Leanna stood up, grabbed her car keys and headed Larry off. “I’m so glad you know about cars, Larry.”
“No problem. I can’t spend too long though; it’ll get busy soon and Gareth won’t be able to deal with a rush on his own.”
Barbara waited until they’d gone outside and then headed for the door marked private. Once inside, she ran up the stairs and tapped on the door at the top. As she did so it opened slightly.
“Sharon?” she called out. “Sharon, it’s me, Barbara. Is it okay if I come in?”
She could hear the faint sound of someone sobbing, so pushed the door fully open. Standing just inside the small hallway, she called out again, but Sharon didn’t answer. Barbara could no longer hear the sobbing, so wasn’t sure which room to look in first. She decided to try the lounge and walked into the main room of the flat, stopping dead on the threshold. It looked like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie. The tall standard lamp was lying across the sofa. One of the dining chairs was on its side. Another was pushed back from the table where plates and cutlery had been left in place. From the amount of food on the plates, the meal had clearly been interrupted – and not for any good reason. A red stain spread down the wall behind the overturned chair and glass littered the carpet.
Fearful of the state she might find Sharon in, she called out for her again. No one answered, but the sobbing started up again. Following the sound of weeping, she came to the bedroom. The door was wide open and Barbara found Sharon lying on the bed, fully dressed, but with her face turned away from the doorway. Here too someone had been throwing more than just their weight around. The stool, missing one leg, was across the other side of the room from the dressing table. Laundry littered the floor, as if spilled from the overturned linen basket.
Barbara stepped into the room. “Sharon, what the hell happened? Can I help?”
Sharon continued to cry softly, but didn’t turn her head, so Barbara stepped over the debris and walked around the bed. As she saw Sharon’s face a gasp caught in her throat. Hardly any of her friend’s face was the normal colour, the rest was decorated with deep marks in multiple shades of blue and purple. Both eyes were swollen, one was almost shut. A clump of hair was missing from one side of her head, the bleeding area on her scalp showed it had been torn out.
Barbara dropped to her knees and took Sharon’s hand in hers. “Bloody hell, Sharon, what did he do to you?” she asked, even though in her own mind she knew it was a stupid question. It was obvious what Larry had done, the real question was why.
“Barbara,” Sharon whispered, taking her hand from Barbara’s. It was clearly an effort for her to speak. “I had an accident. It looks worse than it really is,” she said. “Please go away.”
“Honey, I’m sorry, I don’t believe you. I’ve seen the state of this place – not to mention the state of you. You never got these bruises from any kind of accident. Larry did this to you, didn’t he?”
Tears continued to flow, but Sharon made a slight negative movement with her hand. “No. He never touched me. Why are you up here, Barbara? Did Larry say you could come up?”
“No, he’s outside with Leanna, looking at her car.”
Sharon trembled. “You must go back down. Please, you must go. I’m fine, honestly, just a bit clumsy, falling over stuff. I’ll tidy up in a bit. Please go, Larry doesn’t like anyone up here, you know that.”
“Come with me,” Barbara urged. “You can stay at my place. I won’t let Larry near you. Please, Sharon, let me help you.”
“Barbara, I told you, Larry didn’t do this. I did it tripping over the furniture. Please, please, go back down to the bar.”
“Did you trash your flat at the same time? I can guess what happened from the way the place looks. Come with me, Sharon. I promise you’ll be safe with me. Leanna can get a restraining order so Larry can’t harass you.”
“Barbara,” Sharon said, tears streaming from under her swollen lids, “please go away before Larry realises you’re up here. I’m fine. Really I am.”
Barbara stood up. “Okay, honey, but always remember you have my phone number. You can call at any time, day or night, and I’ll come and pick you up. Okay?”
She waited, but Sharon didn’t answer. “The reason I came up was to give you the results of the tests I did for you. At least that’s one thing less for you to worry about. You only have a minor infection. A short course of antibiotics will fix you up.”
