The Darkest Deed_A Gripping Detective Crime Mystery

by Solomon Carter

  “Evening, Marvin.”

  The young man grunted.

  “What do you want now?” he said.

  “Easy, Marvin. This isn’t about you, not directly.”

  “What then?”

  Hogarth sank into his chair and forced himself to concentrate.

  “I bet you must have seen pretty much everything that ever went down in that studio,” said Hogarth.

  Marvin’s eyes narrowed.

  “With a job like yours, and your little sideline, you would have got to know people. They would have told you things. You handled their money. That means you were trusted.”

  Marvin looked at Palmer for a hint of where Hogarth was going but she stayed blank faced.

  “Marvin, you do understand the serious contradictions in your statement about the time you finished work, and the time that witnesses placed you near Aimee Gillen’s room on Sunday night. That contradiction marks you out as a prime suspect.”

  “I didn’t do it.” There was exasperation in the young man’s voice, and a hint of tears in his eyes.

  Hogarth took it all in and nodded.

  “For what it’s worth, I’d like to believe you. I would. But you’re going to have to help me out to make that happen.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m betting you’re a treasure trove of knowledge about the people who worked in that place. I need you to prove me right.”

  “You want me to tell you about who? Harry? The actors? Who?”

  “I’ll ask the questions, you just give me the answers.”

  “And then what?” said Marvin.

  “We’ll see,” said Hogarth.

  Marvin gave a single nod.

  “People keep telling us that Aimee Gillen was lonely, depressed, and needy. But Aimee made some calls and she mentioned her friends. You might be one of them. But I don’t think she meant you. We know she was close with Chrissie Heaton for a while, but Chrissie called that into question.”

  “The lesbian stuff isn’t true,” said Marvin. “I told you.”

  “Which is kind of interesting. Why would Chrissie Heaton and others say that if it wasn’t true?”

  “I don’t know,” said Marvin, with a shrug.

  “Maybe you do, Marvin. But you don’t realise it. What do you know about Chrissie Heaton?”

  Marvin’s eyes glazed in thought. “Not much.”

  “Then tell us what you know,” said Hogarth.

  “I first saw her when she worked for the gym, before she joined the studio. I noticed she was prettier, and more mature than the rest of them.”

  Hogarth nodded.

  “But she was always a bit serious, even then. I smiled at her once or twice, as you do. But she gave me hard eyes, like she was saying don’t come near me, or whatever. It’s hard to like someone when it starts like that, so when I saw her working in the studio for the first time, I wasn’t bowled over if I’m honest.”

  “Maybe she just didn’t fancy you, Marvin,” said Hogarth.

  Marvin shrugged. “I couldn’t care less either way.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Well, she never asked for drugs. Never. But I get the impression she must have tried some when she was with Aimee.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I heard them laughing it up together a few times. That’s the drugs, believe me,” said Marvin.”

  Hogarth didn’t know what he was looking for, but it wasn’t the drugs.

  “Tell me more about Chrissie. Her personality. Likes, dislikes.”

  “Why?” said Marvin.

  “Because I’m intrigued.”

  Marvin shook his head as he racked his brains. “I heard she dropped out of school a while back. And she’s not like a lot of the girls at Harry’s. She’s quiet. She hardly talks to anyone at all. I think Aimee was the only one she ever spoke to, but coke’s like that. It loosens people up. It gets them talking.”

  Hogarth raised an eyebrow as he chewed over Marvin’s words.

  “So, she was serious, and quiet, and careful,” said Hogarth. “But when she got close to Aimee Gillen and they started talking? Is that it?”

  “I’m sure they did. I heard them from time to time, listening to music and talking. Like they were friends.”

  There. Marvin had said it. They were friends. Palmer watched Hogarth lean forward in his seat. “How recent was this? The last time they were ‘friendly’,” said Hogarth.

  “It was pretty recent. I heard them talking only a few days back.”

