by Jay Nadal
“We want to talk to you…”
“About what?” West pronounced slowly.
Scott pushed a picture of Libby Stephens across the table.
“The death of Libby Stephens two days ago … did you know her?” Scott asked, taping twice on the photo.
West snatched a quick glance before bringing his attention back to Scott. “Never seen her before,” he replied, dismissing the picture with a shrug.
Scott smiled. “That not what we heard, we heard you were her pimp . did you supply her with drugs as well?”
“I don’t do either. Who put you up to this? Simone?”
“Did you know she was fifteen?” Scott said through gritted teeth. He hated lowlife like West. All bravado and no balls. They ruled the vulnerable and weak through intimidation and violence. The law was something they could opt into or out of when it suited. “Never mind … when did you last see Libby? We’re interested in her death, and the fact that you may have been one of the last people to see her alive. If you’re not connected, then it’s in your own interests to help us out. Understand?” Scott smiled.
West remained tight-lipped, occasionally looking to his solicitor, who seemed to be far more interested in the copious notes he’d been scribbling whilst listening to the exchange.
“Stop fucking around, West, you were Libby’s pimp, a quick trawl of the security cameras from in and around the station will confirm that for us. I’ll pull in every one of your girls for a night and hit you where it hurts … your pocket!”
West still hadn’t shifted his position and seeming nonchalant about the whole escapade. He sighed out of boredom more than anything else. “I saw her briefly. I wanted to tell her to get busy, but she was half-cut, blabbing like a lunatic. Before I could get anywhere near her, she legged it. She’s been ripping off my customers, and that’s not good for business,” he summed up, now leaning back on two legs of the chair.
“Did you give Libby drugs?” Scott narrowed his eyes as he weighed up West’s version of events.
“Nope; look, I never knew she was that young, and I never supplied her with any drugs. That’s not my scene; I need girls who are with it, if you know what I mean, not looking like they’ve crawled out of a gutter.”
Ironically, that’s where you put them, you tosser.
“Who did then? Libby’s ex-boyfriend? Although he swears blind that he doesn’t touch the stuff and neither did Libby.”
“And you believed him?” West laughed.
West dropped back forward on the chair and rested his arms on the table to lean towards Scott. “Listen, sometimes Libby used to get angry and mouth off about Johnny, her ex. She hated him … said he’d made her an addict just so he could control her.”
“How well do you know him? Ever bump into him?”
“Nah, he’d see me and cross the street, wise kid,” he smirked.
“We think he groomed underage girls for sex. Know anything about that?”
“No. I told you everything I know. She said she was seventeen, nearly eighteen. I had no reason to doubt her. She was a sort, and I could see her keeping my punters sweet.” He replied with a wink that disgusted Scott. She was purely an asset than a human being to him.
“How did you meet Libby?”
“I met her through …” He paused for a moment looking up from beneath his mop of hair that had fallen over his eyes.
“Simone?”
West nodded. ”She was trying to do tricks on Simone’s patch. The girls weren’t happy. Simone had a soft spot for her and took her in to help her and show her the ropes. Then she was introduced to me.”
“Was she in trouble with anyone else?”
A shake of his head was all that West offered, and the interview was concluded not long after.
It left Scott with little to go on for the time being. It opened up more uncertainty over Libby’s last known movements. One question kept running through his mind: Who had it in for her enough to kill her in such a savage manner?
***
The team gathered for an evening briefing. DCI Harvey joined them, keen to get a grasp of the current case before the management meeting the following morning.
Raj had brought his usual sweet offering. On this occasion, a tray of twelve assorted Krispy Kreme doughnuts were being passed around the table. Sian was greedily devouring hers moments later. Abby, on the other hand, berated the high fat content as she contemplated how far she’d have to run to burn it off. It didn’t stop her from tucking into a glazed ring one, as it had the least amount of calories.
Mike. on the other hand. felt no guilt pangs, and was doing a sterling job of loudly polishing off his custard-filled doughnut in two enormous mouthfuls. The god-awful sight left Abby shielding her mouth with a hand in disgust as she looked away.
“Right gang, we need to focus on identifying Libby’s last known movements. From witness interviews with her pimp and ex-boyfriend, she appeared to be frightened of something or someone. We need to establish what … any ideas?” Scott asked as he scanned those around the table.
“Disgruntled punter?” Sian asked.
“Possible … however, we also know that her pimp was annoyed about her ripping off customers. She also bumped into her ex on the night she died, and we’ve found out that she hated him for getting her hooked on drugs. So we have two possible suspects in the frame.”
Abby interrupted, “Guv, Johnny used to go the same school as Libby, so there’s a connection there. After he left, he’d hang around outside school gates targeting young girls giving them presents, sweets, fags etc. He’d been the subject of calls from concerned parents. Police looked into it. He was cautioned. Nothing more came of it.”
Scott nodded, “And the risk assessment?”
“I think we need to get a protection order in place. If Johnny got Libby on drugs, Jenna could be next in line.”
“Agreed,” added the DCI.
“I’ve got the toxicology report Guv, and there were traces of cocaine in her body,” Sian added waving the report in the air.
