If I saw her here again, she’d take what was coming.
Even with my thoughts twisting into darkness, I still tapped out a message to one of the crew, ordering him to follow Genevieve home. Just to make sure she got there. The cops on her street would keep her safe after.
Alisha made a sound, bringing my focus back to her from my phone.
“I apologise again for Dixie. I’ll make it clear to all the new girls that you’re out of bounds. I was joking when I said it to her, but it worked. If it’s okay with you, I’ll tell them you’re mine.”
That odd expression intensified.
“Do what you need to,” I replied, but it was hard to even care.
Chapter 7
Genevieve
“Of course, she had it coming, the dirty slut,” Mrs B mouthed the last word to another of our neighbours, her yappy white dogs waiting at her feet. “Doing that kind of thing right out in the open where anyone could pass by. Children live here! It’s disgusting.”
I stopped still on the path. Across the road, in the churchyard, a white tent closed off any view of the steps. A guy in a forensics suit exited, snapping off a pair of disposable gloves. They had blood on them.
My friend was dead.
She’d been killed there last night.
In the time it had taken for me to go to the club then return, Cherry had been murdered. The beat cop who stood at thechurch gates wouldn’t say for certain who the victim was, but no one else hung out there after dark, aside from the occasional group of teenagers smoking weed, and if it had been someone’s kid, there would be news crews. An outcry.
Not the quiet of the police processing the murder scene.
My heart hurt. Cherry had been kind. Funny. She deserved so much better.
“Nice of you to speak ill of the dead,” I bit out to my crazyold bat of a neighbour. “What did she ever do to you?”
Mrs B’s beady gaze shot to me. “Good families live around here, though obviously not yours if you think this is anything but a good thing. What that woman was doing was disgusting. A stain on the street.”
The only stain was her judgement and Cherry’s red blood, but anger and upset held my tongue, and I couldn’t get out another word.
Mrs B drew a look up and down me, her thin lips forming a sneer. “I heard you won’t be here much longer anyway. Good riddance in both cases. It’s nice when the trash takes itself out.”
She turned back to the woman she’d been talking to, and I stomped past, heat painting my cheeks. The other residents of the Crescent might be celebrating, but a good woman had died.
In my flat, I rinsed off the grime of my full shift, dressed, then perched in the window, alone, sad,horrified. The sun set, and cooler night slunk over the city, and I traced over the silhouette of the city buildings, the dark curve of the river, the red-brick warehouse to the right. All the while keeping an eye on the police presence at the church, the uniformed officer on guard, and white-and-blue incident tape across the gates.
Cherry’s wry and kind face appeared in my mind. Alive one minute and gone the next. One of her clients was probably the culprit, and I worked over what she’d told me a couple of nightsback. Not much. Damn. She’d been so vibrant. Sharp, too. My eyes welled again, and I dashed away tears.
When we’d first started talking, we had a conversation that stuck in my mind. Cherry asked if I had a boyfriend. I’d said no and told her about my last who had been less than enthusiastic in all things, most of all in bed. She’d asked if he’d still paid good, and I’d laughed.
“Not that kind of boyfriend.”
“He didn’t pay at all? You were ripped off, sweets. All sex is transactional, whether you admit it or not.”
Another time, she’d commented on my coffee and said she liked the super sweet and hot kind, leading to more man jokes. Next time I saw her, I’d brought her a pumpkin spiced latte. In return, she’d made hearts with her hands whenever I passed.
I’d find a way to commemorate Cherry. She deserved nothing less.
Just as I needed solutions to my own problems. I was in the mood for something fucking drastic.
Today, between jobs, I’d taken time to call everyone who might have seen my dad. I’d stopped in at bars and doss houses. Finally spoke to my brother. Riordan knew nothing and had sounded so stressed I’d pulled the punch and told him I’d handle it.
I wanted to talk to him about Cherry but had kept that in, too.