Dark Service

by Linda Coles

  A couple of minutes later, when he was back at his desk sipping contentedly, she approached him with the news. “Listen, Jack. We might have something going on with the hair chopping case I told you about. Seems there might be more to it.”

  “Oh? I didn’t know there was a case.” A milky moustache covered his top lip and Amanda motioned with her fingers to her own top lip. He got the hint and wiped it away. The foam was now on the back of his hand. He stared at it.

  “We didn’t, but I’ve just heard about another woman from some years ago who had her hair taken. And get this: whoever did it left a card saying not to tell, that it wouldn’t be wise. I’m off to see Jeremy, see if I can speak to the more recent woman or her mother and find out if they also had a card. You coming?”

  Jack raised his coffee mug as if to say ‘I’ve just got this’ and said, “No. I’ll stay here and get some paperwork done. I’m drowning in it. You go. Let me know what she says.”

  Amanda watched as he wiped the froth from his hand with his handkerchief. Finally. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and headed out to the hairdresser’s for the second time in a week.

  This time, it wasn’t for tea and gossip.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Let me guess. My roots are that bad you thought you’d better come back and do them before much longer.” Judy Palmer smiled as she kidded him. He’d only ever been to their house once before. Jeremy’s face told her he wasn’t feeling quite so jovial today.

  “Hello, Judy. May I talk to you for a moment, please?”

  She opened the door wide and stood back, beckoning him through. “Can I get you some tea? Though you look like you might want something stronger. Are you alright, Jeremy?”

  “Tea, thank you. That would be nice.” He climbed up on the bar stool that stood by the breakfast bar, his body half twisted towards Judy as he watched her make the tea.

  “What’s on your mind to bring you back out here?”

  “I’ve got a confession to make. And I’m hoping you’re not going to be angry. But you might be.” He said the words slowly, with trepidation.

  “Oh? Go on.”

  “I might have mentioned to a woman in the salon that I’d been called out to help a woman because a prankster had chopped her ponytail off. And that is was spiteful, nasty.” Judy stood quietly, but he could see by the tightness of her lips she wasn’t happy. He carried on. “I was just chatting – nothing malicious, just expressing my incredulousness at how someone could do that to a so-called friend.” He stopped at that and waited for her reaction.

  “So, Taylor is the subject of your idle chit-chat, is she? But looking at your face, I’d say there was more to it than that. What else?”

  He could feel her anger almost palpably bouncing off the tiled wall of the kitchen.

  “She’s a detective.” He winced as the words crept out of his mouth.

  “You told a detective? How dare you! How dare you first of all talk about our private business, and second, you must have known she was a detective? Why on God’s earth did you feel the need to share it?”

  Jeremy could feel himself cowering as her voice got louder, loud enough that Taylor herself came through from the next room where she’d been reading her book.

  “Mum? What’s going on?” Jeremy had the sense to stay quiet while Judy explained to her daughter. Taylor went as white as the tiled walls, her lower lip quivering as she took in what she was being told. When her silence had gone on long enough, Jeremy dared to add the last piece of why he’d actually gone to the house.

  “Look, I’m really sorry that I mentioned it to anyone, but it seems that Taylor may not have been the only one that this has happened to.” He watched as both women looked at each other silently. Taylor’s lip had begun to tremble. He pushed on. “The detective would like to talk to you and find out a little more, so I said I’d call over and forewarn you both. I hoped I was being helpful. After my mistake.”

  “It’s a pity you didn’t try and be ‘helpful’ before you told half the salon! What were you thinking, you stupid man?”

  Jeremy bowed his head. Taylor’s voice broke the silence.

  “I didn’t want the police involved, but now you’ve ruined that. What am I supposed to do now?”

  He watched as her lower lip trembled harder before her face crumpled fully and she fled from the room in tears. He could hear the first deep sob and he felt wretched for instigating it. Judy glared her displeasure at him.

