by Ann Bloxwich
Jayne sat down again with a bump and burst into tears. Carol glanced at Alex as she handed Jayne another tissue. He nodded at her and she picked up her handbag and left the room. She squeezed Alex’s arm as she passed him, letting him know that she was there for him too.
Alex sat down next to his wife, waiting for her to stop crying. She leaned against him, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.
‘I’m so sorry darling, I really want to be here to help, but my hands are tied with Charlie off sick. I’ll tell the boss that I’m only doing half days from now on.’ Alex coughed to try and clear the lump that had formed in his throat.
‘Don’t be daft. We’ve been married long enough for me to know how important your job is, but sometimes I just feel so alone.’ Jayne sighed.
‘I think I should call social services. They may be able to get a temporary placement for him somewhere.’
‘But I’m his mother, and I’m not going to put him in care.’
‘No-one’s saying you should, but maybe we need to think about what Joel needs. He wants his own life with as little input from us as possible. That’s why we built the bungalow, so he could have more independence. But he also needs people around him who are trained to deal with his type of behaviour. Let’s face it, we’re not. We simply can’t cope for much longer.’
Alex felt Jayne stiffen next to him and waited for her to argue, but she didn’t have to. Her face gave away how angry she was.
‘Go back to work Alex, we’ll talk about it tonight. Dave has promised to keep Joel out until you get home, and I could do with a proper lie-down.’ Jayne stood up, walked past him and headed up the stairs.
Alex thought about following her but decided against it. Instead, he went outside, got in his car and drove back to the station.
27
Les called out to Alex as he walked in. ‘Boss, I’ve set up interviews with the acts from the Leamore Club as requested, and I’m about to call John Jackson, the agent from the promotions company. Any preference on who talks to who?’
‘You and Mo take one stripper and give one to Craig and Dawn. I’ll go and see the agent. Dawn and Mo are talking to Michelle Simmons later today, then I’ll take whoever’s left. Have you included Ray Diamond in the interviews?’
‘No, I hadn’t. I thought Dawn had already interviewed him, he’s not on my list,’ Les replied, looking at his computer screen.
‘She has, but that was on his turf. I want to talk to him on mine. He was three sheets to the wind when she and Mo went over there, so I want to make him aware that this isn’t a silly game. Stick him down for 9 a.m. tomorrow, let’s see how cocky he is first thing in the morning. Put me and Craig down for that one.’
Alex looked around for Gary, spotting him by the printer. ‘Have you typed up those interviews from the Leamore Club yet, Gary?’ he called out as he crossed the floor towards his office.
Gary stuck his pen between his teeth, grabbed the sheaf of paper that the printer had spewed out, and hurried after Alex, veering towards his own desk to deposit the papers in his hand and pick up the recently typed interviews. He handed them to Alex and waited anxiously while his boss flicked through them.
‘Great work, I know you hate typing, but you’ve surpassed yourself. Well done.’
Gary looked embarrassed and fiddled with his pen, finally putting it in his jacket pocket. He had a stain on his shirt which Alex hoped was ketchup and not blood.
‘Actually, boss, I got Mo to do them. Before you get mad at me, it’s only because she types a lot faster than me, and she doesn’t make spelling mistakes. I’ve promised her a box of doughnuts from that posh new shop in the town centre.’
Gary managed to look both innocent and guilty at the same time, and although Alex was cross, he couldn’t help admiring his honesty.
‘Next time do them yourself, no matter how long it takes. Mo has enough of her own work to do without helping you. Go and get me a sausage roll and a coffee from the canteen and be quick about it, then you can take over the phone call list from Mo.’
Alex tried to keep his voice stern, but it was difficult when Gary stood looking at his feet in shame, his light-brown hair sticking up at odd angles and his tie askew. He looked like a schoolboy caught stealing pencils.
‘Righto boss, sorry boss,’ Gary said, rushing off before Alex could reprimand him further. Alex shook his head in disbelief, then started sorting through the pile of messages that had accrued on his desk.
