“What’s up?” asked Jess, watching Eva’s pondering.
“Day one is up.”
“We’re doing our best.”
“We were doing okay, Jess. Don’t start chewing people up when I’m asking questions like that ever again. You closed him down. Be professional or stay in the office, understood?”
Jess hadn’t seen Eva angry before and the words stung– her pale green eyes wearing a stony resolve, which made Jess want to shout back at her. But instead, she nodded. “Sorry. You’re the boss.” Jess put it down to the stress and swallowed it, knowing full well she wouldn’t swallow many more. They drove back to the office to review what they’d learned over a late pot of coffee. A couple of miles away, Engay the Turk was on his mobile phone.
Four
The coffee machine was still percolating and hissing when the office phone rang. Ordinarily, it was far too late for Eva to consider answering. After five rings it would flick to answer-phone, but tonight Eva picked it after two. Eva could hear the strain in her own voice. While Eva spoke, she looked at Jess and saw the girl was pissed off, tail between her legs and head down, but only a little. Before Eva spoke, she knew it was Parker. The rules were changing. In the old days the hefty old boy would be asleep by now, but not tonight. For him, too, the pressure was on, though his voice barely gave a hint of it.
“You didn’t make it to Gillespie’s place tonight. I was sure you would make it there.”
“There are plenty of possible suspects, Devon. Gillespie is just one.”
“He’s the biggest villain in this town and he’s the best chance we’ve got of tracking down your ex-partner while he’s still alive.”
Eva twiddled the cord of the phone around her fingers while Jess set up two cups of black coffee.
“Why is my whereabouts on this case of interest, Devon? I’m not your employee.”
“Oh, Eva, don’t be difficult. This is about Dan - you know that.”
“Yes, I do. So how do you know where I wasn’t tonight?
Jess looked up, her interest overcoming the hangdog look. Eva nodded - this was something of interest, and Jess sped up the coffee production so she could listen more closely.
“I’ve been around Fenbrook Manor all afternoon. Watching.”
“Ahhhh, Fenbrook. I know it well. How are the lovely residents?”
“Busy. You’ll regret you didn’t come along, Eva. The Mitkins paid a visit. And they brought some friends with them, the Somalis. You should have seen Gillespie’s face.”
“Interesting. Why? Wasn’t he happy they brought the Somalis?”
“Would you want those boys around for tea?”
“No. But it says something about the Mitkins and about him, about their relationship too.”
“What does it say, Eva?”
“That they are either at an early stage of a new partnership, where bringing friends like those is a mistake. Or that they did this deliberately as a show of strength.”
“It could be both, of course. But it certainly means they are working together on some level, otherwise the gates would never have opened. We now have a tangible link between Gillespie and Dan. The Mitkin brothers are the link in the chain.”
“Thanks, Devon. We’ve been exploring the Mitkins this end. It’s possible they are amassing a property portfolio with the support of someone like Gillespie. He has the financial clout that they don’t have yet. In which case, a partnership has been formed. But only in the last six months, because that’s when the Mitkins started their new property collection.”
“Logical, Eva, I like it. You’re beginning to catch on. And now they are on the move. I’ll follow and let you know what happens. Stay by the phone.”
“Right. Speak soon.” Eva put the phone down and shook her head.
Jess asked “What? You think he’s full of shit, don’t you?”
“Oh, I thought that years ago. But he’s playing a very strange game. He’s zig-zagging us towards some kind of conclusion. If he had some idea of what was going on, and it was helpful, I’d rather he tell us. He’s trying to manipulate us. I can’t be sure, of course.”
“You sound pretty sure, Eva. He’s full of shit. And he’s a creep. He spent the whole of lunch staring at you like a horny school boy.”
“I don’t want to think about it! But he did have a newsflash for us. The Mitkin brothers were with Gillespie tonight at Fenbrook Manor.”
“With the Somalis. I heard. Do you believe Parker? Sounds to me like he’s got the horn for Gillespie too, but he wants you to make a move on him first.”
“I know. But that could be because he’s just a detective with a big ego who thinks he’s right. Dan got like that frequently, and where do you think he learned it from? He spent years with Parker. We’ll find out soon enough. Parker’s going to follow Gillespie and the Mitkins to see where they go. Hopefully, it will lead to Dan. Then we can go and get him.”
“Just like that?”
“We’re in ‘whatever it takes’ territory, Jess.”
“Just like that,” said Jess, smiling and slurping a huge white bowl of a cup.
The phone rang again soon after.
