‘It was a Saturday night and I was working out of a flat in Merton Street. It’s a nice location, quiet like, you know?’
Kate and Annie both nodded their agreement.
‘Well, I had a call earlier on, at about six-thirty, from this bloke who called himself James. He arranged to come and see me at nine-thirty. Well, when he arrived, he was well on the drink. Not falling over, like, I don’t mean he was pissed as such. But he was mean, if you can understand that. Some of the men are aggressive. Not all of them, in fact, the majority are nice as pie, but every now and then you’ll get one that we refer to as a harmer. It’s strange, but they are all alike. Not in looks but in their behaviour. They swagger in like the fucking dog’s gonads and they always want a bit more than you are offering to give. They think they’re entitled to do what they want because they’re paying you. Well, he was like that. He smells, reeks of beer and cigarette smoke, and he is also unkempt in his personal appearance. He wears a suit and that, but it’s seen better days. He also has a strange look about him, his features are off-synch. He looks like he’s had a stroke or something. But it’s not immediately noticeable, it takes a while before you realise what looks wrong.’
Jemimah picked up her tea and sipped it slowly. ‘Well, he was all hyped up. Loud and crude. And I knew he was going to be trouble. We offer a drink to the men, you know, if they’re nervous. He insisted on me getting him a vodka shot, and he also insisted that I get naked, sooner rather than later. I told him I wanted me money up front and he refused. Just refused down and out. He told me he would pay me if, and when, I had performed my duties to his satisfaction. Those were his exact words.’
She sipped at her tea again and, suddenly, talking about it to people who were actually interested, who cared, upset her and, for the first time in years, she cried. It occurred to her now, with the police and Miriam sitting there, that she really could have been killed. She could have been tortured and murdered. It was a sobering thought. Until now, she had not fully appreciated the danger she had actually been in. Her answer had been to run away, but then that was her answer to everything. It always had been. First from home, then from the care system, and she had done all right for herself up until now. But she had no intention of hanging around too long for these people to question her further; who knew, if he found out, he might come back and look for her.
‘Miriam said that telling you would help other girls, and I agree with her. I think this man needs to be stopped. He has a vicious streak, he really enjoys the fear he creates. I was left with a badly bruised face and a cigarette burn to my arm.’ Jemimah held her arm out to show them.
‘How long ago was this?’
Jemimah thought seriously for a few moments. ‘A few weeks ago. He got the number from the paper. We have adverts in there, you know, masseuses et cetera. But he’s local, I know that much.’
‘How do you know that?’ Annie’s voice was low, and she leaned forward in her chair to listen even more attentively.
‘He used a cab service to get here, but he left on foot. Now, Merton Street is not somewhere you could find on your own, it’s on the outskirts. But he left his wallet on the table and it was open. He had a Grantley Library card. He also had a Blockbuster membership card.’
Kate and Annie both knew that Jemimah had trounced his wallet. They also knew that it was likely being caught in the act had caused the trouble in the first place. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl had found herself on the receiving end of a punter’s anger over a near robbery.
‘Did you get a last name?’
Jemimah shook her head. ‘It was foreign, I can’t remember it. I couldn’t even pronounce it.’
Kate smiled ruefully. ‘And you say some of the other girls were also victims?’
Jemimah nodded. ‘A couple. I’ve just found out. None of us had mentioned it before. Stupid really, now I think about it. We don’t do it often enough, talk about who is safe and who ain’t. And even then, of course, you only talk to the girls you know. If he’s done it to other girls, girls we don’t know, strangers, then we wouldn’t know about it.’
Kate nodded. ‘Can you give me a description of him? Hair colour, style, that kind of thing?’
Jemimah nodded solemnly now. ‘I’ll never forget him, put it like that.’
Kate smiled at Lionel Dart, but she could feel the animosity coming off of him in waves.
‘Bit early for you, Lionel, if you don’t mind me saying.’
He hated that Kate Burrows called him Lionel, hated that she felt she was better than him even though he knew she had good reason for feeling that way. Well, he could finally mark her card and get her out of this station, once and for all. He smiled then, and she saw the tiny, pointed teeth of a predator. He was a predator, in every way. She was almost looking forward to this.
Kate sat down opposite Lionel without being invited, another thing she knew he didn’t like. He was a bully and, like all bullies, he was basically a weak individual. She loathed him, and she knew that the feeling was mutual.
‘So, what can I do for you, Lionel? I assume it’s about the name and description Annie and I provided last night. We obviously want to keep this in-house, don’t want the press getting wind of it. By the way, I think we should move the press even further away from the station house. Not only do they make it difficult for access, I also think that people are now nervous about coming here to be questioned and subsequently being caught by journalists or the TV cameras. What do you think?’
Lionel shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I think, Kate, that you should consider taking yourself off this case, even though you are a consultant. After all, you are retired. And in any case, I’m going to bring in a new lead detective.’ Lionel smiled, trying to look like a benevolent uncle.
