Underbelly (56 page)

Grey saw no point in trying to preach to her about how wrong her mirth was and said,
Did he manage to return home?

Yes. He was slippery, as I said. Even battered and naked with no goods, he’d have found a way to sell mud, probably for a tidy sum. He never bothered us again so it worked. Elise got the scribe to write a letter threatening Matilde’s that she’d make chops of her two babies if she tried contacting Adelaide again and that worked. Matilde was scared of her mother and as soon as she knew that she knew what she’d written she wouldn’t have dared write again anyway, even without the threat. He sent us a letter a couple of years later telling us that she’d died in childbirth, a very nasty letter. Rudolf wanted to kill him when he heard what he’d said about his mother, and I wanted him to. That’s how close our family was. Elise told Adelaide that Matilde was dead and it was a mistake because immediately after that Adelaide ran away to the brothel. She always said that she hated being a whore and then she ran away to a brothel! She wouldn’t come back, and the owner of the brothel liked her and protected her when Rudolf and his friends went for her, driving him out of town. That was where she met Lord Askue, and she moved to Paris with him, which was where she became a procuress and made a lot of money, before she was driven out and she came back to Rouen, dressed like a princess now to go with her attitude.

Elise died shortly after she came back triumphantly. It stuck in her throat, the way Adelaide gained access to the elite circles and was respected, even though all she was was a woman who whored others. She was ruthless about it too, hiring young girls and making them see thirty men a day and do whatever they wanted. She came to see me a couple of times, just to crow, and she belittled me as she talked about her own grand life. With looks like hers all the doors were open for her – she didn’t need to be so ungracious. She had Clemence work for her, just as a substitute for Matilde really, and she didn’t treat her right. Clemence was a slow girl, with a good heart, but not much in the way of brains. She was pretty, in a messy way. Her brown hair was unruly and too thick, it was like a bush how it stood up on the top and the sides.

Eventually they were driven out of Rouen too. Adelaide was beautiful, as I say, but she used people, and you can only do that for so long, even with great beauty, before people turn against you. Her benefactors always became her enemies, and then she had to start again elsewhere. I thought I’d never see her again, only for her to turn up a few years later like the Queen of Sheba. There was a procession, her whores leading the way down the street as Moor slaves carried her aloft on a throne, looking more radiant than she ever had. Clemence told me the secret of her revival – the poor girl was beside herself with worry. She said that Adelaide had cast her lot in with witches, who promised her wealth and good fortune if she did some little things for them. They wanted any children the whores had to be given to them to be sacrificed. They wanted to enter the brothel in the middle of the night every full moon to replace the men’s hearts with straw as they slept. There was a long list of things they wanted which Clemence told me, which Adelaide agreed to. She talked bad about her mother yet she did things Elise would never have dreamed of.

For two years she thrived, an evil spider queen who fed off the town. I would have reported her, but I didn’t want Clemence to get into trouble. Some of her favourite customers were accosted, the girl was broken-hearted at what they were doing, but stayed. When the Mayor’s healthy 20-year-old son dropped dead suddenly they opened up the body and found straw where his heart should have been. All of the whores were put to death, all of them repentant. Adelaide was not. She confessed to everything at trial immediately to avoid any torture, but the night before the execution she and Clemence disappeared. Their cell was locked securely and many men guarded it, some incorruptible.

What do you think happened to them?

Lucifer claimed them for his own. Poor Clemence didn’t deserve that. I’m glad she still lives in some form.

By all accounts it’s not much of a form. Thank you for sharing that with me.

My pleasure, James. I want you to help me find peace so that I can join my sister in Heaven. You can do that, can’t you, you’re a medium.

I’ll try, Jeanne
, he said, and he talked to her at length, trying to help propel her on her way. When he vowed on his life (but not that of his unborn child, a promise she tried to compel him into) that Adelaide would finally have her comeuppance, Jeanne felt blissfully happy at this thought and this closure sent her on her way.

“
What a horrible family,” Grey said to Germaine once Jeanne was gone, having partially updated her while talking to Jeanne.

“
Are any of them with you now or are you okay?” Germaine said thoughtfully, hating the idea of anyone nasty being lodged in his head and bothering him.

“
Gone, thank Heavens. I married wisely,” he said, pulling her towards him by her waist and kissing her. “There are some unpleasant women out there. And men too,” he added quickly.

“
Don’t say there’s a third sister.”

“
There was, several more from the sound of it. It was a big family. I’ve had the aunt giving me the family history. They both had horrendous childhoods. They were both forced into prostitution when they were young.”

“
That’s awful. They’re still evil,” she said, unable to be that sympathetic towards them. She knew that Inge had endured a hard beginning in life and that did not excuse her crimes.

“
Now, yes. With a different start they might have turned out differently. I can understand their misanthropy now.”

“
That’s what?”

“
Sorry. I can understand why they hate people, maybe I would if I’d lived their lives, had their parents.”

