The Look of Love (37 page)

“You don’t love
me, Zach,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’m like a prize possession
to you, a favourite cushion to sleep on. No, you don’t love
me.”

“Don’t I?” Zach
replied. “I killed your dad for you, didn’t I? I remember how you
were so grateful. ‘I’ll love you forever’ you said. Forever didn’t
last long, did it?”

“You can’t keep
hanging that over my head, Zach. I’m as guilty as you are. It’s
over.”

Zach grabbed
her arm. “I can be better than her. Now that I know I can go easy
on you. We can make it work. You’re not a lesbian, Tori, I know
you’re not. We can work this out. You’re the only girl I ever
loved–”

“Ha! That’s a
laugh!” Victoria interrupted him.

Zach shook her.
“Listen to me! I’m serious! Yeah, I chase the babes, I admit it.
But it doesn’t mean anything, and I hardly ever catch any. You know
what I’m like, Tori; you’ve stayed at my place. But you’re the same
as me. You go out, you chase the boys. It doesn’t mean anything for
you either. We get on because we understand each other. Don’t drop
me, Tori. This Louise has got you all confused. Yeah, the sex is
good, but it can be good with me too. Show me what she did, show me
what you liked. I can do it, Tori! Just give me a chance! Don’t
drop me! Please!”

Victoria stared
at him. He looked so desperate. He was pleading with her. She had
never seen him like this. Never. Could he be telling the truth?
Could he love her?

Her time with
Zach could never have been described as tranquil. But what he had
said was true. They did get on, in their own strange fashion. And
they did understand one another. Until Louise, he was the one
person who had known.

Victoria was
all confused; she didn’t know what to say, or what to think
anymore.

She shook her
head. “I need time to think.”

“Okay, you do
that. I can wait. Where are you staying? I went to your flat in the
halls at the weekend. They said you’d left.”

“I’m staying
with Louise.”

“Move out!” he
said firmly.

“What?”

“Move out. You
don’t have to stay with me, I’ll understand. Find some place on
your own. Sort yourself out. Give yourself time to think, like you
said. But get away from her, or you’ll never get her out of your
head. Okay?”

Victoria stared
at him again. She nodded. “Okay.”

“Good!” Zach
stood up. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your flat. I’ll even help
you pack.”

He held out his
hands and helped her to her feet. He wiped the tears from her eyes
and face, and then brushed the grass from her clothes. Finally he
smiled at her.

“Hey, baby, I
like the new look with your hair. It’s kind of sexy!”

Wilmslow Road
in Rusholme had a character all of its own. It had been taken over
by the Asian community in Manchester many years before. It was
always full of life, even late into the night. Traffic always
backed up, and cars were parked everywhere, as no one seemed to
heed the yellow lines. All along the road from Saint Mary’s to
Platt Fields Park there were restaurants, jeweller’s shops, sweet
shops, grocer’s shops, and clothes shops. In fact there was every
kind of shop and emporium. At night, the shops and restaurants were
lit up, and the whole area glowed with the brightness of neon
lights.

When Shawcroft
got to the Shere Khan, it was nearly half-past eleven, and the
restaurant was preparing for the onslaught that was lunch time on a
week day. All the other restaurants on Wilmslow Road were doing the
same. Shawcroft had to follow the waiters back and forth across the
restaurant as he asked them questions. So far he had had no
luck.

“Please look
closely at these pictures,” he pleaded with another waiter as he
chased him among the tables.

“We’re very
busy! You come at the wrong time!”

“Please. It
involves the murder of a young woman.”

The waiter came
to a reluctant halt. He sighed and took the photofit pictures.
There were three of them. Scott and Max Headly and John King.
Shawcroft was very aware of how poor they were compared to actual
photographs. But they were all he could get.

The waiter
stared at them for a moment. “You said Friday?”

“Yes. Very
late. Maybe one, or two o’clock on Saturday morning.”

“I not here
then.” He suddenly turned and shouted to another much younger
waiter. “Pravin! You were here on Friday night! Come look at
these!”

