Paolo looked at Dave and shrugged.
“We’ve come to talk to you about George Baron,” Paolo said, but stopped when he heard Trudy whimper.
“Go away,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk about what he did to me.”
“Trudy, we’re not here to investigate anything that happened to you; unless you want us to, that is. We’re here because George Baron is missing and we were hoping you might know where he might be found. As his secretary, we thought you could be aware of other properties he has, that perhaps no one else knows about. If that’s the case, won’t you please let us come in?”
To Paolo it seemed like hours before he heard the chain being moved. The door opened, but there was still no sign of Trudy.
“Come in,” she said, her voice coming from behind the door.
They stepped into a small lobby. The low ceiling beams made Paolo want to duck, even though they were high enough to give him comfortable clearance.
As Trudy closed the door behind them, he couldn’t help but gasp and was aware of Dave making a similar noise to his left. Trudy’s face was a mass of bruises and there were finger marks showing around her throat where the collar of her dressing gown didn’t quite cover them.
She gave a lopsided smile. “If you ask questions, you have to leave,” she said. “I’m not talking about what happened to me, so don’t try to find out.”
She walked past them into a tiny sitting room. Again a claustrophobic feeling crept over Paolo. It wasn’t so much the height of the heavily beamed ceiling this time, but the décor. Every spare space was taken up with dolls, teddies and other soft animals. It was like being in the stockroom of a Christmas Fayre. Paolo moved a giant panda to one side and perched next to it on a chintz covered armchair. He noticed that Dave had chosen to stand rather than move one of the occupants of the couch.
Trudy sat down opposite Paolo, every movement showing the pain she must be feeling. From the exaggerated way she inched herself down, it was obvious her bruises weren’t confined to her neck and face.
“I’m sorry,” Paolo said, “I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but because of what you said earlier, I have to ask. Did George Baron do this to you?”
She didn’t answer, but her expression told him all he needed to know.
“I let you in,” she said, “to tell you about his flat in Leicester. I don’t think even Chaz knows about it.”
“But you do?”
She shrugged and winced at even that slight movement. “I guess you could say I’m nosey. I like to know what’s going on, so I pry in places I shouldn’t.”
“Is that what got you fired?” Paolo asked.
She grimaced. “You could say that.”
Paolo realised from her expression that he wasn’t going to get any more details on what had passed between her and George Baron, but it was clear who’d come off worst from the encounter.
“Do you know the address of the flat in Leicester?”
She reached for her handbag, lying on the floor next to the chair, and rummaged around until she found a notebook. She flipped over several pages until she found the one she wanted and read out the address. Paolo waited for Dave to finish writing it down before turning back to Trudy.
“Have you seen a doctor? Some of your bruises look pretty severe.”
“No and I’m not going to. You’ve got what you wanted. I’d like you to leave now.”
“Before I go, Chaz seemed to think George had given you a special payment package. Was it because of this,” he said, indicating her injuries.
For the first time she seemed shaken by his words. Tears spilled from her eyes and ran unheeded over her bruised cheeks.
“Just go,” she said. “Please, just go. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Thank you for your information. It may help us to find George Baron.”
She drew a deep breath. “If you do find him, tell him not to come within a mile of me. If I get the chance, I’ll kill him.”
***
Back at the station, Paolo discovered Chaz’s solicitor had arrived and was waiting for them in one of the interview rooms. When Paolo opened the door, the constable on duty left the room. Paolo and Dave sat opposite the two men. Reaching out to switch on the recorder, Paolo asked for the solicitor’s name and then gave details of the time and date and who was in the room.
Paolo had dealt with Gordon Lightfoot in the past and was surprised to find him representing someone as far down the food chain as Chaz. He usually confined his client list to those who headed major corporations or were mentioned on the financial pages of broadsheets.
Before Paolo could ask any questions, Gordon spoke. “I’d like to know why my client is being held, Inspector. He is an employee in a private establishment and has not broken any law in the execution of his duties.”
Paolo smiled. “I think perhaps he hasn’t yet told you of the young men we found locked up in the attic rooms.”
Gordon leaned back, clearly at his ease. “He has, in fact, told me about them. I think you’ll find they were there of their own free will and could have left at any time they chose.”
“Hardly,” Paolo said, “unless they had Houdini capabilities. The doors were locked from the outside.”
Gordon nodded at Chaz, signalling for him to speak.
“None of them wanted to go back on the streets. All they had to do was say and we’d have let them go.” He shrugged. “They chose to stay. I think they liked it up there.”
“And did they like it in the rooms below them?” Paolo asked, his temper flaring. “Did they enjoy being used and abused?”
Chaz smiled. “Yes.”
“Don’t give me that,” Paolo said.
The smile never left Chaz’s face. “You’ve got no idea of what some people like. In the club George had in London there were politicians who paid good money to wear a nappy and be fed with a baby’s bottle. Top businessmen would lie down for women in high heels to walk on them. There was a bishop who liked to be made to sit in a corner and be told he was a bad boy while he played with himself. Just because it doesn’t suit you, doesn’t mean it don’t work for others.”
