“Oh really?”
“Are you free later?”
“Come round. Daddy’s at a meeting tonight, I think. Bring something pretty for me and I might have a treat for you. Yes. Coral, I think.”
“Sorry?”
“Just talking to the pedicurist, darling. So, about seven, then? Can’t you give me a clue? About this stunning revelation?”
“Let’s just say…you’ll flip out. Later.” Laura heard Jeremy’s chuckle before the phone cut off, and sat up straight, almost kicking the therapist in the eye.
Flip out? Flipp. Rocky’s piece. Jeremy had found something out. And by the sound of it, it was good. She would have to make sure he was well rewarded tonight.
But how to reward him? This was the problem that preoccupied her as she strolled down Goldsands’ one and only relatively chi-chi street, a cobbled alley hung with flags and lined with boutiques and salons. Jeremy was not a shy boy when it came to expressing sexual preferences, and she was no shrinking violet either. In a very short space of time, they had gone through an awful lot of fetish fantasies.
She paused to admire a maxidress in sunset-coloured silk, the sight of clothes sending her into contemplation. She and Jeremy had done every costume role-play she could think of. Her as police officer, him as wrongdoer. Her as pirate, him as sailor prisoner. Her as mistress, him as maidservant. That one had been fun, actually. Jeremy had rather enjoyed the feel of women’s underwear; the filmy gauziness of it against his cock had made it hard. She had had to punish him for that. Poor Jeremy, how he had enjoyed it. But costumes were out until she could think of a fresh new scenario, at least.
Toys? Jeremy seemed to have them all. Another butt plug would be dull and she supposed he might still be a bit sore from all that fun with the cock rings the other night.
No, this would need some serious thought. She placed her beautifully polished toes on the pedal of her little runaround and drove off through the holidaying crowds, cursing and insulting them as they stumbled in front of her, until she was out of what she called the Pleb Zone and well into the leafier end of town. What could he have discovered about that little piece of peroxide trash? Laura withdrew her imagination from matters sexual and set it to work on speculation instead. She had been in prison—she looked the type. Or was it drugs? Prostitution? Murder? Murder would be good. She’d enjoy watching the silly bitch running into court under a blanket on the regional news. And Rocky would be so sad and blue, and perhaps ready for a bit of consolation. It would be a shame for Jeremy, of course—but perhaps he’d like to watch. In fact, he almost certainly would. A deviant lightbulb pinged in Laura’s head and, all at once, she knew exactly what to do with her adoring little lover tonight.
“So, then.” She clinked ice into their glasses and handed one to Jeremy, who was looking rather sweaty and eager on the sofa in her lounge room. Evidently he had come straight from work and was wearing his endearing cub-reporter-in-the-summer gear—open-necked shirt and chinos, both rather creased from all the beavering away into people’s secrets he had to do all day. “Spill.”
“Well, you know I’ve been looking into Rocky Anderson, and what his connection is with Cordwainer, and whether or not he’d make a good route into the heart of his business empire?”
“Of course I know it. You’re always talking about it. And I’ll say again that you won’t get anything out of Rocky.”
“And I’ll say again that I wonder how you know him so well.”
“And I’ll say again, mind your own fucking business. Well? Come on.”
Jeremy looked a little wounded and Laura regretted her imperious tongue-lashing. “Sorry, Jez. It’s just that you’ve got me all hyped up and I’m dying to hear whatever it is, and you’re stalling. Please? For me? Tell me now.”
“Switch on your computer and bring up your web browser,” Jeremy suggested. “I’ll find the relevant info for you.”
Laura crossed the room and performed the recommended actions.
“Is it about that tart at the arcade?” she asked, waiting for it to boot up.
“Yes,” he said, coming to stand beside her. “You won’t believe it. She’s, like, seriously wanted by the police.”
Laura clenched her fists in excitement and beamed at Jeremy. “Oh my God, really? No way. That is so…awful. A wanted criminal on the run in Goldsands. Haven’t you told the police?”
“Not yet. Thought I’d tell you first.”
“Good boy. Best boy.” She leaned in for a long kiss of approval until the booting-up theme rang out and she turned her attention back to the computer.
“You see, I’m trying to get a story together about Cordwainer and this will really get the piece some attention,” Jeremy burbled, though Laura was not really listening, having little interest in his journalistic ambitions. “I think my editor will want to run with it now.”
“That’s nice,” she said, watching her home page load. “Okay. Whatever it is, hit me with it.”
Jeremy typed in a web address and a page from a local newspaper in one of the London boroughs popped up. Laura read it through three times, then turned to Jeremy, frowning.
“That’s it? No mention of any crime, is there? Just says she’s ‘vulnerable’ and to call the police if you see her.”
“Well, I know. I suppose she’s mentally ill or something. That’s what they usually mean by ‘vulnerable.’ But it’s definitely her, isn’t it?”
He pointed proudly at the small photograph of a blond girl at the corner of the screen. Her hair was different, and the piercing was not in evidence, but it was unmistakably Flipp.