Bad Blood Rising

by Eva Carmichael

  Both women got into the lift and remained silent until they reached the second floor.

  “What room number is it?” Erica asked.

  “231, it’s just round the corner.”

  Once inside the room, Charlotte flung the bags onto the king-sized bed and turned to face her aunt.

  “It really is a beautiful room you got for me. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome, dear,” Erica smiled. “I’ll text Marion and tell her where to come.”

  Whilst Erica busied herself with the phone, Charlotte placed the dresses she had bought in the wardrobe.

  “I adore this dress, don’t you?” Charlotte grinned, holding up a pale pink floral dress. “I bet Rory will love it too when I show him.”

  “I’m sure he will. It’s very pretty.”

  Charlotte put the dress on a hanger before turning to her aunt. “Erica, I have so many questions I need to ask you, I really don’t know where to begin.” A deep frown crept over her face. “There’s my mother’s note for a start. What was it she wanted me to know that was so important? Then there’s the money. The solicitor said you’ve been sending money every month since I was a baby. I don’t understand why would you do that? And…”

  “Please, darling, let’s sit down,” Erica soothed, placing her arm affectionately around the girl’s shoulders and guiding her to a large wing-backed chair in front of one of the windows. Erica sat on the couch opposite. “Charlotte, what I’m about to tell you will come as a shock but it’s very important that you know the truth.” Erica could see the confusion on the girl’s face.

  “You’re scaring me. What is it?”

  “Darling, Mary and Liam loved you very much, you do know that, don’t you?” Charlotte nodded. “The thing is Charlotte, Mary and Liam were not your biological parents. They adopted you when you were a baby.”

  There was a gasp from Charlotte and she put both hands up to her face. “No, no that can’t be right. I don’t believe it.”

  Erica reached out and gently took Charlotte’s hand. “Your mother was my best friend. Her name was Paula.”

  “No, that’s not true. Mary was my mother and Liam was my father.” She pushed Erica away and strode over to the window. She was silent for a minute before turning angrily to confront Erica.

  “So where is this Paula? Why isn’t she here?”

  “Paula died,” Erica said softly.

  “Died? When did she die? How?”

  “I don’t want to go into that right now. I think it would be best if…”

  “Erica, if Paula was my mother like you say, I have a right to know what happened to her.”

  Erica took a deep breath. “Yes, you’re right,” she said solemnly. “I’m sorry, darling, but Paula was murdered.”

  “Murdered? Who murdered her? Why was she murdered?”

  “It all happened a long time ago. Nobody has ever been charged, so they probably never will be now.”

  “What about my father? Is he dead too?”

  “No, your father’s not dead. He was a married man with a family,” Erica said quietly. “He wasn’t prepared to give that up and…”

  “I want to meet him. If he’s my father I have a right to meet him.”

  “Liam was your father. He provided for you and cared for you. He loved you very much.”

  There was a sharp rap on the door.

  “That’ll be Marion.”

  “I don’t want to see her, not now. Please tell her to go away.”

  “I think you should hear what Marion has to say. It’s very important, darling.”

  Charlotte remained stubbornly silent for a moment. “Alright,” she sighed reluctantly. “You’d better let her in.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Erica opened the door and Marion came into the room. She was dressed in an elegant navy blue dress and matching shoes. Her hair was styled in a neat bun.

  “Charlotte, this is my friend, Marion,” Erica smiled. “And this young lady is Charlotte, all the way from Ireland.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you at last,” Marion greeted. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Erica.”

  “Did you know my mother?” Charlotte asked abruptly. “Did you know Paula?”

  Marion was silent for a moment and gave a worried glance at Erica.

  “Charlotte needs to know the truth, Marion,” she said quietly. “We owe her that much.”

  Marion walked over to Charlotte. “Yes, dear, I did know Paula, she was my daughter. My beautiful, beautiful child.”

  “What?” Charlotte gasped. “Paula was your daughter? I don’t believe you. You’re lying. You’re both lying.”

  “Please calm down,” Erica soothed. “Marion is telling you the truth. We both are.”

  Charlotte flung herself into the armchair and glared at Marion. “Well, go on then,” she cried defiantly, “tell me about Paula.”

  Marion walked over to the bed and sat on the edge facing Charlotte. “When Paula was a baby, her father abandoned us. I had no money, there was no family to help me. I was desperate, you can have no idea how desperate.”

  Erica put a comforting arm around Marion’s shoulders.

  “Tell her the rest,” Erica encouraged.

  “I soon realised that the only person who could do anything about the situation was me, that’s why I took the decision to become a sex worker.”

  “A sex worker? Is that a fancy English name for a common prostitute?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. I became a common prostitute. I got paid for having sex with strangers. I didn’t like what I did but at the time I had no choice. The work put food on the table and a roof over our heads.”

  “I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” Charlotte spoke in a whisper, shaking her head slowly.

  “My pimp, that’s the bloke who’s supposed to keep you safe, was called Graham Gibb. A few days before Christmas I was out on the street working when a car pulled up and a man threw acid in my face. He’d been in a dispute with Graham and decided to attack his girls out of revenge.”

