“The manager reckons the kid was probably in there most of the evening. Sat texting on his phone. Made a couple of calls. Nothing out of the ordinary. Paid for his drinks with high-value notes. Mostly twenties. Once a ten. Never used his change, which was why he initially got the staff’s attention. They were short on change and this guy was collecting their coins.”
“Playing the machines?”
“Not once, according to the manager. No alcohol. Just fruit juices and sodas. Clean-shaven. Respectable enough. Seemed to be waiting for someone – always checking the door when anyone came in. Visited the toilet frequently. More than the number of drinks he bought would justify. The manager thought maybe he was on drugs or something, but had no real reason to take any interest so long as the kid wasn’t bothering anyone.”
“Can’t see too much amiss there, Mac.” Anna Hargreaves said. “When you say kid,” she added, thinking of her exchange with Helen Carter, “what do you mean?”
“Late teens, the manager said. Definitely eighteen.”
“A pub manager would say that, though,” Lee Roberts chimed in. “If he was talking to a cop. He could hardly say otherwise.”
“Good point,” Mackenzie agreed. “But if the kid was on soft drinks all night then his age wouldn’t be a problem, so who knows. Let’s just say he’s around eighteen.”
Red glanced at the wall clock. “Best get to the climax, Jim. I need to be with the Super five minutes ago.”
“Sure thing, Guv.” Mackenzie turned to Taylor. “Barry, do you want do present the piece de resistance?”
Taylor leaned forward, taking his time, checking everyone was looking his way before continuing. “Well, the result is the manager says he remembers the kid having something with him that he never let out of his sight. He took it to the bar, every time he ordered a drink, and to the toilets.”
“Not a carrier bag, by any chance?” Metcalf asked.
“The very same,” said a smug Taylor.
Terri Miller opened her mouth to speak. She saw the satisfied expressions on the faces of her colleagues and clammed shut. It could wait.
Chapter 11.
“Nikki! Nikki! This way, gorgeous.”
Nikki Marshall flung shoulder-length, golden hair over her shoulders, spinning around to face the flashing lights.
“Give us a smile, Nikki.”
“More attitude, Nikki.”
“Tits, Nikki. They wanna see tits.”
A huge smile spread across the face of DC Jez Harris as he watched the model slip her bikini strap off first one shoulder, then the other, heaving voluminous breasts closer to the cameras. He let out a low whistle as the model placed a hand on one hip, jutted out her pert backside and pouted as though her life depended on it. Glittering pink swollen lips blew imaginary kisses at the photographers.
“Where is everyone?” Nikki hissed at the man orchestrating the shoot, the smile never dropping as she wiggled her assets, twisting this way and that as she posed.
“I dunno, baby doll.” Zac Phillips twirled a tooth-pick around his mouth scanning the shop front, “I had at least ten yeses and a handful of maybes.” He dropped his gaze back down to his Blackberry, heavy gold bling rattling as thumbs flew over the keys. “I guess grand openings don’t attract the crowds like they used to.”
“Is that so?” Nikki’s cheek muscles twitched with the effort of keeping the smile nailed to her face. “Well, as my agent, I suggest you find me a gig that does, or I’ll find another agent that will.”
Phillips glanced across at Harris, slightly unnerved by the presence of the police officer. To Nikki, “Listen, beautiful. I don’t know who ya been yakkin’ to, but winning Date Night Surprise and appearing in a couple of frozen chip ads don’t have Hello! magazine burning up me phone for an exclusive, d’ya get me?” He paused to glance at an incoming email. “Just chill, okay? Zac P. will come through, a’right?”
Nikki shot the agent a venomous sideways glance, allowing the smile to fall from her tired face as the on-lookers began to drift away. “See that you do, Zac. You’ve got six months to make me famous.”
She looked across at Harris and beamed a smile, shaking her assets provocatively in his direction. “Ready in five, Jezza?”
The smile on Jez Harris’s face was still there twenty-five minutes later when Nikki finally emerged from the changing room, slipping her hand into his as they left.
