The Designer(30)

‘I’m not asking you,’ Copper said angrily.

‘He was a bad lot. You’re well shot of him.’

‘I’m certainly not going to thank you for getting rid of my husband.’

‘I didn’t get rid of him,’ the other said back in her cockney accent. ‘I think you’ve broken my foot.’

‘I hope so,’ Copper said with relish. ‘What do you want?’

‘I need somewhere to stay,’ she replied. And now Copper saw that a suitcase stood in the hallway. She was flabbergasted.

‘Are you seriously asking me to take you in?’ she gasped. ‘You must be crazy.’

To her disgust, the other woman started to cry, pressing a handkerchief to her face. ‘I got thrown out,’ she sobbed. ‘I got nowhere to go.’

‘Well, you can’t stay here,’ Copper said shortly.

‘I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t desperate,’ she sniffed, wiping a reddened nose. ‘I’ve been walking for hours.’ She gulped. ‘Can’t I just come in for a glass of water? And rest for a moment?’

Copper was annoyed. ‘You can have a glass of water and then be on your merry way. I don’t even want to look at you.’

She’d barely finished speaking before the little brunette had hobbled swiftly into the apartment, hauling her suitcase, which was covered with luggage stickers from smart hotels. She flopped on a chair, stretching out her shapely legs. ‘You couldn’t stretch to a cup of tea, could you?’

‘You’ve got some neck.’

‘It’s just like a glass of water,’ the other woman wheedled, ‘except hot, and with tea leaves in it.’

‘I know what a cup of tea is. And I don’t drink it. I’m American. We drink coffee.’ Copper marched to the kitchen and filled a glass at the tap. ‘I’m not running a restaurant.’

‘Oh, bless you.’ The new arrival gulped the whole glassful down without stopping for breath. ‘I needed that.’ She was, on closer inspection, a rounded, pretty bonbon of a woman with a rosebud mouth, a pink-and-white English complexion, and bright blue eyes that were now suspiciously free of tears, though the dark lashes were still becomingly wet. She was not quite as young as she had at first appeared. Aware of being scrutinised, the woman drew herself up in the chair, puffing out her ample bosom like a pigeon. ‘They call you Copper, don’t they? Which is funny, really, because they call me Pearl.’

‘What’s funny about it?’ Copper growled.

Pearl showed pretty teeth in a cheerful smile. ‘You know. Copper and Pearl.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Well, it sort of sounds like jewellery, doesn’t it?’

‘No, it doesn’t. How did you know where to find me?’

‘I heard people saying at La Vie Parisienne that your Monsieur Dior found you this place. Look, there’s something I need to say.’ She took a breath. ‘I’m sorry I went off with your husband that night. Really sorry. I was wrong. I could say I didn’t know you were married to him, but that wouldn’t wash, would it? I mean, you were sitting right there, weren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Copper said stonily. ‘I was sitting right there.’

‘But he’s a very attractive man, isn’t he? And oh-so-charming. I mean, how many men do you know who can make you really laugh?’

‘Just the one.’

Copper’s grim expression wiped the smile off Pearl’s face. ‘Look, sweetheart—’

‘Do not call me sweetheart.’

‘He made it perfectly obvious that it had happened before. Lots of times. And that you didn’t care.’

‘But I did care.’

‘I know that now, don’t I? All right.’ Giving up attempts to explain her way out of it, Pearl pulled up the sleeves of her jacket. ‘This is what I got out of it.’ Livid on the plump white flesh were the purple marks of a man’s violent fingers.

‘Who did that to you?’ Copper asked, taken aback.

‘My old man. And there’s more. Elsewhere.’

‘Your father did that to you?’

‘No, sweetheart. Where I come from, your old man is your husband. Well, he’s not exactly my husband, Petrus, is he? More of a business manager. Cum boyfriend.’

‘I’m sorry about all this, but it’s your affair, and—’

‘And if I’m there when he gets back tonight, he’ll give me more. In fact, he’ll probably cut my throat.’

Copper recoiled. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘No, sweetheart. He’s got a knife about this long.’ Pearl held her hands apart. ‘I know he’s killed two men. He’d think nothing of killing me and dumping me in the river.’

‘Then you should go to the police.’

‘Yeah, and get myself in trouble. No, thanks. It’s nice here, isn’t it?’ Pearl said, looking around. ‘You’ve got it lovely. Such nice taste.’

‘It came furnished,’ Copper said, reluctant to take credit for the apartment.

‘Did it? My word! You’ve struck it lucky with your Mr Dior. Funny, I always thought he was a pansy.’