  Charlotte sat rigid in her chair, staring hard at Marion. The shock of what she was hearing was taking its toll as tears began to run down her cheeks. “What happened?” she asked quietly.

  “Up to this point I’d managed to keep Paula under the radar, but after I’d been attacked I was in hospital for months. The authorities took her into their care, she’d be about seven or eight by this time. When I eventually got out of hospital I looked like this.” Marion lightly traced the scars on her face with her index finger. “I knew I could never work the streets again and Social Services made it clear that I’d never get my daughter back, so eventually I moved out of the area.”

  “You abandoned her?”

  “I had no choice. I kept in touch with Paula as best I could, but it wasn’t easy. When she left care we lost touch for a while and then I got a phone call from her to say she was expecting you. I came back to Leeds after you were born and helped take care of you so your mother could work.”

  “Paula wasn’t a prostitute too, was she?”

  “Yes, Charlotte, she was,” Marion said defensively. “That’s what she did for a living.”

  “You were just a few months old when she died,” Erica said softly. “I knew Marion wouldn’t be allowed to take care of you so we decided to take you over to Ireland to my sister, Mary. She and Liam were desperate for a child of their own.”

  Tears began to stream down Charlotte’s face. “You mean I’ve been lied to all of my life? Erica, how could you?”

  “Darling, we all did what we thought was for the best. Mary and Liam couldn’t have loved you more if you had been their own child. They were going to tell you the truth when you were twenty-one but well, things didn’t turn out that way.”

  “What about the money? Why did you send me all that money Erica?”

  “The money was to ensure you had a secure future. Paula was my closest friend. It seemed the least I could do.”

  Slowly
Charlotte began to regain her composure, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

  “Did Aunt Maureen and dad’s family know about this?”

  “They knew Mary and Liam weren’t your birth parents, nothing else, and there’s no reason why anyone else should know.”

  “I’ll have to tell Rory,” Charlotte said quietly. “If we’re to be married one day he’ll have to know the truth about my past.”

  “That’s up to you, darling, but you don’t have to.”

  “I have something for you,” Marion smiled picking up the small blue case she had been carrying. “In here are some of your mother’s things I thought you might like. There are a few pieces of costume jewellery, some old photographs, a few silk scarves and some of her papers. I thought you might find comfort from them.” She handed the suitcase to Charlotte who reluctantly took it and placed it on the bed.

  “I’ll look at it later,” she sighed. “Right now I need to rest. I feel very tired.”

  “Alright, dear,” Erica said kindly. “I know it’s been a shock. There’s been a lot for you to take in but you know where I am when you’re ready to talk.”

  Charlotte nodded as she opened the hotel room door.

  “We’ll see you again soon,” Marion smiled, kissing Charlotte lightly on the cheek, “and don’t forget about the case.”

  When the two women had left, Charlotte sat quietly on the bottom of the bed feeling both confused and betrayed. Her head ached and her heart was racing. She suspected Erica knew a lot more about Paula’s death and her father’s whereabouts than she had told her. She was determined that when she met Erica again she would make her tell her everything. Just then the telephone rang.

  “Oh Rory, thank goodness it’s you,” she said wearily. “Darling, before you say anything, I’ve got something to tell you…”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  To the outside world, David Glendenning had it all. Living in the impressive Georgian mansion he had inherited from his in-laws five years earlier, he was married to one of the wealthiest women in the county. His police career, which had so far reached Chief Superintendent, was expected to rise even further, some thought he’d be the next Chief Constable one day. In reality however, David’s life was far from idyllic.

  Lydia Glendenning sat at the breakfast table, pushing the scrambled eggs aimlessly around her plate. “What time will you be home this evening?” she said.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied, turning the page of the newspaper he was reading. “I will probably be late so don’t wait up.”

  “Of course you’ll be late,” Lydia snapped. “It’s Friday. You’re always late on Friday. You’ll be visiting that bloody club you’re so fond of.”

  David lowered his newspaper and glared at his wife. “Perhaps if I had something a little more interesting to come home to I wouldn’t want to spend time away,” he sneered.

  “You bastard. After all that my father did for you, you bloody bastard.”

  “What exactly has he done for me?” he said, the anger rising in his voice. “What I have achieved has been through my own merit. Your father had nothing to do with it.”

  “We both know that’s not true. You’d be nowhere without my father’s help.”

  “If that’s what you want to believe,” he said dismissively, folding his newspaper. “I have to go to work. What committee is it you’ll be chairing today? Helping the homeless or is it substance abuse?”

  David rose from the table just as their son, Matthew entered the room.

  “What time do you call this?” David demanded. “It’s after eight.”

  “It’s my day off,” Matthew answered as he poured himself a coffee. “What are you two arguing about at this time, as if I couldn’t guess?”

  Lydia poured herself another coffee. “Your father will be off visiting his whores again tonight. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  David glared at her. “Stupid cow,” he hissed, leaving the dining room and slamming the door loudly behind him.