Chapter 12.
“Come in, Cassandra. I’ll be right with you.”
Red clicked Superintendent Blake’s office door shut behind her, taking advantage of his telephone conversation to stop and admire the numerous commendations and monochrome photographs that littered the walls.
Blake returned the receiver and glanced across at Red, following her gaze to a photograph of the Super and Prince Philip.
“It’s not actually as glamorous as it appears,” Blake said to her back.
Spinning to face him, a sardonic smile touched Red’s lips. “Of course not, Sir. I imagine it’s very tiresome dining with royalty and the stars, and attending endless parties.”
Blake gestured to the seat before him. “The Duke of Edinburgh and I go back a long way, Cassandra. But he’s the only royal I’m acquainted with. And purely for professional reasons. As for the stars… They come and go. Fame is a fleeting thing.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that, Sir,” Red pleaded. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone famous yet.”
“Think yourself lucky,” Blake said. “And pray you never become famous yourself. It can only change you for the worst.”
“Thank you for the advice, Sir.”
“No need for formalities in my office, Cassandra. It’s Colin. Privately, at least. I think sometimes you forget that you’re a DCI yourself now.”
“Okay, Colin,” Red said, lowering herself into a plump leather chair, “As long as you call me Cass, not Cassandra. Or better still, Red.”
“Ah yes, Red Rose. Is the nickname that simple, or is there a more interesting story behind it?”
“There is, Sir… I mean, Colin. But I’m not sure I know you well enough to relate it just yet.”
Blake smiled. “I must confess I did ask DCI Andrews about it once, but if he knew anything he wasn’t letting on.”
The twinkle died from Red’s eyes for a beat. “He knew, but he would never have told anyone.” She stared into space. “Funny thing, but Bill could never bring himself to call me Red, no matter how many times I asked him.”
“William always spoke very fondly of you. You must miss him. I certainly do. He was a good friend as well as a bloody good cop.”
Red allowed the smile to return to her face. “I wish he was with me on this case. This latest murder has me stumped so far.”
Blake leaned forward in his seat, entwining his fingers, resting his chin on his knuckles. “It’s early days, but I must admit, this one has me slightly worried. There’s mumblings in the press about a homophobic killer, as you’re no doubt aware.” Steel gray eyes zoomed in on Red. “It would be in everyone’s interest if this one was put to bed as soon as possible. I’ve asked Wandsworth for extra manpower for you, as per your request, to cover Farmer’s sick-leave. They’re sending two men over as soon as they can spare them.”
“Already here, Sir.”
“Already?”
“DS Pete Metcalf and a rookie assistant, Lee Roberts. Obviously someone higher-up wants this matter laid to rest too. But Sir… Colin, we just have so little to go on at the moment. I’ve got everyone and his dog on it, but until we get the full forensics reports and the results from the victim’s computer we’re just chasing shadows.”
“That’s always the way. Well, you have my assurance that this case will be afforded as much manpower and overtime as necessary. Just give me the word on what you need and when.”
“Thank you, Sir. It will be a huge boost to team morale after the Huntsman case. We were a little stretched last time, to say the least. Not to mention that Que
enie is still at large.”
“Unfortunately while this so-calledHuntsman clearly had an accomplice, unless he decides to speak out, which I very much doubt, there is nothing bar rumour and speculation to suggest this Queenie character actually existed.”
“With respect, Sir, I heard his voice.”
“You heard the voice of an accomplice, agreed. But the whole story about the mysterious Queenie is just too far-fetched to credit.”
“If we had the resources available maybe we could at least find out one way or another.”
“Things are tight, Cassandra. You know that. Budget cuts. Met streamlining. Pressure from on-high. But you have my word you will be fully supported with this murder inquiry.”
Red paused, feeling a ball of anger knot in her stomach. “And why is that, if you don’t mind me asking, Sir? How is it more important to catch the killer of what happens to be quite a well-known PR spin-doctor, who might attract the wrong sort of media attention, than it was to nail the Burns boys for attacking pensioners?”
