Blood Ties: Obsession, secrets, desire and murder (A Jack Le Claire Mystery)

by Kelly Clayton

  “We have multiple bruise sites of varying ages. She’s had a hard time recently.” Penny shook her head. “She was found in a squat. The other residents didn’t know much about her, but the body tells its own story. There are signs of frequent and recent sexual activity; she was used roughly. Track marks on the arms are recent. She was probably forced or coerced into using over a matter of months. Addiction grows quickly.”

  Her cropped, dyed blonde hair emphasised her fine features. He recognised her, had seen her photo only recently. He turned away in disgust.

  #

  Le Claire and Dewar were elbow deep in reports and computer printouts. Le Claire sighed and pushed back in his chair. “I can’t get the Hamlyns out of my mind. Sarah Hamlyn would have been ruined if it came out that she’d had a kid from an affair. I don’t think the crowd she runs with would approve at all.”

  “What if Scott was going to tell Ana? That would have caused a family rift and social uproar.”

  She was right, and they couldn’t discount the Hamlyns from being party to Scott’s death, either of them. His phone rang. He knew it was his from the ringtone. He’d been playing with his settings earlier and had accidentally changed the caller notification to “Duelling Banjos”, the theme from the seventies movie Deliverance. He hadn’t had the time to work out how to change it back.

  His phone was in his jacket pocket, which was hanging by the door. Several pairs of eyes looked at him, and impatience battled with embarrassment. “Would someone mind getting that please?”

  Penny snapped close the files she was reading. “I’ll get it and say you’re unavailable.”

  She picked up the phone, glanced at it quickly and answered. “DCI Le Claire’s phone. Can I help you?”

  She listened to the caller and then responded. “It’s DI Penny Powers. I’m afraid the detective is busy. Who is this? Okay, I’ll tell him.”

  She hung up. Looked defiant. “That was Sasha.”

  He momentarily closed his eyes. Shit. If anything was going to set his wife off, it was having his phone cosily answered by Penny. Why couldn’t someone else have picked up the call? It took him a moment to realise that when Penny had looked at the screen, she would have seen the caller ID.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ben was true to his word. He’d been waiting for Ana at Victoria Station with a hug and a kiss that made her burn.

  The apartment he took her to was small, but it had two bedrooms, a comfortable lounge, a galley kitchen and a neat bathroom. He’d been apologetic about the size. “I usually just stay here on my own, and it’s fine for one, but I guess it’s small, and there is only one bathroom. I didn’t think that through. I should have seen if Aidan had another one of his places that was empty. Sorry.”

  Ana burst out laughing. “Until last week, I was living in one room in someone’s house. So no more apologies.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, okay. Guess I’m a little nervous. I like you, Ana, I really do.” His eyes were locked on her face. He carried on before she could think what to say, and the moment was gone. “Come on. Let’s dump your bags, freshen up and go get some dinner.”

  He’d suggested some fancy French place, but Ana had been adamant. “No, I can’t afford that, Ben.” She’d a held a hand up to stop him protesting. “You paid last time we went out, so please let me pay for this. You bought our flights and train tickets and heaven knows what else, so please let me pay my way by getting dinner tonight?”

  He’d reluctantly capitulated, and so they’d found a table at a small Italian place a few doors down from the flat. Plain wooden tables were topped with glowing candles, shiny cutlery and the obligatory red-and-white-checked napkins.

  They’d eaten pasta, carbonara for Ben and ravioli for Ana, with a fresh green salad and plum tomatoes oozing with flavour. They’d debated over ordering garlic bread and decided it would be okay as long as they both ate it. Ben offered the almost-empty plate to Ana.

  “You want the last piece?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve had three slices already. I must stink of garlic!”

  His laugh reached his eyes, crinkling the corners. He smiled easily and often, and Ana liked that – very much.

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? I mean, I’ll be the only one close enough to you to notice. We’ll just have to share garlic kisses.”

  Ana could feel her face heat at the suggestion that they’d be intimate later. She certainly hoped they would be.

