A Bad Death by David Mark

Author:David Mark [Mark, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Police Procedural, Crime, General, Short Stories (Single Author)
ISBN: 9781473619760
Google: YbZKCAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2015-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but Pharaoh put on a distinctly more eye-catching set of clothes when she got up this morning. She always looks good, with her ever-present biker boots, leather jacket and large sunglasses, but they tend to be accessories for a plain black dress, or black trousers and a V-neck jumper. Today, she dipped into the back of the wardrobe for something that would make her feel a little better about herself in the company of a woman who men pay for sex. She has been self-conscious about her appearance for the past couple of years, having gained a little weight on her diet of wine, reheated pasta and cigarettes. Despite being a strong, intelligent and successful woman, there are days when she would give it all up just to be thin. Today is one of those days.

She looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. She’s wearing a white blouse, fitted black jacket and a knee-length camel skirt that clings to her hips and thighs. She’s still wearing her biker boots, but her nylons have a line up the back. She caught McAvoy looking as they got out of the car. She was so pleased that she even forgot to tease him about it.

Pharaoh checks her make-up. Even with it, she looks tired. Feels it too. Feels old and fat and bloody ridiculous.

‘Mutton,’ she hisses at her reflection. Then, as she remembers the silly smile on her face as McAvoy admired her, she adds: ‘Stupid bitch.’

She says it louder than she means to. Clamps a hand over her mouth in case she spews any more self-loathing. Forces herself to focus.

She is standing in the bathroom of Flat 6, Oberon House. It belongs to DC Ben Neilsen and sits in the heart of what used to be Hull’s Fruit Market. Millions of pounds in regeneration money have been spent on this area. It’s a prime location, overlooking the marina and its bobbing yachts and the elegant pathways that lead down to The Deep aquarium on Sammy’s Point. The Oberon used to be a pub and has been sympathetically converted into the closest thing Hull can boast to a block of luxury apartments. Given Ben’s reputation for bedroom gymnastics, Pharaoh felt it an appropriate place to arrange the meeting with Veronica. Ben didn’t argue, wilting in the face of Pharaoh’s implacable gaze and half-smile. He agreed to let her and McAvoy use the flat on the proviso that nobody looked in the drawers under his bed.

Veronica has been here for ten minutes now and Pharaoh is starting to worry about what is going on in the living room. Standing at the front window, she and McAvoy watched Veronica arrive. She was five minutes early for their 11 a.m. appointment. She sat and waited in her Vauxhall Corsa, applying a second coat of lipstick while McAvoy and Pharaoh hid behind the curtains like nosy neighbours and waited for her to ring the bell. When she emerged from the car, she looked more like her voice than her photograph.

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