The solicitor leaned forward. “Are you going to charge my client? If you’re not, I suggest you let him go.”
“I have a few questions I’d like answers to before that’s going to happen. What were you in prison for, Chaz?”
Gordon Lightfoot held up a hand to prevent Chaz from answering. “I hardly see that as being relevant to today’s interview.”
“Fair enough,” Paolo said. “It’s easy enough to find out for myself. How did you and George get together? It’s clear you were involved in the London club, so your friendship must go back a long way.”
“I’ve been with George ever since I got out of nick,” Chaz said. “He’d just closed down his first club up north somewhere and was about to set up the London one. This is the third club he’s opened. He’s got a way of finding out what people want and providing it for them.”
“You sound as if you admire him,” Paolo suggested.
Chaz shrugged. “He’s been good to me. I’ve got no complaints.”
“Tell me, were you with George when he waited for Trudy Chappell to come out from the youth centre?”
He looked uneasy and glanced at his solicitor for guidance.
Gordon leaned forward. “I cannot see the relevance here, Inspector.”
“Let’s put it this way, Chaz. George was seen in his car by a reliable witness. Another man was in the car. I can easily show the witness a picture of you to find out if you were there. If you’ve nothing to hide, why not tell me if it was you?”
Chaz nodded. “I was with George.”
“Was that the night Trudy was fired?”
He nodded again.
“The night she was so badly beaten she’s covered from head to foot in bruises?”
“That was nothing to do with me. I never touched he
r.”
“But George did?” Paolo asked.
Chaz shrugged. “I dunno. I told you. I never touched her.”
Gordon intervened. “This doesn’t seem to have anything to do with your reason for bringing my client to the station, so I must repeat my earlier question: are you going to charge my client?”
Paolo knew he needed one of the young men to admit being held against his will or he had no case against Chaz, or George Baron either for that matter. So far, all of them had told the same story and claimed they had the run of the place and the doors were not normally locked.
As much as he hated having to say the words, he knew he had no choice.
“Certainly, Chaz is free to leave. However, I would advise against making any plans for holidays abroad at this stage. I would also like his assurance that he will remain in Bradchester. Should one of the young men change his story, we would like to be able to have another chat with your client.”
“Thank you, Inspector. My client will be available, should you have reason to question him further, but only when I am present to advise him.”
***
Paolo stood at the front of the office seething at the way things were going. As he brought the rest of the team up to date on Trudy’s injuries, he couldn’t help feeling Chaz knew far more about how she’d got them than he was letting on.
“From what Trudy Chappell said and, more to the point, what she didn’t say, it seems pretty clear that George Baron gave her one hell of a beating. The inference was that she’d pried into matters that didn’t concern her. Whether that’s to do with George’s personal life, or the goings on at the club, we don’t know at this stage. Trudy has no intention of telling us anything, so, until we find George Baron, we’re not going to know what caused him to lash out as he did.”
He turned to write on the board. “Leicester police have already looked into the address Trudy gave us this morning. It does belong to George, but he hasn’t been seen there for several months, so, although not a dead end as such, it doesn’t help us to find him.”
Turning back, he perched on the edge of a desk.
“In addition to having to let Chaz go, we can’t even proceed to investigate the events at the club. All the special club members contacted so far have elected to hide behind their solicitors. They all tell the same story – there were no boys, only men, and they were willing partners. There was never any coercion. None of them admit to the fox hunt games. Although we know there is video evidence somewhere, Chaz did admit to filming them, but said George held the copies of those sessions. Apparently, George was scared of them falling into the wrong hands.”
“I’m not surprised,” Andrea said. “I’m amazed the club members allowed themselves to be filmed.”
Paolo shrugged. “Most of them looked horrified when told of the existence of the videos, which leads me to suppose Chaz did the filming using hidden cameras in the various rooms. He, of course, claims the videos were made with the full consent of all participants, but I’m more inclined to think otherwise.”
“So,” Dave said, “what have we actually got? A sordid set up, but unless some of the young men from upstairs are prepared to testify, we can’t prove anything illegal took place?”
Paolo nodded. “I’m afraid so and not one of them is willing to stand up in court to say what went on. We don’t even know the names of most of them. The three who actually applied for jobs at the club say they were happy there. We’ve got a couple who are clearly under the age of sixteen, but claim to be twenty-one and all of them, without exception, are addicts. As far as we know, they’re all victims and haven’t broken any laws themselves, so we can’t even keep them under lock and key while we look for George Baron.”
“Any news on the computers, sir?” Andrea asked.
“Your IT friend is doing his fancy finger work on the hard drives as we speak. He seemed to think it will take a few days to do whatever is necessary. He’ll be in touch as soon as he finds anything worthwhile.”
He stood up. “And we’re no nearer to finding out who murdered Derrick Walden. We know George Baron was outside the youth centre with Chaz on the night Derrick drowned, but, as far as we can see, there’s no link between Derrick Walden and the other two men. Any ideas?”
A sea of shaking heads greeted his question.