“Raj hit us with where you got with Social.”
Raj pulled himself up in his chair, wiping the icing from his mouth with the cuff of his shirt. “Libby was at a residential unit a year ago, she eventually ran away from the home with Johnny. She was fourteen, he was seventeen. Johnny lavished her with new clothes and trainers, then a new mobile. At first, she was coming home drunk, then not coming home at all, disappearing for days at a time. He’d take her to a youth club a lot, don’t know much about the club to be honest.”
“Did they inform the police?” Abby asked.
“Yep, but nothing was done. A young infatuated girl running away with boyfriend. It’s hardly front-page news, or a priority. It was reported but nothing happened.”
Guilt washed over Scott, his stomach turned. Another statistic, perhaps another failing by the police. We’ve let her down.
Sensing that Scott was chewing this over, DCI Harvey interrupted. “Listen it’s not good that as a force we didn’t follow up the miss pers. But so many kids go missing these days, we can’t follow up on every one; we don’t have the resources. We can’t track them all.” She nodded to reassure her DI.
Raj continued, “The unit got a call from her two days ago, saying she wanted to come back, she sounded panicked. Said someone was after her. Then she hung up.”
“Did she mention Johnny to them?”
“No Guv, but they said she sounded scared.”
Scott nodded as he rubbed his chin. “Johnny could be lying. Or if he’s telling the truth, he got her addicted to drugs to control her. In time he could do the same to Jenna.”
“Abby and I will visit the residential unit tomorrow. Sian, check with other residential units, see if other girls have gone missing.”
“No probs.”
“Ma’am, can we get a protection order in place for tomorrow and get Jenna out? We need to get her back to Benedicts. Sian, you and Mike can go and get her when th
e DCI gives you the nod.”
The DCI casually nodded her approval.
“Raj …” Scott smiled. “CCTV duties for you, fella.”
Raj groaned as he realised he’d be tied to watching hours of footage.
“Check footage around the station and the Unicorn. See if you can see any sightings of Libby.”
Raj gave the weakest of nods.
Before breaking up the meeting, Scott paused and reflected on something Raj had highlighted.
“Actually, doughnut boy, can you find out more about this youth club as soon as you can?”
This was met with a wide smile and enthusiastic nod.
“Right team, go grab some shut eye, lots to do tomorrow.”
Chapter 5
Benedict’s residential unit was on the outskirts of Hove, tucked away at the end of a cul-de-sac away from prying eyes. Passers-by and residents would be oblivious of the vulnerable, exploited, and abandoned children living amongst them.
The council-run unit housed fourteen children between the ages of ten and seventeen. It was a safe haven. A place to stay if they needed protection or cope with difficult circumstances in their young lives.
Some of the children had been neglected by parents who faced their own battles with drugs, alcohol, gambling or abusive relationships. Others had suffered physical or sexual abuse at the hands of people they trusted.
As safe havens went, it didn’t offer the warmest of welcomes. Dating back to the early 1970s, residential units were seen as an indictment of an uncaring society. Very little thought went into their design and purpose.
Benedicts was no different. Three, two-story, featureless square buildings with flat roofs formed the main complex. The sandstone-coloured brick walls and large obtrusive, military-like spotlights positioned close to the roofline made the place feel less than welcoming. A tall, six-foot high, closeboard fence and an imposing, dense tree line surrounded the perimeter. They only added to the perception of it being a detention centre rather than a place of safety and compassion.
Scott and Abby pulled into the compound and parked in the solitary visitors parking bay, another sign that few outsiders ever visited. As they walked towards the entrance, both officers were surveying the characterless establishment that greeted them. An exchange of glances between them confirmed they were both thinking the same thing. If it’s grim outside, what’s it like inside?
A hanging flower basket of wilting blue lobelia that were in dire need of some sunlight helped to soften the entrance.
Despite flashing their warrant cards at the CCTV camera positioned above the door, it was a while before the door unlocked for them. Their every move monitored by a marauding camera that had locked onto them the moment they drove through the gated entrance.
The entrance hall was a sparse corridor. A few tatty poster boards scattered at odd intervals broke up the bland walls. Each board displayed posters and notices of various activities and clubs. Added as an afterthought to a corner of one was the obligatory rules and regulations about behaviour, health and safety. The walls were painted magnolia. The well-trodden, scratched, functional wooden floors and ceiling strip lights reinforced the basic and practical purpose of the unit.
A lady dressed in a floral dress and dark grey jacket approached them. Her outfit reminded Abby of the images that used to adorn the Laura Ashley clothing catalogues. It was so nineties. Her long bob of light brown hair and unflattering fringe only added to her out-dated appearance.
She greeted them with a warm smile. “Hello there, I’m Jean Temple, the unit manager. How can I help you?” Her voice, clear, crisp and precise, honed from years of dealing with and supporting difficult children, and the various support agencies.
“Jenna Wade, is she one of yours? We’ve found her at a property with an eighteen-year-old male she claims is her boyfriend. She says she sixteen?” Scott asked holding up a recent picture.
Jean immediately recognised her, “She is indeed; fifteen going on thirty, growing up too quickly. She’s gone walkabouts again. They do it all the time.”