  “You’d better go. The damage is done.”

  Silently, Jeremy slid off the stool where he’d been perched, uttering a final abject apology to Judy’s deaf ears. Letting himself back out the front door, he exhaled the trapped air in his lungs and replaced it with fresh, trying to make himself feel better. It took several attempts as he walked out to the road and his parked car, but he wasn’t interested in his own car. Parked further up the road was Amanda, and he slipped inside into the passenger seat.

  From the way his head thudded onto the headrest, Amanda didn’t have to ask how it had gone.

  “I feel bloody awful now. Taylor is sobbing, Judy is angry and I’m depleted. Why couldn’t I have kept my big mouth shut? Other people’s misery is off the table of conversation forevermore,” he said emphatically, his arms crossed over his face in anguish. Perhaps if he couldn’t see, it hadn’t happened.

  “Well, I’ll go and see how receptive they are in a few minutes. If there are others, and there may only be the two I know about, they could help stop whoever is doing this. And of course, the fact that both women had had the same thing happen to them could also be a simple coincidence.” She was silent a moment, pondering. “But as a detective, I kind of don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Jeremy grunted, more from embarrassment than as a proper reply to her comment.

  Ten minutes later, Jeremy stayed put in the front seat and watched Amanda’s blonde head disappear around the front gate and up the driveway, headed for the Palmer residence. He slunk down in his seat to wait it out.

  Chapter Thirty

  Amanda had left the Palmers’ place with what she’d wanted – almost. While Taylor had obviously been scared to talk about what had happened, Amanda had persisted gently with her, and now felt she had the start of something to investigate. Given Stephanie’s snippet of information, some fifteen years belated though it was, she didn’t believe the relationship between the two incidents was a coincidence. Not at all. When she’d mentioned the card and its message to Taylor, the look of pure horror on her face had sung to her like a Welsh male voice choir. Not even a rookie would have missed it. But the thing that had puzzled both victims, as she now referred to them, was the part about ‘the debt being settled.’ Neither woman could throw any light on what it could possibly have meant. Now back at the station and headed to fill Jack in, she wondered what they could be dealing with. And just how long whatever it was had been going on. At least fifteen years; maybe longer.

  “Crickey, that’s weird,” Jack said. “And from so long ago too? Did someone resurface, I wonder, or has it been going on all these years and we just haven’t heard about it?’ Jack was twiddling his moustache between two fingers, a habit that amused Amanda, and something he did usually while deep in thought.

  “No clue. But I’m going to get that laptop out of the evidence locker if it’s still there, the one that belonged to Sebastian Stevens that we found after his death. If he was with Stephanie that night, it may have been him who took her hair, though Stephanie felt sure it wasn’t him. Or it might still be a coincidence. Worth a look, though: fresh eyes, now we know a little more.”

  “First, Lacey,” Jack put one finger up, “you don’t believe in coincidences, and second,” he put a second finger up beside it, “that computer will only be a handful of years old, so I doubt there’s much of use on it.”

  “I know that, Jack, but he may have been active with others more recently so it’s worth a look, isn’t it?” Jack conceded the id
ea and picked his phone up to make the call. “Let’s hope we still have it, then. We’ll soon find out.”

  Amanda watched her partner as he asked the question and waited for the reply.

  “We’re in luck,” Jack said after he’d hung up. “They’re pulling it out for us. Are you giving it to computer forensics, then?”

  “Not much good me looking at it, so yes. But this time, we know a little more about what we’re looking at. Sort of.”

  Jack raised his brows in a doubtful manner but didn’t say anything. Sometimes, he let Amanda have her own way without much discussion, and over the years they’d been working together, she’d been more often right than not. She sat back in her chair and started to tap her teeth with a fingernail. It wasn’t lost on Jack that she was playing with her own virtual moustache.