Kate sat there, stony-faced.
‘Not that we don’t appreciate your expertise, or the valuable assistance you have always given this station and its regular policemen and women, Annie Carr in particular. But as it has now come to light that Patrick Kelly has too many connections with the women involved, I feel it’s not really appropriate for you to be part of this investigation. As I’m sure you understand, the press could really make something of this, and it would dilute any lines of inquiry. Dare I say it, it could even shed doubt on to any arrest that might be procured.’
Kate smiled. It was a nasty, I know something you don’t smile. ‘God, Lionel, you do talk fucking shit at times.’
She lit a cigarette, ignoring the no-smoking policy and his outraged expression. She was pleased to see the fear now on his face. She pulled a plain buff envelope from her bag and she knew he could see his name, written in large black letters.
‘You can’t talk to me like that.’
Kate laughed then, a harsh, smoky laugh.
‘Oh yes I can. Now you listen to me, you fucking moron. I know everything there is to know about you. I’m not with Pat any more, which makes you think you have the upper hand. But suppose I was to get a bit snidey, eh? I know about you too. I know where all the bodies are buried.’
Kate let her words sink in before saying, ‘I also know that you were acquainted with at least two of the dead girls, thanks to Peter Bates. I understand that you got them free, gratis. How lucky are you? So as far as associations are concerned, I think we could reliably look in your direction, don’t you? There has never been any reason to question my honesty or my integrity. Or have I got this all wrong? Only I wouldn’t want to pass this lot on to your boss, a personal friend of mine, and Patrick’s, come to that, as I am sure you know, if you think it’s all lies.’
Lionel could feel the blood draining from his body, then he felt the heat envelop him at what she had just revealed. But Lionel Dart had always been a man who looked after number one, that had always been his priority over the years, and it was not about to change now. He hated this woman, but his ire would have to wait.
‘Oh, and I can prove it, Lionel, I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t. Now, you listen t
o me, boy, and you listen good. I was given this information by someone looking into the internet accounts. It seems to me, judging by the emails I have in this envelope, that you were discussed in graphic detail on more than one occasion. So, if I were you, I would think long and hard before you dare to give me any fucking ultimatums. I also think that you should make a point of keeping Patrick’s name out of anything because, unlike me, he can be a vindictive bastard. I am holding your career, your pension, and a prison sentence in my hands, and I won’t hesitate to use any of it. Neither will the young woman who uncovered it all. So do me a favour, shut the fuck up, and let us get on with the job in hand.’
Kate threw the envelope on the desk. ‘Keep that for your own personal records, I have plenty of copies.’
Lionel stared at the envelope as if it had been hand-delivered to him by an alien.
‘You’re a ponce, as Patrick always said you were. A fucking parasite who thinks he’s immune to everything around him. Well, you’re not. You’re a bully, a coward and, on top of that, you’re a fucking joke, especially in this station house. Also, the body of your mate Desmond surfaced late last night, so, if you even attempt to get Pat involved with that, I will personally blow you out of the fucking water. All lines of inquiry will ultimately lead back to you, especially if I have anything to do with it. So, remember that, and remember that you have pushed me too far this time.’
Kate stood up then and, as she got to the door, she turned back and faced him. ‘Now, move the press further away, they stopped photographing you ages ago, and make sure that Margaret Dole is assigned officially to this case with me and Annie. Unlike you, she has the makings of a good police officer.’
As Kate walked out the door she saw Annie waiting for her. They laughed loudly, aware that the arsehole, as Lionel Dart was unaffectionately called, could hear everything.
Patrick opened his eyes, it was past ten. He could hear the shower running, and he sighed in annoyance. By the time Eve had arrived, he had been half pissed, and he had also been almost incapable of any physical activity. She had cooked him an omelette and chatted to him until he passed out.
He could vaguely remember dragging himself up the stairs to bed and he had, in all honesty, not even realised she had been beside him. He secretly wondered if his behaviour might have put her off ever seeing him again. He soon realised how wrong he was.
She walked into the bedroom provocatively draped in a towel, she really was a good-looking girl. ‘You look better today.’ She was half smiling as she spoke.
‘Well, I don’t fucking feel it. Why don’t you get yourself off home?’
Pat saw the hurt look on her face and felt bad at his words. But the last thing he needed with a marathon hangover was this young woman standing at the end of his bed looking like something from Spanking Weekly. She made him feel old, and she made him feel vulnerable. He didn’t want to get up in front of her, didn’t want her to see him in the harsh morning light.
‘Look, love. I ain’t at me best this time of the morning, and if you plus one that with a massive hangover, I think you might just understand how I’m not feeling the friendliest bloke on the planet at this moment in time.’
Eve smiled, and he was impressed at how easily she had recovered herself. She looked serene again, her usual enigmatic self. ‘You look all right to me, Patrick. In fact, you look good enough to eat.’
