Someday Never Comes (#2 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series)

by Frances di Plino

  Sick with relief, Pete could only nod. No words came out.

  “I had Tony search the grounds, but he couldn’t find anyone. The blood on the gates was dried up, so it couldn’t have happened today. It must have been yesterday or the day before. Do you think there’s any point in still calling the police?”

  Pete forced himself to speak. “N…no, I don’t think so, do you?”

  Mrs Baxter nodded. “I doubt they’d even send anyone out. It’s not as if whoever it was managed to break into the house. At least, I don’t think he did. Nothing seems to be missing at any rate.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, Mrs Baxter.”

  She stood up. “I’m glad you agree with me. I’ll get Tony to clean up the drive and gates with the power hose. Are you okay? You look a bit peaky.”

  Pete shook his head. “I’m fine, just a bit shaken by the thought of someone wandering around without our knowing.”

  “You should get some dogs, Mr Carson. They are the best deterrent and good companions, too.”

  Pete clambered to his feet and tried to control his shaking legs. “I’ll give that some thought, but right now I’m going to have a lie down. I spent most of last night in the recording studio and I’m whacked.”

  Mrs Baxter patted his arm in her usual motherly fashion. “You work too hard. You need to take better care of yourself. I’m off home shortly. I hope you get some sleep. See you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, tomorrow,” Pete said and turned for the stairs. How close a call was that? His heart couldn’t take too many more shocks. The last few days had aged him about a hundred years.

  He was so shaken he passed the treasures he’d collected over the years, paintings, sculptures, bronzes and tiny ceramics, without even seeing them. Normally he stopped and admired his collections, gloating on them. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t even like most of them, but he’d wanted to own stuff that proved he was rich. To show anyone who came that he had so much money they needn’t bother looking down their fucking noses at him.

  None of that mattered today. What if someone had been able to question that brat before Joey had her silenced? What if she’d been able to lead the police here? He’d have lost everything. Was it worth the fuck she’d given him? He knew the answer to that. No, it wasn’t. But even as he threw himself on his bed, promising that he wouldn’t touch another brat, that it wasn’t worth the chance of getting caught, his body betrayed him. Just thinking about that young flesh made him hard.

  As he drifted off to sleep, he decided he didn’t have to give them up; he just needed to be careful. That was the answer. He’d been a bit greedy, that’s why everything had gone so wrong. He’d learned his lesson now, though.

  His last thought before oblivion claimed him was that Joey would have a new batch arriving soon. He wondered how much it would cost him to make sure he got the pick of the bunch.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  9th October (morning)

  Paolo stood in front of the white board and scribbled.

  “Right, listen up, everyone. We’re not giving up on our search for the two pimps, but we are going to widen our field of attack.”

  He turned back to his team. “George, I want you to get in touch with the Chamber of Commerce. We need a list of all Albanian-owned businesses. We’re looking for any set up with links to Albania. Any enterprise that imports goods, has people who regularly travel to Albania, anything really that might be used as a cover for people trafficking. But we also need to uncover any businesses regularly dealing with other cities with large Albanian groups living there. The girls might arrive here directly, or they might be transported via another town. We have to keep our options open.”

  Paolo waited until George had finished taking notes before moving on to the next item he’d listed on the whiteboard.

  “CC, what’s the situation with the film footage from outside the hospital?”

  “I’ve found the section where the child was left, sir. It’s not that clear, but it’s fairly obvious that a woman is carrying what looks like a child and leaving her in the spot the porters found her. So I’ve assumed it must be the same girl.”

  “Good work,” Paolo said. “Were you able to see which vehicle the woman arrived and left in?”

  “Yes, sir. A white transit van. I couldn’t make out the full registration, but I’ve got enough to work with. I’m running it through the DVLA database. Unless the plates are fake, we should have details on it shortly.”

  Paolo checked his list on the whiteboard. “Sorry to do this to you, CC, but we have more footage for you to go through. This time it includes internal feed as well as external.”

  CC groaned before grinning up at Paolo. “What am I looking for this time?”

  “Our murder suspect. The only description we have of her is dark hair and wearing a nurse’s uniform.”

  CC looked up. “You’re joking me. Looking for a nurse in a hospital?”

  “I wish I was joking,” Paolo said, passing CC the drawing the artist had composed with the WPC. “This might help, but it isn’t that clear. Sadly, our WPC wasn’t as observant as we would have liked. Mind you, even if it had been a perfect likeness, if the killer knows her way around the hospital, she’ll know where the cameras are, so might have managed to avoid them. One good thing, we’re looking for a nurse quite a bit taller than the average. I know it’s a thankless task, CC, but I need you to go through every inch of film, just in case she stopped and smiled for the camera.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I know. You hate me because I’ve landed you with a crap job, but you’re the best when it comes to spotting things on film.”

  CC grinned. “Never mind the soft soap, sir. Just remember this when it comes to my birthday. I’ll want an extra big cake to make up for it.”

  Paolo grinned back. “That’s a promise. Uniform are still questioning the hospital staff. If they get anything to help your search they’ve been told to contact you directly. Dave, you and I are going over to Zephyr Road. I’m hoping we might strike it lucky with the woman who whispered to you as you passed her yesterday. Picking up the two men controlling the girls has to be a top priority. Second only to taking the kids off the streets.”

