by Alex Pitt
“Are you going in?” someone grumbled at me from behind.
I turned around and noted three men standing there, queuing to get in the strip club. That was when I realised I’d been standing there with my hand on the door for quite some time, discussing the current state of affairs with Becky.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, and opened the door.
The place was brightly lit, and I had a sense of déjà vu as I stood in the entrance. Strictly speaking, I had been in this building only two nights earlier, but I couldn’t remember anything about it. I probably got drunk in the pub just down the road and decided a to the visit the strip club would be a good idea. And I don’t think the drinking had stopped in the pub either.
The place was fairly empty, but there were a few people tossing notes at a girl on a pole, and a few more were sitting at the bar. There were curtained areas off to the left, and I think I could have a fairly good guess at what was going on behind them.
“So, where do you want to start?” Becky asked me, but I thought the answer was obvious.
“We need to ask the staff if they know who Rachel is. I’m not trying to be stereotypical here, but she was very pretty and very young. Seems like a lot of those in here,” and I pointed around the building with my head as I said that. “I think she probably worked here, either as a stripper, or as a barmaid. Someone must know who she is.”
“Great, I’ll go ask around the pole. See if anyone there knows anything. You try the bar.”
“Hold on a minute, Cooper. Maybe I should ask at the pole, and you should take the bar.”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, unable to take her eyes of the topless girl twisting and twirling around the pole. “You have connections at the bar.”
I rolled my eyes, but she was right. She smiled without looking at me and headed toward the pole, a sparkle in her eyes. Officer Cooper was unbelievable. With caution, I stepped towards the bar and took a seat. There were a couple of barmaids working tonight and, unfortunately, April was one of them.
“What can I get for you?” she asked, not looking up from the bar.
“A gin and tonic, on the rocks.”
She moved away, still not meeting my eyes, and began preparing my drink. I studied her long, slim physique, and the way she moved. She sure knew how to make a drink. But there was something about her that unnerved me. She was cold, distant, like a robot. She was scared.
A drunk man pushed his chair back and stumbled to his feet, shouting that he needed a piss. April flinched at this and shied away from the bar, away from the man.
“Here you go, sir,” she said a moment later, presenting the drink in front of me. “Enjoy.”
Then she looked directly into my eyes, and a sense of recognition passed across her face. She was also, dare I say it, pleased to see me.
“Hello, Richard.”
“Hello, April.”
“What brings you here? Looking for round two?” and she gave me a dry laugh. I don’t think she would have been too impressed if I’d said yes to that question.
“When we were talking the other day, did I mention what I do for a living?”
“You said you investigate stuff. I did ask what kind of stuff you investigated, but I think you were too far gone by that point.”
“Right, right,” I nodded, not wanting to get too deep into that evening. “Do you know who this girl is?” I asked, pulling a black and white photo from my pocket. It was of Rachel, when she was alive, before she became cannon fodder.
April shrugged and pushed herself away from the bar, making herself a drink.
“I know a lot of people. Maybe I know her, maybe I don’t. What of it?”
I took another picture from my pocket, this one of the deformed corpse of Rachel, identical to the one pinned to the board in the station. I pushed it across the bar and April picked it up with one hand, throwing back a shot of whiskey with the other.
“While we were out on Wednesday night, someone did this to Rachel. I need to find out who. So, either you do know her or you don’t. And if you do, I need you to tell me. Please.”
April sighed and handed the photo back.
“Yeah, I knew her. Not very well. She worked here, but she was one of them,” she said, indicating to the pole. “Sometimes she danced, sometimes she took men behind the curtains. Whatever she was doing, she was always popular. Men liked Rachel, they did. She got herself mixed up with the wrong people, but she was a good girl. I’m sorry for what happened to her.”
“Do you know who did this?” I asked, plain and simple.
“No,” she replied quickly, shaking her head. “Rachel always had lovers and boyfriends and one-night stands, or even quick hook-ups behind the club. She wasn’t supposed to do that, but we all saw her sneaking out back with someone at least once a week.”
“But you have no idea who could have done this? None at all?”
“I’m sorry, Rich, I really am. I can’t help you.”
I was about to move away from the bar and find Cooper, to see if she was having any luck, when April signalled for a man to come over. He was big and burly, with sunglasses covering his face and a spider tattoo down his left arm. As it turned out, Spider was his name inside the club.
“Spider, this here is Detective Richard. I hope you don’t mind me calling you that. I mean, it is what you are, right?” she asked me, and I confirmed this with a shaky smile. “He’s asking about Rachel.”
“I don’t know if you can help me, I’m looking for anyone who knows anything about this girl,” I said, handing him the photo. “I was told she used to work here.”
“Yeah, she worked here,” Spider grunted. “Before she got herself fucking killed.”
“Right,” I frowned. “You don’t seem too torn-up about that.”
“I’m not,” he smiled a cynical smile at me. “I’ve already spoken to someone about this. Little slag got what was coming to her.”
“I don’t think you can say that,” I laughed in disbelief at him. “She’s dead, and as far as I’m concerned, everyone in here was involved in some way.”
