by James Raven
Now she was lying between us again. Exhausted, nearly catatonic. Her breath loud and hoarse. And she was still shaking. She couldn’t stop shaking.
If you knew why this was happening you’d understand.
How could he possibly think that? He seemed to be suggesting that his actions could somehow be justified. But only a complete psycho would think that. And the masked man did not strike me as a complete psycho. He’d brought us food and drink. He’d refrained from making our ordeal any worse than it was through abuse and torture. Complete psychos did not act like that. At least, I didn’t think they did.
‘You’re reading too much into it, Danny,’ Maggie said. ‘He killed Vince so he could get his hands on the lottery ticket. That’s obvious. It doesn’t matter how he came to be at the cottage. All that matters now is that he’s desperate to cover his tracks and that means we’re going to die whatever he says.’
She was right, of course, but that did not satisfy my curiosity.
‘There must be something we can do,’ she said tearfully. ‘Please, Danny. Get us out of here.’
She wrapped her arms around her knees and started rocking back and forth. A sob bubbled in my throat as I watched her. Once again I was going to disappoint the woman I loved. I felt the despair flowing through my veins. I should be able to protect her. But how? I was chained up like a fucking dog.
In the silence that followed the guilt set in. It came at me in unforgiving waves. I experienced a fresh bout of anger too. I wanted to kill the animal who was doing this to us.
Who was he, for Christ’s sake? Where was he now? Did he have a job? A wife? A family? Even a bloody name?
Right now he was just a man wearing a ski mask. Tall and strong. A voice with no discernible accent. He was economical with words, careful and resourceful. I guessed his age at anywhere between thirty and sixty. It was impossible to be more precise.
Was he Joe Dessler? I had never met the man, only seen a photo that Vince showed me. Sure, the agency had been working on an exposé of his illegal business interests, but it had been Vince’s baby. My own involvement had been minimal. He had done all the research and started writing the first draft. For him it had been personal and I had warned him to be careful.
When he told me what he had I could see it would make a cracking piece in one of the Sunday red tops. There was everything to titillate and shock. Underage prostitutes from Poland and the Ukraine. A bent detective. A couple of illicit brothels. A bully-boy loan shark. Its publication would have triggered a major police investigation into Dessler’s activities and that, surely, was something he would have wanted to stop happening.
But Maggie was spot on when she said that the kidnapper’s identity was irrelevant anyway. It wouldn’t change anything. He would still be intent on claiming the lottery money. And he would still be determined that he should get to spend it without fear of ending up in jail.
34
Bill Nadelson was not at home. There was no car on his driveway. Temple found this immensely frustrating. Since they had no idea when he’d be back Temple called in for authority to search the house.
While he waited for the go-ahead he went and had another look around Mayo’s cottage. A uniformed officer was still stationed outside because the forensic sweep was still in progress upstairs.
He took a call from DC Patel who said that they were searching Dessler’s flat but there was no sign of the man himself.
‘Any indication where he might be?’
‘Not so far. We’ll keep looking and I’ll keep you posted.’
Temple glanced at his watch. Another sleepless night ahead. Almost twenty-four hours since the murder and what did they have to show for it? Three suspects but nothing concrete. Not very impressive. Then a thought struck him. He called Angel at the station.
‘The girl Dessler met in the pub,’ he said. ‘Have we identified her yet?’
‘I don’t know,’ Angel said. ‘We sent a uniform to the pub with a printout from the CCTV footage. I’ll check.’
Temple hung up and wandered outside. He tried to pull his thoughts together. He was confused and frustrated. The case was getting to him.
Cain. Dessler. Nadelson. Jordan. All of them were connected to Mayo. All of them were suspects. But the picture was still as blurred as ever. He just couldn’t get a handle on it. The questions were taunting his tired brain.
Where was Cain? What had happened when he came to the cottage last night? Did he simply confront Mayo over the issue of his wife’s affair? Or was there more to it? Where did Dessler go after leaving the pub and where was he now? Why were Nadelson’s fingerprints on Mayo’s bedside drawer? And did detective Jordan know more than he was letting on about Mayo’s murder and events leading up to it?
Then there were the two questions that needed answering more urgently than all the others. Where were Maggie and Laura Cain? And were they safe? He was desperately worried about them.
Temple’s phone rang. It was Angel.
‘We’ve got a name and address of the woman Dessler met in the pub,’ she said. ‘Colleen Wild. Aged twenty-five. She’s a working girl and well-known to Vice. They believe she shares a house with two other girls and they use it to service clients. Dessler runs it and Vice have raided it twice but each time the house was clean. Now they know why.’
‘Jordan?’
‘Almost certainly.’
Temple hung up and then took another call, this time from Priest with the go-ahead to search Bill Nadelson’s house. A unit was on its way with a ram for the door.
Thirty-five minutes later they were inside the house and a team of officers started the search.
‘As well as the jewellery we’re looking for a pile of cash,’ Temple said. ‘And, of course, anything that might have been used as the murder weapon, including a large granite pestle.’