  Paolo watched as they dispersed. He was lucky with his people. Remembering past teams he’d worked with, both as officer in command and as one of those being told what to do, he knew how fortunate he was not to have any of the cocky shits out for personal glory on his team.

  The only one who worried him slightly was George. Quiet and often withdrawn, George didn’t offer much about his private life. All Paolo knew about him was the fact that he was divorced with no children. He wondered what George did outside of his working day and then wondered why he was even thinking along those lines. But, in truth, he knew the answer to that. It was because he was questioning his own lack of any kind of social life.

  Let me just get this case solved and I’ll do something about that, he promised that persistent inner voice pushing him to get back into the human race.

  “I’ll see you at your car, Dave,” he said, heading to his office to pick up his jacket. As he opened the door the phone on his desk began to ring. He contemplated letting it go to voicemail, but he hadn’t yet heard from Jessica Carter about Katy’s outburst.

  Snatching up the receiver, he answered the call, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “Storey,” he said as he sat down.

  “Good morning, Detective Inspector. I hope I’m not calling at a bad moment, but I need to set up an appointment with you for this afternoon.”

  He felt a mixture of fear and relief on hearing the psychiatrist’s voice. A meeting meant something to report, but that could be good or bad.

  “Of course,” he said. “What time?”

  “That depends on Mrs Storey. I haven’t yet been able to contact her and it’s extremely important that you are both available. Let’s set a time now and I’ll get back to you if Mrs Storey cannot make it. Shall we say three this af
ternoon?”

  “At your office, or the hospital?” he asked.

  “My office. I have other appointments before and after yours.”

  Paolo put the time and place into his i-Phone. “Is this to do with what happened with Katy yesterday?”

  “Yes, it is, but I really cannot go into details over the phone, or, indeed, without Mrs Storey being part of the discussion.”

  He promised to be there in plenty of time unless he heard from her to the contrary and replaced the receiver. His hands were shaking. The psychiatrist had sounded more serious than he’d ever heard her. Shaking his head, he got up and fetched his jacket. No point in painting the devil on the wall, as his mother used to say. The devil would appear in person if and when he was good and ready.

  Paolo shook his head, trying to get rid of negative thoughts. He’d find out what Katy’s problem was when he saw Jessica and Lydia this afternoon.

  Dave drove into the station forecourt and manoeuvred the car into a spot only just vacated by another car.

  “Yet again you’re lucky,” Paolo said. “That’s why I get you to drive. No one ever leaves a space for me to drive into.”

  “Yeah, but the only thing I’m lucky with is finding places to park,” Dave said as he turned off the ignition. “I never win on the lottery or raffles and sweepstakes.”

  “Yes, but you can virtually guarantee finding a parking space. You drive in, someone else drives out.” Paolo laughed. “You could set up as a parking space finder in your spare time. You’d make a fortune round here.”

  Dave grinned, dropping the keys into his pocket. “I’d rather win millions on the lottery, but I suppose I should be grateful I’m lucky with something.”

  “Let’s hope we’re both lucky enough to find your prostitute. Come on, let’s go.”

  Station Road wasn’t exactly the best part of town, but the place looked respectable. Paolo was pleased to see that most of the businesses he remembered from his youth were still operating. This was one of the few communities that still had a drycleaners, newsagent, old-fashioned fruit and veg, alongside a mini-supermarket, hairdressers and a bank. He glanced up. Even the flats above the businesses looked lived in and cared for. Nice nets and curtains framed the windows and many of the street doors had been painted in recent history.

  They walked a couple of hundred yards before turning into Zephyr Road. It was like turning into another country. Here, most of the shops they passed were boarded up and the few remaining open for business seemed to Paolo to concentrate on ways to transform goods into cash. Pawnbrokers, gold for cash, payday cheque converters. It seemed as though all the dregs of the financial service industry had found their way into this street. This time when he glanced up, Paolo saw the flats above the shops were likewise either boarded up or had dirty nets hiding whatever was going on up there.

  Paolo knew the council were trying to clean up the area, but from what he could see today, they hadn’t been very successful. Even this early in the day groups of women were gathered, clearly waiting for customers. Many of them walked off when they saw Paolo and Dave approaching.

  “Any sign of your contact?” Paolo asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Dave replied. “I think that might be her down by the wrecked phone box.”

  Paolo looked where Dave had indicated. Sure enough there was one of the old red boxes, but all the glass was missing from the windows and there was no sign of the phone that used to be there.

  Leaning against the frame was a woman, possibly in her forties, but she might have been much younger. Paolo knew that a few years on the streets tended to age people much faster than normal. Add to that a drug habit and a twenty-five year old could end up looking closer to fifty.

  They carried on walking until they were a few yards short of the box.

  “Is that her?”

  “Yes,” said Dave, “but she’s got those other two with her. I doubt she’ll say anything in front of them.”

