and looked back down at the files on the Shoe Man.
‘You poor love, your mind really is somewhere else tonight.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. I hate rapists. It was pretty harrowing today up in Crawley.’
‘You haven’t really talked about it.’
‘Do you want to hear about it?’
‘Yes, I do. I really do want to hear about it. I want to know everything you learn about the world that our child is going to be born into. What did this man to do her?’
Grace picked up his bottle of Peroni from the floor, took a long pull on it, draining it, and could have done with another. But instead he put it down and thought back to this morning.
‘He made her masturbate with the heel of her shoe. It was some expensive designer shoe. Marc Joseph or something.’
‘Marc Jacobs?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes. That was the name. Are they expensive?’
‘One of the top designers. He made her masturbate? You mean using the heel like a dildo?’
‘Yes. So, do you know much about shoes?’ he asked, a little surprised.
He loved the way Cleo dressed, but when they were out together she rarely looked in shoe-shop or fashion-shop windows. Whereas Sandy used to all the time, sometimes driving him to distraction.
‘Roy, darling, all women know about shoes! They’re part of a woman’s femininity. When a woman puts on a great pair of shoes, she feels sexy! So, he just watched her doing this to herself?’
‘Six-inch stilettos, she said,’ he replied. ‘He made her push the heel all the way in repeatedly, while he touched himself.’
‘That’s horrible. Sick bastard.’
‘It gets worse.’
‘Tell me.’
‘He made her turn over, face down, then he pushed the heel right up her back passage. OK? Enough?’
‘So he didn’t actually rape her? In the sense that I understand it?’
‘Yes, he did, but that was later. And he had problems getting an erection.’
After some moments’ silent thought she said, ‘Why, Roy? What makes someone like that?
He shrugged. ‘I talked to a psychologist this afternoon. But he didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. Stranger rape – which this one looks like – is rarely about sex. It’s more about hatred of women and power over them.’
‘Do you think there’s a connection between whoever did this and your file on the Shoe Man?’
‘That’s why I’m reading it. Could be coincidence. Or a copycat. Or the original rapist reoffending.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘The Shoe Man did the same things to some of his victims. He also had problems getting an erection. And he always took one of his victim’s shoes.’
‘This woman today – did he take one of her shoes?’
‘He took both, and all her clothes. And from what the victim has said so far, it sounds like he might be a transvestite.’
‘So there’s a slight difference.’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s your instinct? What does your copper’s nose tell you?’
‘Not to jump to conclusions. But…’ He fell silent.
‘But?’
He stared at the file.
14
Saturday 3 January
Ask people to recall where they were and what they were doing at the moment – the exact moment – they heard about the planes striking the Twin Towers on 9/11, or about Princess Diana’s death, or that John Lennon had been shot or, if they are old enough, that John F. Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas, Texas, and most will be able to tell you, with crystal clarity.
Roxy Pearce was different. The defining moments in her life came on those days when she finally bought the shoes that she had been lusting after. She could tell you exactly what was happening in the world on the day she acquired her first Christian Louboutins. Her first Ferragamos. Her first Manolo Blahniks.
But today, all those gleaming leather treasures languishing in her cupboards paled into insignificance as she strutted around the grey-carpeted floor of Brighton’s Ritzy Shoes emporium.
‘Oh yes! Oh, God, yes!’
She looked at her ankles. Pale,
‘You poor love, your mind really is somewhere else tonight.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. I hate rapists. It was pretty harrowing today up in Crawley.’
‘You haven’t really talked about it.’
‘Do you want to hear about it?’
‘Yes, I do. I really do want to hear about it. I want to know everything you learn about the world that our child is going to be born into. What did this man to do her?’
Grace picked up his bottle of Peroni from the floor, took a long pull on it, draining it, and could have done with another. But instead he put it down and thought back to this morning.
‘He made her masturbate with the heel of her shoe. It was some expensive designer shoe. Marc Joseph or something.’
‘Marc Jacobs?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes. That was the name. Are they expensive?’
‘One of the top designers. He made her masturbate? You mean using the heel like a dildo?’
‘Yes. So, do you know much about shoes?’ he asked, a little surprised.
He loved the way Cleo dressed, but when they were out together she rarely looked in shoe-shop or fashion-shop windows. Whereas Sandy used to all the time, sometimes driving him to distraction.
‘Roy, darling, all women know about shoes! They’re part of a woman’s femininity. When a woman puts on a great pair of shoes, she feels sexy! So, he just watched her doing this to herself?’
‘Six-inch stilettos, she said,’ he replied. ‘He made her push the heel all the way in repeatedly, while he touched himself.’
‘That’s horrible. Sick bastard.’
‘It gets worse.’
‘Tell me.’
‘He made her turn over, face down, then he pushed the heel right up her back passage. OK? Enough?’
‘So he didn’t actually rape her? In the sense that I understand it?’
‘Yes, he did, but that was later. And he had problems getting an erection.’
After some moments’ silent thought she said, ‘Why, Roy? What makes someone like that?
He shrugged. ‘I talked to a psychologist this afternoon. But he didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. Stranger rape – which this one looks like – is rarely about sex. It’s more about hatred of women and power over them.’
‘Do you think there’s a connection between whoever did this and your file on the Shoe Man?’
‘That’s why I’m reading it. Could be coincidence. Or a copycat. Or the original rapist reoffending.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘The Shoe Man did the same things to some of his victims. He also had problems getting an erection. And he always took one of his victim’s shoes.’
‘This woman today – did he take one of her shoes?’
‘He took both, and all her clothes. And from what the victim has said so far, it sounds like he might be a transvestite.’
‘So there’s a slight difference.’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s your instinct? What does your copper’s nose tell you?’
‘Not to jump to conclusions. But…’ He fell silent.
‘But?’
He stared at the file.
14
Saturday 3 January
Ask people to recall where they were and what they were doing at the moment – the exact moment – they heard about the planes striking the Twin Towers on 9/11, or about Princess Diana’s death, or that John Lennon had been shot or, if they are old enough, that John F. Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas, Texas, and most will be able to tell you, with crystal clarity.
Roxy Pearce was different. The defining moments in her life came on those days when she finally bought the shoes that she had been lusting after. She could tell you exactly what was happening in the world on the day she acquired her first Christian Louboutins. Her first Ferragamos. Her first Manolo Blahniks.
But today, all those gleaming leather treasures languishing in her cupboards paled into insignificance as she strutted around the grey-carpeted floor of Brighton’s Ritzy Shoes emporium.
‘Oh yes! Oh, God, yes!’
She looked at her ankles. Pale,
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