Part 21 (1/2)

'Is Mr Drago here?'

'No! Him asleep.' He eyed the card warily. 'You police?'

'That's right. What's your name?'

'Angel. Why?'

'OK, Angel. I think I'll come in, if you don't mind.'

He tutted, but swivelled haughtily on his heels and disappeared into the house. She followed. The underpants, she saw, had 'Kitty' emblazoned on the b.u.t.tocks.

If the place was a typical thirties house on the outside, inside it was anything but. The front room where most families would have had a gas fire, a TV, a sofa had been turned into a gym with lots of black and chrome equipment. One wall was painted lime green, with a blown-up black-and-white image of a young man looking coquettishly over his shoulder. The back room, which led out to the kitchen, was the living area, with sixties geometric wallpaper, suede furniture and different-coloured neon tubes suspended from the ceiling. It was very cold, but Angel didn't seem to notice. He yelled up at the ceiling, 'JAAAAKE. JAAAKE. Important you come now.' Then he went into the little kitchenette and began making tea, breaking off every now and again to execute a demi-plie, holding the fridge handle to balance himself.

There was the sound of someone falling out of bed overhead. Zoe found a seat and sat with her back to the wall, in the corner, where there was a precious pocket of warmth. No wonder it was cold the windows were open. Original thirties leaded panes, propped open on metal latches. When they were kids, at Christmas Sally would paint each pane of gla.s.s in their bedroom windows. Every one a different colour. Silver, green, red.

''S b.l.o.o.d.y freezing in here.' Jake came in, swaddled in a duvet, his teeth chattering. He scowled at Zoe, but he wasn't awake enough for a fight. He seemed more worried about the heating. 'What've you got against a bit of warmth?' he yelled at Angel. 'You f.u.c.king freak of nature.'

'Listen her,' Angel said sarcastically. 'She Wicked White Witch on the sleigh. Ice Queen.'

'Shut up,' Jake said. 'Shut up.'

'Ooh crooooooel crooooooel. Yours is a problem in the blood.' He p.r.o.nounced it blod blod. 'Not enough to go round your whole body. Problem starts in the little fingers and we all know where it ends.'

'Shut up up.'

Angel made a small disgusted click in the back of his throat, put his chin up and flicked back a hand, as if it was no surprise to him, none at all, that a person as ignorant and crude as Jake would have brought the police to his house as if that was to be expected of people like him. He turned on a heel, his nose in the air, and disappeared upstairs, slamming the door.

'Ignore him.' Jake closed the window bad-temperedly and put his hand on the radiator to check it for warmth. He found none. He bent and turned the valve on full. 'Tried to teach him some manners, didn't I? But with his lot, what do you expect?'

Zoe examined the mug she'd been given. It had pictures of Billie Holiday hand-painted in pinks and greens. 'How did you keep this secret from us all these years?' She nodded to the door through which Angel had huffed off. 'Jake the Peg and his boyfriend. I admit it wasn't what I'd expected. And even more spectacular, in the revelations stakes, Jake the Peg the p.o.r.n star the p.o.r.n star? You slipped that one by us, no pun intended. But you're a celebrity! I've been watching some of your appearances recently. At the office. They all have. Funny, thinking about it now, but you always seemed so much smaller in the flesh.'

Jake looked steadily at her. He sat down. 'I know why you're here.'

'Do you? Go on, then. Tell me.'

'Jake does barely legals, innit? Because there was them school-girls in it? But see that vid with the yellow spine over there? On the shelf? Get it out. Go on. It's a vid of each of them girls, with their pa.s.sports held up to the camera. Proof they was all eighteen.'

'Barely legals? Funny that's not why I'm here.'

Jake frowned. 'I'm telling you I do my homework, man, learn the law. This is proper business now and I'm clean. Easy.'

'I'm sure you are, Jake, I'm sure you are. I've always had absolute faith in you. But that's not why I'm here. I want to talk to you about Lorne Wood.'

He sucked his teeth, rolled his eyes. 'Yeah. You asked me about her already. What do you want to know now?'

'I want you to revisit your memory. Have a double-check in the grey matter. Sometimes things slip our minds.'

'We talked about this.'

'Yes, but I asked you whether you saw her outside the school. What I didn't ask you was whether she ever turned up on one of your sets.'

'Her?' Jake gave a short sarcastic laugh. 'No f.u.c.king way. Too cla.s.sy.'

'You sure? You sure David Goldrab never introduced you two?'

Jake's face changed. It went flat. 'Goldrab? What's he got to do with anything?'

'You do know him? Don't you?'

'See, you ask that question like I'm some kind of eejit, man. Like I'm some eight-year-old. But I ain't. Because what I worked out is I don't got to answer that. And I don't got to because you already know the answer. Or else you wouldn't've asked it.'

'I'm impressed. Is there no end to your talents?'

'And whatever he's said about me, whatever he's told you, it's because he hates me.'

'He hasn't said anything about you.'

'It should be him you're nosing around, not me. He's a h.o.m.ophobe. You can get him for discrimination and that.'

'You obviously didn't hear me. I said, he hasn't said anything about you. Because, at the moment, he's not saying very much at all.'

Jake creased his forehead. He pulled the duvet tightly around him. His feet poking out of the bottom were bottle-tanned, the nails neatly cut and s.h.i.+ning subtly with clear varnish. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It means that the last trace we have of him is Thursday, the twelfth of May. His mother spoke to him in the morning, didn't hear from him again. n.o.body has.'

That stopped Jake in his tracks. 'Right,' he said slowly. 'Right.'

'When was the last time you saw him?'

'Thursday, the twelfth of May. Four days ago. I've tried to wipe it from my mind. He stopped giving me my proper respect, know what I mean?'

'That'll be the day he went missing.' She sipped her tea. 'Did you have an amicable meeting that day?'

'No. But you know that because you got it all on camera on his spy cameras. Like when he a.s.saulted me? Saw that, did you?'

'We did. Care to tell me what the disagreement was about?'

'About him being f.u.c.ked up. Bein' a h.o.m.ophobe. Can't stand the sight of me since he heard about-' He jerked his head to the ceiling to indicate Angel.

'And he tried to shoot you because of it?'

'Yeah.'

'Did you come back later that day? Or had your meeting come to a how can we put it? a natural conclusion at that point?'