Most Gracious Advocate (Terrence Reid Mystery Book 4)

by Mary Birk

  “I’m going to take you out of here for a while. We’ll go up to the dining room, so you can practice correct behavior around the kind of men we’re expecting will bid on you.”

  “But I thought you said . . .”

  She leaned close to Tabby’s ear. “Keep your voice down, and don’t worry. I’m not going to let it happen. Just pay attention to everything you see. We may have to make a quick escape.”

  Tabby paid attention, not just to the lesson, but also to her surroundings. Both men with machine guns sat guard while she practiced her behavior lessons. Tabby took mental note of where the doors were and how the guards became less attentive to these lessons as they went on. One even dozed for a while.

  Walking in shackles was difficult, but Tabby learned to move smoothly by taking small, quick steps. She was making a circuit of the rooms on the main floor when something outside caught her eye. She recognized it immediately. The Washington Monument-type fountain she’d seen with Lady Anne. Tabby knew where she was, though she couldn’t remember the house’s name, nor why Lady Anne was supposed to stay away from it.

  When she was taken back to her room, she undressed, and bathed. She made her own face up this time, using dark kohl to line her eyes and a smoky dark shadow and red lipstick. The woman arranged Tabby’s hair, then rouged Tabby’s nipples, then gave her another blue pill.

  Turning away from the camera, the woman whispered, “He’s coming tonight, the man I work for.”

  Tabby’s chest tightened with fear. “Does he suspect I’m . . .?”

  “Shh. I don’t think so. The doctor wouldn’t dare tell him that he gave you an incomplete examination.” She took Tabby by the shoulders, as if she were inspecting her handiwork, and whispered. “You can’t tell him. I can’t protect you if you do.”

  Tabby gave a slight shake of her head.

  “He’ll be here any moment.”

  Tabby mouthed, “I’m scared.”

  “Just do whatever he wants.”

  Tabby nodded, and the woman stepped away.

  The door opened and a man came in. Even though his head was covered with a hawk-style hood exposing only his mouth, Tabby was sure she’d never seen him before.

  “She’s ready,” the woman said.

  The man walked around Tabby, murmuring his approval. Tabby felt an almost palpable sense of power and intense sexual energy emanating from the man, but more than that, a feeling of evil.

  “Has she been good?”

  Tabby kept her eyes down and did not speak because she had not been spoken to. The woman had told her that was one of the most important lessons.

  “Very good. She’s got an exceptionally receptive body.”

  The woman poured a brandy for Tabby and gave it to her, instructing her to drink.

  “You are to call this man Master, but only if he says you are to speak to him.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Tabby felt the welcome wave of relaxation from the brandy mixed with the effects of the pill. She could do this.

  The man’s deep voice purred, “Let’s begin, Tabby. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Chapter 45

  WHEN ALLISON got back from her appointment, she and Harry drove over to the local nick where Brighton and Webster were being held. She thought about telling Harry she’d taken care of the birth control issue, but discarded the idea. He might think she was hinting that she wanted to sleep with him again.

  He interrupted her thoughts. “I’m thinking maybe these men weren’t picked just because they were clients of Lily’s. Maybe they were also picked because of what else they could bring to the table. We need to try to find out what that might be.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Who’s first?”

  “Let’s start with Webster. Why don’t you take lead?”

  Allison nodded, swallowing her nerves. She hadn’t led an interview of someone under arrest for something so serious before. But, she consoled herself, Harry wouldn’t have suggested it if he didn’t think she was ready.

  The interview room, a grey cement box, where Mac Webster was waiting, smelled sour. Webster’s face looked as if the grey color of the room had started to seep into his skin. He hadn’t asked for a lawyer yet. Hopefully, he wouldn’t, at least until they’d gotten everything they could out of him.

  Harry took care of the recording device, giving her a nod when it was ready. She read the time and participants on the record, then began.

  “Mr. Webster, we’ve met before. I’m DC Muirhead. You remember DS Ross?”

  Webster nodded, wary.

  “You’ve been arrested for having sex with an underage female, as well as for obstruction of justice in the investigation into the disappearance of Kristen Daly.”

  When he didn’t say anything, Allison said, “You admit you had sex with a girl known as Lily White?”

  He hesitated.

  “She identified you as one of her regulars. Did you have sex with Lily White?”

  “Yes.”

  “On multiple occasions?

  “Aye.”

  “You were filmed having sex with her?”

  “I didn’t know we were being filmed at the time.”

  “But you now know it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Photos were taken of the two of you together, again having sex?”

  “I didn’t know that, either. Not at the time, but yes.”

  “The films and photos were used to blackmail you into doing other things?”

  “Who told you that?”

  Allison ignored the question. “Yes or no. Were you being blackmailed with the films and the photos of you and this girl having sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us what you know about your blackmailers.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’ll kill me.”

  “Mr. Webster, you aren’t the only man being used this way. Nor is Kristen the only American au pair to go missing from around here.”