  “Well, we don’t need to worry about one of them. She’s taken off,” Paolo said as a woman in a dirty red leather skirt and skimpy blue top peeled away from the other two and disappeared down one of the many alleyways leading off from Zephyr Road. Paolo wondered if that was why the place was so popular with prostitutes – plenty of dark places for quickies day or night.

  “Which one is your contact?” Paolo asked.

  “The one in hot pants.”

  “Okay, I’ll have a chat with her friend and keep her occupied for as long as you need.”

  But it wasn’t necessary for them to split up. Both women stood facing them, almost as if they’d been waiting for this moment.

  “I know you,” the woman next to Dave’s contact said. “You caught that mad bastard.”

  “Yes,” he said, “we got him in the end. It’s a pity we weren’t able to catch him before he’d killed so many.”

  “You make that sound like you cared.” She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “We know what you lot think of us, so don’t try playing the sympathy card here. It won’t work.”

  Her friend nudged her. “Alice says he’s okay.”

  “It’s okay for her. She’s off the game. What the fuck does she care about us now?” She turned back to Paolo. “The only reason we’re telling you anything is because it’s kids involved. It’s not right, what they do to the kids. Barely old enough to cross the fucking street on their own, some of them are, but they’re servicing the pervs like there’s no fucking tomorrow. And you know why? Cos the bastards running them have them so fucking hooked they’d suck off a leper if they were told to. And then, when they get to be teenagers, they’re put out here to work.”

  She stopped and glared at Paolo and Dave as if it was their fault.

  “We want to get these bastards,” Paolo said. “But we need help. No one will tell us anything about their pimps, but someone here must know who they are.”

  The two women looked at each other. Dave’s contact nodded.

  “We don’t want to get involved in any court case nor nothing,” she said. “We’ll tell you what we know, but don’t come back expecting us to sign nothing, cos we ain’t getting in shit with anyone. Especially not that lot.” She shuddered. “Those pictures you showed us,” she continued, turning to Dave, “they work for someone called Joey.”

  The other woman spoke up again. “We’ve never seen this Joey bloke down here, but the two men sometimes mention his name to the girls as a threat. Makes them fall apart every time, so he must be pretty fucking bad. You got the pictures with you?”

  Dave pulled them from an inside pocket of his jacket and passed them over to the two women.

  They studied them for a few seconds. “This one here,” Dave’s contact said, “is called Bekim and his mate is Edar. Right pair of shits they are. The girls are terrified of them, but when they mention this Joey’s name it turns them to fucking jelly.”

  Dave made a note and looked up. “I don’t suppose you’d care to give us your names?”

  “Oooh, get him, Mr Posh himself,” Dave’s contact said, mimicking his voice. “You don’t suppose right, sonny. We’ve already told you, we’re not getting involved in no court case and we don’t want it known we’ve told you nothing. There was one girl, bit older than the others, used to take care of them, she did. Reckoned she was going to find a way to get the young ones out. Anyway, she disappeared a few days back. We think she got done in and we’re not looking to go the same way.”

  “Did she say how she was planning to rescue them?” Paolo asked.

  “She’d phone someone and then you lot would turn up and take the kid away.” The women looked at each other. “She must have been caught. Those two blokes most probably cottoned on to what she was up to. Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like you to fuck off. We’ve got work to do and you’re interfering with trade.”

  “Thank you for giving us the names,” Paolo said, handing each of them his card. “If you remember anything else that might help the girls, p
lease call me. Anytime. Day or night.”

  “We’ve told you all we know,” Dave’s contact said, stuffing the card in her bra. “But we’ll keep your nice shiny cards, just in case.”

  Paolo and Dave watched as the two women sauntered off. “Come on, Mr Posh,” Paolo said. “I don’t think we’ll learn anything more here. Time to get back to the station.”

  Dave nodded. “You’re not going to call me that from now on, are you?”

  Paolo laughed at the horrified look on Dave’s face. “Only on Wednesdays and Fridays, or any day you piss me off,” he said.

  Dave grinned. “That’s all right then. It was worth the trip down here. At least we’ve got some names to go with the pictures.”

  “Yep,” said Paolo, “but what’s even better is we know there’s someone called Joey higher up the food chain. We want them all, but to put them out of business, we need to find out who this Joey character is. I’ll get CC to have a chat with Gazmend. He might be able to point us towards Bekim and Edar, but Joey isn’t an Albanian name. Strange the Albanian connection doesn’t go all the way through the ranks. I’d expected another ethnic name.”

  They retraced their steps to the car and Paolo watched in amusement as Dave went through his usual ritual of finding his keys, as always, patting all pockets barring the right one.

  “Have you thought of having them hanging from a string round your neck?” he said as Dave finally found them and unlocked the car.

  “Very funny, sir. You should be a comedian in your spare time.”

  All desire to laugh left Paolo. Spare time? Not much of that going at the moment. Somehow he had to find a couple of hours to get over to Jessica Carter’s office this afternoon and he was already behind today.

  Images of the two dead girls came into his head, one in the morgue and one in the hospital. He could almost hear them begging him not to forget them. He silently promised them justice – and vowed to himself that he’d deliver on that promise. All he had to do now was find a way to make each day a few hours longer.