by Ann Bloxwich
‘Thanks Milo,’ she said, giving him a dirty look. The cat just looked back at her with indifference as he scraped dirt over the puddle in the tray. Laura rifled through the cupboards, looking for cat food before finding a can in the fridge. It was next to a can of chilli con carne, and Laura wondered if Vicky had ever fed the cat from the wrong tin. It would certainly explain the contents of the litter tray. She put the food down for him, but he ignored it.
‘Stuff you then,’ she said.
Helen was still in the bedroom and on her phone. She hung up when Laura walked in.
‘Who was that?’ Laura asked as Helen put the phone back in her pocket. They went into the living room and Laura sat down in the armchair nearest the window.
‘No-one,’ Helen replied. ‘Just a running friend I was meant to meet later. It doesn’t look like she’s been back, does it? There’s no dirty washing, the kitchen is spotless, and her toothbrush is still in the bathroom.’
‘I was going to ring her parents, but I don’t want to worry them. They’re so overprotective of her and are bound to overreact. I’ve tried her phone so many times, at first it rang but now it goes straight to voicemail.’
Helen pulled her phone out again and started flicking through her contacts before hitting dial. ‘No point, her parents are on that cruise she bought them. I’ll see if Neil knows anything. Sorry, I meant to say Kitty. Neil’s his real name.’
‘What could he know that we don’t?’ Laura asked. The room was very warm, and she was struggling to stay awake.
‘Maybe Ray mentioned where they were going last night after the show. Damn, no answer. I’ll text him and get him to call me.’ She sent the text, pushed the dolls to one side and flopped onto the sofa. Within a few minutes she was snoring softly.
Maybe she was being paranoid, but Laura had a bad feeling about it. Every other time Vicky had gone off with someone she’d texted Laura to look after Milo. The fact that this time she hadn’t was worrying. He was her baby, there was no way she’d leave him overnight without making arrangements for him. Maybe Vicky had asked a neighbour to feed him and they’d forgotten? She left Helen sleeping and popped out to speak to the three neighbours on Vicky’s floor, but no-one had spoken to her.
Laura leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, deciding that when Helen woke up, they would go to the police station. In the meantime, she may as well grab forty winks herself.
12
Ray Diamond lay back against the pillows and lit another cigarette. As he watched the plume of smoke rise to the ceiling, he could hear the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. He reached for the glass on the bedside table and took a swig of the clear liquid, rinsing it around his mouth before swallowing it. The neat vodka made him wince, but it also refreshed him.
He threw back the duvet and lay naked for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of sweat drying on his skin. He got out of bed, wandered over to the dressing table and started nosing through the various objects strewn on the top, idly scratching at his balls as he did so. When he found nothing of interest, he opened the drawers one by one and poked around.
He found a large wad of cash and a cheque book in an envelope under the clothes. Ignoring the cash, he opened the cheque book and noticed that the one on the top was signed. He grinned to himself then very carefully removed two cheques from different places in the book, along with the stubs. He lay the cheques alongside the top one, then skilfully copied the signature onto the two blanks. He folded the forgeries, picked up his jeans and slid the cheques into the pocket. He heard the shower turn off, so he dropped his jeans back on the floor and lay back down on the bed.
The bathroom door opened, and a young man emerged, a towel around his large waist. His short black hair stuck up at odd angles and his skin was glowing from the heat of the shower.
‘Shower’s all yours,’ he announced, smiling at Ray as he removed his towel and rubbed his hair vigorously with it. His flabby body shook like a jelly and Ray closed his eyes for a moment in disgust.
‘Cheers babe,’ he said in a breezy voice, trying to mask his revulsion. He stood up and walked towards the bathroom door. ‘Is there a clean towel in there?’
The man opened a cupboard door and grabbed a large towel from a stack inside. ‘Here you go hun, let me know if you need me to scrub your back.’ He gave Ray a cheeky wink and turned to get some clothes out of the dressing table.