Temple thought back to his conversation with the neighbour. He’d seemed genuinely shocked and upset by what had happened. He’d said he saw Mayo’s body and then phoned the police straight away. No mention of going upstairs and opening Mayo’s drawers. And no mention of a pile of cash on the worktop.
Temple recalled how anxious Nadelson suddenly became when he was told his prints would be taken for elimination purposes. His face had registered alarm, which Temple had put down to shock.
‘I’ve got something, sir,’ one of the officers called from upstairs after only ten minutes.
The officer had pulled a suitcase out from under a bed. It was unlocked. Inside there was a bundle of notes that totalled £3,000. There was also a leather jewellery box and inside that a collection of brooches and bracelets that had almost certainly been worn by Vince Mayo’s late mother.
35
Temple left an officer in Nadelson’s house and asked for a scene of crime team to be sent over. He then called Angel and told her to put out an alert for Nadelson.
‘Meanwhile, I intend to drop in on Colleen Wild,’ he said. ‘What’s her address?’
They found the house in a street that was desperately in need of a facelift. The pavements were lined with wheelie bins. Most of the tiny front gardens were littered with rubbish. The property façades were shabby and in various states of disrepair. Broken gutters. Dirty brick walls.
The patrol car parked across the road. One of the uniforms went off to check the rear of the property and the other followed Temple up to the front door.
Temple rang the bell. The door was opened after about fifteen seconds by a skinny, dishevelled girl who looked barely out of her teens. She was wearing faded jeans and a red T-shirt. Her bob of blond hair was completely lifeless. She didn’t seem surprised to see them, but that was probably because she was spaced-out on drugs.
She said nothing, just stared at them, her expression empty.
‘Is Colleen Wild in?’ Temple asked.
‘Who are you?’ she replied.
‘We’re the police. Can we come in?’
‘What for?’
‘We want to
speak to Colleen.’
‘I didn’t say she was in.’
Temple was in no mood to mess around so he pushed open the door and strode into the house.
‘Hey, you can’t do that.’
‘I just have,’ he said. ‘Now, where’s Colleen?’
The girl shook her head. ‘She’s not here.’
‘Then where is she?’
‘I don’t know.’
At that moment they heard floorboards creaking above them.
‘Check down here,’ he said to the officer. Then he hurried upstairs.
The landing had a grey threadbare carpet. The walls were painted an ugly shade of purple. A powerful waft of marijuana hung in the air. There were three doors. One was open and revealed a toilet. Temple opened one of the others and peered in. A bedroom. Double bed and cheap-looking wardrobe. No sign of life.
He heard a noise beyond the other door and pushed it open. In this one the large double bed was occupied by two naked bodies. A woman riding a man, her heaving buttocks facing the door.
She did not become aware of Temple’s presence until he cleared his throat with a rattling cough. Then she stopped thrusting her hips and turned around. He recognized her as the woman on the CCTV footage.
‘Colleen Wild?’ he said. ‘I’m DCI Jeff Temple of Southampton police and I want a word with you.’
Shocked, she rolled off the man and jumped off the bed. Without bothering to cover her nakedness she glared at Temple.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t just barge in here.’
The man on the bed sat up. Thin. Pigeon-chested. His milky flesh was covered in sweat.
Temple flashed his warrant card. ‘Sorry to spoil your fun, but I suggest you get dressed and leave. I have some business to conduct with the lady of the house.’
Colleen Wild then started mouthing obscenities. Temple picked up a dressing-gown from the floor and tossed it to her.
‘Put that on and come downstairs.’
‘Go get fucked,’ she yelled at him.
‘And if you don’t co-operate I’m going to arrest you for running a brothel,’ he said. ‘So why not make it easy on yourself and do as I ask?’
She stood rooted to the spot, her mind working, and Temple found it hard not to look at her body, which was in great shape.
The punter struggled into his clothes and hurried out of the room without saying a word. Temple wondered if the poor sod would expect a refund.
Colleen slipped on the dressing gown. ‘OK, let’s get this over with. Then you can fuck off.’
The second uniform was in the living room with the girl who had opened the door to them and a middle-aged woman wearing a green sweater and a short, tight, black skirt.
‘Meet Dawn and Anna,’ the officer said.
They were sitting on an overstuffed sofa looking bored. The older woman, Anna, was plump, with a pale doughy face and bright-red lipstick. It turned out she was Polish and spoke little English.
Temple asked Colleen to sit on the sofa with them and then got straight down to business.
‘Right. If you tell us what we want to know we’ll leave straight away and let you get on with your business,’ he said. ‘If you don’t you’ll all spend the night in a cell.’
‘Just get on with it,’ Colleen said, her voice clipped and impatient.
Temple stood in front of them, hands on hips. He suddenly felt self-conscious as three pairs of eyes stared up at him. He personally did not have a problem with prostitutes and therefore he felt obliged to treat them with respect. Theirs was the world’s oldest profession and if that was how they chose to make a living then good luck to them. But his attitude towards the men who exploited them was different. He felt nothing but contempt for people like Joe Dessler.
