Broken Dreams

by Nick Quantrill

  ‘I cannot take it. I have not earnt it.’

  ‘Please. Take it.’ I got out my business card and passed it to her. ‘Could we talk some more about Salford, please? I might be able to help you.’ I don’t know why I said it. What could I do to help her?

  She looked at the card. ‘I will be finishing work early today; around six o’clock. We could meet then.’ She insisted I had to buy her a meal.

  I walked out of the massage parlour and onto the street. The parlour was situated on a busy shopping street and I felt people staring at me. I quickly headed for a newsagents a few doors away and bought an early edition of the local newspaper, wanting to read the latest on the police investigation into Jennifer Murdoch’s death. Back outside, I stood on the pavement, newspaper open, scanning the pages for what I wanted.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the manager of the massage parlour walking in my direction. More interestingly, Christopher Murdoch was with her. Tempting thought it was to ask why he’d left my flat in a hurry this morning, I didn’t want to get caught. I casually stepped back and lifted the newspaper high enough to cover my face. Once I knew they were past me, I lowered the newspaper in time to see them walk into the massage parlour together.

  After folding my newspaper away, I’d quickly walked back to the side street on which I’d parked my car. I turned my mobile back on and played back the new messages. The most recent call had been from DS Coleman, telling me we needed to talk. Urgently. He was at Hull Royal Infirmary and told me I was to meet him there or we’d do it later on in the day at the station. I checked the time of the message, called him back and headed for the hospital.

  Situated on the edge of the city centre, the hospital is a concrete monstrosity, barely fit for purpose. Thankfully, I’d not had much reason to visit the place recently. Sarah has a friend who works as a nurse and some of the stories she tells are enough to convince you never to be ill. I spotted Coleman pacing around the entrance of the hospital, smoking a cigarette and talking into his mobile. Under pressure, I thought with a smile to myself. I hit the horn to grab his attention and he flicked the cigarette butt to the floor before jumping into the passenger seat.

  ‘Drive’ he said to me.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Wherever. Just get me away from this place. It depresses me.’

  I signalled right and pulled out into the traffic, pleased to be driving away from the hospital. We were close to the KC Stadium, so I followed the signs and pulled into the empty car-park. Even though it wasn’t match day, people buzzed around the stadium, going about their business. I switched the engine off and released my seatbelt. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I want to talk about Sam Carver.’

  ‘What about him?’ I’d only spoken to the barman last night. How did Coleman know?

  ‘I’ve just taken a statement from him. A member of the public found him last night close to where he works. He’d taken a good kicking. Professional, you might say. The doctors are worried about one of his eyes.’

  Coleman turned to look at me. ‘All he had in his pockets was his bank card and your business card.’

  I felt sick. Carver hadn’t been that bothered about talking to me. He was going to be leaving the city today. Salford had obviously been watching us.

  ‘And it gets better, Joe. A patrol car was sent out to Rischio, the casino owned by Frank Salford, and coincidently the employer of Mr Carver, late last night. A man called Derek Jones was causing a scene, insisting Mr Salford knew something about the disappearance of his niece, which he told us you were looking into.’

  Coleman turned to face me. ‘I don’t give a shit about this Jones guy, but you might want to get your house in order. Your name keeps popping up with some regularity in my investigation and I don’t like it.’

  I shut my eyes and leant back in my seat. What was Derek playing at? I thought he understood the worst thing he could do was to interfere.

  ‘It’s the Carver business which interests me, Joe. He told me you were talking about Jennifer Murdoch. Why are you working for her husband?’

  I wasn’t surprised he knew Murdoch wanted me to look into his wife’s death. ‘Because he asked me to. If he’s paying, I’ll try and help.’ I wasn’t going to talk about my wife to Coleman.

  ‘He’s a serious suspect for this, Joe. You’re going to find yourself in the eye of a shit-storm if you’re not careful.’

