by Linda Coles
“Was that our man too?”
“No, someone else entirely, though I have a feeling we’ll be chatting to him very soon. Again, it’s odd that at the time of the breach, someone else interested in particular body parts turns up. I wonder what his interest was. Or is. If he had an interest then, does he still?
“After Mr. Smeeks’ caution, things quieted down for the agency and everything went back to normal. I say we start there, see what low-hanging fruit might still be left hanging that wasn’t picked last time around.” Amanda handed her coffee to Jack and started the engine. She read out the address to Jack. “See what Google Maps says is the best way to get there. I’m not entirely sure where it is.”
She watched Jack out of the corner of her eye trying to type the address she’d given him into the maps app. He was no fingers and all thumbs. As he finally pressed ‘go’ and the mechanical voice announced the directions, she noticed something else: Jack was grimacing slightly.
“Are you okay, Jack?”
“Eh?”
“Are you okay? You looked in pain there for a second.”
“It’s nothing. I keep getting a twinge down my right side, that’s all. Nothing more than gut-ache.”
“How long has that been bothering you?”
“Only a day or two. It’ll be gone soon. It’s nothing, really. Old age. Or that corned beef sandwich. The pickle on them always gives me gripe. I don’t know why I eat them.” He turned to her and smiled his ‘don’t worry’ smile. “You just drive and I’ll worry about the corned beef and pickle doing its thing.”
Navigating the late afternoon traffic, Amanda drove them out to an industrial estate on the edge of town. They parked outside and she craned her neck to look up at the building from the safety of the driver’s seat. An ugly two-story clad building, it could have been the office for any number of things, but a small sign on the entrance door announced the occupants.
“This is it,” said Amanda. “‘Body-licious.’ It kind of sounds more like a kink place, doesn’t it? Somewhere you might go to indulge in a particular fetish, like for vampires. Go and lick something for pleasure. No wonder odd men sit outside waiting, with a name like that.”
Jack nodded. “Let’s go and find out,” he said, and was half way out of the car before Amanda had unfastened her seatbelt to follow him. Jack strode up to the door, pulled it open without knocking, and set off up the steep concrete stairs on the other side. He was puffing and panting hard, clutching his side, when Amanda caught him up. He caught her stare.
“And now I’ve got a stitch on top of the pickle,” he grumbled. “Relax. I’m fine.”
Amanda gave him a look that said ‘I don’t believe you,’ and they entered the small reception area, which was empty of people. Framed pictures on the walls confirmed they were indeed in the business of body part modelling: there were photos of stunningly immaculate feet peeping out of high-heeled sandals, perfect hands that had never done dishes advertising washing-up liquid, and pristine pearly-white teeth smiling unnaturally from between perfectly plump red lips.
A young woman entered the room and gave them a grin to match the teeth and lips in the picture. Maybe they belonged to her.
Jack took the lead.
“Hello. I’m Detective Jack Rutherford and this is DS Amanda Lacey. Are you the owner, by chance?”
The woman smiled again. “I’m afraid not. That would be Jules. I’ll go and get her. May I ask what it’s regarding?”
“We’d like to ask a few questions about an old case, a menace who was cautioned for approaching the girls.”
“I thought that had been solved.”
“It has, but we would like to chat to Jules again, if you could go fetch her. Thank you.”
The young woman’s smile faded fast as she left the room in search of Jules. Amanda stood back and let Jack handle things. In a few moments, stilettos could be heard approaching from the distance. They were fast and loud and sounded unhappy. The door opened and an austere-looking, well-dressed middle-aged woman with short-cropped dark hair and gold-rimmed glasses looked Amanda quickly up and down.
She had a wide streak of white hair by her right temple that reminded Jack of Thomas Mallen, the nineteenth-century Northumberland squire who had had the same feature. A TV program had been made about him and his family, called – unsurprisingly – The Mallens, and his mother had used to watch it. As a teenager it hadn’t been his thing, but that distinctive white streak of hair had been a talking point for the many years the show had run.
The woman glared at the two detectives now, though Jack had no idea why. Amanda picked up on her perfume – Chanel No. 5. Her red-soled shoes meant only one brand: expensive.
“I’m Jules Monroe,” she said. “What can I do for you both?” Her attitude screamed busy and in a rush. They both felt like intruders, which was, of course, the whole point.
“Sorry to bother you,” Jack said, “but we’re hoping you can help us with an old case. You may recall a man was cautioned for harassing the models.”
“How could I not remember? It was creepy. But that was tidied up, was it not?”
“It was, yes. You are correct. But there may be a link from your case to something that happened only recently. You also had another case where you were hacked, if I am correct? Your database was broken into?”
“Yes, it was, but you know all this. Nothing seemed to have been taken – case closed. I’m not sure how can I help you. . .?” She checked her gold wristwatch as if to hurry him along. It glistened, matching the gold rims of her spectacles. Amanda assumed they were more than gold-coloured.
“We think the person may be connected to your break-in and may also be responsible for another crime,” Jack went on. “Or crimes. Did you ever find out why he hacked in? Did he ever have any further contact with you? Messaged you, perhaps?”
