Like A Charm

But he didn't think Victoria was the problem.

'Payne knew about this?' Kiley said.

Adams released smoke towards the ceiling. 'Let's say he found out.'

One image of Keith Payne stuck in Kiley's memory. A newspaper photograph. A tall man, six-four or -five, Payne was being escorted across the tarmac from a plane, handcuffed to one of the two police officers walking alongside. Ta

Kiley couldn't recall the exact details, save that Payne had been extradited from Portugal to face charges arising from a bullion robbery at Heathrow. The resulting court case had all but collapsed amidst crumbling evidence and accusations of police entrapment, and Payne had finally been sentenced to eight years for conspiracy to commit robbery. He would have been released, Kiley guessed, after serving no more than five. Whereas his former colleague, who had appeared as a witness for the prosecution and was handed down a lenient eighteen months, was the unfortunate victim of a hit and run incident less than two weeks after being released from prison. The vehicle was found abandoned half a mile away and the driver never traced.

Payne, Kiley guessed, didn't take kindly to being crossed.

'When he found out,' Kiley said, 'about you and Victoria, what did he do?'

'Bought her flowers, a new dress, took her to the Caprice, knocked out two of her teeth. He came to the hotel where I was staying and trashed the room, smashed the mirror opposite the bed and held a piece of glass to my face. Told me that if he ever as much as saw me near Victoria again he'd carve me up.'

'You believed him.'

'I took the first flight out next morning.'

'And you've not been back since.'

'Till now.'

'Costain knew this?'

'I suppose.'

Yes, Kiley thought, I bet he did.

Adams drained her glass and swivelled towards the telephone. 'I'm calling room service for a drink.'

'Go ahead.'

'You want anything?'

Kiley shook his head. 'So have you seen her?' he asked when she was through.

'No. But she sent me this.' The card had a black and white photograph, artfully posed, of lilies in a slim white vase; the message inside read Knock 'em dead and was signed Victoria with a large red kiss. 'That and a bottle of champagne on opening night.'

'And that's all?'

'That's all.'

Kiley thought it might be enough.

Adams ran her fingers across the photographs beside her on the bed. 'It's him, isn't it?'

'I imagine so.'

'Why? Why these?'

Some men, Kiley knew, got off on the idea of their wives or girlfriends having affairs with other women, positively encouraged it, but it didn't seem Payne was one of those.

'He's letting you know he knows where you are, knows your every move. If you see Victoria, he'll know.'

Adams ' eyes flicked towards the mirror on the hotel wall. 'And if I do, he'll carry out his threat.'

'He'll try.'

'You could stop him.'

Kiley wasn't sure. 'Are you going to see her?' he asked.

Adams shook her head. 'What if she tries to see me?'

Kiley smiled; close to a smile, at least. 'We'll try and head her off at the pass.'

That night, after the show, she asked Becker back to her hotel for a drink and, as he sat with his single Scotch and water, invited him to share her bed.

'She's using you,' Kiley said next morning, Becker bleary-eyed over his coffee in Old Compton Street.

Becker found the energy to wink. 'And how,' he said.

Kiley told him about Payne and all Becker did was shrug.

'He's dangerous, Derek.'

'He's just a two-bit gangster, right?'

'You mean like Coltrane was a two-bit sax player?'

'Jack,' Becker said, grasping Kiley by the arm, 'you worry too much, you know that?'

The following afternoon Adams and the band were rehearsing at Ro

'I thought that was what I was paying you for,' Costain said.

'If he breaks your arm,' Kiley said, 'take it out of my salary.'

Kiley had been checking out The Stage. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof was already on the road, this week Leicester, next week Richmond. Close enough to make a trip into the centre of London for its star a distinct possibility. He sat in the Haymarket bar and waited for the matinee performance to finish. Thirty minutes after the curtain came down, Victoria Pride was sitting in her robe in her dressing room, most of the make-up removed from her face, a cigarette between her lips. Close up, she didn't look young anymore, but she still looked good.

'You're from the Mail,' she said, crossing her legs.

Kiley leaned back against the door as it closed behind him. 'I lied.'

She studied him then, taking him in. 'Should I call the management? Have you thrown out?' Her voice was still smeared with the southern accent she'd used in the play.

'Probably not.'

'You're not some crazy fan?'

Kiley shook his head.

'No, I suppose you're not.' She took one last drag at her cigarette. 'Just as long as you're here, there's a bottle of wine in that excuse for a fridge. Why don't you grab a couple of those glasses, pour us both a drink? Then you can tell me what you really want.'

The wine was a little sweet for Kiley's taste and not quite cold enough.

'Are you pla

'Oh, shit!' A little of the wine spilled on Victoria 's robe. 'Did Keith send you?'

'I think I'm batting for the other side.'

'You think?'

'He threatened her before.'

'That's just his way.'

'His way sometimes extends to hit and run.'

'That's bullshit!'

'Is it?'

Victoria swung her legs around and faced the mirror; dabbed cream on to some cotton wool and wiped the residue of make-up from around her eyes.

'Keith,' Kiley said. 'You let him know about the card and the champagne.'

'Maybe.'

'Just like you let him know about you and Dia

Victoria laughed, low and loud. 'It keeps him on his toes.'

'Then shall we say it's served its purpose this time? You'll keep away? Unless you want her to get hurt, that is?'

She looked at him in the mirror. 'No,' she said. 'I don't want that.'

His phone rang almost as soon as he stepped through the door. Costain.

'Why don't you get yourself a mobile for fucksake? I've been trying to get hold of you for the best part of an hour.'

'What happened?'

'Keith Payne came to the club, walked right in off the street in the middle of rehearsals. Couple of his minders with him. One of the staff tried to stop them and got thumped for his trouble. Wanted to talk to Dia

Kiley waited, fearing the worst.

'Your pal, Becker, all of a sudden he's got the balls of a brass monkey. Told Payne to come back that evening, pay his money along with all the other punters. Miss Adams was an artiste and right now she was working.' Costain couldn't quite disguise his admiration. 'I doubt anyone's spoken to Keith Payne like that in twenty years. Not and lived to tell the tale.'

'He didn't do anything?'

'Someone from the club had called the police. Payne obviously didn't think it was worth the hassle. Turned around and left. But you should have seen the expression on his face.'

Kiley thought he could hazard a guess.

Later that evening he phoned Victoria Pride at the theatre. 'Your husband, I need to see him.'