“Fancy losing some money?” it was Parker, his voice excited.
“Not any more than this case is costing me already,” said Eva, the coffee now working in her system. She was on her second cup, and couldn’t drink much more unless she worked it off.
“I’m down at the Waterside Club. Your neck of the woods.” The Waterside Club was the better of the two casinos on the Westcliff seafront, both of which occupied either side of a concrete and glass bunker which jutted into the Thames Estuary. Long before Eva had been born, the concrete had housed an open water swimming pool for the general public. Now it was a mixture of a honey trap for cheap drunks who wanted to role-play James Bond, and the richer clientele who liked to look big while losing enough money to pay off most mortgages. Both ends of the building welcomed gambling addicts of all nationalities - English, Chinese, Russian, Portuguese and Polish. When it came to gambling, Southend’s casinos were international centres of pretension and despair.
“Who’s down there?”
“Gillespie, in a big black four by four. Sound familiar?”
“Yes, I’ve seen it already. It could be the one which snatched your man, but who knows? It seems every gangster loves those black tractors.”
“Gillespie has several of his no-necked friends with him and an Amazonian lady in a rather fetching black dress who you may have heard of. The Mitkins have turned up. The Somalis didn’t make it this far. They carried on towards the town centre.”
“Small mercies.”
“More like Gillespie wouldn’t have them near him. So, are you coming down? This could be good.”
“What are we supposed to do there, Devon?”
“Watch, listen and learn.”
“While Dan’s running out of time.”
“You don’t say. So what’s your plan, Eva? Make a wish?”
“I just don’t get it. You’ve got a Traveller fixation.”
“And you’ve got a blind spot, Eva. The Mitkins are with him - you say the Mitkins are involved, well here they are with a man in a big black four by four who has reason to want Dan Bradley out of the way, as do the Mullet men.”
“I just want more than supposition, that’s all.”
“Supposition and guess-work is all we have.”
And he had lies, and manipulation, and a whiff of something sordid, something filthy she didn’t like, but it was getting clearer and it was making Eva increasingly uncomfortable. She was feeling snappy but said nothing, putting it down to the coffee and tiredness. “There’s another problem, Devon.”
“Really..?” he said with a derisory tone.
“Yes. They know who I am.”
“Then come and watch the outside of the building and use the girl.”
Eva looked at Jess. The way he said that was another thing she didn’t like. A sassy smile c
rept across Jess’s face. She couldn’t hear Eva, but knew the upshot was that duty called. Yes, Gillespie hadn’t seen her yet. Neither had the Mitkins…
Fifteen minutes later, they walked along the bottom of the sprawling cliff gardens that faced the seafront and the casino, a wide and gorgeous green manicured park, which ran from the top of the cliff that gave Westcliff its name, down to the estuary, the casino and the road. By day, the sculpted gardens were home to the retired, people on lunch breaks and day-trippers. By night, the homeless took solace in the nooks between the trees and hedges, and the drunks took up occasional posts on the park benches by the meandering and climbing paths. Tonight the cliff gardens were black but for studs of white street lamplights, and the Esplanade road was a stream of headlights and thumping music from cruising vehicles. Eva was wearing a black frock that cut off just below the knee, and Jess had poured herself into a vivid red number, which emphasised all of her plump youthful curves. Eva wouldn’t have worn a dress that tight but Jess seemed oblivious.
“You shouldn’t be going in there,” said Eva, with a sigh.
“It’s a casino, Eva. What’s the worst that could happen? I lose a fiver.”
“You said it yourself - you don’t trust Parker.”
“I’ll play it safe, promise. I’ll eat the free sandwiches, drink a glass of fizz. It’ll be nice. I’ll make Devon spend some money and I’ll watch the Mitkins as well.”
“Jess - don’t get directly involved with any of them. Stay well clear. Watch but don’t speak to them unless you have to, just be polite but say nothing. No flirting. No investigating.”
“Flirting?”
“I know you, Jess.”
“You’ve never been out with me.”
“I know you, Jess.”
“Fine. No flirting.”
They crossed to the mid-section of the seafront dual carriageway, which was full of cars parked on a diagonal. There were two lanes of cars, the painted lines dovetailing together. Parker said he was in a Vauxhall. Eva looked for a Vauxhall, and eventually found a twenty-year-old Calibra. Whatever sporty sheen the car once had was gone; beyond that, it was difficult to see. There was Devon, the window down, looking strangely out of place in the old car. A classic car would have been more his ticket, a Morris Minor or something tweedy like an Austin. But here he was, grinning eerily and leering at them both.
