‘Of course I’m sure. She works for me, doesn’t she? She’ll do what she’s told, if she knows what’s good for her.’ He’d talked himself into the lie—it was too late to back out of it now.
Max got to his feet and walked to a small cupboard that Jimmy hadn’t noticed in the corner of the room. The photographer reached into the cupboard and pulled out a couple of tumblers and a half empty bottle of whisky.
‘Do you want a drink, Jimmy?’ Max asked, undoing the top of the bottle. ‘While we have a chat?’
‘That sounds like an excellent idea,’ Jimmy replied with a smile. If the bar stool he was sitting in had had a back, he would have leaned back into it. ‘Make it a double.’
Chapter 24
‘So, Max,’ Jimmy said as he sipped his whisky. ‘How long have you worked in Norwich for?’
‘I’ve been up here for about two years altogether,’ the photographer replied. ‘Not long enough to lose my accent. You’re a local boy, I take it?’
‘Born and bred,’ Jimmy said, hiding a smile at being called a boy by a man about half his age. ‘Why’d you leave London?’
‘Met a bird, didn’t I?’ Max replied. ‘She’s from up here, so I moved.’ Jimmy looked at his face carefully. The other man had tried to mask a brief look of irritation at the question, but hadn’t quite managed it. ‘Besides, it’s a lot cheaper in Norwich.’ He waved his glass around the room. ‘A studio like this would cost thousands every week down in the city, you get me?’
‘Yeah,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’m sure it would. Doesn’t look cheap, this kit.’
‘You’re bloody telling me,’ the photographer replied. ‘Top of the range it is, too. I can’t take any shortcuts with it.’
‘And there’s enough work in Norwich to keep you going, is there?’
‘Plenty. There’s always people getting married, having babies, that sort of thing. But to be honest,’ Max lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper, ‘the money’s in the other stuff.’
‘Even up here?’
‘Especially up here,’ Max said. ‘Can I ask, did someone refer me to you?’
Jimmy paused, unsure of what to say. He decided not to reply, but just fixed the photographer with a stare.
‘Okay,’ Max said after a few seconds. ‘I get it. No names, no pack drill. Not a problem, my friend.’ He wriggled on his chair before continuing. ‘So, this girl of yours. She’s after a portfolio shoot, is that right?’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘What’s it for?’
‘The portfolio?’
‘Yeah, the portfolio.’
‘Er, she wants to get into modelling,’ Jimmy replied. He was treading on slightly thin ice, but pressed on. ‘That’s why she wants a portfolio.’
‘What sort of modelling?’
‘All sorts.’
Max glanced down at his receptionist’s notes, running his finger down the page.
‘Yeah, got that. So, she works for you, this girl?’
‘I already said that,’ Jimmy replied, starting to get annoyed with this dance that the two of them seemed to be doing. ‘Why don’t we cut the crap and just get down to it?’
‘Fine,’ Max replied, looking relieved. He stood and crossed to where he’d left the bottle of whisky before picking it up and re-filling both their glasses. ‘Standard shoot is three grand for a full set that would set your girl up nicely.’ Jimmy almost choked on his drink. Three grand for a few pictures? ‘That’s for a solo shoot, here in the studio. Rachel will chaperone for anything nude, but she won’t do open leg, penetration, toys, couples, or group shots. I’ve got another girl who can come in for that sort of thing, but she’s an extra two fifty.’ Max looked at Jimmy, who was concentrating on keeping his face as business-like as he could. ‘If you want a location, that’ll cost, but I know a few discrete places that aren’t overlooked.’
‘That’s a lot for some photographs,’ Jimmy said. Max didn’t reply, but glanced over at his camera equipment.
‘Depends what you want,’ he replied. ‘If you want quality, you’ve got to pay. Otherwise, why not just use an iPhone like most of the slappers out there think will do the job?’
‘Have you got some examples of these portfolios?’ Jimmy wasn’t sure, but he thought that was probably not an unreasonable question. For three grand a pop.
‘Sure,’ Max replied, putting his glass down and crossing to a cabinet in the room's corner. When he came back, he had a black leather zippered case in his hands. He unzipped the case and opened it out, showing Jimmy the front page inside.