‘Out goes Starsky and in walks Hutch,’ Alex said as Craig strolled in, looking like a catalogue model.
Where Gary’s style was laid-back, Craig’s was designer catwalk. Today’s ensemble was a charcoal-coloured pinstriped suit, white shirt, a perfectly knotted sapphire-blue tie, matching handkerchief and highly polished black shoes. His dark hair was gelled carefully into place. He walked towards Alex’s office and Alex beckoned him in.
‘Afternoon boss, sorry I wasn’t here earlier. I did leave a message though.’
Alex waved him to sit down and he did, putting his right ankle up on his left knee. His trousers rode up slightly and Alex looked at his ankles.
Craig saw him looking and laughed. ‘Spiderman socks, an early Christmas present from Debs. She knows how much I love Marvel films, and she bet me thirty quid I wouldn’t wear them to work.’
Alex smiled. ‘Very nice. Now, you were about to tell me why you weren’t here on time.’
‘An anonymous call came in, saying that we should check out one of the local charity shops. It seems that someone had donated a bundle of clothes that matched Vicky Wilson’s missing things. I’ve picked up everything that was donated and it’s with forensics now. I don’t hold out much hope, but you never know.’
‘Good work. Do they know who handed it in?’
‘No, it was left outside the shop. There are cameras in the street outside, so I thought we should take a look and see who was around.’
‘Get Gary to go through the footage, he’s deskbound for the foreseeable future so he may as well make himself useful. That will teach him to get Mo to do his typing for him.’
Craig looked amused. ‘He’s a crafty sod. Mind you, she’s fast, over one hundred and fifty words a minute and never a single error. I’d be stuffed without autocorrect.’
‘Well, it’s backfired on him now. Is it me, or do we seem to be going around in circles on this one? It’s been days and not even a sniff of a suspect. We really need to solve this, Joel’s giving Jayne grief at home and it’s causing big problems.’
‘Well, if you need a hand with the move, Gary and I are happy to help out. Just say the word.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate that. Ah, Gary, there you are. I thought you’d got lost,’ Alex said, as he arrived with his food.
Gary put the mug and a paper bag on the desk. ‘Sorry boss, there were no sausage rolls left, so I had to nip to Greggs.’
‘No problem. Craig’s got a lead of sorts, he will fill you in.’
Gary nodded and followed Craig out of the office. Alex opened the bag and bit into his sausage roll, showering his desk with flakes of pastry. Les stuck his head round the doorframe.
‘Sorry, boss, you said to let you know when I’d spoken to John Jackson. He said he’s in the office all day, so just go along when you like. He said he leaves at 5.30 p.m., but to give you his mobile number if you need it.’
‘Great, I’ll get along and see him once I’ve eaten this. I need to sort some stuff out at home as well, so I’ll nip back there once I’ve spoken to him. Ring me if you need to.’
‘Will do. I’ll get on to the phone company again and see if they’ve got Vicky’s mobile records yet.’
Alex popped the last piece of sausage roll into his mouth, balled up the paper bag and dropped it in the bin.
‘Get onto forensics again. Craig’s just given them a load of new stuff to look at, but they should be done with the first lot by no
w. Now, let’s start shaking the tree a bit harder and see what falls out.’
28
Alex swore to himself as he tried to find a parking space close to the office of Bulldog Promotions, which was above a row of shops on the approach to Birmingham’s New Street station. Eventually, he gave up and parked on the fourth level in one of the city’s many multi-storey car parks and hoped the parking fee wouldn’t be too horrendous.
When he saw how many people were trying to cram themselves into an already overcrowded lift, he decided it would be quicker using the stairs. His knees screamed at him by the time he reached the ground floor, and it made him more determined to start a fitness regime in the New Year.
Finding the office was easy, and he was relieved that it was on the first floor, so there was only one flight of stairs to deal with. Alex was about to knock on the door, but a young woman opened it before his knuckles could strike the wood.