Ray closed the bathroom door behind him and sighed. Switching the shower on, he used his client’s toothbrush while he waited for the shower to reach the right temperature.
He thought about Liam, the young man in the other room, and shuddered. Ray’s services didn’t come cheap and, although he despised fat people, they were willing to pay whatever he asked for a few hours with him. He preferred women to men but made an exception if the price was right. Despite being the highest-paid male stripper in the country, he spent his money as fast as he earned it. It was all about the image when you were as successful as he was, and image cost money.
Ray climbed into the shower and let the water run all over his body. He was in excellent shape for his age, going to the gym four days a week, having regular top-ups at the tanning salon and getting his long blond hair done by a top hairdresser. The designer clothes he favoured made him look even better and Ray knew it. He soaped himself all over, watching himself in the mirrored tiles. He masturbated at his own reflection, feeling euphoric as he climaxed.
Rinsing himself off, he stepped out of the shower and dried himself, finally wrapping the towel around his head before going back into the bedroom.
Liam sat on the chair next to the bed, dressed for work. He looked up from his magazine when the door opened. ‘Feel better now, hun?’ he asked with a smile.
‘Yeah, much better.’
Ray threw the towel on the bed and started pulling on his clothes, smirking to himself as Liam lowered his gaze.
‘I’m popping to town before work, if you fancy some lunch,’ Liam said hopefully but Ray shook his head as he finished dressing and pulled his trainers on.
‘Sorry babe, I’ve got a gig tonight, so need to hit the gym. I’ve got a busy period ahead, so give me a ring after New Year if you want to see me again. Oh, and can you make sure you have a shave next time? Your stubble plays havoc with my cock. Don’t wanna damage the goods now, do we?’ Ray winked at Liam and the young man blushed furiously.
‘No problem at all, I’ll do anything for you, you know that. It was even better this time, you’re a wonderful lover.’ Liam looked at his feet, embarrassment etched on his face.
‘You were pretty good yourself. Most women can’t suck my cock as well as you do, you’ve got an amazing tongue.’ Liam went even redder and Ray laughed. He punched him lightly on the arm. ‘Now pay up or I won’t let you play with my toys again.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ Liam said, standing up and pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket. ‘There’s a hundred there, is that okay? I’m pretty skint till payday.’
He thrust the money into Ray’s hand. Ray wondered about the cash in the drawer but didn’t mention it or Liam would know he’d been snooping.
‘Yeah that’s great, thanks. Later babe,’ he said as he opened the bedroom door and headed out, leaving Liam looking wistfully after him.
13
Alex put the phone down and scratched his head, ruffling his hair. Another dead end, he thought, crossing the name off the list in front of him. The team had spent most of yesterday canvassing the area surrounding the club, or speaking to the attendees from Friday night, but they’d all claimed to have been too drunk to remember much of anything.
Alex wondered how people could get into such a state, then he remembered he’d been in many a state himself when he’d been out with his brother. Dave could drink like a fish and still walk home in a straight line. Alex was a complete lightweight in comparison.
He glanced around as he headed towards the kitchen area. Dawn was perch
ed on the edge of her desk, talking to someone on the phone. She looked up and Alex raised his mug towards her. She shook her head and went back to her conversation.
DC Maureen Ross, one of the newest team members, was sitting at the computer, typing at breakneck speed. She had a pencil balanced behind her right ear and a pair of glasses propped on the top of her head. He wandered over to see what she was working on. She was in her late thirties, but her slim frame and short black spiky hair made her look like a teenager. Being the weekend, she was dressed in skinny jeans and a band T-shirt instead of the usual smart black trouser suit.
Alex was surprised to see the twin photo frame on her desk had a picture of Mo’s girlfriend Isobel in one half, and the actor Lewis Collins in the other. Mo saw him looking and blushed.
‘He is the only man I have ever loved,’ she said.
Alex wasn’t sure if she was joking, so made no comment. ‘Where are you with everything?’ he asked instead.
