by Mary Birk
Allison clicked on the turn signal.
“For fuck’s sake, Allison, say something.”
She whispered. “You should have told me no.”
“I knew this was going to end up being my fault.”
Chapter 42
BACK AT HIGH STREET, Harry held the door for a silent Allison. She went straight to the lav without looking at him. Harry greeted Frank with a wave.
“How did it go?”
“The girl identified Gunderson, and tagged Brighton, Webster, and Kingsley as punters who’d been filmed with her as well.”
“No on MacTavish?”
“Right. And no on the super.”
Frank didn’t flinch. “You had to ask. They both employed one of the missing nannies.”
“Yeah, otherwise our investigation wouldn’t be worth shite, would it? She recognized Lizzie’s abductor, but she wouldn’t admit it or give his name. Too scared.”
“You’re getting closer, though.”
“Yeah.” Harry heard the lav door open, saw Allison go to her desk and turn on her computer without saying anything. Frank looked at her as well, then at Harry. Harry effected a slight shrug, as if to say, women, who can understand them?
Frank gave him a skeptical look, but went back to his work. Harry moved on to his desk, deliberately not looking at Allison. Hard when their desks faced each other. Luckily, his mobile rang.
“Patty, luv, thanks for calling me back. How are things?”
Patty, her voice guarded, said, “Fine.”
“Still working for Ramsey International?”
“Yes.”
“How’s everything else?”
“I’m still with Bert, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s good. How’s your mum?”
“She’s good.” He could tell by Patty’s voice that she was starting to warm up to him again. Her involvement in one of their investigations had forced her to tell her posh boyfriend that she’d been on the game, but their relationship seemed to have miraculously survived. “She’s got a gentleman friend. If they get serious, Bert and I may finally get to live together.”
“Good job. And Bert’s mum?”
“Same as before.” Bert’s mother was a hopeless alcoholic.
“Too bad.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for calling me back. Can you help me out?”
“I made some calls. It took a wee bit of coaxing, but it sounds like she’s being run by a bloke named Chick Stephens.”
“I thought he was an enforcer, not a pimp.”
“A bit of both. From what I hear, he’s running a blackmail operation, using the girl as bait. She’s underage, Harry.”
“Yeah.”
“She gets punters in who want to make it with young ones; they get filmed doing the deed with a kid. The films are used to blackmail the punters in some form or the other eventually. According to my sources, she’s booked solid. A lot of repeat business.”
“Even the johns being blackmailed?”
“I guess they figure they’re already burned, what do they have to lose?”
“Some blokes never learn.”
“Addicted to it.”
“Yeah. Chick’s not doing this on his own?”
“He’s not that bright. He’s the muscle.”
“For who?”
“I’m not sure. He did some protection work where I was before.”
Harry knew she was talking about the brothel she’d been with before she’d gone straight. “At Rebecca’s.”
“Yeah. I don’t know if he still does.”
“I’ll check it out. Anything else?”
“That’s all I could get.”
“I owe you, luv.”
“Be careful, Harry. If they get wind she’s talking, she’s history.”
“I’ll look out for her. I don’t suppose they’re hiring fifteen-year-olds at Ramsey International, are they?”
“She has to finish school for that.”
Harry looked into his empty cup. Tea was what was wanted. “Yeah. She’d be thrilled about the prospect of going back to school, I’m sure.”
“I’d better go, Harry. Take care of yourself.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, you, too.”
Harry took his cup and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He let his eyes glance toward Allison’s desk. He’d been going to let her know what he’d found out, but she was on the telephone and didn’t look up. He’d copy her on the report he was doing for Reid. Probably better than talking to her right now.
His telephone rang. The Medical Examiner.
Bill Gulden’s deep voice rumbled into the telephone. “You want to send someone to observe the Frost girl’s post-mortem?”
“I’ll be there. Give me ten minutes.”
* * * * *
Trying to push away what he’d seen the ME doing to Lizzie Frost’s body, Harry went back to the office, finished his summaries of the interviews of Sandra Bennett and Patty Cady, and emailed them to Reid. Allison had disappeared. He craned his head around to see if she was in the little kitchen, but didn’t see her there. She’d been quiet after they got back from talking to Sandra, and hadn’t even seemed to notice him ducking out for the post-mortem.
He’d known she’d eventually regret asking him to have sex with her. He should have said no, but of course, he’d been a total idjit and agreed. But maybe he’d misread her, maybe she was upset about the case. That alone was enough to make anyone depressed. Or maybe it was her time of the month, he thought, remembering how she’d headed straight for the loo when they’d gotten back to the office.
He got up to go look for her. He usually left to meet his current bird before Allison left the office for the night, but just now he was giving dating a rest. That last call with Rita had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He thought he’d see if Allison wanted a ride home, and if she was in a better mood, he’d fry up a couple of burgers and they could have a salad as well. She was partial to salads, and she’d gotten him lunch, after all.
