadventure’? Well, she was a Mrs … could they put Mrs Adventure.
She had been so careful with the pills. Christ, the last thing she wanted was to throw up. The rum she’d mixed with blackcurrant cos it was her favourite. The bottle was empty. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I’m a greedy guts.’ No more pills either. A half remembered ditty from her childhood:
‘Now I lay me down to sleep
I ask The Lord
My hair to keep.’
No, that wasn’t right. She could feel her mind shutting down and took off the robe. Just before she got in the bath, she left the plastic bag on the side. The water was divine and she gave a shudder of pleasure, said, ‘Please remember, don’t forget.’ Reached for the plastic bag, ‘never leave the bathroom wet, Nor leave the soap still in the watta, That’s a thing you never oughta.’
Pan back from the bathroom and there, at the door, are her fluffy slippers, Snoopy dogs on the front. Pan further back into the living room and there’s the note. Reads:
‘I’m so sorry Jack.
I love you.’
As Rose ebbed away, Falls was leaving a club in Clapham, thought, This isn’t working, and walked quickly past a dark alley. Then stopped. It was a short cut but you’d never dream of taking it. Not at night. Thought, Girl, you have to start moving like a victim.
The alley looked extremely forbidding. She checked for the CS canister in her pocket, took a deep breath, muttered, ‘Oh shit, let’s go.’
Turned in.
Barry Lewis had nearly given up on this one. She’d always stuck to the bright side of the street. Was about to turn for home when the victim stopped. He couldn’t believe it! Was she going to risk the short cut? The endless stupidity of women! She took her time, debating. Under his breath, he urged, ‘Go on, go on yah black bitch, daddy’s waiting.’
It worked!
He began to quicken his pace, the adrenalin building to hyper.
Back at the club, McDonald clocked Falls leaving. He had just scored with a neat little number from Peckham and was comfortable. The girl said, ‘I’d love a harvey wallbanger.’
He’d been about to leave, shrugged and figured what could five minutes hurt. Turned to the girl, his smile electric said, ‘Yah go for wallbanging, eh?’
Falls was about half way down the alley when Lewis hit her. She barely heard the footsteps when a shoulder crashed into her, send her sprawling. Then he was kneeling on her back, tearing at her tights, muttering, ‘Gonna give it to yah doggy-style and then I’m going to turn you over, cut yer fucking throat.’
His weight was overwhelming. Falls tried to function … where was the gas? Then the weight was gone and she heard a crash. As she turned, Brant’s voice asked, ‘You OK, love?’
Lewis was hunched over, groaning.
Falls got shakily to her feet, asked, ‘How?’
‘Gotta watch out for our own.’
‘McDonald?’
‘No doubt keeping it warm.’
Brant picked up the knife, moved over to Lewis, said, ‘Let’s see what we got here.’
Lewis was recovering fast, said, ‘Big deal, you can’t prove nothing.’
Held out his gloved hands, added, ‘Can’t even prove the knife is mine.’
Brant said, ‘Me too.’
Showed his gloves. It confused Lewis and Falls. Brant was tapping the knife against his palm, said, ‘Worst scenario, you’d get two years, be out in six months. That how you figure?’
Lewis was nodding, looking at Brant, said, ‘Yeah, and then guess who I’ll come looking for.’
Brant said, ‘Wrong pal.’
Moved fast in front of Falls. She saw Brant’s hand go out, grab Lewis, pull him forward. A grunt, then a smothered scream. Brant pulled back and Lewis was on his knees, the knife embedded. Brant walked behind him, said, ‘Whoops, watch yer step,’ and kicked him full in the back.
Lewis went forward.
Falls said, ‘Oh sweet Jesus.’
Brant took out his Weights, lit one.
Falls noticed his hands were as steady as a rock. He bent down, checked for pulse. None.
Falls said, ‘I don’t believe this, you’ll never get away with it.’
Footsteps and McDonald came running, stopped, tried to assess the scene, asked, ‘What happened?’
Brant answered, ‘It’s the rapist. Fell on his knife during the struggle with Falls.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘As a doornail.’
Brant started to walk away, said, ‘You’d better call it in, I mean you are on this case.’
McDonald turned to Falls, asked, ‘Are you OK? I got delayed … I…
She spat in his face.