  Webster nodded.

  “You saw that one of the girls was found dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her name was Lizzie Frost.”

  “I saw that but I didn’t know her.”

  “The man who employed her as an au pair was also being blackmailed over his relationship with Lily White.”

  “They probably made him hire her, like they made me hire Kristen.”

  “If you’re lucky, Kristen may still be alive. If you help us find her, things may go a bit easier for you.”

  “No one said anything about hurting her. I was just supposed to keep her until they were ready to take her.”

  “Who exactly is ‘they’?”

  “The ones that took the films of me with Lily.” Webster explained how he’d been approached with the photos and film by a man, and been told what he had to do to keep them from going to the police, the General Pharmaceutical Council, and to his wife with what they had on him. The story was almost identical to what Gunderson had told them, except Webster denied making any blackmail payments.

  Allison thought about what Harry had said, that the men also might have been selected because of what they could bring to the table. “You did make blackmail payments, didn’t you? But they weren’t in cash, they were in pharmaceuticals, weren’t they?”

  After first denying giving the blackmailers drugs, Webster gave up and admitted that he’d been supplying tranquilizers, sleeping pills, and amphetamines to his blackmailers, as well as more than a dozen starter birth control pill kits.

  “You also continued to visit Lily?”

  He nodded.

  “Verbal, please.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you pay for that?” They’d ascertained from credit card statements found in the Webster house that there hadn’t been any more payments to Lily White’s vendor account.

  “I didn’t have to pay. That was part of what I got in exchange for the drugs. I got to see her once a week.”


  “The drugs weren’t all they made you do, were they?”

  Webster went white and, for the first time, Allison thought he was genuinely afraid. Allison signaled to Harry, who went to the door, and took a bag from one of the officers standing outside. He handed the bag to Allison, and Allison pulled out the digital camera and video camera that had been found in the search of Mac Webster’s shop.

  “Our forensic computer team found a series of photos and films of your daughters stored in your cameras.”

  The man buried his face in his hands.

  “Tell me about them. You took them?”

  “Yes.”

  “For your own enjoyment?”

  “No. The man who was blackmailing me told me I had to.”

  “You gave copies to him?”

  “Yes.” Mac Webster started to tremble, then broke down crying.

  “As payment for them keeping your secret about having sex with a child?”

  “Lily’s not actually a child.”

  “She was fourteen at the oldest. But to make the question easier for you, you gave photos of your children in payment to the man who was blackmailing you in exchange for them keeping your secret about having sex with Lily?”

  He nodded, but didn’t raise his head until Allison insisted on a verbal response. From there the interview went smoothly. After Webster identified Albert Braytoun as the man to whom he made his payments, Allison got him to recount what he’d been told to do the day Kristen disappeared. As with Gunderson, he was to make sure everyone was out of the house so that he could get rid of her belongings, and was to discourage his wife from going to the police.

  Webster denied knowing who had taken Kristen, where she’d been taken from, or what had happened to her, though he finally admitted that he’d understood that she’d be going to a man who wanted a virgin. He also admitted he’d realized Kristen wasn’t going to be given a choice whether to go with the man or not.

  After Webster was taken back to his cell, Harry gave Allison a thumbs-up. “You did great. I didn’t have to say a word.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  * * * * *

  Tim Brighton was not as anxious to cooperate as Mac Webster had been. He was tougher and more sophisticated, so Harry didn’t suggest Allison lead the questioning.

  “Let’s talk again about how you came to hire Susan. The truth this time.”

  “I told you the truth. We needed childcare help. I advertised. Susan answered the ad. We hired her. She quit.”

  “You got rid of her belongings.”

  “You have evidence of that?”

  Of course, they didn’t have any evidence, and the bastard knew it.

  “You were told to hire her.”

  “Told to hire her? By whom?”

  “Does the name Albert Braytoun ring a bell?”

  “Should it?”

  “You don’t deny you had sex with an underage prostitute? Goes by the name Lily White?”

  “I didn’t know she was underage at the time.”

  “But you had sex with her.”

  “I thought she was of legal age, like her ad said. Legal, looks illegal. Was I supposed to ask for her identity card? When I found out, I stopped visiting her. How long do you think I’ll get for that?”

  Harry gestured to Allison. “Could you bring us some tea? We’ll stop the recording and resume when you return.”

  Allison gave him a look that let him know she knew he was up to something, but did as he asked.

  After she left, Harry turned back to Brighton. “Off the record.”

  Brighton didn’t say anything.

  “We both know what happened. You were being blackmailed and someone told you to hire Susan. When she disappeared, you got rid of her belongings, but I doubt that got the slimy bastards out of your hair. They’d be wanting more to not grass you out to your wife or the authorities.”

  “Interesting theory.”

  “Were you also asked to take sexually suggestive films or snaps of your children, and turn them over to Braytoun?”

  “I’d never do that. No matter who asked me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “But you were asked to do so?”

  “If I was, I would have refused.”

