Death Of a Temptress

by P. F. Ford

  “No. It wasn’t your fault, honestly. It’s a long story.”

  “You could buy me drink and tell me story,” she suggested.

  “Yeah?” said Slater with surprise. “I like that idea. I’ll call you and make a date.”

  “I like idea too.” Jelena beamed.. “Is good, yes?”

  She turned and walked away, both men’s eyes watching her go.

  “Now there’s a nice young lady.” Norman sighed. “And aren’t you the lucky guy, getting asked out by her.”

  “Yes,” agreed Slater. “She’s a very lovely young lady, and yes I am a very lucky guy.”

  He was also thinking what an idiot he was to have put off getting in touch with her when she was waiting for him to call all the time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “This is absolute rubbish!” Beverley Green fumed. “How dare you come here dragging my sister’s reputation through the dirt. She was a good God-fearing girl. She didn’t even know what sex was. How could she possibly be working as a high-class hooker? She worked for a magazine. I thought I told you all this. Are you suggesting I’m some sort of liar? Or perhaps you think you know my sister better than I do?

  “I was told you were an excellent police officer, one of the best, and yet here you are telling me some sort of fairy story. No. I’m sorry. I just don’t believe it.”

  She seemed to have run out of steam at that point, but Slater waited politely. Norman, however, had obviously heard enough.

  “Have you finished, now?” he asked.

  Beverley looked horrified that an underling like Norman should have the audacity to speak to her in that tone, but rather than put him down, the way she looked at him seemed to fire him up even more.

  “You see,” he continued. “The problem with people like you is you think you’re always right. So, when we come along and tell you something you don’t want to hear, you don’t like it. And when that happens, you seem to think you have the right to berate us, insult us, and generally put us down.

  “You asked DS Slater here to do a job. I happen to know he’s gone to a lot of trouble to get to the truth. He’s even endangered his life in the process. What he’s come up with are facts. Now, I’m sorry if you don’t like those facts, but that’s life, isn’t it? Understand this: it’s not our fault your sister’s a hooker, and it’s not our fault you didn’t know.

  “We just find facts out. That’s what we do. We don’t get to pick and choose all the nice ones you want to hear and discard the rest. We have to work with all of them, even if we don’t like them. As long as they’re genuine facts, that’s good enough. Now like I said, you may not like them, but that’s tough. Whether you like them or not doesn’t change them, and it doesn’t give you the right to abuse us for finding them out.”

  Norman seemed both surprised by his own outburst, and pleased with himself, at the same time. Slater enviously wished he’d said it, but also wondered how much trouble they might get into as a result.

  Meanwhile, Beverley Green seemed totally lost for words. Slater thought that having someone finally stand up to her and put her in her place had come as a severe shock.

  “Have I made myself, clear?” asked Norman.

  “Crystal,” snapped Beverley. “But if you think I’m going to apologise-”

  “Of course not,” interrupted Norman. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “I think you should leave,” she hissed.

  “I think I want to,” retorted Norman.

  “Err, right, yes,” said Slater. “Err, we’ll see ourselves out, shall we?”

  “That was some speech.” Slater congratulated Norman as they drove away.

  “I’m sorry,” said Norman, sheepishly. “I don’t know where that came from. I think she must have hit one of my buttons when she went off on one.”

  “Don’t apologise,” Slater said, smiling. “It was spot on. Exactly right. And she knows it.”

  “D’you think she’ll make a complaint? Only I don’t want to drop you in it,” said Norman, sounding cautious.

  “I bet it’s a long time since anyone spoke to her like that,” mused Slater. “I’m actually envious. I wish I’d said it. But no, I don’t think she will complain. She’d have to explain why you said what you did, and she wouldn’t want everyone to know how small-minded she really is, now would she?”