  “What, last weekend? Aimee died on Sunday night. Were Aimee and Chrissie talking last weekend?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Hogarth recalled Lana Aubrey’s statement. She had seen Marvin at ten pm, when she found Chrissie Heaton by the washrooms. And the washrooms weren’t far from Aimee Gillen’s room. Hogarth thought it over and moved on.

  “So she’s quiet, but she was friendly with Gillen. Aimee Gillen was the only one she was ever friendly with?”

  “Yes. I mean I don’t even know how Chrissie even got into the studio. I guess Harry must have spotted her on her way to work at the gym. He’s got an eye for talent like that. But her attitude had her down as way too shy for the camera. She’d got the face and the body for it, but you have to be the outgoing type to get it on in front of the camera. I didn’t think she’d make it. She’s still struggling. It happens sometimes.”

  “Does it?” said Hogarth.

  “Yeah. I heard it happened before my time there. One of the new girls topped herself.”

  “What?” said Hogarth, turning to Palmer.

  “It’s before my time. You’d have to ask someone else about that. In this business you need a thick skin, and if the girls think they’ve made a mistake by getting involved, it’s too late. They’re on camera. You can’t take that back.”

  Hogarth blinked.

  “No. I suppose not…”

  Marvin sat up.

  “And I wouldn’t put most of those gym girls anywhere near a camera. They’ve got the gym body, sure, and some are pretty too, but they don’t even talk to us. It’s like they’d been told not to mix.”

  “The deluxe gym staff and Harry King’s Porn Studios. If I was Darryl Regent I wouldn’t want my staff to mix with them either. And nor would their parents, I’ll bet,” said Hogarth, his voice trailing away. Palmer caught the change in tone and glanced at him.

  “Harry King Studios have a rule about not fraternising, don’t they? You know that actors shouldn’t talk to one another much or get too personal?” said Hogarth.

  “Yeah, I got told that at the start. Don’t get too friendly,” said Marvin. “They said it’s bad for morale.”

  There was that word again, thought Hogarth. Friend. Friends. Friendly. Getting friendly wasn’t allowed. And Aimee Gillen had broken a rule with Chrissie Heaton … just how important was that rule?

  “And who told you that Marvin?”

  “I got given the code of conduct the day I started. Lana Aubrey told me about it. She said it was Harry’s rule.”

  Hogarth nodded. “And from what you say about the X-L gym staff, and about Chrissie Heaton, it seems the gym probably has a similar set of rules.”

  “I don’t know about that. All I can say is they’re a closed bunch. They don’t socialise. They don’t look at us. It’s like we’re contaminated.”

  “Didn’t you ever bring this up with Chrissie – seeing as that’s where she came from?”

  “No. Chrissie Heaton is a closed book. She’s distant with me and everyone else at the studio.”

  “In what way, Marvin?”

  “She’s always so stand-offish and serious. Even when she’s filming, she’s quiet. She won’t last there. I don’t see how she can.”

  “She was the same with me, guv,” said Palmer.

  Hogarth dragged a hand over his stubbly chin and narrowed his eyes.

  “Thanks for your help, Marvin. I think we’re almost done for tonight.”


  “But you’ve hardly asked me anything.”

  “Don’t worry, Marvin. I’ve got one more question for you. And this one is a biggie.”

  “What?” said Marvin.

  “When I asked you if Harry King and Lana Aubrey knew that you were dealing drugs, you hesitated. You thought they’d help you out. But they didn’t help you at all, did they?”

  Marvin folded his arms and sat back in the chair. “I guess not.”

  “So then… seeing as you’re in this on your own, can you tell me, once and for all, did Harry King or Lana Aubrey know that you were dealing drugs at the studio?”

  Marvin looked away.

  “Come on, son. They’re not doing you any favours at all.”

  “Like I told you,” said Marvin, “they must have known something.”

  Hogarth gave Marvin a withering glare. “Not good enough.”

  “Okay… there was one time, a while back… Lana asked me for something. She just dropped a hint, it was pretty smart actually, but I knew she was after something. It was a bit of a personal one, though. She said she needed something for her new boyfriend.”

  Hogarth turned inward. He frowned as he tried to recollect any mention of Lana Aubrey’s boyfriend. Or any photograph of him in her office. He couldn’t remember a single one.

