Streetwise (3 page)

Ava pulled up the car in front of the locked electric gates and sat there with the engine idling. She waited for a while, peering through the windscreen at the two security cameras, unsure as to whether anyone knew she was there or not. Perhaps she needed to go and press the intercom. She slipped off her seat belt and opened the door, but just as she got one foot on the ground the gates slid smoothly apart. Quickly, she pulled her foot back, closed the door and headed up the driveway.

Ava swung the car into a space to the left of the house at the same time as Chris Street came out of the front door. He was smartly dressed, suited and booted and wearing a dark overcoat, but his face fell as his gaze roamed over the outside of the Kia.

‘I’m not late, am I?’ she said as she got out.

‘No,’ he said shortly, staring hard at the rear of the car with all its dents and scratches.

‘Oh, that wasn’t down to me,’ she said, following his gaze. ‘It was like that when I got it.’

Chris’s eyes held an expression of ill-disguised scepticism. His fingers tightened around the keys to the Mercedes.

‘Really,’ she insisted, holding out her hand. ‘You don’t need to worry.’

He hesitated, but only for a second. ‘Okay,’ he said, passing them over. ‘But just be careful, huh?’

Ava gave a nod. ‘I’m always careful.’ Before he could change his mind, she walked across to the other side of the drive where the sleek midnight blue Mercedes was parked. As she climbed inside, she drank in the smell of the expensive leather seats. Much as she loved her little Kia – it was great for zipping around town – she’d missed driving the luxury cars for which Harmer’s was renowned.

Chris got in beside her. He was in the process of pulling his seat belt across when the front door to the house opened again.

‘Let’s go,’ Chris said.

Ava could see Danny Street walking towards them. ‘I think your brother wants you.’

‘My brother always wants something.’ His voice grew sharper. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

Ava started the engine and prepared to move off, but Danny wasn’t having any of it. He strolled straight in front of the car, placed his hands on the bonnet and smirked at them.

Chris gave a hiss. ‘For fuck’s sake.’

Ava looked at Danny. He had the same dark hair, the same prominent cheekbones as his older brother, but none of his charm or geniality. As a kid she’d been scared of Danny. She’d sensed something off, something weird about him, and she had the same shivery feeling now.

Chris opened the window. ‘Get out of the way. Shift it! What are you playing at?’

Danny went around to the passenger side of the car, still grinning. He leaned down and looked across his brother. ‘So,’ he said softly. ‘You must be Ava.’

She smiled, trying not to show her discomfort. ‘Ava Gold. Hi.’

‘What do you want?’ Chris asked. ‘I’m in a hurry, yeah, so make it snappy.’

But Danny didn’t seem to be in a snappy frame of mind. ‘What’s the problem, bruv? I’m just being friendly.’

‘Well go and be friendly someplace else. I’ve got work to do.’

Danny winked at Ava. ‘He’s been keeping you under wraps, hun. Ain’t said a word until we forced it out of him yesterday. Can’t figure out what the big secret is. You from round here then?’

‘Originally,’ she said.

‘So how long have you two been —’

‘We’re going,’ said Chris, quickly interrupting. He closed the window, turned to Ava and said brusquely, ‘Can we just get the hell out of here?’

She didn’t need asking twice. ‘Sure.’

Danny stood back, his hands on his hips. As Ava carefully swung the car round, an ethereal-looking girl, dressed in a flimsy white dress, appeared in the doorway of the house. She was young, late teens, with long fair hair flowing down her back. Although undoubtedly pretty, she had a wasted quality about her. Her face was a little too gaunt and there were purplish shadows under her eyes. More heroin chic, Ava thought, than fallen angel.

‘Jesus,’ Chris muttered under his breath.

Ava wasn’t sure if he was referring to his brother or the girl. She was curious about the latter but sensed that now was not the time to start asking questions. ‘Where to?’ she enquired brightly, hoping that his mood would improve once they were away from the house.

‘The Hope and Anchor. Do you know where that is?’