Jack wasn’t getting to the point quickly enough and it was obvious he was grasping at straws. Amanda stepped in before the woman got seriously annoyed and stormed back to her office.
“Ms. Monroe – Jules,” she began. “Recently, a number of women have been the targets of an extremely upsetting type of personal assault, probably the work of the same person. To be perfectly honest, though, we have very little to go on. We think the hacker who targeted your business may be the link between these crimes, so we would appreciate anything you can remember about that incident: a text, any reason they may have given for the hacking, a message, a threat down the phone – anything you can remember at all could be helpful in tracing this person so we can talk further. If it turns out they have nothing to do with these current cases, we can move on, of course, but if they are involved, then they need to be stopped.”
Jules’s shoulders visibly drooped as she stood thinking, a finger against her lips. At length, she sighed and began to speak.
Chapter Fifty
“It’s good to see you haven’t lost your touch, Lacey.”
They were heading back to Croydon to the station. Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda could see Jack was touching his side occasionally.
“Sometimes you need a little ‘woman-to-woman’ to get the desired result, and she wasn’t responding to you.”
Jack grinned. “Is that what you call it now, eh? ‘Woman-to-woman’?”
She grinned back. “Just because I’m marrying a woman doesn’t mean I fancy all women, pea-brain. Just like you don’t fancy all women either. I’m no different, you know.”
He knew. “Well, it worked, so that’s all that mattered. I wonder why she didn’t come out and say anything before, though?”
“Quite. I guess they were more concerned with the stalker than a seemingly random hacking attack where nothing was taken. A guy waiting outside your office is much more ‘in your face,’ and more of a direct threat to their employees. So I suppose that’s what they focused on in the end.”
“So what was the real reason for the hacking, I’m wondering?” said Amanda, almost to herself. “Why wo
uld someone want access to that company and then not use it maliciously? That we know of, at least. Ms. Monroe said herself she’d have known if her competitors had accessed her files, and they clearly hadn’t. It’s amazing they even knew they’d been hacked, come to think of it – it’s not like these people leave a trail of breadcrumbs. There has to be something else we’re missing. Another reason.”
They fell quiet as she drove, then Jack piped up again.
"Unless it was to see if they could do it? You know, like some folks climb mountains, just to see if they can? Though if that was the case, it doesn’t really help with our victims.” Jack fell quiet again.
“You know, crime has changed over the years.” Amanda, too, was thinking. “It may be worth a chat with National Cyber Crime to get their take. For example, credit card fraud is old hat, and maybe something more lucrative has taken its place. Otherwise, why would someone hack a database and not sell the contents to a competitor? No one else would want it, would they?”
“I can’t see an obvious reason, no. Ask your Ruth; she’ll probably know more than the cyber guys, and she’d be a damn sight quicker to get an answer from, too.”
“I’ll do both. Though she’s pretty full-on with her own things and the wedding at the moment.”
“And how’s it going, the planning?”
“Fine, I think. She’s taken it over. I just need to show up on the day at the required time. And get a dress made.”
“And I’m hoping at this late stage you have that in hand? You can’t turn up in your work suit and boots to this one, Lacey.”
“All in hand. Matching fabric, different dresses. I hope I don’t let the side down.”
“How so?”
“I don’t want to look like Little and Large as we walk down the aisle together. She’s somewhat more feminine than me, with a much nicer figure.”
“You’ll look great together, I’m sure,” he said, smiling at her side. She caught it from the corner of her eye. He said the sweetest things sometimes.
With the end of that particular topic, Jack reached up and pushed play on the CD player. He’d always found music a tool to help him think and, as they were a bit stuck, he figured he’d give it a try. Pink rang from the speakers.
“Don’t you have anything else? Something a bit more . . . male?” he groaned?
“I don’t keep CDs in the car. I’m not even sure what that one’s still doing in there,” she said, pointing to the CD slot.
“What do you listen to, then?”
“I stream, like most folks in 2017. Don’t you?”
The only stream Jack knew about ran near the bottom of his road and dried up in summer. She caught his frown. Rummaging in her pocket as she steered, she passed him her smartphone.
“What am I supposed to do with this? Phone someone?”
“You’re such a luddite, Jack. Look for the Spotify icon and open it.” Glancing over, she smiled as he searched. “It’s green and black. That should narrow it down.” She watched his chubby finger finally press the correct icon. He needed to trim his fingernails.
“Tap in the search box what you want to listen to, and then choose it,” she instructed. They were nearly back at the station by this stage, but she didn’t say anything. He hated being thought of as a luddite, but he made no attempt to be anything else. As she turned into the station yard, the distinctive first guitar strings of Rainbow’s “Since You’ve Been Gone” filled the car, and Jack threw his head back in delight as he realized he’d actually done it. For a detective, he didn’t explore much in his own life – only in other people’s. She pulled into a parking space and turned to him.