She leaned forward and gently dropped a kiss on one of the few unbruised areas of Sharon’s forehead. “Please, call me. I can get you out of this nightmare.”
Sharon closed her eyes, but remained mute. Barbara turned and went back through the flat to the main door and closed it to without actually shutting it. She needed to make sure it looked as it had before she went into the apartment. As she ran down the stairs she wondered if she’d be able to stop herself from confronting Larry about the state Sharon was in. But inside she knew that doing so would only make matters worse for her friend. There was nothing to be done until Sharon left him. If Barbara faced up to him now, he’d take it out on Sharon later. All she could do was to pray that one day her friend would decide she’d had enough. When that day came, Barbara vowed she’d move heaven and earth to make sure the bastard paid for what he’d done.
She slipped back into the bar and sat down at the table. She needn’t have worried about being away too long. When one of the kitchen girls brought their meals to the table, Leanna and Larry were still outside. Sighing, Barbara stood up and went to find them. With a bit of luck, between them, she and Leanna would be able to persuade Sharon to leave Larry one day.
***
Paolo picked up his phone and slipped it into his pocket as he stood up. He’d be glad to see the back of today even if he didn’t have a dinner date with Lydia. Okay, it wasn’t a date as such, he reminded himself, but they’d be having a meal together, him and Lydia, in the place he used to call home. That was a better situation than he’d been able to look forward to for a very long time. He thought of his mother’s saying of everything happening for a reason. Maybe she was right after all. He’d never have thought Katy almost getting expelled could be a good thing, but it seemed good might come out of it – as long as Katy did what was needed and apologised to Father Gregory.
Paolo had wrestled with what he should do about what Katy had told him. Speaking to Father Gregory to find out the true reason he went to the locker rooms way over the other side of the playing fields seemed to be the best option. If Father Gregory had a legitimate reason for being there, then Katy’s take on the situation would be less reliable. If he didn’t have a good reason, well, maybe Katy might be on to something. Making up his mind to chat to Father Gregory at school after Katy had made her apology, Paolo reached for his coat hanging on the stand near the door.
He shrugged himself into it and opened the door, almost colliding with Dave.
“Sorry, sir. I’ve just come from the front desk and ran to catch you before you left.”
“I can’t stop, Dave. I have a...” He stopped, loath to say the word date when it so clearly wasn’t one. “I’ve got to go,” he said.
“Fine, sir. I won’t keep you, but I thought you’d want to know that a prostitute went missing Saturday night. Her friend, Sandra Massey, has phoned in to report it. The desk sergeant put her through to me.”
“And?”
“It seems her mate went off in a dark car with a trick and the girl hasn’t been seen since.”
“Albanian?”
“No, sir, and that’s another reason I thought you’d want to hear about it. The missing woman and the person reporting it, Sandra Massey, are both part of Azzopardi’s stable. She didn’t mention him by name, but the patch she and her mate work is definitely run by one of his team.”
CHAPTER 11
Paolo came into work Tuesday morning feeling as though his smile was lit up in neon lights. It was all he could do to stop himself from whistling. As he hung his coat on t
he stand in his office he realised he hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time. Not only had he finally had a relatively untroubled night’s sleep, but he might even have a future to look forward to once again. The evening with Lydia and Katy had gone better than he’d dared to hope. Katy, pleased to be, as she saw it, part of an investigation, was prepared to sacrifice her principles on the altar of the greater good. She’d agreed to offer Father Gregory an apology. She hadn’t wanted to, but Paolo pointed out she needed to get friendly with the girl from the locker rooms. If she was being abused, maybe Katy could persuade her to tell someone. Paolo hadn’t been able to prise the girl’s name out of Katy, but he felt certain it was only a matter of time. Once he knew who she was, he’d alert social services to look into the family. If she really was being abused – and he found it hard to believe Father Gregory was the culprit – then the sooner Social took over the better.
Dinner had gone well, Lydia had even laughed at some of his more inane jokes and Katy had been on her best behaviour, not once arguing with her mother. As Lydia had said, once Katy had gone upstairs, it couldn’t last, but it was nice not to be on the defensive the whole time.
