Paolo waited until they were back in the car before voicing his thoughts.
“Another one who knows something but isn’t telling. I got the impression he was very pleased to see the back of us, Dave.”
“Yes, I thought that. Where did you think you knew him from?”
Paolo shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m not even sure I know him as such, just that I’ve seen him somewhere. It might not even be important, but until I remember it’s going to bug me.”
***
Paolo was glad to get home. He slipped off his shoes and stretched out on the couch. It had been quite a day. He wasn’t sure if they were any further forward or not. They hadn’t picked up any solid information, but they had established that Bekim and Edar were bad news. Not that they didn’t already know that, but it was useful to know they inspired fear over quite a large circle.
He flicked on the television in time to hear the newscaster give the date and time. The tenth of October, just one more week until his birthday. He really should try to work up some enthusiasm about celebrating his move out of the thirties, but knew he wouldn’t feel any different at forty than he had at any other age.
He concentrated on the screen, putting thoughts of his own life firmly to the back of his mind. The prime minister was giving a speech in yet another far-flung country, telling its inhabitants how to run their affairs. Paolo wondered how it would be received if leaders of other countries arrived in the UK to tell the government where they were going wrong. He smiled at the thought, but soon lost all desire to smile as the next news item filled the screen.
A spokesperson for Mr and Mrs Bassington, the distraught parents of young Lucy, was speaking, pleading for someone to come forward with information. The words swept over Paolo. He barely heard them. His whole attention was taken up with the parents in the background. In the time since Lucy had disappeared, Mrs Bassington had changed from a woman in distress to a zombie. She stood, silently holding the photograph that still dominated headlines and appeared on posters all over the country. Gone was the well-kept hair, make up and nice clothes. She’d lost weight. It was like looking at someone who’d died and just needed a gentle push to fall down. Paolo shuddered. No parent should have to suffer not knowing who had their child, but that’s what was happening to many families in Albania.
He’d track the bastards down, no matter what it took.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
17th October (morning)
Pete woke to the sound of buzzing in his ear.
“What the fuck?” He turned over, his head pounding like a jackhammer on speed. He’d had another late night session and had only staggered into bed just after four. What was that noise?
The buzzing kept on, drilling into his brain. The pillow seemed to be vibrating in time with the buzz. Phone, he thought, I put the fucker on mute, but didn’t switch off the buzz. He lifted himself up and turned to search for the phone under the pillow. Where was it? He needed to shut off that fucking buzz before he went insane.
He finally found it tucked inside the pillowcase. Joey’s name and number flashed on the screen. Pete moved the slider to answer the call.
“Do you know what time it is?” he snarled, catching sight of the bedside clock. “It’s fucking eight in the morning, Joey!”
“Yeah, good morning to you, too. Sounds like you’re not interested in hearing about a replacement. Funny that, I thought by now you’d be gagging for it. Oh well, plenty of other customers…”
“Wait,” Pete yelled. “Don’t play silly bastards with me. What you got on offer and when can I have one?”
“I’m moving a few around. They’ve each only been with one punter, so are still quite fresh. You want?”
“No virgins? You know I don’t like leftovers.”
Joey sighed. “No, Pete, my last two virgins are dead. Or have you forgotten our little problems? These are not leftovers. As I said, they’ve each only had one careful owner.”
“How old?”
“What age do you want?”
Pete swallowed. “The younger the better.”
“I’ve got an eight-year-old. She doesn’t speak English, so should suit you just fine.”
“How much?”
Pete prepared himself for a hefty rise. Joey had threatened as much after he’d sorted out the brat in hospital, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for the bastard to rob him.
“A thousand pounds.”
“What? Are you fucking mad?” Pete spluttered. “No fucking brat is worth that, especially not one that’s already been used.”
“Fine,” said Joey, sounding too cheerful in Pete’s ears. “I’ll take my wares to market elsewhere. Ciao.”
“Joey! Joey?”
All Pete could hear was the buzz of a disconnected call. The fucker had put the phone down on him. He hit speed dial. Joey answered immediately.
“Yes? Ready to pay?”
“Five hundred, Joey. That’s fair. After all, you’ll get her back again.”
Joey sighed. “I should get her back again, Pete, but you and I both know that sometimes they don’t come back from you. By the way, the price is now one thousand two hundred. Fair warning to you here, so pay attention. If you say no again, the next time I mention the price it will be two hundred more.”
Pete wanted to tell Joey to get stuffed, but he couldn’t. No one else he could trust knew about his preferences. The last thing he needed was for word to get out. Fucking press would have a field day.
“Look, Joey, let’s talk about this, okay? How about eight hundred?”
“You’re a slow learner, Pete. Listen carefully now. The price has just gone up to one thousand four hundred.”
“Joey, I…”
“Pete, do yourself a favour and quit haggling. Say yes, Joey. Thank you, Joey, before the price goes up another two hundred.”
Pete swallowed. What the fuck. It was only money and he had enough of it. “Yes, Joey. Thank you, Joey. When can you deliver?”