  I shrugged. ‘Innocent until proven guilty.’

  Coleman laughed. ‘It’s not looking good, though, is it? Financial worries and a new life insurance policy on his wife, no alibi. It’s the kind of thing which makes my superiors suspicious. The break-in to the house looks suspiciously staged, too.’

  Murdoch had told me about the insurance policy, but he hadn’t told me it was a recent thing. It might be a coincidence, but it didn’t look good. ‘No alibi?’

  ‘The tapes have already been wiped. Company procedure, apparently.’

  ‘Surely some of the casino’s other visitors could vouch for him?’

  ‘It seems not.’ I asked him whether or not I was still a suspect.

  Coleman shook his head. ‘I was just testing you. You know how it is.’

  ‘What about my face? You said she’d put up a fight.’

  ‘Poetic licence.’

  ‘Look, I’ve got a job for you, Joe. Well, you and Sarah, really. The Murdochs were involved in a wife-swapping club and we want to know if they were friendly with any one in particular.’

  At least they were considering options other than her husband killed her. ‘I don’t see how we can help’ I said, not wanting to volunteer for anything.

  ‘You and Sarah are going to pose as a couple and become the club’s newest members.’

  I laughed. ‘Not likely.’ I didn’t tell him I knew as much as he did.

  ‘Like I said, Joe, it’s about co-operation. It’s difficult for us to go in and obtain admissible evidence. Anything you learn about is easier for us to use. Besides, if you don’t help us, I’m told we might have to look at this Carver business a bit more closely.’

  I got the message but sensed they were empty threats. They had nothing to gain from making an enemy of me. That said, I didn’t want to push my luck. ‘What’s in it for me?’ I asked. There had to be some exchange.

  ‘Carver said you were asking about a guy he calls Nose? Apparently he was a regular at the casino and a close friend of Mrs Murdoch.’

  I nodded. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I can tell you his name.’

  ‘I can find it out. I’m a big boy.’

  ‘He’s a regular at this swinging club.’

  ‘Why were you watching the Murdochs’ house?’ I asked. I wanted to know who Nose was, but if I needed to, I could find it out myself. It would just take me a little longer to do. The surveillance was more interesting to me. ‘You had me falsely pegged as a suspect. You owe me.’

  Coleman sighed. ‘This didn’t come from me, alright?’

  I nodded. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Christopher Murdoch is under investigation on suspicion of fraud and corruption. Obviously, he has a lot of sway in respect of new building work, planning applications and what have you. There’s been allegations he’s not been behaving as you’d expect from a man in his position. Some of his applications for regeneration money are not being spent as they should be.’ Coleman shrugged. ‘It’s not really my area and I’m not involved with it. But it looks like he’s been a naughty boy.’ Coleman paused. ‘You had no idea, did you?’

  I shook my head. ‘No.’

  ‘Plenty for you talk about with your client.’

  ‘It seems that way.’

  ‘I think we’re done, then.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me the name of Nose.’

  ‘He’s called Steve Taylor. He runs a chain of estate agents. Look him up in the Yellow Pages.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I need to be back at the station. You can drop me near St Stephens and I’ll walk from ther
e. I doubt you’d want to be seen with me.’

  I started the car engine and thought there were a lot of things I wanted to speak to Christopher Murdoch about.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I sat at my desk, thinking about what I’d learnt. I wasn’t comfortable with Murdoch not telling me the truth about the life insurance policy he had on his wife. The fact it had been taken out recently was important, as it undoubtedly gave him a strong motive for wanting her dead. The fraud investigation was an altogether different matter, as it was entirely possible he was ignorant of it, but however I looked at it, he hadn’t been straight with me. My initial reaction was to head straight to his office and confront him. It would have done no good, though. All it would have done was make my wounded pride at knowing less than Coleman a little more bearable. The time to talk to Murdoch would come, but not just yet.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Sarah. We’d arranged earlier in the day to catch up.