Frank had left for physical therapy, Reid had gone home at six, and Oscar was loading a tray full of tea things to take upstairs for his floaters. They’d be working late again going through computer records.
“Hey, Oscar, have you seen our little princess?”
“Allison?”
“Who else?”
“She ran out the door fifteen minutes ago.”
Apparently, she was still in her mood. She couldn’t really have thought he’d have minded giving her a lift home, but of course, that had been their deal. Maybe she was still feeling . . . well, whatever it was she was feeling, and didn’t want to be around him. Or maybe something had happened with Michaud at lunch. He tried to remember if she’d been upset when she got back from lunch, then remembered the only thing she’d been upset about was what he’d said to her boyfriend.
Oscar interrupted his thoughts. “She asked me to let you know the car service driver confirmed MacTavish’s story that the girl wasn’t there when he went to pick her up.”
“Did she tell Reid?”
“Yeah, straightaway. Did you hear Von Zandt’s divorce came through?”
“When?”
“Friday. The wife did well. What the government didn’t take, and he didn’t hide away or put in trust for the kids, she got.”
“Good for her. Maybe this will send him running to his hidden accounts and you can track them down.”
“We can only hope.”
“Did Allison say where she was going?”
“Not to me.”
“I might have said something earlier that ticked her off.”
“She’ll get over it. She’s used to you by now.”
“Yeah.” Oscar was right. They’d just had a bad day. One bad day. It wasn’t the end of the world. He’d catch her at home later and tell her that he didn’t mind giving her a lift if they were both going home at the same time. He didn’t want her riding the underground simply to
keep some artificial boundaries between them. And if it wasn’t just her time of the month, if she was in a mood where she wanted to be alone, he’d wait till she was in a better mood. She wouldn’t stay like this. Allison was not moody by nature. But what they’d done had been a big step for her; she was bound to have regrets. He just wished he hadn’t been the one to get blamed.
He called Reid’s mobile. “Sir, do you have a moment?”
Reid’s voice was quiet. “Aye. I’m reading your reports right now.”
“Want to call me back?”
“No, I’m about finished. Give me a moment.” There was a short pause, then Reid said, “Done. Didn’t Patty Cady work for that woman who ran Von Zandt’s brothels?”
“Aye. Rebecca Pomeroy. Of course, VZ denies he was ever involved.”
“No doubt.”
“I put word out that we’re looking to talk to Chick Stephens. I’ll see what I can find out from him when he’s located.”
“You attended the post-mortem?”
“Aye. Gulden just sent over his report.”
“You didn’t forward it to me.”
“I wanted to brief you on it first.”
“Bad?”
Harry summarized the coroner’s findings, wondering how such impersonal words could possibly describe the end of Lizzie’s young life.
Reid sighed, sounding as soul-weary as Harry felt. “Lizzie’s mother will be here tomorrow morning.”
“I can do the notification, if you want.” Harry wanted to ask how Lady Anne was doing, but Reid had already let him know that kind of inquiry about his private life wasn’t welcome. Adding to the wall that existed between them, Reid still hadn’t told him about deserting the team for the MI-5 job.
“I should do it.”
“Your call. Let me know if you want me to handle it.”
“I will, thanks.”
“You’ll be in the office tomorrow?”
“Aye. I’ve an early meeting with the Procurator Fiscal on this new information, but I’ll be at High Street by nine to talk with Mrs. Frost. I expect we’ll get the go-ahead on the search warrants for Brighton and Webster with the info you got from Lily White.”
“You won’t tell them my source? I don’t want her paying for it with her employers.”
“I’ll be careful. Any chance we can get the girl into protection? We’ll need her as a witness.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Will she be a good witness?”
“She could be, if she doesn’t suddenly develop amnesia.”
“Always a risk. I’ll call you when I hear on the search warrants.”
Feeling an uncomfortable sense of isolation, Harry hung up and went upstairs to check on Oscar and his floaters. Oscar was giving instructions to a night crew manning the computers. Harry waited until he was finished, then went over to him.
Oscar said, “What’s up?”
“We’ll have the other search warrants by morning. As soon as Reid calls and tells us it’s a go, I’ll let you know, and we can send out the teams to search the Brighton and Webster premises.”
“What about the wives’ workplaces?”
“No cause. Not unless we come up with something else.”
“I read the post-mortem.” Oscar grimaced. “Unbelievable.”
“Yeah. We’ll have the devil’s own time keeping that out of the papers. We’re only sharing it on a strict need-to-know basis. None of these blokes,” Harry looked around, realized that some of the police team at the computer stations were women, and added, “or birds, need to know.”
“Understood.”
Before leaving for home, Harry made one more call, following up on the message he gotten back after his request for a background check on Paul Kingsley, Tabby Low’s first employer. The call lasted five minutes, after which Harry knew they were on the right track.
Back at the house, Harry could tell immediately Allison wasn’t there. He called out for her anyway, in case his instincts were off, but got no response. She’d gone out again. Another date, no doubt. Michaud or Barlow? Who knew?