  They spent the next couple of hours trying to figure out the best strategy to take their inquiry forward. They decided their first problem was to try to find out who had tried to push Slater under the bus. Going on what they knew so far, they figured the finger of suspicion pointed towards either DS Donovan or the mysterious Mr Chan.

  They knew for sure Donovan couldn’t have pushed Slater himself, but equally they knew he had colleagues. It seemed likely that if there really was a cover-up, it would involve more than one man and could include many, so there could be plenty of willing accomplices. Quite how they were going to proceed with that they had no idea at this stage, so they decided to first focus on Mr Chan.

  They decided Slater would make the journey up to town, and Norman would start digging and see what he could learn using the resources available at Tinton. This made perfect sense. No one at Tinton knew or cared what Norman was doing, so in the increasingly unlikely event there was a mole at large, it was unlikely he, or she, would identify Norman as a threat.

  And so, next morning at 10.30, Slater found himself exiting Clapham Common tube station and following the now familiar route to Mistral Court and an appointment with Mr Chan.

  An hour later, he was making his way back out of Mistral Court. His early optimism had been replaced by pure frustration. Whatever Mr Chan might be, he was certainly no fool. Slater’s frustration was quite simply a result of Mr Chan’s ability to remain polite and pleasant for the entire interview and yet tell him nothing. He had successfully answered every one of Slater’s questions without giving him one single piece of information that was going to be any help.

  Slater considered he was pretty good at what he did, but right now he felt as if he’d just sat through some sort of master class delivered by a disinformation guru. He even felt a grudging sense of admiration for Chan’s performance.

  Right from the start, he had been adamant his assistant, Mr Ling, had never left his side that afternoon, and after toying with Slater for a further half hour, he had finally shot him to pieces by pointing out that there are over 100,000 Chinese people in London, so it was hardly surprising Slater had seen them wherever he went.

  “So, Detective Sergeant Slater,” he had said, with a knowing smile. “Unless you are suggesting they all work for me, I really can’t understand why you are here.”

  Slater had no answer to that, and he had the uncomfortable feeling Mr Chan had plenty more ammunition to fire in his direction if he so desired. Eventually he had decided a strategic withdrawal was the best option. He couldn’t have claimed to be getting out while he was still ahead, because in his heart he knew he’d never even been in the race – hence his frustration.

  It had been a wasted journey and he wondered if maybe he should have brought Norman along – his London experience might just have made all the difference. But, if he was being honest, he rather doubted it would have made any difference. Chan was as wily as they came, no doubt about that. If they were going to get anywhere with him, they would need something on him; something that would give them plenty of leverage. Of course, Chan could be completely innocent, but Slater figured that was extremely unlikely.

  He had switched his mobile phone off while he was talking to Chan, but now he was back in the real world, he fished it from his pocket and switched it on. It was time to call Norman. Slater hoped he was having a more productive morning back in Tinton. But before he could make the call, his phone beeped to indicate he had voicemail.

  ‘Hi. It’s Amber. I need to speak to you. Please call me when you get this message.’

  He found her number and pressed call.


  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hi Amber. It’s DS Slater. You asked me to call.

  “Oh, hi. You said I should call if I thought of anything.”

  “And have you?”

  “Errm. Well. I wondered if we could meet up,” she said, falteringly.

  Their last meeting flashed through his mind, and he remembered thinking she had a crush on him. He wondered if this was going to be a waste of time. Suppose she actually thought he would want to see her?

  “It’s just that I found something.” Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “I’d forgotten all about it and then I found it at home last night.”

  “What have you got, Amber? I hope you’re not wasting my time.” Slater regretted it the moment the words had formed in his head, but he was too late to stop it now.

  “Why would I be wasting your time?” she asked indignantly. “I thought you wanted my help.”

  “I’m sorry, Amber,” he mumbled, wishing he could crawl under the nearest stone. “It’s just that I’ve had a bad morning. I’ve come all the way up here to see someone and they have been wasting my time. But that’s not your fault and I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve had a pretty crappy morning myself so far.” Amber sighed. “I was hoping you might be pleased to hear from me, seeing as how I’ve got something that might help you.”

