He opened the rear van doors and signalled to Joey. The girl was slung in the back and the doors locked. Joey headed for the driver’s door.
“Wait,” Pete hissed. “I need a replacement.”
Joey turned and pushed Pete back into the studio, shutting the door behind him.
“Are you out of your tiny mind? Do you think I’m bringing in more girls before this shit is cleared up? Shit, let me remind you, caused by you and you alone. You’re obviously off your trolley, but let me make this clear, Mr Fuck Up, the next girl is going to cost you far more than what you’ve paid for three of the others put together. You’re a liability, Pete, and liabilities have to pay.” He patted Pete’s cheek. “And if you mess up again, the price trebles again. Every screw up from now on triples the previous price. Got that?”
Pete wanted to punch Joey in the face, but, instead, he nodded. He’d accept the insults and pay whatever Joey asked, for now, but he swore to himself, if he ever got the chance to fuck up Joey’s life in some way, he’d jump at it.
“As long as we understand each other, everything will be just fine,” Joey said.
Pete watched, silently fuming, as Joey left. He wished he could find himself a new supplier of brats, but that bastard was the only one he could trust not to sell him out to the press.
Fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He’d have to do without for the time being. At least the concert tickets were selling well. Not everything in his life had gone down the drain.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
8th October (afternoon)
Lunchtime came and went and still Paolo sat at his desk, trying to work out why Katy had reacted as she had that morning. After he’d pressed the buzzer for the nurses, everything seemed to happen in slow motion and yet, looking back, he saw events in double speed.
A young nurse had responded almost immediately. When she came in and tried to prise Katy out of Paolo’s arms, Katy screamed as if possessed. The nurse then tried to calm Katy, but only succeeded in making her worse.
“We need her doctor,” Paolo yelled and the nurse fled from the room. He’d felt like crying himself, with relief, when the nurse returned with Jessica Carter.
“I’ll need to sedate her. Hold her steady for me,” Jessica said.
Within moments, Katy’s screaming softened to a whimper and she’d slumped against Paolo. He’d picked her up and carried her over to the bed.
“What happened?” Jessica asked.
Paolo hadn’t been sure if she was speaking to him or the nurse, but he’d answered anyway.
“When I came in, Katy was standing over by the window, looking out. I called out to her and she ran at me.” Waves of nausea swept over him. “I don’t know what I did. I don’t know why…”
“Come outside,” Jessica said. “Katy will sleep for a few hours now.”
Paolo followed the psychiatrist into the corridor.
“Can you recall anything, no matter how small, that might have caused Katy’s reaction?”
Paolo had images revolving in his head: Katy trying to speak, but not being able to get the words out,.
“She called out to me. She actually spoke and wanted to say more, but the more she tried to force words out, the more upset she’d become, until she was as you saw her. I don’t know what set her off, but I think it must have been me.”
“Blaming yourself again?”
Paolo looked up, surprised at Jessica’s tone. The psychiatrist sounded as if she was mocking him. But there was only kindness in her eyes.
“As I explained to you yesterday, you are not to blame for everything that is wrong with Katy. It seems to me that she must have been upset before you entered her room. The fact that she clung to you shows she was seeking your protection or support. She would not have done that had you been the cause of her upset.”
Paolo was relieved, but a tiny voice had persisted. Maybe Lydia was right. Maybe he was holding back Katy’s progress.
“It’s encouraging that she spoke,” Jessica said, “even if it was just the one word. It’s even more encouraging that she wanted to say more. That’s the first time she has tried to break through her silence. I suggest you go now. I will call you if I am able to find out the catalyst, but I sincerely doubt it was anything you did or said.”
Paolo shook off the memories. The shot the psychiatrist gave Katy would put her out for a few hours, so he knew he wouldn’t hear from Jessica Carter until this evening and only then if she’d discovered something. So there was really no point in staring at the phone, willing it to ring, but he did it anyway.
It would be better to stop wasting time and get the paperwork under control, he thought. He picked up a report, read the first line and put it back down again. Then he glanced at a sheet covered in numbers. None of them made any sense. Come on, Paolo; pull yourself together, he ordered, but his inner Paolo stuck two fingers up.
He was still staring at the phone half an hour later when Dave knocked and came into the office. Grateful for the interruption, Paolo signalled for him to sit down.
“What have you found out?”
“Not a great deal more than we knew already. I showed the pictures around and the reactions I got told me all I needed to know about the kind of men we’re looking for. Everyone seems scared of them, prostitutes, shopkeepers, even some of our local street thugs lost much of their swagger when they realised who I wanted to talk about.”
“And no one told you where we could find them?”
Dave shook his head. “Nope. Here’s the interesting bit, though. No one knew anything about them. They had never seen them, never heard about the car they drove or the kids they managed, but they all looked sick when they saw the photos, then clammed up and sang the same tune – seen nothing, know nothing. I know that’s par for the course over in that area, but I don’t usually get such a sense of an entire community as scared to speak as this one is.”
Paolo drummed his fingers on the desk. “Any thoughts on what hold the men might have?”