She was tall and thin, dressed from head to toe in shocking pink Lycra, her long blonde hair scraped back in a ponytail and secured with a scrunchie that matched her outfit.
‘Hiya, are you here to see John?’ she asked, smacking her chewing gum against her teeth.
Alex pulled out his ID card to introduce himself, but she pulled the door wide and pointed to a desk near the window.
‘That’s him. He’ll make you a cuppa, I’m off to do my Christmas shopping.’
She shot off down the stairs before Alex could think of a reply.
‘Come in mate,’ the man at the desk called, standing up and walking towards the kettle. Alex walked across the room, glancing at the brightly coloured posters that adorned the walls. Most of them showed half-naked men, some in groups and some alone, posing to show off their impressive physiques. Alex suppressed the urge to pull his stomach in. Other posters showed drag artistes, comedians and various tribute acts, including the one he’d met at the club a few days ago.
‘Have a seat. Tea or coffee?’ the man asked, the steaming kettle in his hand hovering over two mugs. He also seemed to be in peak physical condition, with bulging muscles, but looked older than the men in the posters. He was wearing grey jogging bottoms and a white sleeveless T-shirt, and had a long-sleeved top tied around his waist.
‘Coffee please,’ Alex said, lowering himself onto one of the two straight-backed chairs that stood in front of the desk. ‘You’d be John Jackson, owner of Bulldog Promotions I assume?’
‘I am indeed,’ the man said in a cheery voice. ‘You must be the Old Bill. I recognise the weary expression. My old man was a copper, he worked in Cornwall back in the fifties.’
John placed a mug in front of Alex and took a seat behind the desk. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’ he asked. He leaned back in his chair, nursing his mug in his big hands. He seemed very easy-going and Alex liked him immediately.
‘I need some information about the ladies’ night that took place last Friday at the Leamore club. You may have heard that a young woman was killed either during or after the show. Can you give me a run-down of the show, how it operates, who was there, etcetera?’
John’s smile faltered. ‘Your officer mentioned it when he called. Shocking business. That poor woman, her parents must be beside themselves. If I can help in any way, then I will, so just tell me what you need?’
He put his mug down and switched his computer screen on, scrolling down through a calendar until he found the correct date, then clicking on it. A new page opened, and John turned the screen so that Alex could read it.
‘This is the contract and corresponding information for that show. I still prefer to use a diary and notebook, but Shona – that’s the woman who let you in – said we should be doing everything on here now. I guess she’s right, but I’m a bit of a dinosaur when it comes to technology. My kids know more than I ever will, but I’m getting the hang of it, albeit slowly.’
John talked Alex through the list of names on the screen. ‘This tells me who was booked to appear, how many spots they were doing and how much they were getting paid. Some venues want each act to do two spots, in which case the guy will go onstage and do his first routine, but only strip down to his G-string. For his second spot, he’ll have a different costume and music, but will take everything off. If the venue wants one spot, he’ll do the full strip, unless they’ve asked for just a teaser. That’s the name of the act, the DJ and so on,’ he continued, pointing out the various people.
Alex nodded as John went through the contract. ‘What about security? Do you provide that?’
‘Not always. Some of the bigger clubs have their own so we don’t need to provide it. This was a smaller club, but they said they would sort out their own.’
‘That’s strange,’ Alex said. ‘The club owner said that you provided the security that night. She said that the guy had an official badge.’
John looked confused. ‘The only other explanation is that one of the acts hired him. Kitty usually goes through me as I can get her a good deal. Maybe she decided to try a different firm. I’ll double-check with Shona, but if we had provided them it would be on here.’
‘Can I get a copy of that contract?’ Alex asked. ‘It will help us identify anyone we’ve not yet spoken to.’
‘Sure, coming right up.’ John clicked the mouse and the printer on the adjoining desk began whirring. He leaned across, grabbed the sheet from the printer tray and passed it to Alex, who was draining his mug.
He nodded when John stood up and offered him a refill. He waited until John had sat back down before continuing.