  Ben leaned across the table, and his hand brushed a stray lock of hair off her face. He opened his mouth to speak just as his phone rang. He pulled a mock grimace and shrugged his shoulders as he pulled his mobile from his pocket, checked the caller ID and said, “I better take this. Hello, Aidan. Yeah, we’re having a great time.”

  Ben was quiet as he listened to the caller. Ana self-consciously looked around the room, trying to give him a little privacy. When she glanced back, the smile had gone from his face. His voice was resigned. “Okay, sure, I understand. We’ll finish up here, and I’ll head over.” He disconnected the call. “Sorry. That was Aidan. He needs me to pick up some paperwork from one of his clubs that we’ll need for the meeting tomorrow.”

  “No problem, let me settle up and we can go.” She signalled for the bill.

  “Thanks, Ana.” Ben started to look a little uncomfortable. “I think I better go on my own. You can stay at the flat until I get back. The Beaumont isn’t the type of club you’d like.”

  “What do you mean?”

  If anything, he looked embarrassed. “It’s what you’d call a gentlemen’s club, although you do get women going there. It’s a bit saucy, there are girls dancing and, well, as the night goes on, they’re not wearing much, if anything at all.”

  Ana was open-minded, but she was surprised. “I wouldn’t have imagined Aidan in that type of business.”

  “He’s trying to get out. His UK clubs have made him a lot of money, but he’s been selling them off. They don’t fit in with how he wants to live his life now. He’s only got the London ones left, and the meeting this weekend is to finalise their sale.” He grimaced. “Mind you, don’t mention that to Danny. He doesn’t know yet.”

  Ana made up her mind. She’d never seen the inside of one of those places. “I’m coming with you. You don’t think I’m letting you near a load of half-naked girls on your own, do you?” They were still laughing as Ana paid up and they left the restaurant.

  #

  The taxi stopped in front of an elegant Georgian building. The front steps were roped off, and two men manned the doors; both were well built and immaculately dressed. Ben greeted the men by name, and one of them promptly moved the rope to the side to allow them to enter.

  As they went in, there was a coat-check area to one side and a woman in a low-cut halter-neck dress was checking the membership cards of the group who had arrived before them. Apparently, all was in order as she waved the men through with a smile. She turned, and her eyes lit when she saw Ben. “I wasn’t expecting you this evening. What can I do for you?” Her voice was husky, and there was definite flirtation in her tone. Whether that was for Ben or just anyone who came in, Ana had no idea.

  “Hi, Becca, I’m just on an errand. Is Danny around?”

  “Sure, he’s in the office. He knew you were coming and said to give him fifteen minutes and he’ll be free.”

  Her eyes flicked toward Ana in a cool stare. She felt self-conscious, wishing she had worn something other than her jeans and plain top. At least she was wearing heels and had twisted and coiled her hair into an updo, which made her look less casual.

  Ben introduced her. “Sorry, this is Ana. Ana, this is Becca, who basically runs the place.”

  Distant hellos were exchanged. Ana sensed that Becca wasn’t a woman’s woman. She dismissed her from her mind as she followed Ben down a long, narrow hall with mirrored walls. Black velvet curtains swagged around a closed door at the end. Ben opened it, and Ana reele
d back as her senses were assaulted by pounding music and flashing lights. The club was set on different levels with an empty round stage dominating the centre. A pathway ran off it, like a catwalk, and this was no doubt where the girls came out front. There was a main bar on the ground level and several smaller ones on the tiers. Tables for two and four were scattered around the place. Ana’s eyes were wide, and she took it all in as Ben held her hand and led her to the bar. He ordered a beer for himself and a white wine for Ana. He looked around. “Cheers, Ana. Come a bit closer, love. Don’t want anyone bumping into you.” There was a crowd at the bar, and Ben’s arm rested possessively across her shoulder, their backs to the stage. She looked to the side and spotted a row of intimately lit alcoves, a voile-like fabric rendering the occupants into faint, shifting shadows. “What’s in there? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  Ben shook his head. “Ah, that’s the lap-dance area. I guess that’s to make it feel private when, in reality, anyone can see in.”