Paolo hadn’t realised how difficult it must be for Lydia, coping with Katy’s rebellions on her own, but maybe she wouldn’t be on her own for much longer. He walked across to his desk and his eye fell on a ringed advert for an apartment in the classified section of the previous day’s newspaper. He’d intended to go and look at it today, but maybe he should hold off a bit longer before making any permanent moves.
He’d just settled himself into his seat when the phone rang. He saw Barbara’s name on the display and instinctively looked at the clock. Not yet eight o’clock. It was a bit early in the day for a call related to work, but she rarely called for any other reason.
He snapped the phone open. “Hi, Barbara, what can I do for you?”
“Morning, you sound in a good mood. Just found out you won the lottery?”
He was about to tell her the reason for being cheerful, but realised in time just how crass that would be. “Yes, I’m now a multi-millionaire, but don’t tell anyone because I don’t want to give up work. I’d hate to lose out on my police pension.”
She laughed. “Understandably so. Tell me, Paolo, do I remember rightly that you and Larry from the Nag and Bag went to the same school? I’m sure you told me that once.”
“I did. Why do you want to know? What’s he done?” “What makes you think he’s done anything?” she asked and he could hear the surprise in her voice.
“I don’t. It was just a joke. Why do you want to know about my schooldays? Or rather, Larry’s schooldays?”
Her heard a sound as if she was going to say something and then changed her mind. He waited and finally she spoke again.
“Was he a bully? I have a good reason for asking, but don’t want to tell you what it is just yet.”
“Larry? A bully? No, quite the opposite, in fact. He was the victim rather than the bully. Poor weedy bloke, he was, even in senior school. His great ambition at one time was to become a priest, but his family weren’t too keen on that idea. Larry spent ages perfecting his halo, but went off the rails a bit after his dad beat the holiness out of him. His dad was a bit heavy with his fists. Poor Larry often looked as though he’d gone a few rounds in the boxing ring.”
“And the teachers didn’t do anything about it?”
“Barbara, no one did anything back then. If parents belted their kids every night, as long as the kid lived, the parents got away with it. Catholic schools were fully behind the ‘spare the rod and ruin the child’ creed. At least, our school was. I suppose I shouldn’t really speak for the others.”
Paolo’s mind drifted back to his final year in St Swithin’s. Frank Azzopardi, Greg Mitchell, Matthew Roberts and Larry Harper were the only members of Matthew’s little group. Thinking about it, though, Paolo recalled Larry had never really been a full member of the gang. He’d just been tolerated as someone to fetch and carry for the main three. Paolo, along with the rest of the class, had been desperate to be a member for most of his high school years. Then he reached his final year and started going out with Lydia. Life changed completely and fitting in with Matthew and co wasn’t as important as being with her. Nothing was as important as spending every spare moment with her.
Remembering them as they were, he realised Frank had changed the least. He’d been a thug and a crook even back then. If there had been a betting book on anything, from the outcome of exam results to the winner of the Grand National, then Frank Azzopardi was running it. He’d boasted about his uncle’s empire and how one day he’d take over from him. No one had taken him seriously, but his boasts had all come true.
The one who’d changed the most was Greg, or Father Gregory as he was now. Who’d have believed that Greg would give up drink, drugs and sex for the priesthood? Especially the sex. He’d been the only one in their class who’d definitely scored. Lots of others claimed they had, but Greg had never said a word about any of his conquests. He hadn’t needed to brag, the girls had done that for him; he’d had an aura of confidence about him that the others tried to copy, but none of them had ever managed to carry off, not even Matthew. Greg had been wild for most of their senior school years, even came close to being expelled on more than one occasion. Paolo chuckled. He’d forgotten just how uncontrollable Greg had been. If he turned nasty over Katy’s apology, it might be time to remind him of his own less than perfect past.