Scott and Abby exchanged glances that confirmed their suspicions.
“How long has she been missing?”
“Three days now.”
“Did you report her?” Abby asked.
She glanced in Abby’s direction with an accusatory look and curt reply, “Yes, we do that immediately. Often they come back after a couple of days anyway.”
Scott couldn’t help be concerned that for all the security, a lack of actual monitoring of the residents seemed to be missing here—with tragic consequences. “Did you hear about Libby Stephens?”
Jean dipped her head for a moment, the only reaction to Scott’s enquiry. “Yes, we were informed about that yesterday. Such sad news. She sounded petrified when she called me. She hung up. I tried to persuade her to come back.”
Scott examined her face as he questioned her authenticity. Was she really bothered? How many years had she been doing this? No doubt, she’d seen many kids in her care come and go. She probably couldn’t give a flying fuck these days and was holding out for her pension.
Scott continued. “Does Jenna have many friends here?”
A shake of her head was the only response offered.
Her terse replies were beginning to grate Scott. Anyone would think she was being formally interviewed. Scott remained silent, knowing the lull would force her to continue.
“She pretty much keeps herself to herself. She didn’t really know her mum and dad; she’s been in care since she was a baby. Jenna can be pretty tricky; she’s run away from all the foster places she’s sent to. But I can’t blame her, to be honest.”
I can’t blame her either, if this is all she has to look forward to, Scott thought as he glanced around.
“Do you know much about her boyfriend, Johnny Wright?”
“I’m afraid not. I’ve heard his name being mentioned occasionally when I’ve stumbled upon conversations she’s having on the phone with him, but nothing more, Inspector.”
“You said earlier that kids go walkabout all the time, anymore from here?” Abby asked as she folded her arms.
“No. I think we’ve had our fair share don’t you?” Jean offered staring at Abby. “But you hear about it all the time and not just from residential units like ours. They’re fodder to those seeking out the vulnerable, and kids like this are two a penny.”
“Thank you, Jean, you’ve been helpful. Jenna’s getting picked up under a police protection order this morning as we’re concerned for her safety and welfare. Two of my officers will be returning her to this unit.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” A hint of sarcasm tinged her voice.
The two left, and Abby sighed as she got back in the car. “That was hard work; talk about co-operation between agencies.” .
“She’s certainly no Mary Poppins,” Scott said with a grimace.
***
Scott threw his jacket over the back of his chair before going in search of Raj. It was never hard to identify his desk; organised chaos best described his workstation. How Raj ever managed his files was a mystery. Whenever pressed and without hesitation, he was able to deftly identify and retrieve the information in question, much to Scott and Abby’s consternation.
Scott grabbed a chocolate bourbon biscuit from a half-empty packet on the corner of his desk. Biting into it, Scott grimaced at its softness. “How did you get on with the CCTV trawl Raj?” He looked over his shoulder to see Sian and Mike returning. “Package dropped off?” Scott asked.
Mike offered a nod to confirm as he headed to the water cooler.
Scott turned his attention back to Raj who was busily arranging his notes.
“Got some good stuff, Guv. The CCTV footage shows Johnny Wright arguing with Libby Stephens outside the Unicorn pub the night before she was found. Jenna was present too,” Raj added with a raised brow.
“Time?” Scott asked as he perched on the edge of the desk, his hands in his pocket
.
“Nine twenty-five p.m.”
“So much for not stopping or talking, you lying git,” Scott fumed.
“She looked disturbed, Guv, she was pacing around, waving her arms about frantically. It looked like she was screaming at Johnny. Jenna was trying to step in the middle of them. Johnny and Jenna eventually walk off, but Libby heads into the Unicorn.”
“Think we need another chat with Johnny, don’t you?” Scott commented.
Raj nodded in agreement, as he chewed the top of his pen and leaned back in his chair looking pleased with the results of his hard work. “There’s more, Guv. Libby left the pub with the landlord. They headed around the back. The landlord returned about ten minutes later. Libby emerged a further fifteen minutes after him; she seemed a little disorientated in the footage, and stumbled a little, before heading out of the camera view.”
Scott rubbed his chin in deep thought. The latest insight in Libby’s final few hours troubled him. Disappearing with the landlord suggested one thing. “We need to get the landlord in, too.”
Scott turned to locate Mike and shouted across the desks, “Don’t get too comfortable, go and pick up the Landlord of the Unicorn. We need him to help us with our enquiries into Libby’s last known movements.”
Mike lifted his large frame from the creaking chair and made a sharp exit. “I’ll check to see if he’s got CCTV for his pub?”
“Yep, good call Mike.”
Scott tapped Abby’s shoulder as he walked up behind her before stopping at her desk. “Fancy grabbing an early lunch? We’ll be busy this afternoon when the landlord comes in.”
“You don’t need to ask me twice!” responded Abby. Grabbing her purse, she trailed behind him as they wound their way through the corridors and stairs of the station. The day was shaping up nicely outside, the warm early sunshine bathing their faces as they emerged from beneath the station entrance canopy. “Where are we off to?”
“How about Munch down the road?” suggested Scott.