“Let’s see. I’ll be picking them up tomorrow morning. What about a lunchtime pizza delivery?”
Pete didn’t need to think about it. He could pick up the cash in town this afternoon.
“Sounds good to me. No anchovies.”
“Very funny. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, tomorrow,” he said and disconnected the call.
Thoughts of a good fuck made his heart race. He’d barely had any time at all with the last one. He sighed and slipped his hand under the duvet to stroke his cock. It was solid.
“Tomorrow will do me a fucking treat,” he whispered as he gave in to the sensation.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
17th October (morning/afternoon)
Forty! Paolo shuddered, as he straightened his tie and slipped on his jacket ready to leave for the station. How did so many years pass without him noticing? Funny, it didn’t feel any different now that he was no longer in his thirties. Wasn’t he supposed to feel something? Wasn’t this when the cliché kicked in? Life beginning and all that crap? Maybe he should think about that over the next few days. It might be time for him to make some changes. Get his life sorted out a bit.
His thoughts turned to his girls. Sarah, dead and buried. Would she want him to be grieving still, to the point where he couldn’t move on with his life? No, Sarah would be urging him to enjoy himself. She’d been too full of life to want him to give up on his own. And Katy? She was talking now. Not much, but at least she was communicating with them again. Katy, the old Katy, would have been the first to tell him to get back out there and find himself, whatever that meant. As for Lydia…well the less time he spent thinking about his dead marriage the better. Lydia might tolerate him being in the same room as her now, but she still didn’t speak to him or even acknowledge his presence.
Okay, he thought, as he opened his front door, that was enough soul searching for this year. He’d worry about finding himself next year when he hit forty-one. Time to get to work.
He man
aged to forget his birthday for the half hour it took him to drive to the station, but any hopes of it going unnoticed by his team were put to bed as soon as he entered the main office. A massive banner stretched from one side of the room to the other, screaming in vivid red capital letters: Happy Birthday. Helium balloons hovered near the ceiling in a variety of neon colours, all proclaiming the same birthday message.
CC stood up and signalled to the others in the office and everyone began a badly out of tune rendition of Happy Birthday to You.
As the final strains warbled into silence, Paolo stood wondering what the hell he was supposed to do next. This was a first. Normally all he got was a few birthday greetings as the day wore on. Never anything like this.
Before he could speak Dave stepped forward and handed Paolo a parcel.
“We had a whip round,” he said. “For your ‘life begins at’ birthday we got you an arresting present.”
Paolo knew something was up because everyone laughed at Dave’s words. Cautiously, he undid the wrapping and opened the box. Inside he found a pink whip and a pair of plastic handcuffs lined with pink fake fur. He looked up at the sea of grinning faces and for some peculiar reason he didn’t quite understand, felt tears welling. Pushing the emotion to one side, he managed to grin back.
“Just what I’ve always wanted,” he said, “and pink really is my colour.”
“It goes with your eyes, sir,” called out one of the younger PCs.
Paolo nodded. “Yes, and my eyes are particularly pink when I’ve spent several hours trying to decipher your reports. Ever thought of helping me out by using some punctuation?” He looked down at his gift and then grinned again. “Thank you for these, but I hope you don’t mind if I don’t fill in a report on how and when I use them.”
Dave raised his coffee cup in salute. “That was one of the conditions attached to the gift, sir. Full details in triplicate on each of our desks the morning after.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Paolo said. He took some notes from his wallet. “Dave, can you organise with the bakery down the road to send in some savouries for lunchtime? Tell them we’d also like a selection of cakes. As it’s my birthday I think we can all avoid the canteen for today.”
Dave took the money and headed towards the door.
“Come straight to my office when you get back, Dave. You two as well,” he said to CC and George.
Half an hour later Paolo nodded to CC. “You look as if you’re brimming with news. What have you got?”
“Just got this in, sir. The van used to drop off the girl at the hospital has picked up a parking ticket in Stamford.”
“When was this?”
“The ticket was issued two days ago, but it seems that it isn’t first one. There was another ticket in a different car park, but still in Stamford, five days ago on the 12th. So it seems likely that the travellers have set up camp not too far from the town.”
Paolo felt like punching the air. Something positive at last. “Get on the councils within a five mile radius of Stamford. Find out if any groups of travellers have set up camp recently.”
CC nodded. “Ahead of you there, sir. I made a list before coming in here. That will be my first job when this meeting’s over.”
“Has Gazmend had any joy showing the images of Bekim and Edar around the place?”
“Not really, sir. He’s getting the same sort of feedback as you did. Those who recognise them won’t say anything and the rest genuinely don’t know anything about them.”
“Has his cousin turned up yet?”
“No, sir. Gazmend says he hasn’t seen Jeton for a week. Not since the day you spoke to him at the import place. Gazmend’s pretty annoyed with him. Apparently Jeton went straight back to Gazmend’s, packed up all his stuff and left. Didn’t even leave a note. The first thing Gazmend knew about it was when you and Dave knocked on his door that evening looking for Jeton.”
