DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Are you going to charge me?’

  ‘There’s no charge. We’ve just got a few questions.’

  ‘Okay, let’s get on with it. I’ve lost enough money tonight because of you.’

  Inside the interview room, Daisy sat on one side, Isaac and Wendy on the other. ‘Could we have your correct name, please?’ Isaac said.

  ‘Elizabeth Wetherington.’

  ‘Miss Wetherington…’

  ‘Call me Daisy, everyone else does.’

  ‘Daisy, we are interested in a man you took to the hotel several times in the past.’

  ‘How do you expect me to remember. I go there, they have what they want, and then they leave. I don’t get to study them, not even talk to them most of the time.’

  ‘According to the concierge, you took this man to the hotel two weeks ago on a Thursday. Can you remember back to that day?’

  ‘My memory’s not so good.’

  ‘What does it need to help it?’

  ‘Money would help.’

  Wendy studied the woman: peroxide blonde, heavy on the make-up, bright-red lipstick, a drawn face.

  ‘There’s no money in here,’ Isaac said. ‘The best you could do is to give us your information and then you’re out of here.’

  ‘Okay, a Thursday two weeks ago. It was a busy night, made some good money.’

  ‘And what’s good money?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘Five hundred pounds at least.’

  ‘And then you spent it shooting up.’

  ‘Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.’

  ‘I’ll show you a photo,’ Isaac said. ‘If you recognise him, let me know.’ Isaac pushed the photo of James Holden across the desk. Daisy picked it up and studied it for a few seconds.

  ‘He always treated me well, paid more than the others.’

  ‘Why did he pay more?’

  ‘I don’t know, guilt maybe. Some of them regret what they’ve done afterwards. Some of them are in tears because they’ve cheated on their wives.’

  ‘Does that worry you?’

  ‘The tears or the cheating?’

  ‘The cheating.’

  ‘Why? Should it? I’m not their social worker. I’m a working woman trying to survive. If they want me, they pay. If they don’t, they can keep on walking by, but him, he doesn’t. He phones me up, we meet outside the hotel, sometimes inside. We go up to the room, and that’s it. Fifteen minutes later I’m back on the street looking for another man.’

  ‘Not much of a life, is it?’ Wendy said.

  ‘I was married once. He used to beat me. Out on the street is better than that, and anyway, I’m used to it.’

  ‘What can you tell us about the man in the picture?’ Isaac said.

  ‘He never gave me a name. He’s polite, a little on the old side, but he manages.’

  ‘With your help,’ Wendy said.

  ‘That’s what he pays for. Once it’s over, he gives me my money and leaves. He’s not much into conversation. It’s purely business. I’ve got the commodity, he’s got the money.’

  ‘Are there many like him?’

  ‘Not many. Most of them are rough, drunk from a night out at the pub, some are violent.’

  ‘Coming back to the man in question,’ Isaac said. ‘What else can you tell us about him.’

  ‘Nothing really. As I said, he didn’t talk much.’

  ‘Why do you think he paid you for sex?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Most of them have an unhappy home life. Some want to tell me about it, but I’m not interested. But with him, nothing. I just assumed he wanted a bit of the rough.’

  ‘And you’re the rough?’

  ‘You know what I mean. There’s no baggage with me, no pretending it’s love. It’s into the room, strip down, a couple of minutes fumbling around, him on top of me, me on top of him, and that’s it.’

  ‘Clinical,’ Wendy said.

  ‘No doubt, but, as I said, I was married once. I don’t want to pretend to be in love only to be thrown across the room on another night.’

  ‘Do you watch the television, read the newspapers?’ Isaac said.

  ‘Not me. I’ve no time for television, and I’m not interested in the news.’

  ‘The man we are questioning you about was murdered. Did you know that?’

  ‘Not me.’

  ‘He was murdered in the hotel where you met Constable Greenock. It was the room you normally use.’

