B002VHI8GS EBOK

by Martina Cole

  Kate nodded her assent as her heart sank. Miriam grabbed her hand in hers and said girlishly, ‘Poor James, I hope he’s OK.’

  ‘He’ll be fine and, though it didn’t work out, we can’t tell you how grateful we are for your help. It was wonderful the way you got Jemimah to open up to us.’

  Miriam was almost preening with the praise and Kate thought to herself how little it took to make people feel good about themselves.

  ‘Well, Alec and I, we counselled a lot of the young street women over the years. The secret is gaining their trust. Like anyone, once you have that, the rest is easy. These girls are often brought up not to trust anyone, not to get too close. I think me and my Alec made them aware that they were worth something to someone. We were aware of how they felt, always having been classed as odd-bods ourselves, and we both understood how hard it is when people look down on you for no real reason.’

  Kate felt awful once more at her words, because she knew they were true. ‘Well, Miriam, I think what you did was wonderful. You tried to help us and we appreciate that more than you can imagine.’

  Miriam shrugged then, and finally let go of her hand. ‘I’d better be off, and I’ll look forward to that coffee.’

  Kate watched her as she walked away. That, she decided, was surreal. It was as if, overnight, she had just gained a new best friend, only it wasn’t a cuddly little puppy, but a full-grown Rottweiler. She wondered at a loneliness so great that a tiny hand of kindness could make so much difference. She’d have to go for coffee with Miriam, after all, that’s what the canteen was for.

  Still, as Kate walked back to her office she felt immense dread wash over her. She had a terrible feeling that she was stuck with Miriam for life now. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. She knew it was awful to dislike someone for no reason, but the truth was, she did dislike her, and she didn’t really know why.

  As she entered her office she saw Annie and Margaret deep in conversation, behind them were the white boards with all the relevant information regarding the dead girls. The pictures of them smiling, alive and happy, next to the photos of their corpses was as incongruous as it was tragic. At least Miriam had tried to help them, she had to give her that much.

  Patrick was contemplating his removal of the businesses that Kate had had such a problem with. He knew he needed to get her back, and he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it, but reckoned this would be a good start.

  She refused to even talk to him, so the phone was out. He wouldn’t show himself up by arriving at the station house, she was capable of fucking him off in broad daylight, and he couldn’t go to her house because Annie Carr was lodging there. So he had to think carefully about how to proceed.

  The phone on his desk rang and he picked it up.

  ‘Oh my God! Why the fuck are you telling me?’

  He slammed down the phone and felt the panic rising within him. Kate would have his balls for this latest fiasco. Picking up the phone again he dialled the number for Grantley Police Station. It was the only thing he could think of to do.

  Kate and Annie arrived at Number Twelve Rossiter Crescent at eleven twenty-five. Kate saw the neighbours outside their houses, all rubber-necking and wondering what was up. The forensic team were already cordoning off the premises and setting up a perimeter. She knew it would be only minutes before the press and camera crews arrived.

  Back at the station, Lionel Dart had done as she asked and moved them too far away for there to be any point in their hanging around. Only the newspaper journos with their telephoto lenses had remained, and even they looked decidedly dejected by the lack of photo opportunities.

  As Kate walked inside the house she heard the first squeal of tyres that denoted the arrival of the press hounds.

  Inside the house Kate was amazed at how luxurious it was. It was a big, detached place, and it looked like something from a magazine with all its over-stuffed furniture and fine art prints. She guessed that this was the higher end of the brothel market. The kitchen was state-of-the-art, and the only items in the huge, American-style fridge were champagne and vodka. She sighed heavily, the smell of caustic soda was making her eyes water.

  She looked into the enormous, double-sized butler sinks and saw that one of them contained a skimpy La Perla bra and knickers set. They were hardly recognisable as they had been drenched in bleach and caustic soda, but the label was still just about readable, and she wondered at how much these girls were earning if they wore something that expensive to work.

  Annie came down from upstairs and Kate turned to face her.

  ‘Same MO. Paralysed, tortured and burned and then left on display. Only, this time he’s changed his routine - she was suffocated with a plastic bag. He placed it over her head and, my guess is, he watched her suffocate. The torture this time was mainly on her genitalia though, for some reason, he cut off all her hair. Lovely hair too, long, naturally blond, thick and with a slight curl. If he hadn’t scattered it around the room I might have been tempted to make meself a wig from it.’

  Kate smiled. Annie was at last learning to distance herself from the dead girl with lame jokes. It seemed terrible to outsiders, but black humour helped put things in perspective for the people whose job it was to come and catalogue the lives of the deceased.

  ‘It’s a big place, I wonder why she was here alone?’

  Annie held her arms out in a gesture of complete bewilderment. ‘I think she lived here. And maybe yesterday was the cleaner’s day off, which is why she wasn’t found till today.’

  Kate turned and walked from the kitchen. ‘Come up and walk me through the crime scene, give me your first impressions.’

  Annie followed.

  Margaret Dole was proving herself a valuable asset, and both Annie and Kate were pleased with her. She was adding the dead girl’s information to that of the other victims, trying to establish a common connection.

