Out Of The Red

by David Bradwell

  “What have I missed?” she asked.

  “Nothing really. Danny was just saying you’d been reviewing the evidence, as it were.”

  “That’s good. Should I take over?” She looked at Danny, who nodded.

  “Can I stop you if I have any questions?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “And can we fast forward to the bit where we get to the favour?”

  She laughed.

  “We’ll be there in a moment. Thank you so much for coming in, though. And sorry for ruining your evening.”

  Her eyes were sparkling again. She bloody well knew.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there’ll be others.” I looked at Danny, who seemed be suffering a mixture of emotions that I couldn’t quite identify, although if I’d had to stake my life on it, I’d say excitement and a degree of jealousy were in there somewhere.

  “Let’s go back to the beginning,” Clare continued, “although I’ll try to keep it brief. We were investigating March, as you know, last year.”

  “Before you disappeared.”

  “Exactly.” She took a deep breath, as though it was a sore point for her too. Never mind. “At the time we thought he was your standard bent copper, into a bit of evidence removal, protection and a sideline in vice.”

  “Don’t forget the bit about being an obnoxious, sexist twat,” I added.

  “Of course, although sadly, Anna, there are lots of people like that in the world and it’s not actually a crime in itself, more’s the pity. The other bits are, though, so we investigated, found evidence, Danny wrote a story and that should have been that. However, rather than being sent down as he should have been, he somehow managed to escape with just a suspension after protesting his innocence, while a full investigation took place.”

  “Which is where we’re up to now.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I continued doing investigations of my own,” interrupted Danny, “and in the process, I discovered that he was spending his leisure time doing things that were far, far worse.”

  “The people trafficking.”

  “Correct.”

  “And that’s why you went to Germany?”

  “Yeah. And as we know, the girls end up as prostitutes, working out of parlours or for escort agencies, or even at strip clubs where they’re forced to offer extras on the side.”

  “Like the casino?”

  “Exactly. Anyway, while I was in Cologne I met some people who confirmed March was involved, but it’s been difficult to get any evidence on record. This is our chance, though. It looks like there’s a new group of girls coming in on Sunday.”

  “But that’s when we run into a problem,” continued Clare, “because not everything adds up.”

  “Oh. How come?”

  “That’s what we’ve been trying to work out. The trouble is, it all seems a bit too easy, and he’s a devious bastard, so we just don’t think he’d be so blatant - especially when he unquestionably knows he’s being watched. And then you’ve got the parlour and casino, which seem a little bit obvious too.”

  “But maybe it is just that simple,” I said. “Maybe he’s so arrogant he thinks he can’t get caught, or he’s got friends in high places who will protect him. Like that politician bloke.”

  Clare smiled.

  “Now you’re getting there,” she said, reaching for a notebook. “But the trouble is, it appears to be an awful lot more complicated than even that. Because for some reason Steve got killed, Leah got attacked and Danny got shot. And when we started to look into those, we started to realise that maybe everything we’d assumed so far was wrong.”

  * * *

  Mitch had enjoyed his evening with Anna. She seemed like a nice girl and was clearly keen. He liked that. In other circumstances, she was maybe the kind of girl he’d enjoy corrupting, so it was a shame, really, that things had to be the way they were.

  Obviously it would have been a perk to have taken her to bed. He’d have liked that. He’d have liked to have seen the fear in her eyes when he’d tied her up. He would have liked to have heard her scream. It would have been thrilling to see the look of panic when she realised she was completely under his control, and then fun to witness the complete sense of terror when she realised what he was about to do to her.

  So yes, it was a shame she’d had to go out. It would have been fun showing her exactly who’d she’d been dating over the last few days. Maybe he should spare her for now, so he could go back there one night when she wasn’t expecting him, and resurrect the original plan. Maybe as the summer came and she left a window open. It was a delicious prospect.

  There’d be others, though. There always were. So maybe he’d just have to kill her in some other way. The job needed doing, whether it came with the added bonus or not. But he could think about that after his meeting. For tonight, she’d already told him everything he needed to know, without ever naming names. She didn’t need to. The evidence was there on her desk. That picture of March and the old guy pretty much sealed the deal.

  He pushed open the door to Jacqueline Glover’s office at the Albermarle Casino and Gentlemen’s Club. She looked up as he entered the room.

  “Logan,” she said. “About fucking time.”

  36

  I TOOK a sip of the tea. It was as filthy as I’d feared. I put the cup on the side and decided I’d just go for Diet Coke in future.

  “The band thing caused us problems,” Clare continued. “It just didn’t seem to be connected, but Danny was fairly insistent that it must be. It was all too much of a coincidence.”

  “Okay, but how?” Not for the first time that evening I was glad I’d managed to avoid alcohol.

  “Well, there was their name for starters. Lumière Rouge. Red light. And I don’t need to tell you what that’s synonymous with.”

  “But that is just a coincidence. Surely?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe someone having an elaborate joke. Hiding in plain sight. So, we had a brainstorm and thought: what do we actually know about the band. Who are Steve, Leah and Holly?”