‘What can you tell me about Ray Diamond? I understand he has a reputation of upsetting folk.’
Alex took a biscuit from the plate on the desk and dunked it in his coffee.
John laughed, but the smile never reached his eyes. ‘Ah yes, the man himself. Well, where should I start? If you want to hear everything you’d be here all day. To put it mildly, he’s an arsehole, he treats people like shit, but he still pulls the crowds in. He’s been around for twenty-five years or so. He started out under Steve Gifford. Steve was a bodybuilder-turned-stripper back in the Seventies, one of the first in the business. Ray met him at the gym, and Steve saw the potential in him. He trained him up and got him his first few gigs by taking him along to shows with him and getting him to do teaser spots. By the time Steve died, Ray had become big enough to fill a venue by himself.’
‘How did Steve die?’ Alex asked.
‘It was a hit and run, right outside his house. He was on his way home after a show, he decided to walk that night because it was a local gig. I don’t know what sort of vehicle hit him, but he was really messed up. They said he would’ve died instantly, which is a blessing. It was a real shame. Steve was a genuine bloke, always pleasant to work with. He was the one who started Bulldog Promotions, or Perfection as it was back then, and I was one of his acts until I did my back in. We got on like a house on fire from the minute we met. He used to put me and Ray on shows together, until Ray decided he should be top of the bill all the time, instead of us taking joint billing. I didn’t care, I was happy doing my stuff and earning a decent crust, but Ray got more and more competitive, so I stopped working with him in the end. I was also happy working the gay clubs, something Ray refused to do, and I made a lot of money that way. I met Neil Stone at one of the clubs, he was struggling to get into the drag scene, so I brought him to meet Steve. That’s when Kitty was born, so to speak.’
John raised his mug to his lips and finished his drink, a faraway look on his face.
‘So, you took on the agency after Steve’s death,’ Alex said. ‘That must have been difficult.’
‘Not really, I’d always been interested in learning the business side from quite early on, so after my injury I used to help Steve out in other ways, like driving other acts to gigs if they didn’t have a car, doing promotional stuff like mail drops, and so on. It got me more involved in the running of it, allowing him more time with his family. He took me on a
s a partner and I always thought his wife would take over if anything happened to him, but when his Will was read out, I found out he’d left the whole thing to me, on the premise that I would continue to train new strippers and drag acts. Apparently, his wife didn’t want anything to do with it.’
‘That must have been tough, carrying on without him,’ Alex murmured.
John shrugged his shoulders. ‘Like I said, I knew it inside out. The tough bit was not having Steve around to run new ideas by. Some of the guys didn’t like me being at the helm, so they left, and I had to fire a couple who’d been robbing Steve blind for months by putting in false expenses and charging more for jobs than they should have. I changed the name to signify a new start and I’d like to think he’d approve of me branching out and taking on musicians and tribute bands. Let’s face it, strippers have a short shelf life, and strip shows may one day become as outdated as Tupperware parties.’
‘Don’t say that in front of my wife, she swears by her resealable sandwich boxes,’ Alex grinned. ‘I got the impression when I spoke to Mr Stone that he and Mr Diamond aren’t the best of friends. Can you shed any light on why that might be? Mr Stone told me of an altercation between them, but I wondered if there was more to it.’
‘Ah, yes. It’s a rivalry that’s lasted for years. One of the rumours is that Ray made advances towards Neil and was turned down. Ray would probably tell you it’s the other way around. Personally, I reckon it’s because when Neil created Kitty McLane, she was an instant hit. The audiences loved her from the start, and Ray was jealous when people came to his shows and complained that Kitty wasn’t on the bill. We gave Kitty a few shows of her own for two reasons. One, to try and dampen the animosity between the two of them. And two, to give Kitty a chance to broaden her audience, therefore guaranteeing that more people would come to strip shows where Kitty was appearing. She’s incredibly popular and Ray soon noticed that shows with Kitty on had the biggest audiences, so he agreed to work with her again.’