‘Yes, I know it.’ The pub was about fifty yards from the Fox and was owned by the Streets. She had only been in there once, but that had been enough. It was a meeting place for the local villains, and strangers weren’t made welcome.

At the end of the drive, Chris opened the gates with the remote control. Ava slid the Mercedes smoothly out on to the road. As she drove back towards the centre of Kellston she was overly aware of her passenger’s scrutiny and of the way he visibly flinched every time she changed gear or put on the brakes. She could feel how tense he was, but wasn’t sure how much of that was down to her driving and how much to the exchange that had just taken place with his brother.

Ava was still thinking about Danny as they hit the high street and came to a halt at the queue waiting at the traffic lights by the station. The guy had a reputation and it wasn’t a nice one. Hopefully, she’d be able to keep out of his way. Chris, on the other hand, didn’t bother her. He might be a villain, but he wasn’t a psycho. Despite his silence – he hadn’t said a word since they’d left Walpole Close – she still felt comfortable sitting beside him.

It was only as the lights changed and they shifted forward that he finally spoke again. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

‘Just the one. A brother. Well, a half-brother.’

‘And do you get on?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘pretty much. But he’s a lot younger than me. He’s called Jason. He’s only thirteen.’ She paused before adding, ‘And I don’t have to live with him.’

Chris’s mouth slid into a smile. ‘Yeah, well that makes a difference.’

‘He’d probably drive me crazy if I did.’ She turned right at the lights, went past the Fox and travelled on up Station Road until she came to the Hope and Anchor. She pulled in to the kerb and switched off the engine. ‘You ever thought about moving out?’

Chris made a noise in the back of his throat. ‘Only a couple of hundred times a day. But someone has to keep the peace. Danny and my dad don’t exactly… Well, let’s just say that they know how to wind each other up.’ He opened the car door, got out and leaned down. ‘I’ll be fifteen minutes. Will you be okay?’

Ava lifted her eyebrows. ‘Would you ask that if I was a man?’

He grinned, shut the door and walked over to the pub. It was closed but his knock was quickly answered by a middle-aged man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and a heavy paunch. She watched as Chris went inside and then she settled back to wait. Driving jobs often involved a lot of hanging about but she was used to it.

Ava took her iPod out of her bag, stuck in the earphones and started listening to Florence and the Machine. She gazed through the windscreen, the glass splattered by rain, and looked at the people going by. She knew why Chris had asked if she would be okay: they were parked only twenty yards from Albert Road, the traditional haunt of the local toms. The dealers always gathered there too, along with the pimps and the junkies. It was, however, way too early for the girls to be out and there wasn’t much other activity either.

Five minutes after Chris had gone inside, a smart black Bentley drew up behind the Mercedes. The driver, wearing a traditional chauffeur’s uniform, got out of the car and walked round to the rear door. He opened an umbrella and held it over the man as he climbed out. The man, in his early fifties, was tall and impeccably groomed with short grey cropped hair. Ava studied him in her rear-view mirror. She reckoned, from his features, that he might be Russian or East European.

The chauffeur delivered the guy to the pub and even knocked on the door for him. Once the man had disappeared inside, the driver strolled back to the Bentley. As he passed the Mercedes, he threw Ava a disdainful glance, but didn’t acknowledge her further. They might both be drivers but he clearly considered himself a class above – Mr Chauffeur, she figured, thought of himself as more Knightsbridge than Kellston.

Ava looked across towards the pub again. It didn’t take a genius to work out that a deal was going down. And if the Streets were involved, it was bound to be dodgy. Still, that was none of her business. See no evil, hear no evil. It was, she knew, a slightly skewed moral perspective but she couldn’t afford too many principles at the moment.

It was closer to half an hour before Chris Street emerged again. He was with the older guy and the two of them walked over to the Bentley where they shook hands and separated. Chris got back into the Mercedes with a pleased expression on his face. Ava knew better than to ask how it had gone; anything he volunteered to tell her was fine but it didn’t do to probe.

‘Where to now, boss?’ she asked.

‘That shop on the high street, the one with all the stuffed animals.’