  ‘And you think I’m involved?’

  ‘He was with another woman.’

  ‘And I could have been murdered if I had been with him?’

  ‘We don’t think so. I suggest you read the newspaper in future. The man’s name was James Holden. Have you heard of him?’

  ‘Not me.’

  ‘He’s well known. A member of parliament, a moral campaigner.’

  ‘And he was with me. If I’d known, I would have charged him double.’

  ‘The woman’s name was Helen Mackay. Have you heard of her?’

  ‘Helen, sent to prison for murdering that old man?’

  ‘Yes, that’s her.’

  ‘Before she latched on to him, we used to work together in Soho.’

  ‘On the street?’

  ‘Not Helen. She was down on her luck, the same as me, and we’re in this club, strutting around with next to nothing on.’

  ‘Was it a strip club?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘They called it a gentlemen’s club, not that many of the customers were. All they wanted to do was to grab us, make us sit on their laps, and let them fondle our breasts.’

  ‘And you let them?’

  ‘Why not? They were generous with their tips.’

  ‘And Helen, was she into this?’

  ‘The men wanted her, more than me, more than any of the other girls.’

  ‘You’ve not answered my question.’

  ‘Helen kept her distance. She was a classy woman, and then, one day, she’s gone. We were all envious of her, but she never fitted in.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘As I said, she didn’t belong. She was a beautiful woman, not like us.’

  ‘You still look okay,’ Wendy said.

  ‘Sure, but Helen was in a league of her own. She could have made plenty of money, set herself up as a high-class escort. She always said she wanted to settle down, find a man who treated her well. She was intelligent, advising us on how to live our lives, where to invest our money.’

  ‘Were you and the other women resentful?’

  ‘Of Helen? No way. We all loved her.’

  ‘When she killed her husband?’

  ‘I wanted to be a character witness, but her lawyer wasn’t too keen. Anyway, in the end, her dead husband’s family said a few words for her.’

  ‘Were you at the trial?’

  ‘Every day. I couldn’t help her, but she was my friend.’

  ‘When she came out of prison, did you make contact with her?’

  ‘I contacted her once, but she was distant. It was clear she wanted to put the past behind her, so I left her alone.’

  ‘And she ended up with your man in your room at the hotel.’

  ‘I don’t get that,’ Daisy said.

  ‘Nor do we. You’re free to go,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I hope you find who did it. Helen was my friend. I’ll be sad tonight. I think I’ll go home.’

  ‘What did you reckon?’ Wendy said after Daisy had left, a police car organised to drop her one street from the flat she shared with another working girl.

  ‘Holden wanted Helen, fixated on her, and he couldn’t have her, but he can have an old friend.’

  ‘There’s more than a few psychoses there.’

  ‘How did Holden know that Daisy wouldn’t be at the hotel on the night he went with Helen? Why that hotel?’

  ‘As I said, the man had some issues.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Isaac said. ‘We need to find out what they were.’

  ***

  Isaac met up with
Richard Goddard, Homicide’s former chief superintendent. Caddick would have regarded it as gross disloyalty; Isaac considered it necessary.

  ‘How is it in Public Relations?’ Isaac asked as the two men sat down for lunch at a pub on the other side of the River Thames.

  ‘It’s a hard battle convincing anyone the Met is on top of their game. Commissioner Davies is making a right hash of it, and now he’s planning to bring in another lackey to lord it over us.’

  ‘Can he?’

  ‘They’re trying to get him out, but it takes time, and in the interim, he’ll do what he wants.’

  ‘Can’t they stop him? There are procedures in place to control who is hired, who is fired.’

  ‘The man’s fighting back, pushing the envelope. He’ll claim discretionary powers, and what is anyone going to do? Subject him to a disciplinary hearing, invite the press in to watch? Our commissioner is a caged animal. He’ll do whatever’s necessary to survive.’

  ‘If you were in his position?’