“I’m going to call it day,” he said. “Tomorrow we can have another go at the case, but for now I suggest we all get a good night’s sleep and worry about developments as and when things change.”
***
Paolo pulled up outside the house he used to call home. To say he wasn’t looking forward to his chat with Lydia was the understatement of the century, but he’d promised Katy he would try to talk her mother round. Knowing Katy was out with Danny tonight, he’d called Lydia to set up the meeting. She’d put him in the wrong before he’d even said a word. As soon as she’d heard his voice on the phone, lines had been drawn.
“You can come round,” she’d said, “but you’re wasting your time. I’ve already told Katy no and that’s an end to it as far as I’m concerned.”
And yet, here he was, ready to plead Katy’s cause. He sighed and got out of the car. He must be mad, but yet again he was going to set himself up for a verbal beating from his ex-wife. As always when walking to the front door, he felt weird not having a key to a house he still paid half the mortgage on. Maybe Lydia would finally agree to sell it once Katy left home.
He reached out and pressed the buzzer. Lydia must have been watching out for him because she opened the door almost immediately.
“I told you on the phone you were wasting your time,” she said by way of greeting.
Paolo grinned. “And good evening to you, Lydia. My day has been fine. Thank you for asking. How was yours? Still enjoying the new job?”
He was pleased to see a reluctant answering smile as she stood back to let him in.
“Sorry, Paolo, but you and Katy wind me up with your tag team antics. You know that.”
Paolo dropped a kiss on her cheek as he passed. “I promise you, this is not a tag team exercise. You think I want our daughter living God knows where in appalling conditions?”
She didn’t answer, but led the way into the lounge.
“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll listen to what you’ve got to say, but my mind is pretty much made up. She’s not going with my consent and that’s final.”
“Fair enough,” Paolo said, collapsing onto the couch. “That’s how I felt until I gave it a bit more thought.”
He hesitated, wondering how best to get Lydia to see Katy would go without or without their blessing.
“You do know she will join this volunteer mob as soon as she’s eighteen, don’t you? But if she does it then, what do you think the chances are of her keeping in touch? Would you rather she was cut off from us completely? Because that’s what would happen. She’s going to go, Lydia, whether we like it or not.”
She shrugged. “She wouldn’t go if you asked her not to. She adores you, Paolo. She’d never do anything that would upset you. All you have to do is tell her it would break your heart and she’d stay.”
Paolo thought about it. Lydia was probably right. He could use emotional blackmail on Katy and she might cave in, but that was exactly why he’d never do it. He loved Katy too much to manipulate her feelings like that.
He shook his head. “She’d hate me for it and I’d hate myself for doing it. I don’t like the idea of her going off for a year, but I’m not going to stand in her way.”
“And me? Don’t I get a say in this?”
“Of course you do. That’s why I’m here.”
She laughed. “To make me feel the same way you do? I don’t think so.”
He leaned forward, his knees almost touching Lydia’s who’d sat down on the armchair next to the couch.
“Lydia, we have to let her go. She’ll keep in touch. We’ll know where she is and what she’s doing. Besides, it’s not as if she’s going all on
her own. Danny’s going with her.”
She drew back, moving her legs away from his.
“Don’t you speak to me about that bloody boy.”
Paolo was surprised at the venom in her voice. “I thought you liked Danny? I know you weren’t that keen to start with, but I thought you’d got over that.”
She shook her head. “I do like him, but it’s all his fault Katy is so besotted with this crazy idea. He was the one who got her onto the volunteering craze. If she’s not dishing out food in a shelter for the homeless, she’s chatting to God knows who in that bloody youth centre. How do we know who she’s mixing with there? It’s full of drug addicts–”
“Ex-drug addicts,” Paolo interrupted. “If they aren’t in a programme, we don’t allow them access. Part of the youth centre’s aim is to help those kids turn their lives around. Katy is part of that with the volunteer work she does there.”
“You see! That’s just like you, Paolo. Always seeing the bloody good in every situation. For you, it’s cut and dried. Katy does good work, so it’s okay if she’s mixing with junkies…okay, ex-junkies.”
He grinned. “Aren’t you just a tiny bit proud of her? I am.”
She sighed. “We’re not going to see eye to eye on this, Paolo. Let it rest. You can tell Katy you did your best for her, but, for once, you failed.” She reached out and touched the back of his hand. “Truce?”
He turned his hand over and grasped hers. “Of course. I hate arguing with you. Always did.”
Paolo wished for a moment he could turn the clock back to the days when their marriage had been a success. Back to the days when they’d had two young daughters to care for and protect. Then Sarah had been killed and everything fell apart. He’d never stopped loving Lydia, not completely. He was fairly sure she felt the same way, but they’d given their marriage a second try and it hadn’t worked out.
He became aware of tantalising aromas drifting through from the kitchen: garlic, herbs, tomatoes.
“Are you expecting someone for dinner? Sorry, you should have said.”
Lydia grinned. “Idiot. It’s for you if you feel like staying to eat. Don’t worry if you’ve got somewhere else to go. It’s only lasagne, so it will freeze for another time.”
Looking For A Reason (#4 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 17