  “Now I feel terrible,” he replied. “Look, how about I come and meet you for lunch and you can tell me what you found.”

  “Really?” she said. “You want to take me for lunch? Wow! No one ever takes me for lunch.” She sounded genuinely surprised and pleased.

  “Amber, this is business,” he warned.

  “I know.” She sighed. “You wouldn’t want to be seen dead with me otherwise.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “Sorry. Sorry,” she said quickly, obviously fearful Slater’s lunch invitation was going to be withdrawn.

  “Okay,” he said. “That’s okay. Now, what time do you have lunch?”

  “One,” she said.

  “Right. I’ll meet you outside The Magazine at one,” he said, and she agreed.

  “I have to go now,” he lied, “I have another call waiting.”

  “See you later, then,” she said, sweetly.

  As he cut the call, he congratulated himself on making a complete pig’s ear of that situation, but the truth was he had no idea how to handle Amber. He was used to flirting and chatting up women his own age, but Amber was young enough to be his daughter. On the other hand, they needed all the help they could get, so if she really did know something, he couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity.

  As he called up Norman’s number, he tried to gather his thoughts. Pull yourself together. You’re a professional. She’s just a kid. You can handle this.

  “Ha!” Norman laughed when Slater had finished moaning about his morning so far. “So Mr Chan was every bit as inscrutable as we thought he might be.”

  “Hmm,” mumbled Slater, gloomily. “Every bit, and then some. A whole lot more in fact. I probably would have learnt more if I’d stayed home in bed.”

  “Then it’s just as well I’ve not been wasting my time down here,” said Norman, brightly.

  “You’ve found something?” asked Slater, perking up at the sound of Norman’s optimism.

  “It could be,” agreed Norman. “I’ve got a lot more to do yet, and it could prove to be completely innocent, but it appears our Mr Chan is a bit of a benefactor.”

  “What’s that got to do with-”

  “Especially when it comes to our wonderful boys in blue,” interrupted Norman.

  “Aha,” said Slater. “Tell me more.”

  “Mr Chan owns a chain of restaurants, and to show his appreciation for the work our wonderful boys do, he offers very generous discounts to anyone showing a warrant card.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s a start,” said Slater, his enthusiasm fading. This was no big deal. It happened in lots of places.

  “SCU officers get the biggest discount,” said Norman. “They don’t pay at all.”

  “I don’t want to piss on your bonfire,” said Slater, grimly. “But that’s not exactly the sort of serious corruption we’re looking for, is it?”

  “Well, if you don’t want hear the rest of it, that’s fine,” said Norman, the disappointment clear in his voice. “I’ll keep it to myself and you can read it in my report.”

  “Don’t be an arse,” said Slater. “But it’s not a big deal, is it? We’ll need a lot more than that if we’re going to go after anyone.”

  “He also owns several clubs. Oriental themed places with beautiful Oriental girls doing all the pampering. Massage, sir? Anything else I can get you, sir? Should I take my clothes off, sir? You know the sort of thing.”

  “Now you might be getting warmer,” Slater said, encouragingly. “Keep digging around there.”

  “I already have been.” Norman sounded as though he was enjoying himself now. “I have a feeling the membership list could prove to be quite interesting.”

  “Yeah,” Slater said, gloomily, “But we’re not going to be able to get hold of that without alerting everyone to what we’re doing. With all the data protection bollocks they hide behind now, we’d need a search warrant.”

  “Well, you could do it that way,” agreed Norman, slyly. “Or you could do it another way.”

  “This sounds dodgy.” Slater sighed.

  “Best if you know nothing about it then, eh?” said Norman.

  “No, that’s ok,” said Slater. “You can tell me.”

  “Ever heard of ‘need to know’?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Well, right now, you have no ‘need to know’, so I’m not going to tell you,” said Norman decisively.