  “Steve was my friend’s brother. He was all right. That’s how I got to meet them.”

  Clare started leafing through the notebook. She nodded.

  “Here we go. Steve Baca. Singer. His background seems quite normal. Grew up in London, did well at school but always loved performing. He was in school plays, joined the choir, took singing lessons and eventually ended up in the band.”

  “How do you know all this?” I was part curious, part nervous in case I ever got on the wrong side of her.

  “Ways and means, Anna,” she said, without elaboration.

  “I told you she was good,” added Danny. Clare laughed.

  “There’s loads more, but in essence he does indeed seem like a good guy,” she continued. “But he obviously knew something or - perhaps even more likely - saw something or someone, and that’s what got him killed.”

  “Jesus. And the same for Leah?”

  “Ah, no. I’ll come on to Leah. She’s key to all of this, but let’s look at Holly first. Danny says you both had suspicions she was stealing things from the flat.”

  “We did, although I spent this afternoon tidying up, and couldn’t see anything missing.”

  “That makes sense. Okay, Holly Rowan. Danny says she told you she grew up near Winchester in Hampshire.”

  “She did.” I gave her a summary of my conversations with Holly, as best as I could remember them.

  “Good. And she seems to have come from a privileged background, private school, all the usual. The trouble is, I couldn’t find any mention of a Holly Rowan anywhere.”

  “Maybe she changed her name. Maybe Holly Rowan was her stage name.”

  “That’s exactly what Danny thought. Or maybe she didn’t grow up there at all. But apparently she also told you she’d come to London as a student?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s good. But I checked all the universities and old polytec
hnics and nobody had ever heard of a Holly Rowan there, either. So either that was a lie too, or she did just change her name. I started digging a little bit deeper and then bingo! I had her.”

  This sounded exciting.

  “Go on,” I said.

  Clare turned a few more pages.

  “Okay. I found a girl. She fitted Holly’s description, and does indeed come from near Winchester. Private school, very wealthy parents, came to London not really as a student, though, but more to have fun and spend her trust fund before settling down.”

  “That sounds like her.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Danny, joining in. “So, we went one stage further. Sorry. I’m interrupting.”

  “That’s okay. It’s very much a joint effort,” said Clare. “But yes, Danny phoned someone he knows at the Standard, and asked her to bike over some shots from the Londoner’s Diary picture archive. When they arrived, we had the proof. It’s definitely her.”

  “Excellent. So who is she?”

  “Ah, well that’s the interesting thing. Her real name is Holly Elmhirst-Banks.”

  That name rang a bell. And then it clicked.

  “You mean like the politician.”

  “Exactly. It transpires Holly is his daughter.”

  * * *

  The phone rang. Samuel Elmhirst-Banks pressed the mute button on the TV remote before answering. He recognised the number.

  “Any news?” he asked.

  “All still good,” said Holly. “I’ve met him.”

  “Good girl.” He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. “How was he?”

  “Complete sleazebag as ever but we’ve got him under control now, I promise. It’s all go for Sunday.”

  “Sure?”

  “Definitely sure. And I’m meeting the Poles tomorrow. Neutral ground.”

  “Christ’s sake be careful.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.”

  He still had so many questions. He hated being this far away from the main event, trusting others to manage the clean-up, even though he couldn’t get his own hands dirty, for obvious reasons.

  “Did he mention Jacqui?”

  “He did.”

  “And? Is she going to be a problem?”

  “Only insofar as she sees herself as the ringleader.”

  “Inevitable. But we can work with her?”

  “Definitely. She was fine when I spoke to her. She seems switched on.”

  “Okay. Well, it’s your judgement. Keep me informed.”

  “I will.”

  “And Leah?”

  “Being dealt with.”

  “Good girl.”

  He ended the call, replaced the handset and took another sip of his wine. So many things could still go wrong, but at least they were heading in the right direction. It was going to be a very stressful weekend, but oh so worth it, if it all went well.

  * * *

  Holly replaced the handset. She’d tried her best to be reassuring. It didn’t help to reveal her growing unease. She’d sort everything. It wouldn’t be a problem.

  She’d wanted this opportunity. Wanted the chance to prove herself, to show her father that she could be trusted, that she had a place on the top table. She knew she couldn’t let him down. And everything had been going so well, so smoothly, so under control. Right until Leah threw her grenade into the middle of everything she’d planned.

  She’d known there was something different about Leah from the outset. Thinking back now, it was obvious really. The way she’d introduced herself. The way she’d latched on to Steve, her willingness to do anything to help, her relentless pursuit of a place in the band.

  Of course, in some ways it had been a blessing. She was good, no doubt about that. Had everything proceeded smoothly and the band remained an exciting diversion, she’d have added real musical talent and a strong understanding of the importance of the visual.