  ‘Her name is, was, Valerie Kent and she also went under the name of Candy Cane. I would guess that explains the spanking equipment we found at the house. She lived there, on campus so to speak, and she was the sole occupant of the house when it was not in use. The last men she entertained paid by credit card, and they have viable alibis, nothing unusual there. Same as before. She was in and out of the care system, like most of the others, and she has a mother and two younger sisters who live in Liverpool. The mother remarried and left Valerie here in Grantley when she was eighteen. Mrs Dowse, as she now calls herself, is willing to claim the body. Other than that, we don’t know jack-shit. No forensics, no nothing, basically.’

  ‘You found anything yet? Anything to tie any of them together?’ Annie asked.

  Margaret shook her head. ‘Not a thing, but I have a few ideas of my own I’d like to work on.’

  Kate nodded. She was pleased that Margaret was willing to try other angles. Sometimes that was the only way to get a different perspective on a case.

  ‘Good, you do that, and me and Kate will go back over the witness statements. Not that there’s much to go on.’

  Kate stood up. ‘I’m going to talk to the neighbours again, see what they have to say a few hours after the initial shock has worn off. Do you want to come with me, Annie?’

  Annie got up quickly, too quickly, Margaret thought. She was a bit like one of Pavlov’s dogs, desperate to please her lord and master. She was sensible enough to keep that thought to herself, however. She had already rocked the boat once, she wasn’t about to do anything that stupid again.

  ‘I’ll carry on with this, there has to be something, anything that these girls had in common.’

  Kate nodded. ‘Go for it, girl. After all, at the moment, we have fuck all to go on.’

  ‘Do you think I should go back through medical records et cetera. I mean, I think we should look at any angle, no matter how off the wall.’

  ‘I think that sounds feasible. Maybe they were treated by the same doctor, who the fuck knows?’

  Annie was interested by the idea. ‘Aren’t med
ical records private though?’

  Margaret grinned. ‘Not to me, I can hack into anything.’

  Kate smiled then. ‘Really? Well, look at the case notes for the girls in care as well. Anything you can find, no matter how insignificant it may appear to be. But I don’t need to know how you do it.’

  ‘Will do. It might take me a while though, I warn you.’

  Annie and Kate left the room, and Margaret turned back to her computer screen. She was excited now that she had the green light and, in her best Clint Eastwood voice, she said loudly, ‘Are you feeling lucky?’

  Danny was impressed, but he kept the feeling to himself. Patrick had given them the perfect out, and he liked that he had done it without any fuss or aggravation.

  ‘Peter won’t get the necessary poke, so I think you should go in with him. That way, you get a decent-sized stake for yourself, and a guaranteed earner for years to come. The properties themselves are worth a small fortune alone. Now, I think me being out of it all will enable you to take over in your own inimitable style. I’ve talked to the O’Learys, and they are quite happy to let Peter in the game, so long as there is someone there to watch their interests. They believe, like me, that you are more than capable of doing that, so what do you say?’

  Danny was overwhelmed, and he let that show. ‘Fucking hell, Patrick, this is fantastic.’

  Patrick grinned. ‘You might not think that a few months down the line when it hits you that you’re watching over your own poke, not mine. But Peter Bates needs someone to temper his addiction to the gee-gees. He’s a fucker for them, and once he gets in a card game, he couldn’t leave if his life depended on it. When he ain’t on the gamble, he’s a diamond but, like all addictions, it’s an illness. As long as you remember that, and don’t let your guard down, for even five minutes, you’ll be fine.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, I’m fucking dumbstruck.’

  ‘Say yes, and remember I have given him a contract to sort out the payments, I’ve got a copy for you. Keep your eye on it, and make sure he pays up. I’m not about to let a friendship get in the way of business.’

  Pat said that in a joking manner, but Danny was clear that he was being deadly serious.

  ‘Am I still working for you afterwards? Or is this like a severance thing?’

  Patrick liked the way the boy thought, it was worthy of himself. That was what he appreciated about him.

  ‘Do you think you could do both? I mean, do both the jobs well? Anyone can do two things at once, especially women, it’s the childbirth thing I reckon, but really it’s whether you think you can do both jobs properly.’

  ‘I know I can, Pat.’

  ‘Good lad, I had a feeling you’d say that. I want you to groom a number two, someone to take on the smaller businesses. That will leave you plenty of time to devote to the main issues. The main issue, of course, being the paying back of my money. Have you anyone in mind?’

  Danny thought for a few seconds before saying, ‘Would you object if I said Eve?’

  Patrick was quiet, then asked, ‘Why her?’

  Danny shrugged nonchalantly. ‘She’s shrewd, she’s good with people, she knows the game inside out and, most importantly of all, I trust her.’

  Patrick grinned. ‘Then you’ve answered your own question. I ain’t got a problem with it. As long as she ain’t coming here when we discuss anything, then that’s fine by me. I know she’s got her creds and she’s got your trust. That means a lot to me, as I am sure you understand.’ Pat smiled, a gentle smile that made him look almost benevolent. ‘How is she, by the way?’