“I hope Gazmend will let us know if and when Jeton reappears.”
“I’m sure he’ll do that, sir, but he might thump him first. Reading between the lines, I think maybe Jeton owes him quite a bit of money.”
“Fair enough. Right, what have you got for us, George?”
“Not much, unfortunately. I’ve been keeping tabs on all three businesses, paying particular attention to the language school, as we agreed. So far I haven’t been able to unearth anything suspicious. The school has a new batch of students arriving shortly, so I’ll keep them under surveillance, just in case more bodies than the expected students come in.”
Paolo drummed his fingers on the desk. “Even if they do bring kids in that way, how do they get them past the border controls? Surely everyone would have to be accounted for. How do they arrive, by air or road?”
“By air. Each student’s tickets and necessary documentation is organised by the school. In fact, the school seems to do everything, even down to supplying luggage so that they have the right size bags for carry on. They sort out all the books and everything they could possibly need, including places to stay.”
“Sounds expensive,” Paolo said.
“It is. These students are all from good families with plenty of money. So far I haven’t been able to uncover anything even remotely suspicious. The number and documentation of students coming in seems to match with those going home at the end of the intensive course. I can’t find any evidence of anyone being brought in who is under eighteen, so definitely not in the age group we’re searching for. There also is little to no contact with other towns and cities around the UK. Although it’s an international school and you’d expect it to do business with all the university towns, it seems to be limited to contact with Bradchester. I couldn’t find even one solitary thing that flagged up anything we could look into.”
“Blast,” Paolo said. “That one sounded perfect and the owner definitely recognised the men.”
George shrugged. “It might still be dodgy, but it seems on the level so far.”
“What about the others? Is there anything worth looking into with the import/export, apart from Jeton doing a bunk?”
“Nothing I’ve been able to find.”
“And the haulage contractors?”
“Same result there. All three businesses seem to be completely above board and complying with all the regulations. But I’ll carry on digging.”
“Thanks, George. There must be something we’re missing.”
Paolo turned to Dave. “Anything new from uniform?”
“No, sir. They’ve questioned all the staff and the patients. No one saw the woman after that sighting of her on the CCTV footage. That’s a dead-end, I’m afraid.”
Paolo looked down at the list he’d made earlier. “And according to the people we’ve had watching the Zephyr Road area there’s been no sign of any underage kids on the streets. We’ve had no sightings for a couple of weeks now. I can’t help wondering why that might be. Are they keeping them off the streets because they know we’re watching out for them? Or are they waiting for new girls to arrive from Albania to take the place of the older kids who will then go on the streets? I wish I knew where they kept the young ones before they get to street working age.”
“I would imagine they get passed around,” Dave said. “Perverts like to share. As for the girls on the street, as you say, the pimps might have got wind of us nosing around and decided to set up shop somewhere else.”
“It’s possible,” Paolo agreed, “but the last youngster we definitely know was working there was our overdose victim. Maybe the poor kid from the hospital was meant to take the place of an older girl destined for Zephyr Road but something went wrong and they’ve decided to hold off on putting a new girl out to work for the time being. Perhaps they’re waiting until we’ve lost interest. Maybe we should give them that impression.”
Dave sat up and smiled across at Paolo. “Are you thinking of giving them a bit of rope to hang themselves?”
“It’s an idea, Dave. Definitely an idea. I’m
going to pull surveillance back a bit and see what happens.”
What a way to celebrate, Paolo thought three hours later, as he reached for yet another report to read and sign off on. He found himself looking back with nostalgia to the days when he could pass this stuff to his superior and get on with the job of stopping crime instead of adding up numbers about it. A knock on his door saved him from the tedium. He looked up as CC made an appearance.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I thought you’d want to know straightaway. A fairly new travellers’ camp has been set up in North Luffenham. Not actually in the village itself, but on a bridle path going through the woods. I’ve had a look on the map and it seems to be up on the hill a couple of miles outside the village. The council are going through the legal channels to get them moved on.”
Paolo stood up. “In that case Dave and I had better get over there right now. They might decide to set up camp elsewhere and then we’d be back at square one. Well done, CC. Good work,” he said, taking the map and directions and following her into the main office.
“Dave,” Paolo called out. “Stop shoving those sausage rolls in your mouth as if they’ve offended you and grab your jacket. CC’s phone calls might have unearthed our travellers’ camp.”
He turned back to CC. “Keep searching. If we’re lucky this will be the camp, but just in case it isn’t, keep looking for others.”
She nodded and returned to her desk. Paolo wasn’t sure, but thought he detected a slump to her shoulders. She’d been frowning more than usual lately and didn’t seem to be as chatty with George. He made a mental note to chat to her later to find out what, if anything, was bothering her.
Following the Satnav’s directions, Paolo and Dave pulled up on the side of a country road high above the village of North Luffenham. The entrance to the woods, a wide bridle path, led off from the road. From the way the bridle path was churned up, it was obvious that a number of vehicles had driven along there fairly recently.
Someday Never Comes (#2 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 12