“Only one thing stood out. One of the older women, who’d also claimed not to know the men, said something under her breath as I was leaving, but it doesn’t really help us as it doesn’t seem connected to our case.”
“What did she say?”
“It was difficult to make out. As I say, she whispered as I went past, but it sounded like, ‘an older one has disappeared.’ When I turned back, she’d moved off with the other women. Bearing in mind how scared they all were, I didn’t want to chase her down and ask questions in front of the others, so thought I’d go back later and see if I can get her on her own. It might mean something, it might not.”
Paolo nodded. “Good idea. I’ll come with you. At this stage we can’t afford to pass up anything that might help. In the meantime, CC has dropped the girl’s clothes off at the lab. She’s now watching the footage of the CCTV film from the hospital. George questioned the porter who found the girl, but she’d already been there for a while when he discovered her, so couldn’t tell us anything new.”
“Yeah, I saw CC on my way in. She was staring at the screen as if it might escape if she glanced away. I didn’t want to disturb her concentration to ask her about your visit to the hospital. How did it go?”
Paolo studied Dave and wondered if there was more behind his words than he was letting on. He knew Dave was a touch jealous of their partnership and didn’t like it when Paolo picked one of the other detective sergeants to accompany him. Deciding Dave was simply asking to be brought up to speed, Paolo told him about the child’s reaction when they’d gone into her room.
“We’re going to have to wait until Dr Peters feels she’s ready to see CC and Mrs Dushku, but we can’t wait too long. If this child has been brought into the country by the traffickers, and it seems likely, then she’s our best chance of finding out who they are. The other girls we’ve taken off the streets are too far gone on drugs, or too scared, to tell us anything. The ones who can talk are convinced if they speak ou
t either they will die, or their families back in Albania will suffer. They’ve been brainwashed into thinking they have no value and that whoever ran them on the streets can reach in and get them, even in the social services hostel.”
As he spoke, something in the back of his mind raised a red flag. Something had been said today that was out of place, something not quite right. What was it? Dave’s voice faded into the background as Paolo tried to tease whatever it was to come to the forefront of his mind, but it remained just out of reach. And yet, somehow he knew the tiny scrap of information was important.
The phone rang, interrupting Paolo’s thoughts. His heart did a summersault. Please let it be Jessica Carter with some positive news about Katy, he prayed.
“Sorry, Dave, I need to take this.” Paolo picked up the phone. “Storey.”
But his luck was out. It wasn’t the voice he’d been hoping to hear.
“This is Doctor Peters. We met this morning.”
Forcing his mind into work mode, he responded. “How can I help you, Doctor?”
“Detective Inspector, you need to get over here to Bradchester Central immediately.”
“What’s happened? Is it the child? Does she want to speak?”
Paolo heard a deep sigh and then the doctor’s voice came back.
“I’m afraid not. She’ll never be able to speak again. She has been murdered.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
8th October (afternoon)
Pete paced up and down the studio, kicking out at the sofa each time he passed. He craved a hit, but didn’t dare touch his stuff until he’d heard from Joey. What was taking him so long? He’d said he’d be able to deal with the kid now they knew which ward she was on, so why hadn’t he sorted her out?
He stopped pacing and threw himself down on the couch. Staring at the stuff on the coffee table, the craving intensified. Maybe just one line. Surely that would be okay. His head would still be clear enough if he just had the one line. His hand reached out, but he changed his mind and jumped up again.
He’d go into the recording area. That’s the way to make time pass. He’d work on the next track of the album. His agent had been bugging him about getting it released before the concert, but what with one thing and another, he was a few weeks behind. The latest brats had really fucked up his timing. He wished now he’d just taken one of them.
Maybe the cock up had been his fault for being greedy. Maybe he was being punished for wanting too much from life. From now on he’d settle for one at a time.
But even the music failed to take his mind off what might be happening at the hospital. Giving up, he moved back into the lounge area. What was taking Joey so long?
Deciding to take a hit after all, he headed back towards the couch. His phone rang as he sat down. Relief made him clumsy and he dropped it as he tried to answer it. Snatching it back up, he hit the button.
“Pete here. What’s up?”
“You can relax. The problem has been dealt with.”
“Thank fuck for that. Joey, I owe you.”
Pete heard Joey laugh, so wasn’t completely surprised by what came next.
“Yes, you do. You owe me five grand.”
“What for?”
“Expenses, my friend. Expenses and loss of income. As I said to you, liabilities have to pay and you have become a major liability.”
“Go screw yourself, Joey. I’m not paying that much. I don’t mind coughing up a bit towards expenses, but…”
Joey cut across his words. “You pay, Pete, or the tabloids you fear so much will be getting an anonymous tip off about your choice in sexual partners.”
Pete went cold. “That’s blackmail.”
“No, it’s business. I’ve incurred a great deal of expense importing commodities that no longer exist. You should be grateful I’m not demanding more. I’ll be round tomorrow to collect.”
Pete sighed. He’d have to pay. What choice did he have?
“Okay. When will you have some fresh stuff in? I’m going through withdrawal here.”