  At length, she spoke up again. “You know, if you were up to no good these days, there are plenty of ways to hide your activity. If this is something dodgy, chances are it’s not found on the regular web but in the dark web. Why would you risk it otherwise? And anyone can get access to the dark web now; it’s not hard.”

  “And if that is the case, it’ll be almost impossible to find. Whatever it is. That’s the whole point of it – that much this luddite does know.” He pointed to his chest with his thumb.

  While he was useless with gadgets, particularly coffee machine gadgets, Jack did keep abreast of what was out there security- and crime-wise. He just couldn’t make it work for himself. Amanda conceded that he was right. They needed to find out what they could the old-fashioned way and then enlist the help of the cyber team with their more specialist knowledge. And tactics.

  And she could chat to Ruth if she needed to. She knew everything about everything tech.

  Later that evening over dinner with Ruth, Amanda broached the subject of the dark web.

  “Can someone simply stumble across something strange, say a hit man for hire?”

  “No, not really. You still have to search for what you want. Why? Thinking of knocking me off once we get married? For my millions?” Ruth grinned at her.

  “No, just curious. The dark web is not somewhere I hang out, so I don’t know how it works, really. I leave that to the cyber guys.”

  “And girls.”

  “Eh? Oh yes, and girls. Sorry, Miss Tech-head.”

  “Apology accepted. What is it you really want to know about?” Not much got past Ruth’s bullshit antennae.

  “Look, I can’t tell you details, but it’s to do with Steph’s revelation about her hair being chopped off and the more recent woman. Since we’ve no clue what we are looking at, I thought it may be something deeper. And darker, perhaps. Like on the dark web.”

  “Well, aren’t your cyber team helping?”

  “Not yet, no. Nothing to go on to get them involved. Just my mind working scenarios. Or scenario, actually, I haven’t got another.”

  “Well, the answer is still the same. You need to search for it and there’s the clue – search. The dark web is just a list of un-indexed pages, and they’re not all peddling weird stuff. You’ll find legitimate sites too. Anyone can look, but users make themselves anonymous by using a TOR browser, which encrypts and pings around a whole bunch of servers around the world so their IP address can’t be traced back to them. Simple to do but it also makes it hard to find those who peddle stuff they really shouldn’t be. Like child pornography, drugs, and, yes, hit men. And hit women.”

  Amanda smiled at that one.

  “Look,” said Ruth, “I’ll give you a demo when we’ve finished, open your eyes a little.”

  Amanda wasn’t sure if she liked that idea or not. You can’t un-see something, she knew, and who knew what she might find.

  “Don’t look so scared. We won’t be going to those types of pages – what do you take me for? And until you start clicking on dodgy images or videos, or interacting in something illegal, you’ll be as safe as on the regular web, maybe even safer. Now eat up and I’ll show you.”

  Amanda was about to have a lesson on what others do for kicks in their spare time.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Griffin and Vee had started seeing a little more of each other, though there was nothing official about it. Since Vee had caught up with him a few evenings ago and solved the puzzle of his knotted ear buds, they’d caught the train together to and from work on several occasions. And even though it interfered with his practiced routine, his morning one in particular, Griffin had found himself able to relax about it a little. To his surprise, he hadn’t stressed about it as much as he once would have. And that was because he was enjoying her company, her lively but not overbearing chatter, her forwardness and the warm breeze she brought into his otherwise still and functional world. He’d found himself thinking of her at all times of the day – while he waited for sleep to come, while he waited for the kettle to boil and while he finished his steps off for the day. Not in a sexual way; more of a ‘not-really-sure-why-I’m-thinking-about-you-all-the-time-but-I-am’ kind of way. Did that even make sense? He enjoyed her company, fair and simple. The thought occurred to him that maybe there might be other parts of his routine he could break out of if it brought him the kind of enjoyment that Vee had shown him. And he’d quite like to take her out to the pub, but did he have the courage to ask her? And then what? If they got on well and they carried on seeing one another, there would eventually come a time that she’d want more, expect it, even.