‘Here’s a selection,’ Max said. ‘One or two shots from some of my recent portfolios. Fill your boots.’
Jimmy put his glass down and looked at the first photograph. It was of a young woman, maybe slightly older than Milly. She was standing slightly side-on to the camera, looking out of a window at an out-of-focus garden. Her face wasn’t visible above her nose—the photograph was cropped so that the only thing visible was a set of full lips framed by auburn hair that cascaded down to her shoulders. She was naked, small pert breasts partially covered by one of her hands. A perfectly manicured red fingernail trailed towards her naval. Her other hand was covering her pubic area.
‘What do you think?’ Max asked Jimmy, who jumped at the sound of the other man’s voice. ‘Like what you see?’
‘It’s very well done,’ Jimmy replied as he turned to look at the next photograph in the binder. This one was of the same woman, her face now hidden by her hair. In this image she was wearing a white vest top that looked dampened, presumably to emphasise the woman’s nipples. She had the top rolled up as if she was about to take it off and had one leg in front of the other to cover her modesty. Which it did—just.
Jimmy leafed through more of the pages in the binder to see more pictures in the same vein. The next model was a statuesque black woman, photographed in monochrome. She didn’t have her face covered and was staring at the camera with an expression somewhere between disdain and allure. Horrified by the thought he might turn one of the pages and see his Milly staring back at him, Jimmy quickly flipped through the photographs until he got to the last couple of pages. Here, he stopped. It wasn’t Milly, but he knew this girl.
She was sitting on the edge of a sofa, side on to the camera, with a brick wall behind her. One hand was resting on a slim thigh just above the top of the stockings she was wearing, the other was held to the top of her head where her fingers were running through her barely-tamed red hair. Jimmy tried not to look at her bare breasts, but couldn’t look at the photograph without noticing them.
’She’s very pretty,’ Jimmy said in a whisper. ‘Who is she?’
‘Let me see,’ Max replied, looking over Jimmy’s shoulder. ‘No idea. Can’t remember her name. Foreign, though. Not from round here.’
Jimmy knew that the girl in the photograph wasn’t local. She was from a place called Ratoath, pronounced ‘Rathaus’, in County Meath. Jimmy also knew that there was no way a second-year student nurse could afford three grand on a set of risqué photographs, no matter what they were for or how many extra shifts she worked on the side. He closed the binder, not wanting to look at Angela’s young body any more.
‘You want anything stronger?’ Max asked.
‘No,’ Jimmy replied, glancing at his glass of whisky. ‘I’m good, thanks.’
‘I didn’t mean the drink. I’m sure I’ve got more of that last little slapper in my personal collection. A bit more entertaining. She seemed to flick your switch, right?’
‘I’m good, thanks.’
’So, are you interested in moving forward, then?’
‘I am,’ Jimmy replied, taking a deep breath. ‘Very interested.’
‘Excellent,’ Max said with a smile. ‘We can go back into the waiting area and set a date and time with Rachel, if you want?’
‘Sure, sounds good to me. I’ve got one question, though?’
‘Shoot.’ Max smiled as he said this, and Jimmy realised tha
t it must be one of his stock jokes.
‘Very good,’ Jimmy replied with a wry smile. ‘How do these women afford these photos?’
Max’s face darkened at the question.
‘What do you mean?’
‘They don’t look like the sort of girls who can afford three grand for a bunch of photos.’
‘Are you taking the piss?’
‘No,’ Jimmy said, deliberately keeping his voice even. ‘Humour me. I’ve got a lot of girls, I’m curious, and if we’re about to go into business together…’ He let his voice trail away.
Max looked at Jimmy, and he knew that the photographer was sizing him up. Money always talked in the end.
‘Sometimes the girls have someone who pays for them,’ the photographer said. ‘Someone like you, for example. Sometimes they take out loans to get themselves going. And sometimes?’ Max looked at Jimmy with a malevolent expression. ‘Sometimes we just work something out between us.’