  “You may as well tell us,” said Hogarth.

  “Okay. It was a sex enhancer.”

  “A sex enhancer?” said Hogarth.

  “Yeah, you know. A bedroom drug. They call it liquid ecstasy. The ravers and the hedonists like it too, but I know why Lana wanted it. She virtually said as much. It makes all the intimate stuff feel better, if you know what I mean.

  “Liquid ecstasy?” said Palmer. “What? Like ecstasy pills?”

  “Kind of,” said Marvin. “But they’re a little bit like booze too. They give you a nice sweet high without the hangover. Look, Lana dropped me a hint, I knew what she needed, so I offered to get it and didn’t ask any questions. She was my boss. I got it for her, and she gave me the cash. She had to know I was dealing, right?”

  Hogarth reclined in his chair, with a hint of a smile. “How long ago did this happen, Marvin? The deal with Lana Aubrey?”

  “Oh, about two or three weeks back.”

  “Which makes Miss Aubrey yet another liar in this case. I’m beginning to lose count of all the bull I’ve heard along the way,” said Hogarth. “One more thing, Marvin. This liquid ecstasy. How do you get it?”

  “Huh? Oh.” said Marvin. “It’s liquid.” The young man shrugged. “It comes in a vial.”

  “A vial. And what does it look like, this vial?”

  Marvin gestured with his hands. “It’s about this tall and this wide. A bit like a perfume bottle, I guess.”

  “Like a perfume bottle,” said Hogarth. “What are these vials made of?”

  “Glass,” said Marvin.

  Hogarth blinked, and his little eyes peeled wide open. “Glass…?”

  “Yeah,” said Marvin.

  “These vials. What do they look like? Any distinguishing marks? Any colour or particular shape?”

  “No. It depends on the batch. But they’re usually pretty small. Hang on. The one I got for Lana Aubrey. That one had a hint of colour to it. The glass was grey.”

  “Anything else?”

  “It had a thick bottom. Like some perfume bottles do.””

  Hogarth’s eyes flashed in thought. He stood up from his seat. “Thanks Marvin. That’s it. We’re done here.”

  “But what about me, eh?”

  “Like I told you before, we’ll see…”

  Hogarth nodded, and Palmer followed him out of interview room 1 into the open office.

  “Jordan,” called Hogarth to the PC sitting at his desk. “Take the lad back to the cell, will you. We’re done with him.”

  “Yes, sir” said Jordan.

  “Guv?” said Palmer, following in Hogarth’s wake. “What was that about?”

  Hogarth led them back into the CID room.

  “Didn’t you get all that, Palmer?” Hogarth eyes hit the flipchart sheets arranged on the floor. There were new notes to be added, as soon as he had the chance, and now some possible answers as well as questions.

  “Did you hear what he said? There was another dead girl at that studio…” he said.

  “But it’s historical, people die all the time, guv.”

  “And the glass vial. Glass, Palmer, see.” Hogarth nodded at the note on the floor.

  “Glass is everywhere you go, guv. Don’t get carried away on a few minor details.”

  “Palmer, did you come back to help me or not?” said Hogarth.

  Palmer nodded and took the hit. “To help you, of course.”

  Hogarth took a deep breath. “I’d bet a lot of good money that Miss Chrissie Heaton hasn’t been obstructive and rude with you for the sake of it. She’s afraid of something, isn’t she? What if she’s just trying to keep the rules she’s already broken. Out of fear… or perhaps, out of compulsion.”

  Palmer recalled the girl’s odd, flighty behaviour.

  “But I thought she was afraid of us…”

  “Not us, Palmer. But what could happen to her if we keep digging. Think… Chrissie Heaton transferred to the studios from the gym almost two months back… she was quiet, offish, and distant… just like the other girls who work at that gym – keeping their distance from the porn studio. But what if they have the same rules at Harry King Studios. Rules designed to keep people apart.” Hogarth looked at Palmer, with a fresh spark in his weary eyes. “Rules designed to keep secrets… and like Marvin said, secrets and cocaine really don’t go well together, do they…?”