Blake fixed his eyes on Red for a second, before reaching for a pen. “You just answered your own question, Cassandra. This is a murder inquiry from day one. The Burns attacks were not. And now that you’re DCI, I suggest that you remember whose side you’re on. And that I’m still your superior officer.” He cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the pile of papers on his desk. “That’ll be all for now, Chief Inspector,” he said without looking up.
Chapter 13.
“Carrier bag, Guv?”
“A cheap plastic bag handed out at supermarket checkouts for shoppers to carry their fruit and veg’ to the car,” Red explained absently, half-focused on the report in her hands. “Why, what do you call them back home?”
Terri smiled wearily. “I know what he meant, Guv. I mean, why? What’s the big deal?”
Red looked up from the report. “What big deal?”
“When Barry said this kid in the bar had been holding tight to this carrier bag, everyone was grinning at each other like it was hugely significant.”
“Cottaging,” Red said, her eyes wandering back to the report once more.
“Guv?”
Red sighed. “A cottage is a gents’ toilet where men meet to engage in sexual acts together.”
Terri looked bewildered. “Why would they do that?”
“Nowadays?” Red shrugged. “Ask George Michael. But wasn’t so long ago homosexuality was illegal in this country. Sex between consenting adults of the same gender could get you a prison term. Public toilets became a place where gay men could meet and do their thing.”
“The States has got nothing to be proud of when it comes to homosexual equality,” Terri said. “But where do plastic sacks, I mean bags, come into the equation?”
“The doors in the public lavs here are usually a few inches from the ground, for easy cleaning. Which means the local bobby – that’s a cop, by the way – could do his duty by looking under the doors. Two pairs of feet in one cubicle meant an arrest. So the men took to taking a carrier bag along, and once they were both in the cubicle one would stand in the bag. For PC Plod glancing beneath the door there would just be one pair of feet on show and his carrier.”
Terri slowly shook her head. “Britain really is as weird as they said. Carrier bags in public toilets, bank holidays every other week, and unarmed cops. You couldn’t make it up.”
Red stifled a yawn.“Sorry? What was that?”
“You guys have so many bank holidays! I can’t get my head round it. Two days off at Christmas, two days at Easter, two days in May.”
“That reminds me, I’ve promised Ella we’re going bank holiday shopping next week. But you were saying? About unarmed cops?”
Terri waved dismissively. “Just thinking out loud, Guv. Didn’t mean to send you to sleep.”
Red forced herself upright. “It’s not you, Terri.It’s just, I’ve been finding it hard to sleep lately. Well, since…”
“Since the Guv was killed?”
“Not that so much. Afterwards, when Richard had the Huntsman at gunpoint and bottled it. I wake up in a cold sweat some nights, replaying the scene in my mind, wondering if I would have reacted differently.”
Terri shrugged. “I can’t really relate. I was gun-trained the moment I was out of diapers. We had four or five guns in our house. Most families I knew did. And that was long before I even thought about being a cop. No disrespect, Guv, but I just don’t get this country with its unarmed cops policy. It just gives a green light to violent crime.”
Red smiled. “And yet per head of population the US has a far higher crime rate than the UK. Especially violent crime and homicide. Why is that?”
Terri shrugged again. “Search me, Guv. I just know that every time I go out on patrol here I feel vulnerable.”
It was Red’s turn to shrug. “Get used to it.You’re far more likely to get knifed by a twelve year old thug than shot in London. We have trained Armed Response Units for gun crime. CO19. And I’m thankful for it. The last thing we need is the likes of Taylor and Harris on the streets tooled up.”
Chapter 14.
Red woke with a start, gulping in mouthfuls of the cool night air. She sat bolt upright, heart hammering in her chest, cropped hair plastered to her head. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing the outline of their bedroom furniture, her pulse began to slow, her breathing becoming less frantic.
She swallowed hard, shaking the cobwebs of another nightmare out of her head. Steadied her beating heart, telling herself it was just a dream. Shivering, her breath plumed out before her as she turned to check on Pippa. A smile of relief spread over her face as she saw her partner sleeping soundly, wrapped in woolens and a scarf.