  Ana could see that several people stood outside each booth as they watched the dancers gyrate for their paying customers. She turned away. A dance tune had filled the air, and Ana could see the stage reflected in the mirror behind the bar. The crowd surged forward, and judging from the shouts and catcalls, the dancer was putting on a good show. The girl had long honey-blonde hair with subtle caramel streaks. She wore a tiny fringed string bikini, and waved a chiffon wrap in the air, drawing it over and around her body as she danced and posed, bending over and stretching. Ana thought it looked more like posturing than dancing, and maybe that’s what it was. The girl had a great body, and the customers had paid to see it. She raised her arms, reached behind her neck and untied her bikini top. She held the loosened material to her full breasts for a heartbeat and then tossed it aside. Ana could feel her face burn and looked away from the mirror. There was a strange freedom in the girl’s actions, and for a moment Ana didn’t know who was being exploited – the woman who was reduced to nothing more than her looks and her body or the men who paid to watch but not touch. Ben was looking at her.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here. Look, drink up and we’ll go and wait in the back for Danny to finish whatever he’s doing.”

  She finished her wine but drank it a little too quickly. She could feel her head buzz immediately. Ben gently propelled her forward, his hand on her back as he navigated past the stage. Ana glanced up.

  The girl was dancing, twisting and turning in an energetic frenzy. She raised her hands, thrust out her chest and shook her shoulders from side to side, her breasts, free from any restraints, jiggling and swaying. Suddenly, she spread her legs, bent forward and placed her palms on the ground, grinding her hips in a sexual parody. Still bent over, she brought her hands to her hips, pulled at the string ties and in one smooth movement stood up, threw back her head and ripped off her bikini bottoms. She stood tall, her hair back from her face, seemingly proud and confident in her nakedness. Her eyes were slightly unfocussed, and then her glance rested on Ana. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she took a step backward, and then stopped, as if rooted to the spot, a look of horror on her face.

  In a moment of shocking clarity, Ana saw past the glamorous wig and heavy makeup. Irena! She advanced, her hand outstretched, as Irena ran off the stage, her nakedness displayed for all to see. Cheering men threw notes in her wake, twenty pounds here, and a fifty there.

  Ana froze, and her stomach roiled and twisted as sour bile rose in her throat. She thrust a trembling hand against her mouth, closed her eyes and shakenly accepted that what she had seen was real. She turned to Ben in disbelief. “Ben, that’s Irena, my friend. I need to go find her.”

  “We can try, but from the look on her face when she recognised you, she may not want to be found.”

  Ana was distraught. She had thought it awkward enough to be in a bar where women took their clothes off, but for it be Irena was mind-shattering. “I am so relieved to see her, but I’m just so shocked that she is stripping. That is not the Irena I know. Why would she do this?”

  Ben looked at her as if measuring his response. “I think that perhaps you shouldn’t judge your friend. She definitely won’t want to see you if you belittle what she does.”

  “Belittle? I hardly think that I am wrong to criticise such an extreme move. I am surprised that you seem to think it’s okay.”

  “I might be his cousin, but I work for Aidan. It isn’t up to me to moralise on how he made his money. He is moving away from these businesses, and I want to be right by his side as he invests in other areas. I’m employed as his business manager – if Danny ever lets me get past him, that is. So it doesn’t matter what I think about your friend’s job. I think what matters is what she thinks, and maybe that is what you need to ask her.”

  Ana’s eyes stung at the implied criticism, but she was also taken aback at this reminder that she didn’t know Ben at all. She scanned the room and shuddered as she took in the glassy eyes and lustful looks. There were only a few women in the audience, and she recoiled as she realised some of the lascivious stares were directed at herself. Ben must have noticed as well, for his brows lowered, and his easy smile disappeared. “Come on, Ana, I need to get the papers, and then we’ll see what we can do about your friend.”