  Hogarth’s face was tinged grey with fatigue and Palmer noticed his sunken shoulders. Hogarth looked as if he was being gradually crushed by the pressure on his shoulders. Palmer reached out to touch his arm but thought better of it and withdrew her hand before he noticed.

  “Guv, you’re tired. It all sounds good, but you need to get some sleep and come at this again tomorrow, when you’re fresh.”

  “We both know I haven’t got time to muck around, not with the commissioner and Melford on my back. I have to get this wrapped up pronto.”

  Then Hogarth started to mutter. “Chrissie Heaton became Aimee Gillen’s friend… Marvin used the word himself… the word Gillen used on the phone to Alice Perry… they had fun together. Shared secrets, like friends do… but the next minute, Aimee Gillen is alone, friendless, cast out, and everyone is knocking her reputation. They’re saying she was a predator, chasing Heaton for sex. But no Aimee Gillen had a friend. When she made that call she wanted to help her friend. We’re not seeing the truth, Palmer. We’re seeing Gillen as they want us to see her. That’s the key, Palmer. Chrissie told Aimee something, and for whatever reason Aimee Gillen couldn’t bear to keep it confidential… What could be that appalling? That fearful?”

  Palmer listened as Hogarth rattled out his latest theory. Then he flicked his eyes to the other sheet on the floor.

  “Then when she died Aimee Gillen had a ton of cocaine in her system… no booze, no sedative… but she still managed to fall unconscious in that sauna. And that doesn’t make sense, unless… unless…” Hogarth’s eyes trailed to the fragment of glass. The note about the broken tile. “Bloody hell!”

  “Guv?” said Palmer.

  Hogarth snapped his fingers and fixed Palmer in his eyes. “They’re keeping secrets, Palmer, because that’s the way they want it. Aimee Gillen paid the price because she found out all about it and was about to blow the whistle on them.”

  “Secrets? What secret?”

  “I don’t know yet. But Chrissie Heaton knows all about it, I’m sure.”

  “Chrissie Heaton?” said Palmer.

  Hogarth picked took his mobile phone from his pocket. He dialled, put the phone to his ear and turned away to take the call. Thankfully Quentin didn’t make him wait.

  “Ed! Hello! Yes, yes. It’s Hogarth here.”
>
  “Sounds like you’re working overtime again, Hogarth,” said Quentin in his usual brusque tone.

  “I’m working late, yeah. Just like you, I hope,” said Hogarth. “Listen, Ed. I know you’ve already done the report on Aimee Gillen, but would you mind running through the toxicology again, just one more time for me. Just to be sure.”

  “And what would I be looking for exactly?” said Quentin at the other end of the line.

  “Something I think you might have already found.”

  “And you want me to find it again? How bizarre. And what, pray tell, would that be?” said Quentin.

  “The ghost of drug binges past. You found something – unspecified in the toxicology report. A trace of something. Is there any chance you could be more specific with another test…?”

  “You mean the background chemical traces? They were noted but there’ll be precious little extra to be found, I assure you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I only noted them because the traces could be evidence of a past or a recent drug use…”

  “Past or recent? But if it was recent wouldn’t you get a better result?” said Hogarth.

  “No. Most substances will come up on blood tests or urine tests, but a few are far less easy to find. Arsenic is one such substance. It’s hard to prove its presence until nail or hair sample tests are returned, and that can take weeks.”

  “But we’re not talking about arsenic here, Ed.”

  “No. definitely not,” said Quentin.

  “So what are the other options?”

  “Opioids are a possibility. They are synthetic opiates, factory made, which can disappear within hours of use. Fentanyl is currently infamous. But toxicology didn’t return any significant data there.”

  “Do you think Aimee Gillen could have been killed by one of those?”

  “No. There would have been other clues. The effects on the brain and the heart, but they weren’t present.”

  Hogarth shook his head. “Are there any other substances you can think of that could have done the job of knocking her out?”

  “You’re putting me on the spot here, Hogarth… what are you getting at exactly?”