The City Trap Read Online Free Page B

He almost chickened out as the lift shuddered open at Kingsvale Tower, but he doggedly took the plunge. Maybe it was a stupid waste of time or maybe a sniff of adventure, but it was
something that took him away from her . Des stood outside number 108, took a deep breath and rang the bell.
    She could’ve been sixteen, Des thought, perhaps even seventeen. It was hard to tell, the way young girls bloom. She could’ve been twelve.
    ‘Yes? What d’you want?’
    ‘Hi there. Your name Lisa?’
    ‘Who’s askin?’
    Whatever her age, the young lady had all the components of a perfectly formed body; and she’d made the effort to let the world know this by wearing a dress that clung to her like a coating
of smooth, erotic moss.
    ‘Well, hope you don’t mind but . . .’
    ‘Yes?’
    Lisa – this girl was surely her – was beginning to retreat from the door. She had a pretty face but her lips were sulky and there was hardness in her eyes.
    ‘I reckoned it was a good idea, this card. Literally out of the blue. Risky, yes. Crazy, but . . . you know, nice. Like the lottery, seeing what comes up – me.’ Des tried a
charm smile but he was fast realizing that perhaps Lisa didn’t quite appreciate him turning up. He suddenly noticed a picture of a blue Madonna hanging like a warning sign in the hallway.
    ‘Oh my God! Jesus! Look, you just get –’
    ‘The name’s Des – I was wondering, why don’t we throw caution to the winds and meet up some time?’
    ‘It was a joke, you daft –’
    As Lisa began to hiss and close the door, Des saw a man’s face peer into the hall. A father’s face, no doubt, large and stern-looking.
    ‘What’s going on, Lisa? Who is that?’
    ‘Dunno, Dad,’ Lisa called back and then turned to Des. ‘Just piss off, will you?’
    ‘You don’t reckon, huh?’
    ‘It’s not one of your boyfriends sniffing around, is it?’
    ‘No, Dad, it’s some stranger. But – he’s talking dirty, Dad, bout me.’
    ‘What?’
    Des caught her malicious little smile before the extent of his own stupidity hit him like a punch in the gut. Seeing a burly father come down the hall towards him, he backed away, looking for a
hole to jump into.
    ‘Let me see this bloke.’
    ‘I – I think he’s a bit funny, Dad.’
    Des took one more step back, hit a wall and then realized that the only honourable thing to do was run. The door to 108 was flung open as Des frantically rushed to the stairs.
    ‘Is that the bleeder?’
    ‘Yeh, I think he’s one of them perverts.’
    ‘Eh, you, come here!’
    Des pushed through the stairwell doors, footsteps pounding behind him. The rest was madness. Zigzagging pell-mell down ten sets of stairs. His steps echoing, and heavier, more menacing footsteps
close behind. And then the shouts, the raucous shouts that seemed to fill the whole tower, bringing blunt shafts of embarrassment to Des’s ears.
    ‘Just let me get you! . . . Fuckin perverts should be trashed! . . . Gonna beat the livin shits outa you! . . . Bastaaard!!’
    * * *
    Vin St James sat down beside a clump of rosebay willowherb and thought about being a suspect for murder. He felt calm enough. He hadn’t done the deed but he knew that
didn’t count for much if a sucker was needed. Vin knew he was sitting pretty for that, a dumb-arse black pimp would do fine if the real killer couldn’t be found. There was a lot to
think about and the patch of wasteground wedged between two canals and a factory yard was the only place he could go to think. It was his place and the ganja plants that gracefully swayed in the
darkness were his winter supply. Vin took out his knife and stabbed at the ground.
    Me gotta tink it out firs, den feel. Shit, Claudette! It coulda bin some friggin white nut, some half-dere shit who took she away. Bad feh me, dem don’t often catch such creeps who melt
away like snow in the bloodclaat suburbs. But she wasn’ s’pose fi be out on the game. Wha she a say? Gwan see a fren? Jesus, what