  “I can help you out of this mess. You can come out of this with nothing more than a bad-boy slap on the wrists for bedding an underage prozzy if you help us get whoever’s behind things.”

  Brighton studied him. “Go on.”

  “If Susan isn’t already dead, there’s a possibility we can still recover her and send her home to her family. If she were your daughter, wouldn’t you want her back?”

  “I treasure my children.”

  “Help us, and I’ll help you. You may never be able to convince that bitch you’re married to that you’re still a man, but you can prove it to yourself.”

  Brighton’s face went hard, and Harry was afraid he’d lost him.

  “I don’t think you realized what was going to happen to Susan when you were asked to hire her, did you?”

  “Let’s say I didn’t.”

  “But you know now, and it’s your responsibility to make it right.”

  “How would I do that?”

  “I have the sense you know more than you’re saying about who’s behind this.”

  “You expect me to trust you?”

  “It’s better than trusting them.” Harry took out a card, handed it to him. “Call me if you decide you want to salvage your life.”

  Chapter 46

  HARRY LOOKED at the clock over the door in the lounge of their house. Almost nine. Allison still hadn’t come home. He hadn’t seen her since they’d returned to High Street after the interview with Brighton. Sometime while he’d been upstairs going over Oscar’s floaters’ results, she’d left the office without saying a word.

  Which one was she with tonight? He hoped to Christ it wasn’t Dyksarma. Dyksarma was a fucking gorilla. Harry thought of how friendly her face had looked when she’d returned the arsehole’s call, and his stomach ached. She wasn’t stupid; she wouldn’t be fooled by him for long. But it seemed like her phone was always ringing. That arsehole Michaud called every day. Jim Boyle and Barlow, too. Jesus, was she putting out ads: Open for Business?

  As much as she hadn’t liked her reputation for being an ice maiden, a reputation of sleeping around among the police force would be disastrous for her career. But it wasn’t his affair; he’d not be the troll guarding her treasure chest anymore. He’d served his purpose for her. One more item on her To Do List crossed off: Lose Virginity. Big check mark.

  He didn’t want her to come home and discover him here alone, but she’d not gotten home before half ten all week, so he wasn’t going to hide up in his room. Besides, it was his house. He didn’t have to go out every night if he didn’t want to. Before she’d moved in, he’d never thought twice about what she was doing at night. Well, maybe a few times, but not usually. Something about having her live so close to him seemed to heighten his awareness of her. Or maybe it was knowing her body as he did now.

  At night, he lay awake wanting to go to her, to touch her like he had when they’d been together in her room. Not touching her when he was near her was almost painful. What was worse was that he didn’t want anyone else right now. He’d rather think about her by himself in bed than be with anyone else. Fuck it, he was being a jessy. In a week, he’d be over her. He couldn’t wait.

  He fed the recording of Lizzie Frost’s abduction into the DVD player, poured two fingers of whiskey, and ran it again. The black sedan, they now knew, was likely Albert Braytoun’s, and the man in the film was definitely Braytoun. Unfortunately, the uniforms Allison sent to check out Braytoun’s flat reported back that no one was home, and the neighbors said they hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks. Still no name on the woman, but Harry had the sense he’d seen her before.

  The raven black hair didn’t ring any bel
ls, though. Maybe when he’d seen her, the hair had been different. He tried to picture the woman with different hair, and for some reason, a heavy bleach job seemed to fit. He rewound and watched again, but he still couldn’t place her.

  Giving up, he went up to his room, taking the bottle of whiskey with him.

  THURSDAY, APRIL 15

  Chapter 47

  HARRY GLANCED over at where Michaud hung over Allison’s desk, talking to her as she wrapped things up so they could go to lunch. Michaud had been cordial to him, the last pre-lunch interaction apparently forgiven. After all, the man had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? Harry had backed off, Allison had her clinic birth control protection by now, and things were presumably hunky dory.

  Allison laughed at something Michaud said, and encouraged, the man went on with some story he was telling her, his animation increased by her appreciation of his wit. Her curly little head bobbed, and her eyes sparkled.

  Harry tapped his pencil on his desk. “Trying to work over here, Muirhead.”

  Allison looked over, surprised. “Sorry, Harry. Let’s go, Eddie.” She put her computer on standby, and stood up to go. Michaud helped her on with her raincoat. They moved toward the door, and Allison called out to no one in particular, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Harry waited until the door closed, then muttered, “Take your fucking goddamned bloody time. No need to rush things.”

  “Something wrong, Harry?”

  Harry looked up. Bloody bloody hell. Reid was standing right behind him. How long had he been there?

  “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure, sir. Your office?”

  “Actually, let’s go to lunch.”

  Harry nodded, a feeling of trepidation starting to build. He’d had a meal or two with his boss before, but not many. Reid was a man who kept his work and social life separate. But Harry could tell this wouldn’t be social. Likely he’d be breaking the news that he was going to MI-5, and they’d all need to fend for themselves for new assignments.