40 #Scarred

Lacey Lanning looked down at heel as she arrived at the plush hotel. After their introductions, April indicated a table she’d reserved in a quiet corner.

‘I’d rather sit outside, if you don’t mind, as I’ll need a ciggie,’ Lacey said. That suited April just fine as she was gasping for a puff herself. After her hiatus, she was more desperate to smoke than ever before.

The two women ordered coffees and lit up as the snapper made himself scarce, scouting the well-manicured grounds for a suitable spot to shoot a portrait picture of Lacey. April liked to be left alone anyway, as conducting a three-way interview is nowhere near as intimate as a one-on-one.

Lacey used the old DJ trick of smiling as she spoke – the theory being that it made you sound bright and breezy and helped lighten the listeners’ mood. But she was betrayed by her eyes, which April thought were the saddest she’d ever seen. Something had happened to this girl, April just hoped she was willing to reveal exactly what. Part of her skill as an interviewer was to gently coax more out of a reluctant interviewee than they’d planned to give up. April discovered long ago that most celebrities’ favourite topic was themselves, and Lacey was soon talking enthusiastically about her early career. But it was when April finally asked about Bryce Horrigan that the conversation momentarily dried up. Lacey leaned forward to scoop up her packet of menthol cigarettes from the table, tapping one free from the top of the packet. She lit it, inhaled deeply and sat back in her chair, crossing her legs.

‘Bryce, Bryce, Bryce. Where do I begin?’ Lacey said coolly, adding, ‘Let’s just say meeting Bryce Horrigan nearly destroyed me.’

April could see that quote being made into a ‘talkie’ headline already. It hadn’t been a wasted journey, after all. Lacey went on to detail how she had met Bryce at some function in London and they had immediately hit it off. She was at pains to stress that it wasn’t sexual… at first.

‘Despite what you may have heard about my reputation, I don’t jump straight into bed with anyone,’ she insisted.

Whether that was true or not, April had no way of knowing, not that it mattered to her. But their relationship had ‘moved on to the next phase’ when Lacey was commissioned to write a weekly column, Racy Lacey – The Girl in a Hurry, for Bryce’s newspaper. She explained how the strapline was a play on her hectic broadcasting style – speaking at ten to the dozen – and her chaotic Bridget Jones-style love life.

‘Ironic, really, considering at that point I had a boyfriend and was banging Bryce,’ Lacey offered.

April thought ‘banging’ was a strange term for a woman to use. Lacey almost looked disgusted with herself for saying it, her self-esteem at rock bottom.

‘How long did the relationship last?’ April asked.

Lacey blew smoke into the air, giving herself time to decide whether to be truthful or not. It was a routine April had seen before with Patricia Tolan. She wondered if they knew each other.

‘Until nine months ago,’ Lacey eventually replied.

April flicked through her notepad. She knew she’d jotted down somewhere a timeline of Bryce’s career from cuts. She finally found it. Bryce had been working in New York for the last two years.

‘So it continued after he’d gone to America?’ she asked, already knowing the answer.

‘Yeah. I’d fly to New York for the weekend. He’d pay for me, most of the time. After Bryce left the paper, my column was eventually dropped by the next editor. I don’t mind telling you that everything started turning to shit,’ Lacey said, lighting yet another ciggie.

‘My boyfriend was also the producer of my radio show. When we fell out, management took the opportunity to move me to an evening show. They said it was because of personal conflict but that was crap. They wanted rid of me and I knew it.’

April knew there would be two sides to her story. She chanced her arm by asking, ‘Were you doing drugs?’

That was one area of her life Lacey had not planned on going into. She still clung to the hope of one day rebuilding her once bright broadcasting career. But she sighed and gave in, ‘Yeah, I was doing coke. All the time by the end. I was just so knackered living in London and trying to keep up this “Racy Lacey” persona. Then someone gave me a line of coke and suddenly I was my old self again. Eventually I was doing a line every morning before going on air – then midway through my show, too. Management spotted me once. I was behind the mic with white nostrils, but they turned a blind eye: my ratings were going through the roof, I had a national newspaper column. I was getting the station noticed. I was the girl of the moment,’ Lacey said, smiling at the memory of when her star shone brightly.

‘But you were doing more and more drugs?’ April predicted correctly.

‘Yeah. I was also in a circle where everyone was doing it too. It seemed the done thing,’ Lacey said, as if it was just a matter of fact.

‘Bryce too?’ April asked.

‘Oh God, yeah,’ Lacey laughed, before trying to light another cigarette. But her lighter was empty and she leaned down to get a replacement from the handbag at her feet. Lacey’s V-neck jumper gaped open to reveal most of her breasts, barely contained in a black bra. It wasn’t that which caught April’s eye, though. It was the angry-looking injuries on her chest, which looked suspiciously like bite and scratch marks, similar to ‘Pasty’ Tolan’s.

‘And what about Bryce’s fiancée, Patricia Tolan?’ April saw a marked change in Lacey’s demeanour as soon as Patricia’s name was mentioned. She suddenly looked wary.

‘Pasty? I don’t think she knew of our affair,’ Lacey said unconvincingly.

‘Did you know her? Ever meet her? Can’t imagine your paths never crossed,’ April enquired.

‘Yeah, we knew each other. But only as nodding acquaintances,’ Lacey said. April knew a lie when she heard one.

After an hour and a half, April had more than enough for her article. The interview was good without being great, although it helped paint the picture of Bryce as a predatory, sex-mad egotist and showed how far he was prepared to go in order to seduce his targets. It also told the sad story of a girl from the sticks who had it all and blew it. But April knew she didn’t have the whole truth. Not even half of it. A cocaine addiction only partially explained her rapid fall. By the look of her, Lacey had clearly been through so much more. She was frightened – as if waiting for something from her past or present to catch up with her. April thought perhaps Lacey hadn’t returned to Scotland to rebuild her life, but to hide from the old one.

Not getting the full story gnawed away at April for the whole of the return journey home. She knew she wouldn’t be able to rest easy until she had filled in all the blanks. April’s journalist instinct told her she was onto something important. She needed to speak to Connor.

***

‘Whaddups, A-Lav?’ Connor said on answering April’s call.

‘Are you drunk?’ she replied.

‘Nah, just gone Stateside.’ But Connor could tell by his colleague’s tone that she was all business.

‘I spoke to Lacey Lanning. Same old story of Bryce being a bit of a bastard, ruined her life, etc,’ April said unsympathetically.

‘Pin all your problems on the dead guy?’ Connor retorted.

‘Exactly,’ she said.

‘But you don’t believe her?’ Connor continued.

‘Not entirely. I think I got the heavily abbreviated version,’ April explained.

‘The radio edit?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The radio edit – when all the bad bits and swearing are cut out of songs so they can be played on air.’

April got it now. ‘Yes. I definitely got the broadcast version. She did cough to being a coke addict, but she can hardly blame Bryce for that. But the biggest revelation wasn’t in what she said, but from her breasts.’

‘I’m all ears,’ Connor assured her.

‘They were bitten or scratched to ribbons, a bit like Pasty’s injuries. Then, when I mentioned Tolan’s name, Lacey clammed up. Pretended she hardly knew her, which was a lie. They even smoked the same way.’

‘And they both scurried home to Scotland at the same time, shortly before Bryce ended up dead. Interesting. Very interesting,’ Connor said, pondering the possibilities.

‘What the hell is going on, Connor?’ April asked.

‘Damned if I know, but I have a funny feeling you will find out.’