‘Beast?’ she said, surprised by the request.

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

Ava pulled the car into the traffic. Chris seemed more relaxed about her driving now or maybe his mind was on other things. She knew the place he was talking about. When she was a kid, it had been the local undertaker’s, a family business established for generations. But some bad stuff had happened there, a gruesome murder that had finished off the business for good. A few years ago the premises had been taken over by a taxidermist. Personally, she couldn’t see the attraction but apparently it was back in fashion and all the rage. ‘You like that kind of thing?’

‘It’s not for me. It’s a present for a friend.’

Ava gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Not a girlfriend, I hope. I think they usually prefer perfume and flowers.’

‘No, not a girlfriend. A business associate.’

She wondered if it was for the man she’d just seen him with. ‘Good,’ she said, smiling. ‘You could kill a relationship with a gift like that.’

It only took them a couple of minutes to get there and fortunately there was a parking space not too far away. The sky had darkened and the rain was coming down hard, bouncing off the pavement and swirling into the gutters. As Chris opened the passenger door, he turned to her and said, ‘Would you mind coming with me? A second opinion would be handy.’

‘I don’t know anything about stuffed animals.’

‘Join the club,’ he said.

Ava gave a shrug. ‘Okay.’ She had never been inside before and, despite a faint distaste, was curious to see what it was like.

They ran from the car to the gallery, sloshing through the puddles. Chris opened the door and then stood aside to let her enter. Almost as soon as she’d crossed the threshold, Ava was struck by the surreal quality of the place. Animals of all varieties – stoats and weasels, foxes, mice, rats, reptiles, bats, birds and fish – were displayed in various poses around the room.

For a while they drifted from cabinet to cabinet, examining the contents. There was a hushed, almost reverential air about Beast. Although they weren’t alone – there were at least half a dozen other customers in there – everyone spoke in whispers. Ava felt as though she’d stumbled upon a bizarre animal cemetery – except all the bodies were above ground. Eyes followed her wherever she went. She knew that they were glass and yet they still felt uncomfortably real.

‘Have you got any ideas?’ she asked, looking up at a large brown bear that was standing in the corner. The bear, she thought, had a slightly mortified expression. ‘Do you know what he likes?’

Chris pulled a face. ‘Not a clue. Someone told me about it, said his house was full of the stuff.’

‘Weird,’ she said. ‘Would you put any of this in your home?’

‘Only if it was called Trojan.’

‘Trojan?’

‘My brother’s dog,’ he explained. ‘The bull terrier from hell. Now there’s one animal I wouldn’t mind seeing stuffed and shoved in a cabinet.’

They carried on browsing, moving from case to case. After a while a tall, stooped man with very pale skin and a shock of white hair approached them. It was hard to tell how old he was. He could have been anything from fifty to seventy.

‘Morton Carlisle,’ he said with a small bow of his head. ‘I’m the proprietor of Beast. Would you like some assistance?’

‘Yeah,’ Chris said. ‘I’m looking for something, for a colleague. He’s interested in… you know…’ He made a general sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘Stuffed animals.’

Ava noticed Carlisle wince at the word
stuffed
although he was quick to cover it up.

‘Well, as you can see we have a wide selection of mounted animals. Is there anything in particular you’d care to take a closer look at?’

‘I’m not sure. To be honest, I don’t really know what he’s into.’

‘Your colleague,’ Carlisle said patiently. ‘Is he a collector? If so, we may have already met. The world of taxidermy is a small one.’

Chris hesitated as if pondering on the wisdom of divulging his business contacts to a complete stranger. His eyes raked the room before coming back to rest on Carlisle. He weighed up his options for a few seconds more, but then, unwilling to make the wrong choice, decided to throw caution to the wind. ‘Borovski,’ he said. ‘Anatoly Borovski.’

‘Ah, Mr Borovski,’ Carlisle said, bringing his long slender hands together as if in prayer. He briefly touched his chin with his fingertips. ‘Indeed. I may have just what you’re looking for. Come this way.’