These girls probably felt the same way, but would never admit to it. To them Dessler was a man to be feared. Their pimp, protector and abuser. Temple knew they would not want to upset him.
‘Tell me where I can find Joe Dessler,’ he said.
‘Who?’ This from Colleen. The others didn’t respond.
‘Look, we know he runs this place,’ Temple said. ‘We also know you must be scared of him. But I don’t care. We want to question him about a murder. He’s done a runner and if you conceal information then you’ll be implicated too.’
‘We don’t know anyone named Dessler,’ Colleen said.
‘Yes you do. He’s the one you met in the pub last night. You gave him an envelope which I assume contained his commission. We have the transaction on tape.’
Colleen gritted her teeth. ‘You bastard.’
‘We don’t care about the money,’ Temple said. ‘Or you. We just have to find Dessler and since you work for him I’m betting that you have some idea where he’s gone.’
Colleen shook her head. ‘Even if we knew we wouldn’t tell you.’
‘Then you’re obviously more stupid than you look. This man is dangerous. We intend to put him away, if not for murder then for living off immoral earnings and running brothels. He’ll be banged up for a long time and so will you if you don’t help. So if you want to avoid arrest tell us where he’s likely to be hiding out.’
They remained silent. Colleen started biting her nails. She looked worried. Anna, the Pole, looked confused. The skinny one just looked out of it.
Temple told the two officers to search the house. As they set about the task he started questioning the women again. But they continued to insist that they knew nothing of Dessler’s whereabouts.
That was until one of the uniforms discovered a bag filled with cocaine. Several thousand pounds’ worth. Temple held it up in front of them. All three women stared at it.
‘There’s a lot of stash in here, ladies,’ he said. ‘More than enough to put you inside for a spell. Is that what you want?’
They looked at each other. The skinny one was suddenly more alert. Clearly they didn’t warm to the prospect of spending time behind bars. But even so they were not directly forthcoming. It took another fifteen minutes of cajoling and threatening before Colleen rolled her eyes and said, ‘All right. You fucking win. There’s only one place I can think of. It’s a house. We’ve been to parties there. It’s near Winchester and Joe has always told us never to talk about it.’
36
A house near Winchester.
It would have been a promising lead were it not for the fact that Colleen Wild and her two friends professed not to know the address. They were taken there at night, they said. It was dark and they drove along various country lanes. None of them could remember the route or any particular points along the way.
Temple had brought them back to the station and spent the best part of an hour questioning them individually about Dessler and the house in the country.
They told him about the parties where Dessler’s girls would entertain high-spending clients. There was always lots of booze and drugs and sex.
Temple got them to look at a map of the Winchester area but they were not able – or willing – to elaborate on what they’d already said. He decided to keep all three in custody overnight. He’d have another go at them in the morning and give thought to whether he should charge them with drug-related offences.
Then it was back to the briefing room where Priest told the team about Jordan’s confession. He also updated them on Dessler and Bill Nadelson. Priest then handed over to Temple, who talked about Colleen Wild and co.
‘The house she mentioned is a long shot,’ he said. ‘But it is possible that Dessler has gone there to stay out of sight. So we need to find out where it is.’
He went on to assign new tasks to the team who’d be working through the rest of the night. Those who’d been on since the previous evening were instructed to go home and get some sleep.
Then Priest took Temple to one side.
‘You need to get some rest too,’ he said. ‘You look absolutely shattered.’
‘I went home and caught a nap earlier,’ Temple
said. ‘Besides, I don’t like to ease up when things are moving so fast.’
‘We’ve got good people in place,’ Priest said. ‘And they’ve all been given their assignments.’
Priest was about to go back to his office when DS Patel suddenly appeared at his side. The officer looked worried.
‘Sir, I’ve just taken a message for you. It’s about your daughter.’
Priest gave him a quizzical look. ‘What about her?’
‘I’m afraid she’s been involved in a car accident, sir. The officers who attended the scene recognized the name and called it in.’
Priest blinked at him. ‘Are you sure? My daughter’s at home.’
‘The officers are positive, sir. Your daughter was injured but I don’t know how seriously. An ambulance took her to the General.’
‘But it must be a mistake,’ Priest said.
Patel shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, sir. It’s her car and it happened very close to where she lives.’
Priest looked at Temple, puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. Where the hell was she going at this time of night?’
‘You should go straight to the hospital,’ Temple said.
Fear and confusion suddenly rippled across the super’s features. For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. He just stood there, mouth open, shaking his head.
Then he suddenly came out of his trance and said, ‘You’re right. Let’s go.’
37
Fifteen minutes later Temple and Priest arrived at the hospital. The patrol car dropped them outside the accident and emergency department and Temple followed Priest inside.
Temple had never seen his boss in such a distressed state. He was beside himself with worry and had hardly said a word during the ride from the station.
It was a busy night in A&E, but Priest’s commanding presence ensured he had everyone’s attention as soon as he burst through the swing doors. He didn’t bother approaching the reception desk. Instead, he went straight up to a nurse with a clipboard who was talking to one of the patients waiting to be seen.