The younger
waiter came over. The first waiter handed him the three photofit
pictures. “The policeman wants to know if they were here on Friday
night,” he told him, then promptly walked away.

Shawcroft was
left with Pravin. Pravin stared at the pictures. Then he nodded.
“Yes, they were here. They came late, after one o’clock.”

Shawcroft
couldn’t hide his delight. “You remember them?”

“Yes. They sat
over here.” Pravin headed for a table by the window. Shawcroft
followed him. “They made a lot of noise. And they were always
looking through the window.”

Shawcroft
stared through the window. The Shere Khan was situated on the
corner of Wilmslow Road and Walmer Street. Across Walmer Street, on
the other corner, was the Hanaan restaurant. Shawcroft could see
tables and chairs plainly visible in the window facing him, more
waiters bustling about.

He turned back
to Pravin and said eagerly, “You said ‘they’. Which ones? Show me
which pictures.”

“All of
them.”

Shawcroft was
momentarily stunned. “All three of them?”

Pravin now
looked puzzled. “No, two. This one and this one.” he indicated John
King’s picture, then the two of Max and Scott.

Understanding
dawned on Shawcroft. He pointed at the pictures. “These are
pictures of three different men, not two.”

Pravin looked
surprised as he stared again at the pictures of Max and Scott. “But
they are very much alike.”

“I know.
They’re brothers. Was it one of them?”

“Yes.”

“Could you say
which one? It’s very important.”

Pravin
continued to stare at the two pictures, holding one in each hand.
He was very thoughtful, but in the end he shook his head, handing
all the pictures back to Shawcroft. “He was one of them, but I
cannot tell the difference from these. Do you have any better
pictures?”

“No,” Shawcroft
replied in dismay as he put the pictures in his pocket. “Do you
think you could tell the difference between the two if you saw them
both for real?”

“Oh, yes. I
would remember him easily. He was very bad tempered. He kept
getting up and trying to leave. His friend would pull him back. He
disturbed the other customers. I would know him for sure if I saw
him again.”

Shawcroft’s
spirits rose once more. “Do you know what he was angry about?”

“It was
something to do with his girlfriend. She had broken up with him or
something like that. He was very angry.”

Shawcroft
smiled. “He was talking that loud?”

“Yes. Very
loud. And he swore a lot. We were glad when he left. His friend
paid the bill.”

“Did you happen
to over hear his name?”

Pravin nodded.
“His friend called him Max. He spoke the name many times.”

When Detective
Sergeant Connors made his request to take Chrissy out of class, Mrs
Thorne was reluctant to agree.

“They’re only
just settling down after the shock,” she told him. “Is it really
necessary?”

“I’m afraid
so,” Connors replied. “We now have a strong suspicion of who the
murderer is, but we need Miss Davis’s help in confirming that
suspicion. You wouldn’t want to stand in the way of us catching
this man, would you?”

There wasn’t
much Mrs Thorne could say after that, and that’s how Chrissy found
herself in a police car with Connors. She had been surprised to see
him when he turned up in class with Mrs Thorne. But the feeling of
surprise had quickly turned to one of apprehension when she was
singled out.

Connors
explained why he had come to collect her as they drove back to the
police station.

“You and I both
know that Max Headly is the murderer. However, proving that is
going to be another matter. His brother is protecting him. They’ve
swapped stories, and if they stick to their guns they could prove
difficult to overturn.”

“What happens
if that lad turns up?” Chrissy asked. “The one in the news last
night? Won’t he be able to prove it was Max?”

“He has turned
up, but unfortunately, it’s not as simple as it sounds. You see,
with their stories reversed, our evidence all points to Scott, not
Max, and their solicitor has been able to use that fact to prevent
us from getting Max into an identity parade. And even if we did get
Max into a line up, and our boy did pick him out, it’s still his
word against both Max and Scott.”

“Get other
witnesses,” Chrissy said. “Somebody must have seen Max that
night.”

