Free Borderlands by Brian McGilloway Page B

of her gown in one fist, the
other hand holding the door ajar.
    I introduced
myself and added, "I'd like to speak to you, Miss Coyle, if you don't
mind," smiling to seem less threatening.
    "About
Mr Powell?" she said, affecting an appearance of boredom.
    "I think
you know what about?" I said.
    "Well, I
can't help you. The bitch fired me, so it's not my problem anymore."
    "Mrs
MacGowan fired you. Why?"
    "Thanks
to you, I guess. She's only just off the phone. Said I was bringing her
establishment into disrepute." As she spoke she mimicked her former
employer's voice with a fair degree of accuracy. Certainly enough to make us
both laugh.
    "Sorry,
Miss Coyle; I told her you hadn't done anything wrong. I... Look, can I come in
for a few minutes? I have some questions about Angela Cashell."
    She tried to
pretend to be surprised at the mention of Angela's name, but gave it up as a bad
job and swung the door open. "Ten minutes. Give me a chance to get changed
first. I'm only out of the shower," she said, pointing to her wet hair,
which was dripping water onto the floor. "Though I suppose you already
worked that out, you being a policeman and all. Go in and sit down; I won't be
a minute."
    I went into
the room towards which she had gestured. It was a small living room, with a
brown sofa and two mismatched easy chairs arranged around a TV set and an
electric fire. A CD player and a stack of CDs sat by one of the chairs. I
glanced down the spines of the discs and noticed a few Divine Comedy albums,
which reminded me of the one I had seen in Angela's bedroom. I suspected I knew
now where she had got it. An ashtray full of butts rested on the arm of the
sofa, so I sat beside it and took out my cigarettes. "Do you mind if I
smoke?" I called up the stairs.
    "Long as
you can give me one; I'm all out," she replied, coming downstairs,
"and I'm too lazy to go to the shop." Yvonne came in and sat in one
of the easy chairs. She had not changed out of her dressing-gown, but had
wrapped a towel around her hair turban- style. The gown had loosened very
slightly, so that the flushed skin at the base of her throat and the top of her
chest was visible. She leaned forward and took the cigarette which I offered
her, and I could see the swell of her breasts as the gown fell slightly open. 1
looked away, but she had already caught me looking and smiled slightly as she
rearranged her gown. I began to regret not asking Caroline Williams to
accompany me.
    "I'm out
of matches too," she said, and leaned forward again. I battled with myself
to look her in the eyes as she lit her cigarette off my Zippo, and in so doing,
I noticed that her eyes were two different colours: one green and one almost
grey. Seeing her now, without make-up, I also realized that she was not as
young as she had seemed when I had seen her at Finnside. I guessed she was in
her late twenties. Her skin was smooth and well-toned, but had begun to wrinkle
around her eyes.
    "So,
you're off sick," I said. "Hope it's nothing serious."
    "Nothing
more than a hangover. Still, I'm not sick anymore: I'm unemployed."
    "Sorry
about that. I—"
    "Don't
worry about it. It was a shit job anyway - feeding old gits like Tommy Powell
his stewed apples, while his prick of a son tried to look up my skirt. Good
riddance."
    "Thomas
Powell? The son was trying to ..." I gestured in the general vicinity of her legs.
    "Oh,
aye. All the time. Thinks he's flash. A bit too old for my taste."
    "He's
the same age as me," I said, half-pretending to be offended.
    "Oh,"
she replied, and smiled at me. I knew I would be interpreting that all the way
back to the station. Time to move on, I thought.
    "So,
what can you tell me about Angela Cashell, Miss Coyle?" I asked.
    "Please,
call me Yvonne. What do you want to know about Angela?" she replied. This
wasn't going particularly well.
    "When
did you last see her?" I asked, fairly sure I knew the answer.
    "Friday
morning. She stayed here on Thursday night. She left the house at the