Jimmy could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He looked at the photographer, wondering what it would feel like to ram his fist into the arrogant twat’s face. Instead, he fished in his pocket for his mobile phone and willed his fingers to not shake as he swiped his way to his photos. Bringing up the photo of Milly that she used for her Facebook profile, he turned the screen to Max.
‘Did you take this?’ he said in a quiet voice. Max leaned forward to look at the small screen, and Jimmy caught the minuscule widening of his eyes.
‘No.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes,’ the photographer replied. ‘Never seen her before in my life.’ Jimmy reached back into his pocket and pulled out the USB drive with the photography studio’s logo on the side.
‘Only it was on this thumb drive which, unless I’m very much mistaken, belongs to you?’ he said, holding the drive up so that Max could see it.
Max leaned back and, to Jimmy’s surprise, started laughing.
‘Mate,’ the photographer replied, ‘do you know how many of them I give out every month? Bloody hundreds. Great for marketing, but shit for sales.’
‘So this photo isn’t one of yours?’ Jimmy gestured toward Max with his phone.
‘Let me see it again.’ Max leaned back over and Jimmy caught a faint smell of cheap aftershave. The photographer squinted at the picture on the screen. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Depth of field’s all off, composition’s shite, and I don’t even think the bird’s eyes are in focus.’ He sneered at the phone. ‘I’d be embarrassed to have taken that. There're thousands of those drives floating around Norwich. Anyone could have taken that.’ Max looked at Jimmy, his face hardening. ‘So, who are you?’
Jimmy shoved the phone back into his pocket, knowing that the man was lying through his teeth. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.
‘I asked you a question, fella?’ Max said with a snarl. ‘Who are you?’ Jimmy regarded him with amusement as he drained the last of his whisky and got to his feet.
‘I could be your best customer ever, mate,’ he said. ‘Or your worst fucking nightmare. I just haven’t decided which yet. You get me?’
‘I think we’re done,’ Max replied, taking a step back and rolling his shoulders as if he was getting ready to throw a punch at Jimmy. ‘Maybe you should go?’
Jimmy laughed, not able to help himself.
‘It’d be a pleasure, mate. You’re right.’ He took a sharp step toward Max, who jumped back, knocking one of his cameras to the floor from its tripod. ‘We’re done.’
Chapter 25
Jimmy unzipped his fly and assumed the position in front of the urinal. He was back in the Heartsease, three pints to the good, and waiting for Big Joe’s evening barman to come in and take over the pub so that Jimmy and Big Joe could have a proper chat.
Behind him, the door opened and Jimmy heard someone else come into the toilet. As the other man stood next to him and undid his own fly, Jimmy glanced across at him.
‘Mr Tucker,’ Gareth said without returning the look. ‘All well?’
‘Not too bad, Gareth,’ Jimmy replied. ‘How about you?’
‘Musn’t grumble.’
The two men stood in silence for a few seconds, and Jimmy finished his business. He tucked himself away and did up his zip before turning to the basin.
‘Glad I caught you, Jimmy,’ Gareth said without looking round. ‘Big Joe tells me you managed to lose a phone the other night?’ Jimmy put some soap on his hands and pressed on the tap.
‘I did,’ he replied. ‘I’m hoping it’ll turn up.’
‘Joe said he’d put the word out. Tuckswood Kyle is good at that sort of thing.’ Jimmy washed his hands as Gareth did up his zip. ‘Thing is, that will only work if Tuckswood Kyle gets his hands on the phone in the first place. If it gets sold in some pub toilet, well, that’ll be that.’
Jimmy stepped to one side to dry his hands and let Gareth get to the basin.
‘That’s a fair point, Gareth,’ Jimmy replied. ‘But what else can I do?’
‘I only mention it,’ Gareth said, ‘because a friend of a friend told me about a young scally called Percy up on the Mile Cross estate who’s running around with a bust nose and a couple of black eyes.’ He turned to look at Jimmy. Even though Jimmy had been around the block a few times himself and thought he could look after himself most of the time, there was a simmering anger underneath Gareth’s expression that really was intimidating. ‘I could stop by young Percy’s place. See if he’d be happy to sell me the phone?’
Jimmy smiled at Gareth, but the gesture wasn’t returned.