He threw down his rucksack and examined the mail, distracted. As she said, there were stores. No need for him to worry about her. He considered making dinner for himself, but discarded that thought. He didn’t want her to come home and know he’d spent the night alone while she’d been out shagging. Then again, how would Allison know what he’d done all night? He could go up to his room and whenever she got home, he’d pretend like he’d gotten home right before her.
He got a beer and a bag of crisps and went upstairs, thinking about the car used in Lizzie’s abduction. Where had he seen it before?
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 14
Chapter 43
HARRY HAD BEEN in the office for a couple of hours before Frank arrived.
“You’re here early.” Frank wheeled over to his desk, started up his computer, then went to the kitchen as per his usual routine to start the water for tea.
“I needed to make a call to Australia. I knew if I waited until normal business hours here, they’d all be gone.”
“You could have called from home, and gotten reimbursed.”
“Nah, it’s easier to do from here. Caller i.d. confirms we’re police, so it saves me the hassle of not being believed for ten minutes.”
“Were they able to help you?”
“Aye.” Fortunately, the bloke who answered at the police station near where Tabby Low’s first employer was now living, was cooperative and didn’t make him go through nine kinds of red tape to agree to send someone to talk to the man. “They confirmed Paul Kingsley lives there, and they’ll talk to him today, or rather, tomorrow, as they’re off-shift now.”
“You suspect he’s connected to what’s happened?”
“If we’re right, and the girls are being brought here to be sold to select customers, the blokes that bring them here have to be in on it. Kingsley was one of Lily’s clients, and he’s the one that brought Tabby to Scotland, so he’s likely involved, or at the very least, knows something.”
“Why would he have abandoned the job in midstream?”
“Likely something scared him. Something scarier than what the blackmailers were threatening.”
“What’s scarier than letting yourself be exposed as a kiddie raper?”
“Being convicted of being a kiddie raper. After you left yesterday, I discovered he’d been threatened with some pretty serious charges when he left Scotland.”
“For what?”
“Having sex with a minor.”
“The little prozzy?”
“Nay. A daughter of one of his neighbors. Thirteen.”
“Rape?”
“Not forcible, but she’s too young to consent. She babysat for him and his wife when they went out evenings. He drove her home after, and according to her, love bloomed. As soon as he was released on bail, he bought plane tickets for his family, and moved to Australia.”
“He can be brought back.”
“Sure, but our victim’s parents weren’t wanting her to go through a trial; they decided not to press charges when he agreed to leave the country. They just wanted him to stay away from her, so you tell me if anyone’s going to bother.”
“Probably not.” Frank sighed. “This case is starting to wear on me. I’m starting to wonder if a good percent of the population is being led around by deviant gonads. Evolution seems to have come to a standstill at the Neanderthal level.”
“Aye, it’s discouraging. I’m going to go get some breakfast. I’ll be back soon. Want me to bring something back for you?”
“Sure. Any kind of bap with egg and cheese and bacon or ham. Maybe a slice of tomato.”
Harry grinned. “I’ve a healthy breakfast in mind, as well.”
* * * * *
Allison, exhausted from being up late two nights in a row since her Arabic classes had begun, bumped her way to work on the underground, then emerged from the station into the grey morning gloom. She quick
ly walked the rest of the way, arriving at the office at exactly half-eight. She’d opted for sleep instead of food, and she was famished, but she was on time. Not wanting any of her colleagues to see her fatigue, she pasted on a smile before pushing open the front door. Frank waved at her from behind his computer. She waved back. Harry and Oscar’s voices came from the conference room, but the guv’s office was dark.
The place smelled of sausage and toasted buns. She looked around, but the only sign of food was an almost-empty cup of yogurt-granola parfait at the edge of Oscar’s desk. That certainly wasn’t what was making the place smell divine.
She switched on her computer and headed for the kitchen to make some tea while her machine booted up. The bin in the kitchen explained the smells. Two takeaway cartons with smears of cheese and a label from the nearby café. Now she felt not only hungry, but left out. Oscar never ate that stuff, but the rest of them loved it. More often than not, whoever was in the mood to fetch food got some for everyone else, but of course she hadn’t been there, so why would they have gotten anything for her? For all they knew, she told herself, she could have already eaten at home. Or maybe Harry thought of it as part of his breakfast prohibition for girls he shagged, and now that she’d briefly been in that category she was now permanently in the no-breakfast one as well.
Allison tried to remember whether she had any food in her desk or the office fridge that could tide her over until lunch. She remembered a miserable little bag of baby carrots that she’d brought in two weeks ago when she’d been considering adopting a healthier life style. She grabbed the bag of carrots and her tea and went to her desk.
Munching the dried-up carrots, she worked on finishing up some reports.
“Slimming?”
She looked up, saw Harry scrutinizing her breakfast. She didn’t let him see how miffed she was that they’d not even thought about getting something for her, or that he’d left that morning and not checked if she’d wanted a ride. She knew that had been their agreement, but still, her feelings were hurt.