It was not meant how it had come out, and Eve regretted her words immediately. For the first time ever, she had lost her reserve, her cool. She genuinely liked this man, and not just because of what he could do for her. She respected him, cared for him, and it was the first time in her life where a man had made her feel she wanted something more than just a sexual liaison. She understood, though, that Patrick Kelly was not a man who would be wanting the same thing as her any time in the near future. She wondered how this had happened to her. She never let her guard down, what on earth had caused her to do it with this man?
‘Look, Patrick . . .’
Pat held up his hand in a gesture of quietness. ‘Nothing to say, darling. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to get up.’
He watched sadly as her tight little ass wiggled its way back into the bathroom. He gave her serious Brownie points for her lack of anger, a lesser woman would have smashed him one by now, and he would not have blamed her. This girl had offered him herself, and he had knocked her back, just as well, all things considered. As he pulled on his dressing gown he felt dizzy, and he finally accepted that, once and for all, his days on the Rémy Martin were well and truly over.
He staggered downstairs and caught a glimpse of himself in the large Venetian mirror in his entrance hall. He looked old, old and debauched, in fact. He was not proud of himself, he saw himself for a fool, and an old fool at that. He knew that Kate would have swallowed eventually, all he had needed to do was tell her. What had really upset her was that he had not let her in on the big secret.
The phone rang and he picked it up angrily. ‘What?’
‘It’s me, Pat.’
Hearing Kate’s voice threw him for a few seconds. ‘Hello, Kate.’
Kate could hear the uncertainty in his voice, and knew she was the last person he expected to be hearing from. The knowledge saddened her.
‘It’s just a quick call, Patrick. Desmond surfaced late last night. I’ve already smoothed it over with Lionel, no one will be asking you too much about it. It’s over with. Finished and done.’
Pat knew how hard this call would be for Kate, and he knew how hard it would have been for her to go against the grain and help him out in a sticky situation like this one. The O’Learys would be eternally grateful as well, they would assume it was forgotten because of him. Naturally, he was willing to let them think just that. As always, Patrick was first and foremost a businessman.
‘Thanks, Kate.’
Kate heard the affection in Pat’s voice, and it was all too much for her. After not speaking to him for so long, hearing him now was getting to her. ‘What are friends for?’
As he went to answer, Eve bounded down the stairs calling gaily, ‘You got that coffee on yet?’
If Patrick had possessed a shotgun at that moment in time, he knew he would have aimed it at Eve and blown her away without a second’s thought. Just to shut her up.
As Pat looked at the receiver in his hand, as he realised that Kate had rung off, he turned to Eve and said, ‘Did no one ever teach you fucking manners? I was on the phone. I was talking to someone important.’
Eve was shocked, but also unsure what exactly she had done to warrant Pat’s fury.
Patrick saw the stricken look on her lovely face and immediately felt ashamed of his outburst. He knew he was being rude, boorish, all the things he despised in lesser men. He put the phone down and, smiling sadly, he said with brutal honesty, ‘Look, love, it’s been great and all that, but I can’t do this any more. You are too young, too energetic and far too fucking good-looking for the likes of me. And, if it’s all right with you, I prefer to drink my coffee alone in the mornings.’
Eve was aware that she was being royally outed and the way he had done it annoyed her. Patrick’s arrogance was legendary and she saw now why he was a legend in his own lunchtime.
‘Look, Pat. You’re a nice bloke, but a bit too long in the tooth for me, if truth be told. It was a bit of fun, and now it’s over. I’m sure I’ll recover from the devastating shock in a few hours. If you don’t mind, you can shove your coffee right up your arse.’
As Eve clattered across the marble entrance hall Pat felt the urge to cry. Kate had done all that for him, and he knew just how hard it would have been for her to face Dart and his supercilious smile. And now she believed she had already been replaced in his affections. He knew he had to see her, and see her soon. She would probably blow him off like a nuclear missile, but at least he could try and explain the situation. He only hoped he could find the words to make her listen to him.
Jemimah was packing her bags, aw
are that she had done her bit for society, and also aware that she was actually considering giving up the life.
She’d listened to Miriam, who she knew was talking sense and was only trying to help her understand that, if she wasn’t careful, one day this could be the cause of her own demise. Like Miriam said, she was a lovely-looking girl who deserved a home and a family. No one had ever said anything like that to her before, she’d always believed she wasn’t good enough to want things like that. That she didn’t deserve anything even remotely good, honest or clean.
Miriam told her about other girls she had helped with her husband, how they had been so proud of them and loved them like their own children. She’d explained that they had kept in contact with them to help them through the transition from working girls to working members of society. She explained that they loved that they were now all settled, some even in relationships as mothers and wives. Miriam reminded Jemimah that the girls in the life aged prematurely, and found it hard to fit in with the rest of society. She told her stories of girls dying of AIDS or being beaten once too often. She talked about how so many women often turned to drink and drugs to blot out the grind that had become their daily lives. From wanting to scam Miriam, Jemimah now felt she wanted to make her proud. When she got to Spain, she was going to turn over a new leaf.
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