  ‘Are you saying I’m as bad as him?’

  ‘Not at all, sir, but you’re a political animal. Can’t you play the system? Take some shortcuts, put Davies under pressure?’

  ‘From Public Relations? It’s hardly likely, and besides, I’m a chief superintendent. There’s more than a few ranks separating me from Davies.’

  ‘Then bring them on board.’

  ‘Some are on board, but no one’s willing to show their hand just yet.’

  ‘And in the meantime, the Met goes down the tube, us with it?’

  ‘Regardless of Davies and Caddick, you’ve got a job to do. What’s the situation with James Holden?’

  ‘Any murmurings from where you are?’

  ‘There’s concern at Westminster. The man was a politician, and they’re all watching.’

  ‘There’d be a few skeletons down there.’

  ‘I know of some,’ Goddard said.

  ‘If Holden is held up to ridicule, then eventually the press will start looking into the behaviour of others.’

  ‘They’re always trying, but so far they’ve not found anything.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘The relationship between those in power and those in influence is still strong.’

  ‘Influence? You mean those who control the television channels and the newspapers?’

  ‘Yes. Mind you, social media is an issue. That can’t be controlled.’

  ‘Holden wanted it curtailed,’ Isaac said.

  ‘He wanted to control the sex and the violence, not the truth.’

  ‘That’s the problem. Once you start putting clamps in place, you escalate into other areas that should be sacrosanct.’

  ‘Freedom of the press?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Do you think the media moguls would care if Facebook and Twitter were throttled?’

  ‘No. Is that what Holden was doing?’

  ‘Indirectly.’

  The two men had been talking for over thirty minutes and had not ordered. Isaac called over the waiter. ‘Two of your specials, a bottle of wine.’

  ‘What’s the occasion?’ Goddard said.

  ‘It’s good to be here, sir.’

  ‘Caddick, how’s he performing?’

  ‘He’s learning. He’s picked up the clichéd responses, found himself some sycophants, as well as a lady to deal with his paperwork. She’s efficient and apparently loyal.’

  ‘Talk to her, find out if she is.’

  ‘Undermine him from within?’

  ‘Don’t try it. That’ll get you suspended. Those who are pandering to him, important?’

  ‘No. They’re moderate performers, but they’ll keep him informed.’

  ‘Then do your job, solve the case,’ Goddard said. ‘What is it with Holden? How come he gets himself murdered with a woman who had spent time in prison?’

  ‘She was declared innocent at a retrial.’

  ‘Maybe she was, but mud sticks, and it’s stuck to Holden’s legacy, threatening to undo his good work.’

  ‘Good work?’

  ‘His work with the prison system, that’s well-founded. It was a creaking institution, in need of a clean broom. If his party had been elected to power, he would have become the Secretary of State for Justice. No possibility his death is politically motivated?’

  ‘None we can see at the present moment.’

  ‘Caddick is aiming to bring his man in to take your place,’ Goddard said.

  ‘He tried it once before.’

  ‘This time he might succeed. Don’t give Caddick a chance to unseat you.’

  ‘Can I stop him?’

  ‘Only by good policing.’

  Chapter 7

  Linda Holden, the head of the organisation that her father had set up to combat declining moral standards, realised she had been given the poisoned chalice. With her father’s death, and his subsequent exposure as a man who preached one thing, did another, his star had fallen.

  Isaac and Larry knew when they visited James Holden’s offices that the man once held in such high esteem had erred more than once. According to Daisy, the prostitute, she had been four times in that hotel with him: the same room, the same bed.

  Holden taking Helen Langdon there too, and using the same bed, seemed unusual.

  Bridget was delving into the man’s childhood, attempting to understand what drove him and whether it was hereditary. John Holden, the son, it had been found, had a history of violence when he was younger, a need to cause trouble. Isaac saw him as a possible suspect, but he would have had to know of his father’s peccadilloes, as well as where he went with Helen and when.