“Then fucking arrest me. I don’t give a shit.”
With that, he walked away casually, as if nothing untoward had been said. My mouth had dropped in awe, and I was staring at him from across the room, standing next to the curtains.
Turning to April, I said, “Is he always like that?”
“Yep, that’s Spider for you. He doesn’t care about anyone besides himself.”
“Where was he on Wednesday night? Was he in here?” I whispered, suspicions rising.
April shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not that I know of anyway. Trust me, you would have known about it if he’d seen you taking me outside. He always gave Rachel a bollocking for that, but she did it anyway.”
“The way that he just spoke about her. That was disgusting. It sounded like he was glad she was dead. Do you think that he killed Rachel?” I asked, locking my eyes with her. “I need you to answer honestly.”
April opened her mouth to speak, but the situation was interrupted by a slap on my back and someone in a hurry. She grabbed at my pockets and fumbled around, ripping the car keys from me. I was about to fight back and knock the person to the floor, when I recognised the panicked suspect as Officer Cooper.
“Cooper, what the hell are you doing?” I shouted, as she sprinted away.
“It’s urgent,” she responded, standing at the door. “I’ll meet you at the station later.”
And she was gone, out of the door and into the night. It was clear that she’d found a clue, and she was obviously in a hurry to respond to it. If I’d been quicker, I would have demanded that she let me come with her. It wasn’t like I could follow now, with no car and no idea where the hell she was going.
Turning back to the bar, I cursed under my breath and raised the glass to my lips, draining the alcohol in one quick gulp.
Chapter Ten
Becky
I could almost smell what the girl
had had for dinner last night as she spun her legs around the pole and opened them in front of me. Regretfully, I turned my eyes away from pink thong and started scanning the googly-eyed men tossing money her thoughtlessly at the stripper. None of them looked like they worked here, but I thought I’d try anyway. Perhaps one of them, or a few of them, had seen Rachel at work, flashing her chest to the world.
“Excuse me,” I said, approaching a man. He didn’t seem to hear me, so I repeated it. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Hello,” he said, looking at me and blinking. He was clearly confused by talking to a woman who had all of her clothes on for once.
“Hey,” I smiled. “Officer Cooper,” and I flashed my badge.
He groaned when he saw that, and it made me wonder how many people in here would be in real trouble with the cops if we actually started digging. Drugs, maybe? Who knows.
“What have I done now, Officer?”
“I was just wondering if you know who this girl is?” I asked, pulling out the photo of Rachel.
He studied it for a second, then his eyes glazed over and he went back to watching the stripper.
“Come on, baby, shake that booty,” he laughed, chucking another tenner at her.
The girl smiled at that, turned around, and bent over.
“Yeah, I know who she is,” he said, turning back to address me. “Everyone in here knows who she is. She was my favourite. Lovely pair she had.”
“I’m gonna stop you right there, sir. I am not interested in her personal life. I’m interested in how she got herself killed.”
“Real shame that was,” he sighed. “I saw it on the news this morning. I liked that girl.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled away from the pole-viewing area, deciding that this man wasn’t going to give me the information I needed. In fact, the only thing I’d learnt from him was that she worked here. That was a start, at least, because now we knew that she hadn’t just visited for an evening.
Scanning around the rest of the crowd, I noticed someone who didn’t quite fit in with the rest. He was distant, hiding in the shadows at the back of the room, silently studying the environment. It was the piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand that troubled me the most. He was holding it as if his life depended on it, as if losing it would be the worst thing in the world.
I had a feeling I knew what it was and, upon approaching him, I was right.
“Cool leaflet,” I said, sounding socially awkward.
“What?” He grunted at me.
“That leaflet. Where did you get it?”
He pointed with a thumb to one of the curtains, and a man standing in front of them. He was supporting sunglasses, and a spider tattoo on his arm.
“Good chat,” I smirked. I started walking away, but he called me back.
“I wouldn’t go and talk to Spider. He’s in a foul mood tonight.”
“Foul mood or not, Rachel had one of those leaflets on her when she died.”
“Fine. Your funeral,” he shrugged, and turned away from me.
Despite having seen the leaflet on both Rachel’s body and clutched tightly in the man’s hand back there, I hadn’t actually read the fine print. My head was in a whirl and it hadn’t crossed my mind that it might hold an important detail. In fact, I’d only made the connection between the two leaflets because of the bright pink colour they’d used for it, as well as the outlined pole dancers in the top right corner.
“Got any more leaflets?” I asked the man.
He didn’t say anything, but reached into his pocket and took a folded page out. Handing it to me, I unfolded it and read what it was all about.
“I don’t know why you want that. The dates already passed. Last copy I had though.”
I looked up and smiled vaguely, then focused my eyes back on the leaflet. He was right; the date it was advertising for was the Wednesday just gone. The day that Rachel had turned up dead. For one night only, on that particular night, they were having all of the strippers who worked at the Venus club in the room at one time. Whereas most nights you only have a few strippers on in the evening, it seemed that every single one of them was in the Venus club on Wednesday, and it was advertising this so the guys could see a whole load of naked females all at one time.
