Chapter 44 Feet
‘I’ve been thinking more about the killings,’ says Cait, her voice amplified by the empty concrete corridor where the payphone is bolted to the wall.
‘Please, do go ahead,’ I say, popping a piece of mango in my mouth. ‘I’m getting my feet done.’
‘You’re in public?’
‘No, no. Ying’s come to me,’ I say and smile at Ying, who’s preparing my pedicure. It’s a treat because I’m too upset about Hampstead.
‘I think that’s her surname, Lalla. Her name’s Fen.’
‘She told me it was Ying Fen.’
‘In China, they give the surname first.’
‘Well, that’s confusing.’
‘Not really, just different.’
‘Hold on,’ I say and ask Ying Fen if her first name is actually Fen. ‘Right, well, Fen agrees with you, but she can’t talk. She’s concentrating on my feet, so do go on.’
‘She might hear something.’
‘She doesn’t seem to understand a word I say about nails, so I doubt she’ll pick up the finer points of our judiciary system. Don’t they record your calls anyway?’
‘Yes, but they don’t listen to them,’ says Cait confidently.
‘You’re sure about that?’ I say.
‘Hairy Mary who works in the admin block said they only listen to high-risk prisoners and a tiny random sample. She says she can make sure mine isn’t chosen.’
‘Who’s Hairy Mary and why would she do that for you? You’re paying her in sexual favours, are you?’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ says Cait, laughing. ‘She’s my roomy. The assassin. She just wants cigarettes.’
‘No need to hide the dirty truth from me.’ Fen looks up at me, but I can’t read her expression.
‘Look, she’s one of my fans. There’s a group of women who give me free cigarettes and nice shampoo. They’ve been pushed around by men their whole lives, and they like what they think I did. They say I’ve got style.’
‘Style? You dress like Charlie Bucket’s grandparents,’ I say.
‘Not that kind of style – my stab and burn style,’ she says. ‘They’re even asking me what he looked like as he was being cooked.’
‘And what did you say to that?’
‘I said the cheap polyester went up like a flare, and they roared with laughter. I’m sorry, I don’t know where it came from.’
‘Well, you sound like you’re enjoying being the centre of something for once,’ I say. ‘How’s the bail application going?’
‘Good, I think. The fact that I’m a victim of abuse and the mother of adorable twins will work in my favour apparently. So I might be out soon.’
‘You don’t sound too positive about that.’
‘The thing is, Lalla, it’s weird, but I’m not scared in here. For the first time in so, so long, I’ve not felt that constant nagging sense that some man might say or do something to me,’ says Cait, then she pauses. ‘I’ve been afraid all my life of one thing or another.’
‘What did you call for?’ I say, a little abruptly as I’m not her counsellor.
‘I just wanted to talk about Jason Mercer,’ she says.
‘Good, so that’s on tape now,’ I say.
‘Hairy Mary won’t let us down, Lalla.’
‘And there’s my name too! Fantastic.’
‘Well, you’re on the call log anyway.’
‘Can we just keep names out of it, please? And any reference to anything criminal.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it all covered. I just worked out who killed Owen.’
‘Oh, good,’ I say, and wish I had popcorn instead of mango.
‘Jason Mercer didn’t kill Owen, as you pointed out. Mercer was sent out to collect a debt from Owen, but as Owen wasn’t at my house, I think Mercer must’ve been snooping around all my friends to see if anyone knew anything. And that’s when he ran into you.’
‘Yes,’ I say, trying to keep her from noticing the obvious flaws in her logic. ‘That seems very plausible.’
‘And as you rubbed him out, he couldn’t return to his crime syndicate. And what are they going to think, would you say?’
‘He took the money and ran away?’
‘No, that Owen killed him! That’s why they put a hit out on Owen. I think I’ve solved it, right?’
‘Yes,’ I murmur in pleasure, as Fen touches a sensitive spot in the centre of my foot.