“We are
pursuing that very option. But even then, our only option would be
to get both brothers into a line up. And there’s no guarantee that
any witness would be able to pick out Max from his brother. Both
brothers do look very much alike.”

“Scott’s
taller.”

Connors looked
across at Chrissy. He nodded his head slowly. “Yes, and he also has
an Achilles Heel.”

Chrissy stared
at him. “You mean me?”

Connors nodded.
“He was very moved by your message. The thought of losing you hurt
him.”

“He doesn’t
have me to lose,” Chrissy was quick to reply.

“But your
attitude and feelings for him mean a lot to him. He’s in love with
you Miss Davis, and somewhere in your heart you feel the same.”

“Rubbish!”

“Is it? Then
why were you always quick to defend him?”

“But
that’s–”

Connors pressed
on before she could finish. “Why were you with him at his house
when DC Shawcroft went to pick him up?”

“That was
just–”

“And why did
you say Scott was taller when I said both brothers were alike?”

“Because he
is!” Chrissy finally managed to complete a sentence.

“But you could
have said Max was shorter,” Connors was quick to reply. “You
didn’t. And why? Because it was Scott you were thinking about.”

Chrissy stared
at him angrily and shouted, “You bugger!” Her expression changed
from anger to shock as she realised she had insulted a police
officer, in his police car, on the way to the police station. She
quickly clamped her hands over her mouth.

Connors merely
smiled. “What I am, Miss Davis, is devious. Very devious indeed. If
you’re up for it, I’m going to give you the chance to have it out
with Scott Headly, once and for all. I think he’ll listen to you. I
think you are the only one who could convince him to change his
story.”

“If I’m so in
love with Scott,” Chrissy said bitterly. “What makes you think I’ll
agree to do your dirty work for you?”

“Because if you
don’t, he could very well face a murder charge and a long spell in
prison while his brother, the real murderer of your friend, goes
free.”

Louise wasn’t
at home when Victoria and Zach got there. And for some reason, the
front door wasn’t locked. That turned out to be rather fortunate,
as Victoria didn’t have a key. However, she was sure that Louise
had locked the door when they left that morning; she was always
very fussy about things like that. She said so to Zach, but he
didn’t sound very concerned.

“Hey, maybe the
babe came back,” he said. “Who cares? Where’s your stuff?”

Victoria
pointed to her bedroom. Zach went over to the door. He paused by
the broken lock and turned to smile at her.

“Hey, Tori, I
never had to break your door down to get what I wanted!”

Victoria was
suddenly embarrassed. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure, babe!
Sure!”

Victoria didn’t
bother explaining. She pushed past him into her room and pulled out
her suitcase, bags and hold-alls. She started to pack.

Zach wanted to
help her, but he dwelled once too long on her knickers, even
holding one up and saying, “Hey, sexy undies!”

Victoria
snatched them off him. “Why don’t you go outside and keep an eye
out in case Louise comes home? I don’t want an argument.”

“You’ll have to
tell her sometime,” Zach said with a hint of suspicion in his
voice.

“I’ll tell her
tomorrow, at Uni. But not today.”

Zach did as she
asked, pausing in the doorway to look back at her and smile as
Victoria finished packing on her own.

When she was
finished, she picked up her bags and suitcase and took a last look
around the room. Why did she feel so sad? She went out into the
lounge and stared at the sofa and the television and video. She
remembered how she and Louise had sat and watched films all
Saturday night.

Was she doing
the right thing?

But what had
happened was a big change in her life. She needed to think, and
Zach was right, she needed to do it away from any influences. If
her feelings were genuine, then everything would work out right,
wouldn’t it?

Victoria
sighed. She walked to the door, opened it, and stepped outside. She
put her bags down and closed the door behind her.

Picking up her
bags and suitcase again, she walked purposefully down the stairs.
She was halfway down when the front door opened. For a moment she
thought Zach hadn’t done his job properly, but then she thought it
might be Rosanna. She hadn’t warned Zach about her, and she
prepared herself for the worse.