‘I’ll make sure you’re not out of pocket if you are able to do that, Gareth.’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Gareth replied, finally smiling. It wasn’t a friendly smile by a long stretch of the imagination. ‘I won’t be.’ He walked to the door and held it open for Jimmy. ‘After you, Mr Tucker,’ the younger man said. Jimmy walked back to his table as Gareth made his way to the front door of the pub and out into the night.
Half an hour later, Jimmy was on his fourth pint. He sat in the corner of the dingy pub, back to the wall, watching Big Joe’s customers for something to do. In the other corner of the pub were a young couple, huddled close together in an intimate conversation. Every few seconds, one of them would touch the other one. Jimmy smiled as he remembered when he and Hannah had been like that. Barely able to keep their hands off each other, or their clothes on each other. Maybe, he thought as he sipped his drink, Milly was sitting with someone in a pub somewhere having a similar conversation? Oblivious to the anguish that her absence was causing. Jimmy’s smile faded as he realised how unlikely this was.
A few feet away from the young lovers was an old man, much older than Jimmy, engrossed in a newspaper. He had a pint of dark beer in front of him he’d been nursing since Jimmy arrived at the pub a couple of hours ago. Between his legs on the pub carpet was an equally ancient dog, lying patiently with its head on its paws. Every few moments, the dog would glance up at his companion and be rewarded with a scratch of the head from a bony hand. Even for a Monday evening, the Heartsease was quiet.
‘You all right for a drink there, old timer?’ Jimmy’s concentration was interrupted by Big Joe who was standing to one side of the table. For a large man, he was pretty light on his feet.
‘I’d better not, Joe,’ Jimmy replied, putting the palm of his hand over the top of his glass. ‘I’ll be up at least once in the night as it is.’
Joe laughed as he sat down opposite Jimmy. ‘Boy, do I know that feeling. Always bloody four o’clock,’ the landlord said.
‘That’s your circadian rhythm, that is.’
‘I thought that was a type of birth control,’ Joe replied with a laugh. ‘Talking of birth control,’ he nodded at the young couple in the other corner, ‘have you seen those two over there?’
‘Yeah, it’s kind of sweet isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know about sweet, mate, but there’ll be a headboard complaining somewhere in Norwich tonight,’
Joe said. ‘She’s not much to look at, though. Thought she was a tom when they first walked in, but she’s not I don’t think. They don’t touch you like that no matter how much you pay them.’
‘Right,’ Jimmy replied, grinning. ‘Thanks for the insight, Joe.’
‘So, matey boy.’ Joe put his hands flat on the table. He turned his gaze away from the couple in the corner and gave Jimmy his full attention. ‘What’s going on?’
Jimmy spent the next ten minutes telling Joe about his trip to the photography studio. Joe stopped him for a few seconds right at the start of the story to send a text message to someone, and just as Jimmy got to telling Joe how the conversation with Max had ended, Joe’s phone vibrated on the pub table.
‘He’s lying through his teeth, Joe,’ Jimmy said, finishing his pint while his friend looked at his phone. ‘I tell you, clear as day.’
Joe didn’t reply at first as he was squinting at his screen.
‘Sounds like it, mate,’ he said eventually. ‘Max Lester, his name is. Short for Maxwell. Been here for a couple of years after being run out of London. Lives down on Riverside somewhere, near the football ground.’
‘Run out by who?’
‘My mate doesn’t say,’ Joe replied, gesturing with his phone. ‘Could have been anyone. This Max fella fancies himself as a bit of a porn maestro, so maybe he trod on some toes down there.’
‘So what do you think I should do, Joe?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Let me top these up,’ Joe replied, gathering the empty glasses from the table. ‘I’ll have a little think while I’m doing that.’
Joe returned a couple of minutes later with a tray. There were three pint glasses and three tumblers with whisky on the tray. As Joe sat down, some of the beer spilled from the pint glasses.
‘Whoops,’ Joe said, giggling. ‘I’d make a shit landlord, so I would.’
‘Cheers,’ Jimmy replied. ‘Who’s the third?’
Gareth Dawson Series Box Set Page 48