Carlisle turned and swept off towards the rear of the store. As they followed him, Ava recalled again how this had once been a funeral parlour. It was here that the bodies had been cleaned and embalmed and laid out in the chapel of rest. Strange, she thought, how the business had changed but that the premises continued to be inhabited by the dead. There was something inescapably macabre about the place.

Carlisle led them into a room where he lifted his arms in a wide dramatic gesture as if welcoming them to previously unknown delights. ‘Here we are!’ he exclaimed. ‘The birds!’

‘The birds,’ Chris repeated glumly, glancing not altogether tactfully at his watch. ‘And Mr Borovski likes these?’

‘Oh, indeed. He has a very keen interest.’

‘And are there any in particular that —’

‘Over here, over here,’ Carlisle said, ushering him towards the larger cabinets at the back.

Ava followed in their wake, peering at the collection as she trudged behind. There was a vast array of birds both of the native and more exotic variety. There were birds small enough to fit into the palm of her hand and ones with the kind of wingspan that would strike terror into their prey. There were pheasants, owls, buzzards and eagles. There were parakeets and parrots and toucans. She stopped to peer into a dome containing two pretty European bee-eaters with jade green breasts.

‘Ava?’ Chris called out.

She hurried over to join the two men. Chris was scrutinising the contents of a large glass case. Inside, perched on a rock, was a gyrfalcon with brown flecked plumage and black eyes ringed with yellow.

‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘It’s either this one or the sparrowhawk.’ He turned to look at the case behind him, indecision etched on to his face.

Ava studied both mounted birds. Although she could appreciate the skill involved, she couldn’t see the beauty. For her the loveliness, especially of birds of prey, was in the flying, in the swooping and soaring, in the graceful way that they travelled through the sky. These poor creatures had been grounded forever. Sensing, however, that a choice had to be made – and that Chris wasn’t likely to make it in a hurry – she pointed confidently towards the falcon. ‘That one,’ she said. ‘Yes, definitely that one.’

Morton Carlisle nodded sagely. ‘Yes, an excellent choice. Quite excellent.’

Ava gave him a thin smile, suspecting that the response would have been exactly the same if she’d chosen the hawk.

‘Okay,’ Chris said. ‘I’ll take it.’

Carlisle bowed his head again. ‘I’m sure Mr Borovski will be very pleased.’

They went back into the other room where the sale was rung up on the till. Ava drew in her breath as she saw the amount – sixteen hundred quid. Jesus, you could buy a second-hand car with that. Or an awful lot of shoes. Whatever was cooking with Borovski must be one hell of a deal.

Chris put his credit card into the machine and punched in his number. ‘You deliver?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’

He took a business card for Belles out of his wallet and gave it to Carlisle. ‘Any time after eleven in the morning. Call me if there’s a problem.’

Carlisle held the card between his finger and thumb, quickly reading off the details before dropping it beside the till. Ava saw a flash of what might have been disgust fly across his face. She figured that he wasn’t a fan of lap-dancing clubs although he was, apparently, perfectly happy to do business with their owners.

Chris waited for the receipt and put it in his pocket. ‘Thank you.’

‘A pleasure,’ Carlisle said.

Chris turned to Ava. ‘Okay. Job done. Let’s get out of here.’

They were halfway across the room when the door to the shop opened and a fair-haired man in his mid-thirties walked in. Ava was simultaneously aware of two strong physical reactions. One was her own – the man had the kind of good looks that would make any girl’s heart miss a beat – and the other came from Chris. She felt his whole body stiffen as a hissing breath escaped from between his lips.

Ava looked quickly from one to the other before her gaze settled on the stranger again. He had a beautifully sculpted face with a strong chin and piercing blue eyes. But it wasn’t just his handsome features that had captured her attention; the guy had an extraordinary air about him, a kind of magnetism, something that could only be described as charisma.

Chris, however, wasn’t feeling the love. He glared at the man with pure hate in his eyes. Ava could feel the rise in testosterone levels. Like two male dogs meeting on neutral territory, they stood their ground, each trying to stare the other out. Neither of them spoke. It was an animalistic exchange, cold and nasty.