  ‘It’s not been easy,’ Linda Holden said. Isaac and Larry were in her office. Another lady had brought them a coffee each from the machine in the office kitchen. To Isaac, it was not up to the standard of the coffee he usually purchased at a café near Challis Street. However, he thanked the lady for her kindness.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Isaac said, looking at Linda. He could see she was struggling to manage, her desk cluttered with papers.

  ‘My father was regarded by some as a saviour. A man who stood up for the common man, the decent man, but now…’

  ‘Social pariah?’

  ‘No one’s listening. That’s the problem: put yourself on a pedestal, and you’re soon knocked off.’

  ‘It was your father’s doing,’ Isaac said.

  ‘And Helen’s. We trusted her, even welcomed her into our home, and then she goes and sleeps with our father. Do you know why?’

  ‘What did you know of Helen’s past life?’

  ‘I read the transcript of her first trial.’

  ‘Then you know about the club.’

  ‘Our parents taught us not to be judgemental, to take people as you find them.’

  ‘With Helen, was that possible?’

  ‘Yes. My opinion of her has been shaken, but I still regard her as a friend.’

  ‘Then you must have some ideas as to why she was in that hotel with your father.’

  ‘Was it the first time?’

  ‘In that hotel with Helen, but he had been there before.’

  ‘Who with?’

  ‘A woman who had known Helen before she went to prison; before she married Gerald Adamant.’

  ‘After my father met Helen, he had her checked out. She was in prison for killing her husband. My father had to be sure she was worthy of his help.’

  ‘And what did he find out?’

  ‘The report’s here. I read it two days ago for the first time.’

  ‘Damning?’

  ‘I’ve made you a copy.’

  ‘We’ll read it back at Challis Street. Tell us, what did you gain from the report?’

  Linda Holden sat back, reflected on what to say. ‘Everyone she came into contact with had only good things to say about her. She had been an accountant before, competent according to her boss.’

  ‘She had trouble with him.’

  ‘She
had that effect on men, even my brother.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He was in love with her, but she rejected him.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘Badly.’

  ‘Your brother, he doesn’t seem as agreeable as you.’

  ‘John’s got a temper, and he was upset over Helen. He blows hot and cold sometimes, but he was always polite with her, distant with my father.’

  ‘No love lost?’

  ‘My brother respected our father, although he didn’t always follow his advice. There were a few instances when John was younger, drunkenness, occasionally sneaking a girl into his bedroom.’

  ‘Normal for a young man,’ Isaac said.

  ‘Normal for me,’ Larry said.

  ‘My father wasn’t upset over what he had done. My father was a pragmatist, but he had a reputation to uphold, a reputation that depended on his family, as well.’

  ‘And a teen has hormones driving him in another direction.’

  ‘Would your brother be capable of murder?’ Isaac said.

  ‘Not John. Don’t think because I told you about him and my father that he’d be capable of that. He admired my father, loved Helen. He’d not do anything to either of them.’

  ‘How about the people in this office? Some must have been suspicious of the special relationship between Helen and your father.’

  ‘We all knew, even our mother, but we trusted Helen.’

  Isaac was always suspicious when everyone told him that the person was a saint, would never harm a fly. Experience had taught him that everyone was flawed, even the righteous.

  ‘What about you?’ Isaac said. ‘What’s your secret?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘No one’s perfect. Your father’s been murdered. Nobody has the luxury of privacy. We’ll dig deep if you don’t tell us.’

  ‘Apart from an inappropriate love affair in my twenties, there’s nothing. I’m married now, have been for twelve years, two children.’

  ‘Inappropriate?’

  ‘He was married. It ended badly.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘His wife found out. There was a scene where she confronted us in the hotel room.’

  ‘How did she find out?’

  ‘I never knew. I was heartbroken, but time heals.’

  ‘And the man?’

  ‘He went back to her. I see them from time to time.’