  “No!” cried Slater. “You tell me now.”

  “Sorry, I can’t hear you. It’s such a bad line, you’re breaking up,” Norman said. “You’d better get off to your hot lunchtime totty while I carry on slaving away here. I’ll try not to get too jealous.”

  Slater realised Norman had ended the call.

  Hot lunchtime totty?’ Cheeky bugger. I bet he’s going to keep on reminding me about that. He’d had to tell Norman he was meeting Amber, but now he wished he’d left it that and not mentioned that she had a crush on him.

  Last time he’d met Amber, he’d sat on a bench to wait and got so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t seen her coming, so he thought this time he should try a bit harder to pay attention. The Magazine occupied a building in a pedestrian square dotted with small trees, raised flower beds and benches. It was really quite pleasant. There was a bench right opposite the entrance but, although it was bathed in warm sunshine, it was still wet from an earlier shower, so he decided to stand and wait, eyes glued to the entrance.

  Focused on the doorway from behind his sunglasses, quite certain she’d appear at any moment, he was quite unprepared for the slender arm that slipped through his, or the thin body that was suddenly pressing against his left side. He turned quickly.

  “Amber! What are you doing?”

  “Just humour me” She smiled, rising onto her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

  He tried to brush her off, but she had a fierce grip on his arm.

  “Please,” she said. “It’s not what you think. Just pretend until we get round the corner.”

  He looked doubtfully at her and began to remove her arm from his.

  “Please!” she insisted. “Look pleased to see me and start walking.”

  “This had better be good,” he warned, as he began to walk with her in the direction she was steering him.

  “Trust me.” She smiled again. “I’m not kiddin’. This is serious. And will you smile? Please?”

  She marched him across the square, heading for the park where they had sat when he interviewed her before. As they walked, she spoke.

  “What were you doing standing outside
the building? I sent you a text telling you to meet me in the park.”

  Slater had put his mobile in silent mode while he was travelling across to The Magazine and he’d forgotten to change it back, so he knew she probably had sent him a text and it was his fault he hadn’t seen it.

  “But why? What’s going on? And why do I have to behave like your boyfriend?” he asked, the questions tumbling rapidly from his mouth.

  “I’ve been told not to speak to you. She said I’d done my bit and if you asked to speak to me again I have to let her know and I’m not to talk to you. Not even on the phone. If she knows I’m meeting you she’ll go potty.”

  “You mean Camilla?”

  “Yes. She called me into her office earlier this morning.”

  “Was that what you meant about a crappy morning?” Slater asked.

  “Yeah. It wasn’t much fun being spoken to like I’m some sort of dim-witted schoolgirl.”

  “So she doesn’t know about meeting me now?”

  “Course not. If she hadn’t started nagging me about calling you, I might not have even remembered it.”

  “Now look, I don’t want to put you in any danger or cause you any trouble,” said Slater, anxiously.

  “Are you kidding?” she said. “This is more excitement than I’ve ever had in my life. Anyway, I think I’m alright as long as no one recognised you. That’s why I thought I’d be your girlfriend. No one seeing me behave like that would think you’re the policeman from out of town, would they? If anyone saw us they’d just think I finally pulled. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She smiled shyly at him.

  “Actually, it was very quick thinking,” he admitted. “I’m only sorry I didn’t see your text, then we wouldn’t have needed to act.”

  “It’s not that bad pretending to be my boyfriend, is it?” she said, looking glum.

  “What?” said Slater. “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant if I wasn’t so careless I’d have checked my phone and seen your message, and then you wouldn’t have needed to pretend. It was very clever of you to think of it.”

  The compliment seemed to perk her up again, and she smiled happily. They were in the park now, heading for a small covered bandstand. Slater thought the time for acting was over, but Amber showed no inclination to take her hand from his arm or step away from his side. He patted her hand.