‘I’ve left a message for the show’s organisers, I figured they’d be able to put us in touch with the acts that were on. In the meantime, I thought I’d get started on typing up these reports from people we’ve spoken to already.’
‘Excellent work, Mo. Where’s Les? I haven’t seen him for a while.’
‘He’s gone to see if forensics have anything for us yet. I know it’s early days, but we may get lucky. He’s put feelers out to the local taxi companies to see if anyone reported a no-show from the club and he’s talked to the press liaison office and asked them to set up a hotline.’
‘To be honest, I’d be happy with identification at this stage. There was nothing on the body to tell us who she is, and as far as I know no-one’s been reported missing. Once we know who she is then we’ll have something to go on. I’m getting myself a drink; do you want anything?’
‘Coffee would be great, thanks, boss. Milk and two sugars please.’
***
Mo loved working here. Alex and the team were so easy to get along with, unlike her previous colleagues who had been more interested in the fact that she was gay than how good she was at her job. She and Les Morris were both DCs and had joined Alex’s team six months ago, but from different areas. Les had joined the force after leaving the Navy and specialised in Cyber Crime. He’d previously worked in his home town of Carlisle. Mo was Scottish by birth, hailing from Fraserburgh, but had been stationed in Coventry with the Sex Crimes Unit after graduating.
Mo was around two-thirds of the way through the witness statements when Alex came back with the coffee. As he approached her desk, she looked up at him.
‘A few of the witnesses mentioned they had tickets for Friday night. I’m wondering if the tickets were numbered, and if so, where did they buy them from. Maybe whoever sold the tickets will have names that we can check, so by process of elimination we might be able to find out who the victim is, or at the very least narrow it down to a group of people, if they were a party.’
Alex looked impressed and told her so. Not used to being praised, she mumbled her thanks and carried on digging.
***
Alex carried his coffee over to his office, kicked the door shut behind him and sat down at his desk to drink it. As a rule, he only usually closed the door when he was on the phone to the top brass or when he was giving someone a bollocking. Now, he just needed five minutes to gather his thoughts.
The fact that he’d been thrown back into work when he’d mentally powered down was a pain in the backside, and no doubt Jayne would be upset too. They’d promised Joel he’d be in his new house before Christmas, but now Alex doubted that would happen. He fired off a text to his brother David, asking him to ring him when he had a few minutes. Dave was probably up a ladder, he’d mentioned he was fitting some guttering this weekend, so he wouldn’t be able to talk until he was done.
Alex drained his mug, stood up and went towards the door. As he opened it, DC Les Morris was standing there, hand raised ready to knock. He was a short, stocky man, with a shaved head and brown eyes. He had a ruddy complexion from spending hours outdoors, umpiring for his son’s cricket club.
‘Ah boss, sorry to disturb you,’ he said in his flat Cumbrian accent. ‘I’ve just spoken to forensics, they’ve got nothing definite yet, there was a lot of rubbish behind the clubhouse so there’s shedloads to go through. I got bugger all from the local taxi companies as well, they all say they did multiple pick-ups and drop-offs that night, many of whom could have been redheads like our victim. Sorry, boss.’
Les looked apologetic but Alex shook his head at him. ‘Nothing to apologise for, at this stage it’s all a bit vague. Let’s concentrate on who organised the show. Mo’s looking at ticket sales, can you give her a hand with that? With any luck we’ll be able to match ticket numbers to credit cards and eliminate people that way.’
‘When I was with the Crime Unit in Carlisle, we had a case of a promotions company being fiddled out of ticket money, something to do with the online ticket provider duplicating tickets so they were selling a hundred tickets but numbered them one to fifty twice. The promoter thought he’d sold fifty tickets for his event, but one hundred people turned up. It didn’t take long to figure it out, but it caused the venue a lot of hassle.’
‘Is Craig still at the club? Give him a ring and ask him to check and see if the venue had a list of ticketholders, or maybe there was one left behind. Ask him who the promoter was as well, then you can ring and set up an appointment with them. I’m not sure how long he and Gary will be, and I’m keen to get interviews sorted before everyone sods off for Christmas. I could kick Charlie Baldwin in the balls for dropping this on me but having seen the state of him I’d say he’s suffering enough.’