Red grimaced as her bare feet touched the cold parquet floor. Why couldn’t they have a carpet like in the kids’ bedrooms?
“Friggin’ plumber!” she whispered into the night as she padded across to the hallway.
Wrapping her arms around herself against the cold, she tiptoed to the nearest door, pushing it ajar with a shoulder. The amber light from the landing sliced an expanding wedge across the carpet of Ruby’s impossibly pink bedroom.
Red could hear the child’s tiny snores as she neared. Could see Ruby’s golden hair fanned out on her pillow like spun silk. Red felt her heart lurch in her chest at the thought of anyone ever hurting anything so precious. Gently, she pulled the covers over the sleeping child’s shoulders, dragging the quilt further up the bed, doubling it over.
Satisfied Ruby was safe, mentally chastising herself for allowing a nightmare to spook her so much, Red went to check on the others, then headed downstairs to make herself a drink.
Whilst the pan of milk came to the boil, Red slid into a chair at the oak table. Flipping up the lid of her Macbook, she pressed the power switch.
“Right,” she said to the empty kitchen, “three British plumbers, three no shows.” She typed ‘London Plumbers’ into Google, then scoured the list for the first name that looked remotely Polish.
Chapter 15.
Cynthia Crichton winced as she watched her youngest granddaughter drizzling maple syrup over a stack of pancakes. “Darling, must you allow Ruby to eat that dreadful stuff? It’s full of sugar, and I’m the one who has to look after her all day.”
“Mother,I did not allow her to have it.” Pippa threw an accusatory glance at Red. “Perhaps someone would care to own up?”
“Kids need a treat now and then,” Red asserted. “Right, Rubes?”
Ruby nodded vigorous confirmation. “I like treats with pancakes.”
“I guess she’s a growing girl. Aren’t you, darling?” Cynthia beamed at Ruby, gently moving a strand of hair from the child’s face.
“Charming!” Pippa snatched up the breakfast pots from the table. “When you thought I was the culprit it was,” fingers rose to the air to perform air quotes, “ dreadful stuff. But now Cassandra says it’s okay that somehow changes things.”
“Oh
don’t be so melodramatic, Philippa. Red’s right, young children need a treat now and then. And no-one more so than my little Ruby.”
Pippa stared in disbelief at her mother. “Red?”
Cynthia smiled. “Yes, isn’t it just charming? Jack told me that’s what Cass is called at work, so I decided to adopt it.” Reaching out, she squeezed Red’s hand across the table. “And I might just adopt her too.”
Pippa blinked repeatedly. “Well, I’ve heard everything now.”
Red smirked as she watched Pippa throwing dishes into the sink. “Shouldn’t those go in the dishwasher, Counsellor? No Deimante now, remember.”
Pippa stiffened, her back to the table. “I am quite aware that we no longer have an au pair, Cassandra. Hence the reason I arranged the interviews last Saturday for a replacement. Only, someone decided their work was more important.”
“You’re wasting your time with these interviews. It’s only been a few weeks. She’ll be back.”
Pippa flung herself round from the sink, trying to pull a rubber glove over her fingers. “Deimante stole my car. She’s a common criminal and you, you never even bothered to follow it up, Detective Chief Inspector! Now I’m obliged to spend my valuable time washing dishes and inviting complete strangers into my house, trying to find someone reliable. With no help whatsoever from you.”
“I still don’t see why you need me here, Counsellor. You’re quite capable of making your own mind up.”
“And how can I be sure they’re not notorious serial killers, or that they won’t take my children to sell in the street-markets of Marrakesh?”
“They got past the enhanced CRB checks or they wouldn’t be on the agency list. Anyway, while you waste your time doing just that, me and Madame Sin here are taking our children to the park.”
Pippa glared in horror at her mother and then back at Red. “Please don’t call Mother that in front of Ruby, Cassandra. Mother, please don’t encourage her so. Ruby, use the cutlery provided, not your fingers, please?”
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