Chapter 18

I GOT OUTmy gun and kicked in the door of Claudia’s apartment, slamming it against the guy who’d just closed it on us. He fell into a coffee table covered in beer bottles, scattering them everywhere. There was another guy at the entrance to the kitchen. I pulled my gun up and shouted but he ran in there, hoping for an exit. There was none. Tox grabbed the first guy, picked him up off the ruined coffee table, and threw him into the television stand, crunching DVD boxes and splintering the screen of the cheap plasma. I went to the kitchen doorway and was narrowly missed by a flying frying pan. Two saucepans and a handful of cutlery came sailing out after it.

I put my gun away and grabbed the frying pan from the couch where it had landed. When I rushed into the kitchen the guy cowered into the corner near the blender as I wielded the pan above my head.

“How do you like it?” I yelled. His arm was raised against the weapon, eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t! Please! I’m sorry!”

I let him up.

“Shit, man! You’re one crazy bitch!”

“Get out there.” I yanked him toward the door. Tox had the other guy on the floor beside the glass heap that had been the coffee table. Bright red blood was pouring down Tox’s chin and neck, making a neat column on his chest.

“Little prick kicked me in the face.” Tox looked at the blood on his hand.

“What are you dickheads doing here?” I kicked my guy along the floor until he was beside his friend. “You know Claudia Burrows is dead, right?”

“We heard about it.” My guy was holding his head of black dreadlocks, his eyes welling with tears of panic. “She borrowed some money from our boss three weeks ago. We were told to come get it before the police swept in and took everything.”

The intruders had gathered a small pile of cash and electronic goods and put them on the couch, with some jewelry clumped into a Chinese takeaway container.

“How much did she borrow?” Tox asked.

“Not much. Five grand. It was a short-term loan. She said she was coming into some big money and she’d get it right back to us.”

“Shhh, dude.” Tox’s guy nudged his friend. “Fuck, man. Who you talkin’ to?”

“Pfft, they don’t care.” Dreadlocks waved dismissively at me. “They just care who killed her.”

“How did you hear she’d been killed? Her body was only found last night.”

“My brother’s a patrol cop in Newtown.” Dreadlocks waved again.

“Your brother’s a cop and you’re a loan shark’s bitch?” I snorted. “No guessing who got all the hugs.”

“What did Claudia borrow the money for?” Tox asked. “Did she say?”

“We’re not talking any more. That’s it. We’re done.”

“All right, well, it’s down to the station with both of you for breaking and entering.” I took the cuffs off the back of my belt. “And maybe assaulting a police officer.”

“She needed clothes!” Dreadlocks wailed as I dragged him up and threw him on the couch. “Good girl clothes.”

“What do you mean, ‘good girl clothes’?”

“Shut up, Ray! Fuck!”

I cuffed Ray and left him moaning in regret on the couch, his face pressed between the pillows. In the bedroom, Claudia’s things had been thrown about, drawers emptied onto the bed and her jewelry tipped onto the floor. I went to the closet and pushed open the doors, and immediately I could see what Ray meant. Claudia’s clothes were scant—tiny tops and tight leggings, plenty of sequins and beads and the odd strip of gold leather. I pulled out a complicated black corset of velvet, the buckles jangling as I set it on the bed.

At the very end of the closet, there were three new outfits hanging, long-sleeved silk blouses and pencil skirts in plastic sheaths. Beneath them on the carpet was a pair of brand-new sensible leather pumps. I checked the brands of the outfits, tugged a price tag that was still attached to one of them. Damn. These were certainly “good girl” clothes. Against the rest of her wardrobe, these outfits seemed like a disguise. I bent down as one of the jackets slid off the hanger and gathered it up from the floor, spotting a dusty white powder on the wrist. I gathered it up and tasted it, expecting cocaine, but I was surprised. It was dry salt. Slightly fishy-tasting. Sometime recently, Claudia had worn these clothes by the sea.