  “I don’t know why you put up with it, mum,” Matthew sighed, taking his mother’s hand. “Grandad did warn you about his philandering years ago. I don’t understand why you stay with him.”

  Lydia pushed her plate away and picked up her coffee cup. “It’s complicated,” she said at last. “Your father has always had a weakness for a pretty face. I don’t think anything I do or say will change that.”

  “But you’re his wife. You can’t just sit back and do nothing whilst he gets up to god knows what.”

  “None of the women are important to him, Matthew. It’s always me and you that he chooses in the end.”

  “That’s not the point. He can’t just…”

  “Please stop,” Lydia said sharply raising her hand. “Your father needs other women in his life, I’ve come to accept that. But it’s me he really wants. He would never leave me.”

  “I don’t understand you,” Matthew sighed, slowly shaking his head. “Why do you let him get away with treating you like this?

  “Because I love him, that’s why,” Lydia said softly, tears running down her cheeks. “I’ve always loved him since the first time I set eyes on him.”

  “But he doesn’t feel the same way or he wouldn’t treat you like this.”

  “Your father can’t help himself, Matthew. A few years ago I had him followed by a detective agency. I found out he rented a flat in the block across from the canal. He had done for years. That’s where he would take his women, a different one each time apparently.”

  “And you did nothing?”

  Lydia sighed and rose from the table. “I challenged him about the flat, of course I did, but I realised he was conducting his sordid affairs discreetly. That’s very important to this family.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Divorce is not something we do, ever. There has never been a divorce in my family and there never will be. Appearance is everything. Do you understand that son?”

  Matthew stared at his mother. “Will he be with one of his women tonight?” he asked coldly.

  “Yes, he probably will. He’ll be at that damned club, The Emerald.”

  “Karl Maddox’s club? I’ve heard about that place. I’ve a good mind to pay them a visit.”

  “No, Matthew, you mustn’t,” Lydia cried. “Please promise me you’ll stay away from the club and away from your father.”

  Matthew made no reply but stared defiantly and poured himself another coffee.

  “I must go,” Lydia sighed. “I have committee meetings all day. I’ll see you tonight, darling, and please Matthew, do as I ask.”

  David frowned as he started up his car. Arguments with Lydia were becoming more frequent and more hostile. He turned on the radio and the soothing music of Simon and Garfunkel filled the car. Bridge Over Troubled Water was playing. That had been Paula’s favourite song. Tears began to sting his eyes as he remembered Paula, his true love from all those years ago. Where was she now, he wondered? What had she made of her life? If he could turn the clock back, would he still have made the same decision not to go away with her?

  Still pondering, David pulled the vehicle into the police station car park. Checking his appearance in the car mirror, he picked up his hat and briefcase and headed for the entrance lobby.

  He had been asked to attend a meeting with Geoffrey Lawrence, Deputy Chief Constable Lawrence as he now was. David was hoping it was news of him heading up a new task force dealing with violent street crime in the city. Afterwards he was meeting Karl Maddox for lunch at the Italian restaurant in Wetherby. He had some important information that Karl had to be aware of as soon as possible. That would be worth a few quid. Grinning, he made his way up to his office.

  FORTY-NINE

  David arrived at Deputy Chief Constable Laurence’s office a few minutes early for his appointment. His secretary, Pamela, was behind her desk looking very solemn as she rattled away on her computer keyboard, barely acknowledging his presence.

  “DCC Laurence said to
go straight through, Superintendent,” she said stiffly, avoiding eye contact. “Everyone else is here.”

  Everyone else? Who else would be attending an internal meeting? David wondered. He gave a sharp rap on the door and entered the room.

  Geoffrey Laurence was seated behind his large mahogany desk. David thought he was looking even more smug than usual. To his right was Lucas Bonnington, Assistant Chief Constable of a neighbouring force, and whom David had met on several social occasions. To Laurence’s left was a tall, thin man with thick black hair and glasses. He was dressed in civilian clothing.

  “Good morning, Superintendent,” Geoffrey Laurence began. “I think you already know Assistant Chief Constable Bonnington.”

  David smiled and nodded, “Yes sir,” he said.

  Bonnington made no acknowledgement.

  Laurence indicated to the man on his right. “This is Detective Chief Inspector Williams. DCI Williams heads up Internal Affairs, or Discipline and Complaints as it used to be called.”

  “I don’t understand sir, why am I here? What’s going on?”

  “You are here, Superintendent, because certain allegations of a very serious nature have been made against you.”

  “What allegations?”

  “I believe you are familiar with Karl Maddox?”

  “Karl? Yes, I know him slightly.”

  “I think you know him a little more than slightly. My information is that you are a frequent visitor to his club, the Emerald Club, and to the VIP lounge in particular.”

  David remained silent.

  “Superintendent, you are aware of the Police Rules of Conduct are you not, and that frequenting such establishments is in breach of those rules? Furthermore, your association with a known criminal is…”

  “The Emerald Club is a good place to pick up information,” David interrupted. “I have several sources there and…”

  “You have been seen indulging in inappropriate behaviour with women in the club, Superintendent. You were observed on several occasions and…”