“
You wouldn’t. We’ve both had hard lives, but we wouldn’t hurt other people.”

“
You don’t want to if you’re happy, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you.”

“
Even if you were unhappy, you wouldn’t hurt anyone else.”

“
Cecil Winston.”

“
That wasn’t your fault, and you certainly didn’t mean it.”

“
I know. I just wish my sympathies weren’t drawn to them because it’s going to make it harder.”

“
Think about their crimes and their victims instead.”

“
You’re right, of course. Speaking of which, Allan should be back from work any time now,” Grey said, having spent all day talking with Emile and Jeanne.

“
You look like you could use a nap first. I promise I’ll wake you in an hour if you try and go to bed now.”

“
All right,” Grey said, feeling that he shouldn’t really but doing so just to please her, and feeling even wearier when she woke him up. As he walked to Allan’s home he thought of what he had learned, most of which was incidental, Emile’s information more useful than Jeanne’s, which was more illuminating but not very practical. He now knew how to summon them, an option which he wouldn’t undertake except as an absolute last resort as he didn’t know if there would be consequences at summoning them and then refusing to draw up a list of targets.

Grey knew that Allan Whitlow was home as the lights were on which meant that he was ignoring him as he knocked continuously. After he had been stood there over an hour, at times hammering on the door to try and elicit a response, Grey shouted, “Allan, if you don’t open the door I will shout out your business in this street.”

The threat worked, Allan quickly unlocking his front door and gesturing for Grey to come inside angrily. Allan followed Grey to the lounge and said, “You don’t know how to take a hint, you.”

“
I’ve got no choice. You can bury your head in the sand; I can’t. You’ve got huge problems rolling your way. Don’t ignore them just because you can’t see it now.”

“
You come here and you tell me stories that are loonier than the crap you find in comic books and you expect me to believe it all.”

“
Pretend I’m wrong. What’s your explanation for the mass disappearances?”

“
Four people going missing over like three years is not mass disappearances.”

“
Come on, Allan, you know it’s not random. They were all best friends.” Allan was even more disbelieving than he had been the previous night when he had seemed to entertain Grey’s ideas for a short while. As Grey kept on trying to persuade him and met the same resistance he realised that Allan did believe him and was in denial. By two in the morning he’d broken him down, Allan admitting that he felt there was some truth in his claims.

“
Not some truth, it’s all true. You look shattered, Allan. Do you want to get some rest? I’ll stay here and make sure nothing happens to you,” Grey offered.

“
I thought you had a wife you wanted to get back to?”

“
She understands that I need to be with you until this is resolved. You should tell your boss tomorrow that you need to take some time off.”

“
I can’t do that. I have bills to pay.”

“
Take a week off. I’m making progress and I hope to have a solution by then.”

“
Do you promise it will be fixed in a week?” Allan said, still fluctuating between belief and doubt, prepared to play it Grey’s way for a limited time.

“
Yeah,” Grey said, aware that any other answer would result in Allan losing his cool and ignoring the problem again and refusing his assistance.

“
Then all right, I’ll take a week off. I’m not happy about any of this mind.”

“
It’s not exactly my idea of fun either, buddy. If you can just take this on trust and endure my company for a week it would be greatly appreciated.”

“
I will have to leave the house to go to work to tell them I’ll be off.”

“
I understand that. While you do that I’ll go and see my wife and explain the situation to her.”

“
I have to be up early so I’m going to bed now. I’ll show you the spare room,” Allan said wearily.

“
The spare room’s no good. I have to watch over you while you sleep. I’ll take a chair upstairs and I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

Allan wrung his arms out in frustration and said, “How am I supposed to try and sleep with you staring at me?”

“
Adelaide and Clemence Alieu are not going to leave you alone just because you’re sleeping. At this particular moment I wouldn’t care who was watching over me as long as I could get some sleep,” Grey said, feeling very fatigued.

“
I’m not stopping you.”

“
This makes you feel stupid – I understand that, in your position I reckon I’d react the same way. Isn’t it worth humouring me in case my words are true? You probably won’t sleep anyway with all the thoughts that will be going round in your head.”

“
I certainly didn’t last night. Come on then.”

Allan did sleep, albeit fitfully, while Grey spent his night trying to discover fresh information, an American female voice providing what seemed to be invaluable information until it dawned on Grey that she was a fantasist who had wasted his time for four hours, her account of the Alieus conflicting with Jeanne, Emile, Larry and Howard’s far more credible stories. She had been credible for a long time, gleaning information from him to weave into her tales before she went too far and said they were born in a cabbage patch to a woman and a donkey. Even after her lies were exposed he remained patient with her and tried to help her find peace, an almost impossible task as she revealed what she believed kept her anchored, which seemed to be fictional. When she eventually vanished it was a relief. Once he had believed that all spirits were basically good and benevolent, a belief that he now saw as extremely foolish. The majority were decent, but there was a contingent which were not, who he would still be pleasant to but needed to be more wary of.