  All of that was good, but of course it was all just a sham, betrayed by the pursuit of the ulterior motive. The only surprise was that she hadn’t spotted it sooner. Leah had ruined it now. Ruined everything. Self-torture, however, was counter-productive. Problems were there to be remedied.

  She returned to her phone, and dialled a number. She knew exactly who to call. They’d built quite an alliance over the past few weeks. Not that she’d needed to tell her father yet. That would all come later.

  “Hi Jacqui,” she said when the call was answered. “I’ve got a bit of a favour to ask. I need to borrow Finn.”

  37

  THIS was beginning to sound more and more complicated.

  “Hold on,” I said. “This Seb bloke suddenly starts taking an interest in March just as his daughter’s band hires him as their manager. That makes sense, kind of.”

  Clare was shaking her head.

  “You’d think so, but it’s not that straightforward.”

  “How come?”

  “What did she tell you about how he got involved?”

  I tried to think back. It was only two days since we’d had the conversation, but so much had happened.

  “She said she didn’t know him.” I paused, trying to remember the exact words. “She said it was all done behind her back. Steve and Leah had met him the day I took the pictures to the rehearsal studio. The first time she laid eyes on him was the night Steve died.”

  Clare and Danny exchanged glances, both raising eyebrows. It was like a secret passed between them.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Danny passed me a photograph. There, looking straight at the camera, was Holly, albeit looking maybe a couple of years younger. She seemed to be at some kind of reception, maybe a charity ball. Standing on one side was her father. On the other, with a sickly smile on his chubby face, was Graham March.

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, now I am confused.”

  “So were we,” said Clare. “So we kept looking into it and it seems March and Seb are old pals, kind of like family friends. And Holly’s what? Mid to late twenties now? Seemingly she knew March very well indeed.”

  “But why try to hide it?”

  “That’s the next question. Because if she lied about that, what else was she lying about? Is it conceivable that Steve and Leah were meeting March when you went, but only to meet him for the first time because she’d already got him involved for whatever reason? And of course, she didn’t need to go because she’d known him for years. But if that’s also true, then maybe everything else she said and did was suspect too.”

  “Starting with needing somewhere to stay when she was allegedly too scared to go home,” I said, thinking aloud.

  “Exactly,” said Clare. “And you both thought she was stealing something. But what if she wasn’t stealing? What if she was looking for something? Like information.”

  “But what information was she going to find at our flat?”

  And then it dawned on me. If March was a family friend and she was trying to protect him, what better way to try to get access to Danny, to find out what he was investigating, than to move in? God. She’d been left alone in the flat. She could have been up to anything.

  “Shit,” I said. “Oh, Danny. Clare. What a mess.”

  “And that brings us on to Leah,” continued Clare. “We know very little about her except her full name, Leah Haddon, and that she was homeless for a while. We haven’t been able to find out anything else about her background. Can you remember what she said to you?”

  “What? On the phone?”

  Clare nodded.

  “God. Let me think. She said Steve wasn’t an accident. Something about March fucking everything up. And she referred to ‘the bastards’ although she didn’t say who they were. Shit. Do you think the bastards were March and Holly?”

  “That’s where we’re getting to.”

  “But how? And why?”

  “That’s what we don’t know. Because before she got to tell you, somebody tried to kill her. And knowing a bit about the way these kinds of people
work...”

  “As you do...”

  “Quite. Knowing a bit about them, I think they’re going to try to finish the job before she has a chance to come round again.”

  “Oh Jesus. Poor Leah.” I tried to let that all sink in. “But surely she has police protection?”

  “She does. But she’s still very much at risk.”

  Clare looked up at Danny again. He nodded.

  “What now?” I asked. “I wish you two wouldn’t do that.”

  “Do what?” asked Danny.

  “Keep looking at each other as though you’re both in on some sort of grand secret.”

  “Sorry, Anna. It’s just this is where we need the favour.”

  “I’d forgotten about that. Why do I get the impression this isn’t going to be trivial?”

  They looked at each other again. I may have sworn.

  “Come on, out with it.”

  “Okay, but please hear me out,” said Clare. “If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine. And please know that we wouldn’t ask if there was any other obvious alternative.”

  “Understood.”

  “Right.” She took a deep breath. “We need to speak to Leah. And sooner rather than later.”

  “But she’s lying somewhere in this hospital, completely unconscious.”

  “She is. Or at least she was. She’s expected to come round very soon. And we need to make sure we get to her first. As soon as she can speak, she’s going to be in very real danger.”

  “Shouldn’t we just be trying to make sure that she isn’t in any danger?” I asked. “Surely that’s the most important thing.”

  “It is,” said Danny. “And I’ve spoken to Amy and suggested she double up on security. But we need to get in there as well. We need to speak to her first, before anyone, police included. Once the police do an interview, it’s going to be very hard to gain access.”

  “Right. And how do you do that? Presumably you can’t just go along.”

  “No,” said Clare. “But we’ve got a plan.” She paused, as though picking up courage. “We need you to dress up as a nurse and then get in to see her.”