  ‘Ready’ I said. She’d spread the paperwork and timelines she’d worked in relation to Donna Platt over the table.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just a little tired.’ I didn’t want to share what I’d learnt about Murdoch yet. Don hadn’t been keen on me agreeing to represent him in the first place. If I was getting us into a mess, I wanted to be able to get us out of it.

  ‘Right. Donna Platt. So we know when she first started seeing the boy from the shop she was working at, she was the average teenager, agreed?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘But by the end of their relationship she’d changed, became fame-hungry?’

  ‘Agreed.’ I shuffled the paperwork around. ‘And we know from the last boyfriend we’ve met, this guy from the factory, that she’d stopped singing altogether. The dream seemingly dead.’

  ‘And we know her father would have disapproved. The fact is he drove her away.’

  ‘Sounds about right but it doesn’t get us any closer to knowing where she is.’

  Sarah gathered the paperwork up. ‘I’ll let you know if I get anything more.’

  ‘Somebody has to know something’ I said, standing up to stretch my legs.

  Sarah’s mobile vibrated and she read the text message.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Dad was babysitting for me tonight. But he can’t now.’

  ‘I could look after Lauren.’

  ‘It’s short notice. I’ll cancel.’

  ‘Cancel what?’

  ‘A bite to eat with a guy from college.’

  ‘I owe you one from the other night.’

  ‘I couldn’t ask.’

  ‘It’s fine, really. You go and enjoy your night.’ I’d made arrangements to meet Anastazja but I could still be back in time.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me here, Joe’ Anastazja said, all smiles as she read the menu.

  She insisted if she was going to talk to me, it would be over an Italian meal. It was still early, so the restaurant was almost empty, which was unusual for Princes Avenue. Other than ourselves, there were a handful of couples eating, I assumed on their way home from work. Not many people had money to be spending.

  ‘It is very nice here. My friends and I have never had the opportunity to eat here. Thank you very much for bringing me here. It is very good of you.’

  I was pleased she was enjoying herself. We both ordered pizza and settled back, waiting for the food to arrive.

  ‘You wanted to ask me about my job’ she said to me. ‘I have not told anyone about our meeting.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I forced myself to focus in on what I needed to know. ‘You told me Frank Salford isn’t around too much.’

  ‘That is correct. It is Mr Johnson who is in charge. He is a not a nice man.’ She lowered her head. ‘He makes us do things or he will tell the authorities about us. Sometimes he comes to our house.’

  I understood what she was telling me. ‘Do you think Salford knows about this?’

  ‘I do not know. We do not see Mr Salford very often. If he comes, he speaks to Margaret. She is our manager and in charge of the reception desk.’

  I nodded. Margaret. It was nice to put a name to the face.

  ‘It is very hard work. I usually have to work from 12 o’clock midday to 12 o’clock midnight. We are not allowed a proper rest time if we have customers but today is not so busy so I was allowed to go.’

  ‘How long have you been in Hull for?’

  ‘Nearly three years. Before this I lived in Italy. I hoped it would be better here because England is a nice country.’

  ‘Have you tried to get another job?’ I asked.

  ‘How would I get another job? I do not have the skills to work many other jobs and I would have nowhere to live. I have no friends to ask other than the people I live with.’ She shrugged. ‘I cannot go home as I do not have the money to travel and I would have to explain to my parents. I tell them I work in an office in the city centre. I have got used to life as it is.’ She caught her breath and looked me in the eye. ‘I have dreams, you know; big dreams. I will stop this life eventually.’

  I’d read enough in the newspapers to know how the system worked. People like Salford brought vulnerable women like Anastazja into the country, usually under false pretences of respectable work. They would then have to work to repay their transportation debt, but the catch was it would never be paid. She had no money and no escape route. Anastazja might even be working legally, but it was no life to lead. Salford controlled her.