Alex raised his mug to his lips before remembering it was empty. ‘I’m off for a refill, do you want one?’
‘No thanks, I’ve not long had one. I’ll ring Craig now and get back to you.’ Les headed towards his desk when his phone started to ring. He picked it up then turned to Alex.
‘Boss, you’re wanted downstairs. Someone just came in to report a missing person.’
14
John Jackson slammed down the phone and swore loudly. He jumped up out of his chair, strode over to the filing cabinet and punched it several times. His assistant Shona looked up from her scheduling in surprise. She could guess what was coming next, so she got up and put the kettle on, bracing herself for the outburst, which wasn’t long in coming.
‘Bastard! You wait till I get my hands on him, I’ll fuckin’ kill him!’
There was only one person who ever made John angry, and that was Ray Diamond. He looked furious, the tendons in his neck stood out like steel cords and his blue eyes blazed. The sweat glistened on his freshly-shaved head as he paced back and forth across the small office.
‘What’s Ray done now? It is him, isn’t it? No-one else winds you up like he does,’ Shona asked, pouring boiling water into two mugs.
‘Too fuckin’ right it’s him! He’s only gone and nicked another club from under us, telling them that they can save money by dealing directly with him instead of going through an agency. That’s twice this week he’s pissed me off. I swear I’ll rip his head off!’ He threw himself back into his chair and banged his hands on the table.
Although John was the sole owner of Bulldog Promotions, he’d started out as a stripper himself, working under the legendary entrepreneur Steve Gifford, before a back injury had forced him to hang up his G-string. John had a brilliant head for business, so Steve took him on as a partner and had proved a great mentor, and John had taken over after Steve died.
John had a good reputation on the circuit and many of the acts on his books had become good friends. In the beginning, it had been the big names like Ray who had guaranteed a full house, while ensuring that the newer guys were seen. John’s strippers were fiercely loyal to the company and would never poach work from elsewhere. He was a fair man and made sure that everyone had regular work, u
sing them equally in rotation on the weekly shows in Birmingham, Bristol, Swansea, Plymouth and now Nottingham. They had recently expanded to Liverpool and Dublin, and a tour of Greece and Switzerland had been confirmed this week.
The problems had started when a few of their regular venues started cancelling shows and booking directly with the strippers themselves, wooed by the prospect of no agency fees. There were still a lot of freelancers out there who were happy to work without an agent, but they ran the risk of a venue refusing to pay, or them not getting the agreed fee after the show.
Shona placed a mug of coffee down in front of John. He picked it up and smiled as he breathed in the aroma. It was laced with Jack Daniels and he took a large mouthful and nodded.
‘Thanks Shona, that’s just what the doctor ordered.’
‘So, what’s the other thing Ray’s done to upset you?’
‘He’s nicked that job at the bingo hall from Adam. He rang them up pretending to be him and said he couldn’t do the job because he was ill, but his friend Ray Diamond was going to fill in for him,’ John said bitterly.
‘What? Oh, for God’s sake! Adam was relying on that job to see him through Christmas and the New Year! Why would Ray do that?’
Shona felt sorry for Adam. He was a sweet guy and a real grafter. His ex-girlfriend had recently had a baby, and she squeezed him for every penny he earned. He’d been a skilled painter and decorator when John met him, so John helped get him work decorating whenever he could, and insisted he kept that money for himself.
‘He caught Adam doing an impersonation of him backstage at the last show they worked together. Even though Adam insisted that he was doing it because he admired him, Ray took it badly and won’t let it go. This is the third job of Adam’s that he’s poached. I’m going to have to have a quiet word with Ray and make him see sense. If I’d had a pound for every time someone’s taken the piss out of me when I was stripping, I’d be a rich man. Adam’s young and impressionable, he hasn’t got a malicious bone in his body.’