  He moved easily through the club, obviously very familiar with the place. They walked to the opposite end of the room from the main bar. A stony-faced man leaned against the wall by the side of a closed door.

  “Hi, Mike, I’ve got business in the back. Danny’s expecting me.”

  “Okay, go on through. Mind you look after your little friend.” His look was more like a leer, and Ana instinctively drew closer to Ben as she followed him through the doorway.

  The deafening sounds from the bar were reduced to a subdued murmur as the heavy door closed behind them. “It’s down here.” Ben turned to the right and walked past several doors; one was open, and Ana could see a man and a woman sitting at a long table, counting money. Ben stopped outside a door near the end and entered after a perfunctory knock. “Hey, Danny, you ready for me?”

  “I’m always ready for you, Ben. Come in. Ah, the lovely Ana is with you. Want a drink?”

  Danny Gillespie sat behind a large smoked-glass desk in a big important-looking chair.

  “No thanks, I’ll just take the papers Aidan wanted and we’ll be on our way.”

  Danny picked up a manila envelope and passed it to Ben. “Here you go. Any idea why he wants these figures?”

  “Sorry, mate, he just called and asked me to pick up the envelope. I’ve to drop them round to him tomorrow. I think he just wants to check something.”

  Danny looked at Ben, a long, slow stare. “Well – you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

  Ben grabbed Ana’s hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Ana didn’t move. She placed a hand on Ben’s arm and spoke quietly, “Could we maybe ask Danny about Irena?”

  Ben looked as if he was going to refuse, but the plea in her eyes must have softened his attitude. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  He asked Danny, “Look, tell me if this is awkward, but Ana just spotted a friend of hers. She was, well, I guess you could say she was dancing – on the stage, that is. Ana would like to speak with her.”

  Danny’s eyes locked with hers, and his voice was gentle. “Ah, but will she want to speak to you? Not everyone would appreciate being recognised here. The Beaumont Club can get a little naughty.”

  Ana could have used other, more choice, words to describe what she had just witnessed outside, but she let it be. “Irena did run off the stage, but she is my friend, and I only want to know she is okay.”

  Danny pursed his lips, looked as if he was considering her words. “Tell you what, leave me your phone number, and I’ll tell her you want her to call. Okay?”

  She wanted to say more, to ask that he let her go to wherever the girls hung out when they weren’t performing, but she figured
she’d best take what was being offered. “Yes, that is fine, thank you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The team had wanted to take Le Claire and Dewar for dinner. He had refused for both of them. They planned to pick up Danny Gillespie the next night and bring him in for questioning if all the relevant cross-jurisdictional formalities were in place. Their chief officer had written to the Met’s equivalent asking for cooperation and assistance. They were now just waiting for the official reply. They were in a pizza place next to the hotel. The food was ordered, he was having what he thought was a well-deserved beer and Dewar was sipping at a robust red wine whilst they checked their emails. He’d called and texted Sasha, but it was no use. She wasn’t answering her calls and hadn’t replied to his texts. He’d have to sort everything out when he got back. Right now he needed to focus on his work. He looked up as Dewar puffed out a heavy sigh.

  “Masters went to see Boris Tchensen and advised that we believe we’ve found Katrina’s body. He was obviously devastated.”

  “The too-tight ring was a giveaway. It matched Tchensen’s description of his late wife’s engagement band. I don’t think there is any doubt that it’s her. Poor girl.”

  “I know. She was only trying to make a better life. What kind of bastard does this, just uses someone, gets them hooked on shit and then discards them, like they are nothing? It’s horrifying.”

  “You ran through the report with Graves. How could this happen?”

  “A story as old as time. Katrina’s arms were riddled with needle marks and bruising from continued drug use. She was found inside a flophouse by the people she’d hooked up with. They’d known her for a couple of months. She said she’d come to London with her boyfriend for the weekend. Before she knew it, he had persuaded her to stay and got her a job in a club. Then he got tired of her or sick of how she’d turned to drugs. She was dumped and on the street with nowhere to go.”

  “Does anybody know anything about the boyfriend?”