Faceless by Martina Cole Page B

inclined to fat. She guessed he ate properly to stop himself piling it on. He had nice eyes, but was full-lipped which made him look as if he had sex on his mind constantly. Years ago she would have booked him as a good punter.
    The thought made her tremble.
    He could, to all intents and purposes, have been a punter.
    That bothered her more now she was out than it had when she had been inside. To acknowledge that there had been a time in her life when the filthiest of old men would have been worth a trick to get a few quid preyed on her mind.
    She had that same feeling now she had hated then. Receiving that once-over look men had always given her made her feel she was still the old Marie, the one who would do anything for money.
    His office was a Portakabin full of pornographic calendars and the usual crap collected by men who had no real understanding of the female mind, let alone body. He was sad and he knew it and she knew.
    The old Marie would have overlooked it all, done whatever he wanted for the cash. Not the new one. The new improved version, like the washing-powder adverts claimed, was stain-free these days. But it took just one look to bring all the shame and humiliation right back.
    ‘I understand you want the wages and PAYE doing. What else is in the job description?’
    He smiled again, a lascivious smile that made him look ridiculous.
    ‘What else do you want to do, love?’
    She stared at him with cold blue eyes. Quiet again, she knew that eventually she would unnerve him. She carried on staring at him and saw confusion first and then embarrassment in his eyes again.
    ‘Let’s start again, shall we?’
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    She didn’t answer him, just raised one eyebrow a fraction.
    He pretended to read her CV this time.
    ‘I see you have a degree in English literature.’
    He glanced up at her as he spoke and she nodded.
    ‘For all the good it will do me. But it made the time pass. Reading is a big hobby in prison, as I am sure you appreciate.’
    Mentioning prison first was a good gambit for her and she realised it immediately.
    ‘Long time, I understand?’
    ‘Nearly thirteen years including remand. I was cat-A, locked up, and eventually went down cats until I was allowed out. Now here I am, in your office, looking for a job. Time is a funny thing, Mr Jarvis. You think it will never pass but it does. And the next thing you know, a whole new life is opening up before you.’
    It was the right thing to say.
    He looked ashamed and also relieved that she had put her cards on the table. She knew it had suddenly occurred to him that he was trying to banter with a woman who had already killed twice.
    She smiled and the expression completely changed her face.
    ‘Look, Mr Jarvis, you know what I was imprisoned for - it was a nine-days wonder at the time. But if you give me this job I will work hard for you and can promise I will do whatever is necessary to keep this office running smoothly. I am over-qualified for this job, but as the woman at the Job Centre pointed out, beggars can’t be choosers.’
    ‘Do you know anything about the scrap metal business?’
    Marie grinned.
    ‘No, sir. But I am willing to learn.’
    He looked into her open face, remembering the photos of her in the papers. The Sun had said she was a murderer with the face of an angel, and they were right for once. She had the blonde good looks that many women envied. She had a good bone structure and with the right clothes could be a stunner.
    He knew that her novelty value would go a long way in his line of work. Most of the people who needed his services were faces, villains, etc. He had a feeling she would fit right in once she got over her nerves.
    ‘When can you start?’
    ‘How about tomorrow?’
    She looked around the scruffy little room and then gazed at him in a friendly way. ‘I’ll bring cleaning stuff, shall I?’
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    He nodded, amazed to find that he actually liked her. She was far stronger than most people would be in her