The impasse was broken only by the arrival of Morton Carlisle. Sensing that an ‘incident’ was brewing – and not relishing the collateral damage that was likely to result from two grown men scrapping in his gallery – he inserted himself smartly between them. ‘Ah, Mr Wilder. How nice to see you again. Please, do come with me.’

As Wilder allowed himself to be gently propelled away, he glanced over his shoulder and said in a soft mocking tone, ‘I hear they can stuff anything in here – even rats.’

Chris made as if to lunge for him, but then thought better of it. ‘You’ll pay for that, you bastard!’

‘Is that a threat?’

Chris Street’s cheeks were tinged with red, his hands clenched into two tight fists. ‘No, mate, it’s a fuckin’ promise!’ And with those angry words, he turned his back and stormed out of the gallery.

Ava, startled by the exchange, hurried after him. ‘Who on earth was that?’ she asked as they got into the Merc.

Chris didn’t answer. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, opened the window and glared at the door to Beast
.
He smoked furiously, staring at the gallery as if he was in two minds whether to go back in or not.

Ava didn’t ask again. She could see that he was steaming and didn’t want to aggravate him further. The best thing to do, she thought, was to try and put some distance between him and Mr Wilder. Quickly, she started the engine, placed her hands on the wheel and said, ‘Where to?’

‘What?’

‘Where would you like to go now?’

He threw the butt of the fag on to the pavement and closed the window ‘Belles. Take me to Belles and then you can drop the car off at the house. I won’t be needing you again today.’

‘Already? But it’s only —’ She stopped, seeing the look on his face. ‘Belles it is,’ she said. ‘Will there be someone at the house to let me in?’

Chris took the remote control for the gates out of his pocket and threw it on the dash. ‘You can hang on to that.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’

Ava waited for a gap in the traffic, pulled out and started heading for Shoreditch. The atmosphere in the car was tight and strained. She knew that the smart thing to do was to keep her mouth shut and hope that he would calm down soon. She was feeling none too happy herself. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock and already she’d been dismissed for the day. They hadn’t discussed her salary yet – and now certainly wasn’t the time to be raising the subject – but if he was paying her by the hour she wasn’t going to be earning much.

‘You know what that bastard did?’ said Chris, his voice still full of rage.

Ava gave him a sidelong glance. ‘What did he do?’

‘The fuckin’ bastard sent a dead rat through the post!’

‘What?’ She jumped, shocked by the revelation. ‘What… why… why the hell did he do that?’

‘Because that’s the kind of guy he is. He’s sick and he’s twisted.’

Ava frowned, trying to reconcile the vileness of the act with Mr Wilder’s remarkable features. She knew it was wrong to judge by appearances, but it was often hard not to equate beauty with goodness. ‘No other reason?’ she asked. And then, worried that it might sound like an accusation, she rapidly added, ‘I mean, you’re right, it’s sick, it’s really disgusting, but why would he do that?’

‘He doesn’t need a reason.’

‘You two have history, huh?’

Chris gave a nod. ‘Oh yeah, we’ve got history all right.’

Ava waited, but he didn’t elaborate. In fact, he didn’t say anything else at all until they got to Belles and she pulled up by the door. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up later? I can come back. It’s no trouble.’

‘No, I’ll get a lift home with the old man.’

‘Well, call me if you change your mind.’

‘I won’t,’ he said, undoing his seat belt. ‘Look, sometimes it’s like this, yeah? Other times we’ll be on the go all day, maybe until late at night. Short hours, long hours. It balances out in the end.’

‘Okay.’

Chris got out of the car and leaned down to speak to her like he had when they’d stopped outside the Hope and Anchor. ‘Oh, and one other thing,’ he said. ‘About your driving…’

Ava braced herself for some unwelcome macho criticism. ‘Yes?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve seen worse,’ he said before slamming the door.

Ava raised her eyebrows. And that, she thought, was about as close to a compliment as Chris Street would ever get.