“Well, it’s a bit too late to listen to it now, but you’ll know how to do it for later,” she quipped, and smiled along with him. Jack was a huge ELO fan so it was no surprise he’d picked something similar from around the same era. And she also knew what he’d actually been thinking about in the car a few minutes earlier as they’d talked about weddings. Since you’ve been gone… Amanda knew how he’d struggled when his wife, Janine, had died, and that he thought of her often. He’d almost gone out of his head, she knew, but he’d muddled through with the help of those around him. Janine had been his teenage sweetheart, and Amanda had arrived at Croydon not long after she’d died. A close bond, almost father–daughter, had developed between them, and they’d been very close friends ever since.
“I think I’ll sit here a bit and think things through,” he said now. “I’ll be in in a moment. You go on.”
She was about to admonish him about brooding but thought better of it. Sometimes he just needed his alone time. “I’ll make us some coffee, then. Come when you’re ready.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Jack sat back in the passenger seat of Amanda’s car and closed his eyes. The lyrics were still dancing in his head, and he thought back to Janine. What would she think of him now? Would she tease him as a luddite? Would she have reprimanded him over his slight shabbiness, his hair that always needed a trim, or his fingernails? She’d had a thing for neatness and he’d always pleased her, but now as he looked at his tie, he knew he might have let things slip. His tie was clean, but in what century had it been purchased? Not a recent one. He opened the door slowly and put one foot on the ground, ready to push himself up and out.
But nature had other plans.
The pain tore through his right side and then stabbed him hard in the groin. He cried out, then gasped and breathed deeply through the spasm. It only lasted for a few seconds, but his brow was damp with sweat and he took out his handkerchief and wiped it. Taking a few more deep breaths, he waited until he was sure the pain had completely gone before stepping towards the rear entrance of the building. The car door clicked shut behind him and he made his way into the coolness of the corridor. While he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, the jolt of pain had frightened him, and he did his best to rearrange the mayhem that was written across his face before Amanda asked him what had happened. Keeping his head bowed as he entered their office, he took the proffered mug of coffee and made for his desk chair to sit down. No one was any the wiser.
But it didn’t stop Jack worrying.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Amanda drove the short distance home. The rest of Rainbow’s “Since You’ve Been Gone” was playing, having been picked up when she’d turned the engine on. Ah, the magic of Bluetooth, she thought, connecting itself automatically. While she typically enjoyed music from after the eighties, these lyrics still made her smile. She’d never met Jack’s wife Janine but knew all about her from Jack; sometimes she even felt Janine was in the car on a case with them, hanging on for dear life in the backseat, watching and wondering.
As the music ended she absentmindedly turned the stereo off and listened to the relative quiet of rush hour traffic travelling along with her on Purley Way. Could it ever be truly quiet in Croydon? She pressed her favourite speed dial, and Ruth’s voice connected through the speakers. She sounded like she was outside somewhere.
“Hey, Amanda, you sound like you’re driving.”
“Hi, hun. That’s because I am. Headed home for a shower – how about you? You sound like you’re outside somewhere.” A horn, probably from a truck or a bus, sounded somewhere in the distance through the loudspeaker. Maybe Ruth was still in town.
“Just heading to the tube and home, so shouldn’t be too long myself. Are you coming over, or shall I head to yours?”
Even though they were engaged, they still each had their separate houses and lived separate lives. For now. And that was something they’d both have to adjust to when they did get wed – living together full time. They both secretly hoped it wouldn’t be too much of an adjustment.
“Thought I’d ask you a question now before you put your work brain to bed. I didn’t want to talk shop at home.”
“Sure, fire away. What is it?”
“Why would someone hack into a company’s database other than to steal the contents? Like a competitor, fo
r instance? What else would they want it for?”
The hands-free loudspeaker throbbed with the sound of traffic as it chugged past Ruth walking somewhere on the other side of London. Amanda could almost smell the exhaust fumes that would be mixing with the occasional greasy roadside food vendor and it made her gag. That aspect of London never appealed to her.
“Good question. And one that deserves a good answer.” Amanda could almost feel Ruth smiling down the phone.
“Care to share?” Amanda smiled back.
“Well, the most obvious reason after database theft is to sell access to it for some other reason, something more sinister maybe. Probably through the dark web or another connection already in place. Stolen ‘access to order,’ perhaps. If it’s not a competitor, I’d say it’s someone up to no good.”
That was an angle Amanda hadn’t considered. What would a model agency specializing in body parts have that someone who wasn’t a customer would need access to?
“What’s the scenario?” Ruth asked. “Hypothetically, of course. Maybe I can be of more help.” This was her way of helping Amanda talk about a case without disclosing information she shouldn’t be discussing with a civilian.
“Of course. If you don’t mind?”
“Fire away, until I lose you in the underground, that is.”
So Amanda fired away. What Ruth then told her made perfect sense.
“So a certain someone wanted a way in so they could see the models’ data, not the business’s data.”
Now it fit perfectly: the guy who had been cautioned for approaching the models, the theft of Stephanie’s hair fifteen years ago, and the theft of the more recent victim’s hair. An agency that specialized in people with perfect body parts and two cases of perfect hair being stolen could point to a fetish service of some kind. Was someone supplying hair, and God knows what else, to order, perhaps? Fulfilling clients’ desires at the expense of others?