I wasn’t about to lie to myself; I thought that this might have been something I would have gone to, so I couldn’t blame them for putting it on. The place must have been packed.
“The plot thickens,” I whispered to myself, catching the attention of the man who’d given me the leaflet.
“Is this something to do with that dead bitch? I wasn’t here that night, but I think she died the same day as the event,” he smirked, and I furrowed by brow at him.
“Sir, she is a murder victim. Please refrain from speaking about her like that.”
“Whatever. She’s one less problem I’ve got to deal with now. She deserved what she got. I just wish they’d strung her up afterwards to show the world what happens to strippers who don’t play by the rules,” he grumbled menacingly, and then paused for a second before saying, “For fucks sake, what does she want now,” and sauntering off towards the bar.
My head was a whirl. There were so many pieces to the puzzle, and I couldn’t contain it. Clutching my head, I tried to think straight. Not an easy task, but then something clicked. Something the man with the spider tattoo had said just as he left. Strung up? But she hadn’t been strung up. All he’d said, harshly so, was that he wished she had been strung up. Then I remembered the holes in her hands, and a massive piece of the puzzle finally clicked.
Running towards the bar, bumping into Spider on the way back to the curtains, I grabbed at Richard’s pockets and ripped the car keys from him. The look on his face was priceless, as he tried to figure out what was going on. I didn’t have time to explain.
“Cooper, what the hell are you doing?” I heard him call to me.
“It’s urgent,” I shouted back, my hand resting on the door. “I’ll meet you at the station later.”
And then I was gone.
There was no absolute rush to get back to the crime scene. I could have waited for Richard to come with me, but he might have been able to dig up something from his barmaid girlfriend and I was also pleased that I’d figured a clue out by myself. I had to be right, I was sure of it.
A few minutes later, I pulled into the driveway for the garage and bundled myself out, crashing to the pavement and slicing my hand on the gravel. I was too pumped up to stop and care for my hand, so I ran into the garage, quickly scouting the walls.
The girl’s body had been moved. This would have inevitably happened sooner or later. We’d got all of the evidence we could from her, and her family deserved the body so they could give her a proper funeral. Running my hands over the walls, I felt something sharp sticking out, and realised it was a nail. A few centimetres along, there was another nail. Two nails, two hands. They were big enough to fit all the way through the girl’s tiny hands, but small enough that none of us had noticed them before.
Then another thought occurred to me and I ran back outside. As far as I knew, no one had thought to check the surrounding fields. We’d all been too concerned with the body in the garage, rightly so. But, as I ran across the road, I realised the mistake we’d made. There was a massive clue hidden in plain sight, that none of us had picked up on.
“Son of a bloody bitch,” I muttered, bending down and studying the grass.
Part of it had been flattened, and there were two clear tyre tracks running through the front part of the field and onto the road. This all made sense, and I quickly drew out my phone and took a snapshot of the tyre tracks in the field and the nails in the garage.
I would have to ask Richard what he thought of this later, but I was almost a hundred per cent sure that I was right. It made sense.
Rachel had been killed using the pole and the knife, and then her body was strung up in the garage using the nails. The killer, whoever he was, would have rever
sed into the field and driven full speed at Rachel, smashing into her legs and destroying them. That explained how they had become so deformed, and also why there was so much broken glass around the body, as well as a dent in the car’s bumper.
After doing that, he must have moved the car and repositioned it, as well as lying the girl back on the floor. He clearly thought that leaving the body without a DNA trace of him on it would have been better than disposing of her somewhere else. If he left the body where it was, there would be no hunt for Rachel. If he’d taken the body, maybe someone somewhere would have seen him with it and reported him.
Either way, this killer was smart. Extremely smart. And vicious.
Clicking off the camera, I called Davies.
“Hello… where are you?... Well get out of bed then… please, it’s important… I don’t care that you don’t feel well… I understand that… I’m sorry, sir, but this is important. I’ve found something, and it’s big… alright, see you in twenty… Bye.”
I ended the call, throwing my phone on the passenger seat.
“I’m gonna find you, you son of a bitch,” I muttered, then put the car in reverse and pulled out onto the road.
Chapter Eleven
“Hey, Jack,” Scooter said to me, as I answered the phone.
“What do you want?” I yawned, checking the time and scratching an armpit with my one free hand.
“Just calling to see if you’re alright after yesterday. Not still cranky, are you?”
“I’d have been better with another hour’s sleep. Couldn’t it have waited?” I moaned at him.
“Christ, sorry, mate. You won’t believe it, but I didn’t even notice the time until now. I’ve been up all night, so it feels like about midday for me.”
“Right, and are you going to tell me what you were doing all night? Playing Call of Duty, no doubt?”
“Nah, I’m max rank on Black Ops 3, and I’m not playing Infinite Warfare. It’s a piece of crap.”
“You know I love talking about games with you, Scoot, but I could really do with some more sleep. Call me later or something, yeah?” I pleaded.