Matthew had turned out exactly as his parents had planned. Paolo shuddered as he recalled Mrs Roberts’ cut glass accent on speech days. She’d been on the board of St Swithin’s for years and always gave what she must have thought was an inspirational speech. In truth, she could have won gold medals boring for Britain. Matthew had taken her place on the St Swithin’s school board when she’d died ten years or so back. And then, when St Swithin’s had merged with the girls’ catholic school a couple of years later, he’d been made chair of the joint board. Which was why, if Father Gregory didn’t accept today’s apology, Matthew would have a say in Katy’s future.
“Helloooooooo, are you still there?”
Barbara’s voice finally penetrated his reverie and Paolo shook off his memories.
“Sorry, Barbara, I just took a very long walk down memory lane. Was there anything else you wanted to know about Larry as a young man?”
“Do you think his father...” She stopped speaking so suddenly he could almost picture her clamping her lips tightly together.
“Do I think his father what? Come on, Barbara, you wouldn’t call at this time of the morning unless there was a good reason for it. Why the sudden interest in Larry’s past?”
“I was going to ask if you knew whether Larry’s father beat his mother.”
“I don’t know, I’m afraid, but I’d be surprised if that wasn’t the case. I’ve seen too many cases in my career where the mother and kids were walking punch bags. It seems when the fists fly the bastards don’t mind where they land. Now, are you going to tell me why you’re asking, or shall I make an educated guess?”
He waited for an answer, but Barbara didn’t say anything.
“I think your friend Sharon’s getting a taste of what Larry grew up with. Am I right?”
Barbara sighed. “Yes, but that’s not the only reason for calling you. I saw Sharon yesterday, Paolo, and it was like looking at a living version of our recent victims. Her face was a mess. She says she fell down the stairs, but even if she’d bounced on every step face first she wouldn’t be as battered as she is.”
“Barbara, I’d love to step in and do something, but unless Sharon is prepared to-”
“That’s not why I’m calling. At least, it isn’t the only reason. I could be imagining things, but I’m telling you, Paolo, she looked exactly like one of our victims – and Larry has been visiting prostitutes lately. I’m just wondering if there’s any connection between the two.” “Bloody hell, Barbara, Larry? I suppo
se it’s possible, but... I wouldn’t have thought... But then, we never really know people, do we? You might be right. I’ll have someone watch his movements for the next few weeks. If he’s our man, we’ll get him.”
“Thanks, Paolo.”
“In the meantime, what about your friend? It sounds like she’s in a bad way.”
“She is, but until she decides to leave him, there isn’t much either of us can do to help her. But if she calls, can you make sure someone responds immediately? If she phones for help it will be because she’s in real danger.” Paolo promised to make sure there was a message on the desk telling the force that immediate response was required if Sharon called in. He said goodbye and snapped the phone shut. So Larry was following in his father’s footsteps? Was he really surprised? He’d seen domestic violence repeated generation after generation too many times to honestly say he couldn’t believe it of Larry. But murder? That he found harder to swallow. Still, he’d have him watched just the same. If Barbara thought the injuries inflicted looked similar to the murdered girls, then she was worth listening to.
He’d no sooner put the phone on his desk than it rang again. This time CC’s name came up.
“Sterling,” he said as he put the receiver to his ear. “What have you got for us, CC?”
“News on Azzopardi’s sister and some info on the dead woman. Which do you want first?”
“Tell me about Azzopardi’s sister. I know he has three sisters, where does this one fall in the family?”
“She’s the youngest and wants nothing to do with her brother. She wasn’t at all pleased to get a visit from us. She says the reason she and her husband moved to Liverpool was to get away from her family. Her husband’s a butcher, by the way, the type who makes sausages and stuff, not the kind who beats up people – unless he does that in his spare time. The sister’s name is Louise; I met up with her at her house. Typical suburban semi, not the rich bitch mansion I’d been expecting. She says she hasn’t had any contact with her brother or any other family member for years. I could be wrong, but I’d say she’s telling the truth.”
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