  Danny laughed then, a real laugh. ‘She was fucking fuming, Pat, but she’s a realist, like us. As she said to me, no point flogging a dead horse. She was hurt, but she’ll survive. The thing with Eve is that she’s like me. We don’t really open up to people that often. When we do, and it goes wrong, we feel exposed all over again. She’s all right. A bit battered around the edges, but she’ll be fine.’

  Patrick didn’t know what to say. ‘She needs someone her own age, and so do you. Settle down, Danny. It can be a pain in the arse, it can be fucking irritating but, at the end of a long day, it’s worth it all to know that there’s someone waiting for you.’

  ‘Like Kate, you mean?’

  Patrick sighed heavily. ‘She’s the most awkward ponce in the world when the fancy takes her, but in all honesty I miss her. I tried not to, but it didn’t work out. I filled my head with dreams of another family, kids even. But it’s too late for that. I’d be dead before they started big school. I can’t live without Kate. She’s under my skin. Women can do that to you, you know. They burrow deep inside you and, before you know it, you’re unable to function properly without them. Find yourself a decent bird, Danny, not one of the ones that hang around the clubs. They’re all after the main chance. Find yourself a decent woman, and you’ll not go far wrong, boy.’

  Danny didn’t know what to say, it was rare for Patrick to be so open, so honest. ‘Do you regret not having any more kids, any family?’

  Patrick thought long and hard before answering. ‘Truth be told, I do. Without kids to work for, it all seems pointless at times. But, by the same token, you have to play the hand you are dealt and realise that just because you want something, doesn’t mean it will change anything. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, remember that. I look in the mirror and I’m shocked at how old I am, but it happens so fast. One day you have years ahead of you, and then suddenly you realise that time has passed you by and you didn’t even notice it. I would advise you to start taking stock now, because you really are only on this planet for a short time.’

  Danny never thought he would ever feel sorry for a man like Patrick Kelly, but at this moment in time he genuinely did. He had buried a wife and a daughter, and he had lived through some horrendous events, even getting shot. Yet, for all that, he wasn’t sorry for himself, wasn’t constantly pissing and moaning at the hand life had dealt him. He got on with it, and Danny determined that he would do the same. Life, as they all knew, really was too short.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Once again, they had hit a dead end. They had interviewed everyone and followed every lead. No one had seen anything, no one knew anything. But the houses down at Rossiter Crescent were high end, they all had quite large driveways and the houses were not easily seen from the road. Peter Bates and Jennifer James were both being as helpful as possible, but it was obvious that they didn’t know anything important. All they knew were names and dates and they had furnished the police with them quite happily.

  Annie agreed with Kate that, if these murders were random, then whoever he was had the luck of the fucking Irish on his side because no one seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

  Kate sighed heavily and rubbed her tired eyes. She looked a mess but she couldn’t concentrate on anything. All she thought about were the dead girls.

  If Patrick encroached on her thoughts, she pushed him away. Pat was an added problem she couldn’t deal with just yet. She knew she still loved him, but she didn’t like him very much right now and that was the issue.

  She pushed him from her mind and concentrated once more on the pictures of poor Valerie Kent, or Candy Cane depending on how you knew her. The girl’s face with the plastic bag over her head was horrifying. The bag had stuck to her skin and you could see the girl’s perfect features, her high cheekbones. Valerie had been a beauty all right. That was why she would have been working the high end, of course. The real beauties were always marked out for the big money.

  But judging by the girl’s reading material she was also a brain-box. A lethal combination for a girl in her business. Kate had found books by everyone from Flaubert to Ibsen. She also liked the old classics, such as Aesop’s Fables and Alexandre Dumas. It was odd to think of her doing what she did, with all those thoughts going around in her head. She could have really made something of herself, why the easy option? But people were odd, Kate knew that better than anybo
dy.

  And if she was on a night off, how did the man get inside the house? There was no sign of forced entry, no sign of a struggle. He had to be someone she trusted.

  They had already sounded out Peter Bates, Jennifer James, and Danny Foster, along with all the other men who worked in the business. They each had airtight alibis, if not for all the murders, then at least for most of them. And this wasn’t the work of a killing duo, a team kill, it had the hallmarks of a single man. A clever, calculating lone male who was sitting somewhere, right this minute, thinking about his next victim. If only she could read minds, how much easier her job would be.

  Kate’s mobile rang and Patrick’s name flashed up. She cut the call, but she was secretly pleased that he was still trying to contact her. She wondered what had happened with Eve, she hoped the girl had sacked him. That would not do much for his gigantic fucking ego. It would do him the world of good, in fact. He had far too high an opinion of himself. He always had done. The thought satisfied her for a few moments and then she went back to the proverbial drawing board and concentrated on the girls’ faces, hoping against hope that something, anything, would start to make sense to her.

  Peter Bates was not happy and he was as usual being very vocal about it.

  ‘So he’s actually going to end up with more than me, is that it?’

  Patrick nodded, his smile still fixed in place. ‘It’s what the O’Learys want and, unfortunately for you, it’s also what I want.’

  Peter was shaking his head in despair. ‘This is fucking outrageous, Patrick. A little fucking scummer like him having precedence over me? That’s unheard of.’