  ‘More’ included her seeing him naked, and that he wouldn’t do at all. Not yet.

  He placed his breakfast crockery in the dishwasher, switched it on for a low wash and headed for the train. He was fifteen minutes later than he had been with his routine of recent, but it meant they could ride together. He picked up his pace as the station came into view. And the rear of Vee. Smiling to himself, he wondered what she was listening to as she walked; her ear bud wires just visible, resting on her shoulder. If he called out to her, she’d never hear him, and Griffin didn’t have the confidence to do that anyway. So, he watched her from the comfort of twenty paces away, knowing she’d be stood on the same platform as he would be in a few moments. And that comforted him somewhere deep inside.

  She spotted him as soon as she turned into the entranceway.

  “Morning, Griffin.” Her smile was as bright as a daisy drinking in the summer sun, and just as pretty.

  “Morning, Vee.” While he smiled in greeting, he couldn’t compete with her confident way, and looked more like a cheap chrysanthemum that had been far too long in its cellophane flute on a garage forecourt. He did his best anyhow.

  “I fancy a coffee. Want one?” She looked up at him expectantly. “I’m buying.”

  He hesitated.

  “No?”

  “I usually drink tea.”

  But not until I get to the office.

  “Can I get you a tea, then?” The daisy-like smile glowed again. How could he not? He checked his watch for the impending train. Some habits were harder to break.

  “Great, thanks. I’ll come over with you,” he said, and they both made their way to the coffee cart along the platform. A couple of minutes later, they had their drinks. When the faint throb of the approaching train could be felt, they stood where Griffin usually stood in the hope of getting a couple of seats together, though the later train time had proved a bit more difficult to manage. Still, they each had their music for the short journey, and they were together at least. As the train pulled up in front of them, they could both see they were out of luck. Vee looked up at Griffin and screwed her face up in disappointment as the people ahead of them crowded into the carriage, taking the last remaining single seats. Standing for the journey wasn’t really a problem, but conversation was almost impossible with other people’s faces only a few inches from their own. It meant those close by heard every word, and that made it embarrassing to have a conversation for just about everyone. Travelling on a morning commuter train was not too dissimilar to travelling in a stock truck,
though rather than being nose to tail, morning travellers were nose to nose. It was only marginally more pleasurable. Some people really needed to attend the dental hygienist a little more regularly.

  With their ear buds firmly in place, they stuck it out until they reached London Victoria, Griffin with Gershwin, Vee with Sia, each in their own world thinking their own thoughts. Vee glanced at Griffin but he didn’t notice, lost in the sound of piano keys as Gershwin reached a crescendo. When the track changed he looked up from watching the floor and caught her eye. She took her buds out and he followed suit, aware she was going to speak. What was she going to say in a place where she could be overheard?

  “Fancy a drink straight from work?”

  Griffin couldn’t believe his ears. How could she be so brazen, so confident and so forward? And in such close confines, too? He stood there, stunned, like a mackerel ready for the pan. He hadn’t been prepared for such a direct question and at first wasn’t sure what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, but here? With all these people listening? He flicked from her face to the stranger’s face a few inches away and back to Vee. As he stood with his mouth open slightly, hoping the appropriate words would somehow fall out, she prodded him.

  “Well? Yes or no to a lager?” At least she was smiling – in amusement? The stranger caught his eye and nodded ever so slightly, he too prodding him to answer Vee’s question. Griffin fumbled and mumbled, but eventually released a coherent answer.

  “Yes. I’d like that.” He breathed a heavy sigh as he relaxed, his anguish passing over and leaving his chest as it drifted off down the carriage and out of an open window. The stranger gave him a half smile, a ‘well done,’ like a teacher dishing out a red star to a good student.

  “Great! Do you know The Baskerville? It’s not far from my road. Why don’t we meet there at, say, seven pm? Will that give you enough time to do whatever you need to do beforehand?”