“You’ll have to take a few cold showers, my friend. I’m holding off on imports until this current situation dies down. I’ll let you know when we start up again, but you’d better start taking care of my stock or pretty soon the price will be so high you’ll need to sell your fancy mansion to buy a single night’s fun.”
The line went dead. Pete slung the phone across the room, and it hit the sofa on the other side of the room, falling to the floor. Joey had him by the balls – literally.
What would he do if the royalty cheques dried up? Right now, people were still playing the old stuff from The Vision Inside, but that wouldn’t go on forever. If Joey carried through on his threat, even a single brat was going to cost him a fortune each time he bought one. His comeback concert had to be a success. He was going to need the money.
He reached forward and sorted himself a line of coke. As he hoovered it up, his head cleared. No problem, no problem at all. Of course his concert was going to be successful. He’d nail it. He fell to his knees and crawled over to his phone. Time to make sure his agent was on the fucking ball.
Scrolling through his contacts, Pete realised how few of his so-called friends had kept in touch over the years. They’d all be sniffing round when he was back at the top where he belonged. Where was his agent’s number? Ah, there it was. Stuart Windham.
He pressed call and waited. His agent didn’t always answer. Pete was sure the bastard saw his name on the phone and pretended to be in a meeting or some fucking thing, but this time he heard Stuart’s voice.
“Hi Pete, what’s up?”
“How’s things with the concert? We got everything covered?”
“Pete, I’ve told you over and over. The ground says ticket sales are going well, but we need to get the new album out and played ahead of that. You know how it works. You’re gonna be playing all new stuff and no one will know any of it if it hasn’t already had some air time.”
“I’m nearly done with it.”
“Good. As soon as it’s ready I’ll do my best to get you on breakfast TV to talk about it. Get…”
“On what? I’m not a fucking jungle survivor. I’m a serious musician. What do I want to go on breakfast TV for? Get me on some decent music shows.”
“Breakfast TV is important. It’s not like back in the day when Top of Pops was the show to be seen on. Nowadays, you have to go on the chat show circuit.”
“Screw that. My music can do the talking for me.”
“Really? You think so? Let me give you the facts of life as they are now, Pete. To get anyone to listen to your music, you’ve first got to remind them you’re even alive. You haven’t recorded anything new in over twenty years. Today’s music buyers don’t know you exist.”
“They will when–”
“Pete, will you please just shut up for five seconds and listen? I’ve been pushing your name down the throats of anyone I can pin in a corner and it’s not been easy. The ones who remember you aren’t exactly thrilled to hear you’re still alive. The ones who don’t remember you think you’re another washed up ex-star desperate to get on stage before you die. You seem to think all I have to do is mention your name and people will be falling over themselves to play your stuff, but it’s not that simple. That’s why I booked the local stadium for the concert. At least people in Bradchester know who you are.”
Pete felt as if his entire life was fucked up. First the brats, now his agent sounded as if he had to climb Everest just to sell a few albums.
It wasn’t fair. He worked hard. He was a good musician. Fuck, he was a great musician. It was time Stuart remembered just who was paying for his nice office and car.
“Stuart, stop whining. You think I don’t know all of that? Why do you think I started my own record label? It wasn’t to help out other musicians, that’s for sure. It was to make sure my stuff was out there to be played. You said the concert tickets are selling. The album’s nearly done. I’ve got the sess
ion musos and backing singers coming over here in the week between Christmas and New Year to practice for the concert and we’ll do a full rehearsal at the stadium during the afternoon of New Year’s Eve. I’m prepared, Stuart. I really am, and I’m ready to give this comeback my best shot. All I’m saying is that early mornings don’t suit me. I don’t look my best before midday.”
Pete expected to hear Stuart laugh, but all he got was a sigh.
“Grow up, Pete. I’ve finally got a bit of mainstream interest for you and you need to take advantage of it. We’ve got to tell them when the album is coming out and release at least one track ahead of that date. So, come on, are you ready to let one of your new songs out into the world?”
“I think so, yeah. I’ll get a demo over to you tomorrow.” But not Help Me, Mama, Pete thought. He’d keep that one for the concert. He wanted to feel the rush when the fans went wild over it.
“Okay,” Stuart said. “That’s more like it. I’ll chat to the radio people; get it some air time, then follow up with breakfast TV and a few chat shows. You are clean, aren’t you? Promise me you’re not using, cos if you are, I’m out of this.”
Pete glanced over at the table, littered with his stuff.
“I’m not using. Haven’t touched anything in years. I told you after my last stint in rehab there was no way I was ever gonna get fucked up like that again. What are you asking me for? You know the answer.”
Stuart sighed again. Pete was beginning to hate that sound even more than Joey’s laugh.
“I’m asking you, Pete, because we can’t afford any negative publicity. None at all. It’s not like the old days when it was taken for granted rock stars would be high as a kite in interviews. Now you’ve got to be clean and look it. You screwed up big time when you crashed and burned so publicly. That’s why the rest of The Vision Inside won’t reform.”
“Yeah, well, when I’m back at the top those fuckers needn’t think they’re gonna come and hitch a ride on my success cos they can just fuck off.”
Someday Never Comes (#2 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 7