  ‘I know it could be worse’ she continued. ‘The people I live with are nice, the city is nicer than back home. I do not have much but at least here I have some comfort. The worst thing is the job but I deal with it. The men are not too bad with me. Most of them are lonely men or men travelling for their job and only want massage. They are not nasty like Mr Johnson. I would like to meet a nice man, who will take me away to live in a big house. I would do shopping all day, like all the big stars in the magazines.’

  I smiled. ‘There’s plenty of women who’d like that.’ I changed the subject. ‘As I was leaving earlier, I saw somebody I knew. Do you know Christopher Murdoch?’ I described him to her.

  ‘Yes. I know Mr Murdoch. How do you know him?’

  ‘He’s a business acquaintance’ I said, which sounded almost like the truth.

  ‘He is a friend of Mr Salford. We are told we must treat him well when he visits. We must do exactly what he wants.’

  ‘Does he visit often?’ I asked.

  ‘Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Sometimes he comes two or three times a week. Sometimes we do not see him for a long time.’

  ‘How long have you known him?’

  ‘Since I start work.’ Anastazja picked up a slice of pizza and smiled at me. ‘Thank you very much, Joe.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For bringing me here. For being nice to me and treating me like a friend.’

  I smiled back but it didn’t feel convincing. Our talk had confirmed my suspicions but the circumstances left me feeling lousy. Murdoch was seemingly a regular and valued user of Salford’s massage parlour. I also knew his wife had been allowed to accrue debts at Salford’s casino. More worryingly, I knew Christopher Murdoch was under investigation for fraud and corruption. I wondered if there was a link. I wondered what I was getting involved in.

  ‘It’ll be fun,’ Lauren said, as she jumped onto the settee. She laughed and hit me with the book she had in her hand. The cat, which was asleep next to me, woke up with a fright.

  Sarah walked into the room, adjusting her earrings. I smiled at her. ‘You look great.’ She was wearing a short black dress and had her hair pinned up. I wasn’t lying or exaggerating.

  She pointed at Lauren. ‘You just be careful with that book. It’s heavy.’

  ‘Uncle Joe said he’d read it to me.’

  I hadn’t said any such thing. I shook my head and smiled at Sarah.

  ‘He’ll do no such thing, madam. You know you’ve
got to read the book yourself. You don’t want to be in trouble tomorrow at school, do you?’

  Lauren climbed down, complaining it was more fun if I read the book and made the appropriate noises for the characters and animals.

  ‘I won’t be late back’ Sarah said. ‘We’re only going to the new Italian on Princes Avenue.’

  ‘You can always ring me if you are.’ I didn’t mention I’d just eaten there.

  ‘No need. The table is booked for 7.30; I’ll be home for ten. Besides, you’ve been kind enough to babysit after Dad let me down.’

  ‘It was the least I can do.’ Hopefully it would go some way to making amends for disturbing her the other night and having her clean me up. ‘You’re sure? You don’t have to rush for me.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Be careful.’ I don’t know why I said it, or where it came from. ‘Sorry. I’m talking rubbish.’ I knew she could look after herself.

  ‘I’ll hardly be eloping, Joe.’ She bent down to put a shoe on.

  I smiled. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Besides, I barely know him.’

  ‘I thought you went to night-class with him?’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I know him, though, does it?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  I watched Sarah hunt for her missing shoe. ‘He’s a nice guy, though. He’s a good laugh’ she said.

  I nodded. ‘Good.’

  ‘You know what you’re doing with Lauren?’

  I told her I did. I knew what time she was supposed to go to bed, what she could eat and drink and what she was allowed to watch on television. ‘I’ll be fine.’ I showed her the book I’d brought with me for when I had put Lauren to bed. I’d stopped off at the library on the way home to borrow a book about the city’s trawler industry. I only knew the basic facts and the story Maria Platt and her brother told me left me wanting to know more. Sarah looked at the title and nodded. I also had plenty to think about after my meal with Anastazja.