“You do look the part, ladies.”
“Thanks. We spent all night glamming up for you,” said Jess.
“Well you can be my plus one tonight, Jess. The lovely Eva will have to sit in my car and listen to the radio.”
“Just so you know, I’ll call every twenty minutes for an update, Jess. And Parker, I’m holding you responsible for Jess. She’s in my care. Now she’s in yours.”
“Yes, yes, Eva.” He got out of the car, leaving the door open. “She’s all yours,” said Parker, referring to his car.
Eva scoped the area and saw the lime green BMW and oversized gleaming black four by four parked up about thirty feet away, corroborating Parker’s story. She got in and watched Parker give Jess a paternal steer towards the road, waiting for a break in the stream of cars. Ahead, the casinos loomed, a dark glass block illuminated by a studding of jewel-like lights along the top of the building and along the floor. The pavement beside it was also studded by dwarf trees speckled with tiny lights all down their length. Even for Southend, this place looked the part. She wanted to see inside, especially now that Jess was going in. She told herself that she would be patient. She would give them time to play Parker’s game, but if she didn’t like it, if her gut knotted and the tension in her temples got any worse, she would go in. That was all there was to it. She sat in the car with the mildest revulsion, smelling the stale masculine smell of Parker’s car and his dinner breath.
Parker gave in a membership card at reception. “Have a good evening, Mr Bligh,” said the gentleman on reception. The interior was all dark wood, gold inlays, and the suggestion of luxury. There was some genuine luxury in the tiled flooring and expensive hotel style light fittings, and the modern art dotted around the lobby. The opulence and luxury were present in the elegant staff uniforms with the golden threaded waistcoats, and the polite, smiling, deferential service, which passed among them with offerings from a silver tray of food. It was food that Jess did not recognise nor want anywhere near her mouth. Next, a tray of sparkling white wine in flutes arrived. “Champagne?” offered a tall, thin, blonde girl with a svelte body Jess would have killed for, but had grumpily given up on a long while back. She was happy she had at least moved from ‘big-boned’ to voluptuous. Voluptuous in the true sense of the word, not how some fat girls used the word and ended up guaranteeing disappointment and snide remarks. Jess took the champagne and nodded at the girl, who smiled at Jess like they were simply destined to be friends. Good training. They paid the staff well here and spent money on creating a good ambience. Without bothering to ask, Jess knew this was the rich people’s casino. She had never been to one before, which in itself she thought was a great disguise, as no villain would be looking for the ignorant numpty girl to be an enemy agent. Yes, it did feel a little like a Bond film. Not much, mind, but a little. The biggest difference was the saggy-suited guy with the broom moustache leading her around like her granddad. They entered the casino room and here, in the activity and noise, were rows of busy tables with clusters of men in tuxes and women in dresses and less glamorous skirts and blouses. There was the noise of clattering chips, the Roulette wheel, and the din of excited chatter, a momentary cheer, and soon after, a groan of defeat. The feeling was electric. The atmosphere was tense, yet fun. Already, Jess felt she could get hooked. Did she have the gambling gene? That was a recent discovery, right? Gambling addicts all had a faulty gene. Just like the sex addicts and the crack heads. Nope. Just a thing she’d read online. The fizz tasted good; whatever it was, Jess couldn’t tell and cared even less.
“There,” said Devon, nodding with a fixed grin towards a table at the side of the wide room. Jess found it. Gillespie, the old lump, was shorter than the rest of his companions, with a rough old bird’s nest of hair on his head. It just had to be him. Next to him was a woman who looked like she spent too much money on tanning booths and having her hair done by show-off hairdressers. It shone like a wig and was coiled like springs. The woman had hips and a backside which filled the black dress in just the right places to the right degree, the body of a sex dolly, which had probably been her job title and description all in one a few years back. Then there were a variety of suited goons beside them, and next to them were the little and large of bad hairstyling - it had to be the Mitkins. Their clothes were Superdry or Hollister, but the look didn’t suit them. It was informal youth clothing on middle-aged, though muscular frames. The Mitkins looked out of place. They definitely hadn’t planned on visiting a casino tonight, either that or they didn’t give a shit about fitting in. One of the bad hair brothers was tall and stiff looking, the other just looked softer in the face, but lacking in the brains department. Somehow, Jess could just tell. Lee Mitkin, famed for banging Laura. Mr. Serious was Rob. Jess started getting nervous as Devon led them toward a bay of one-armed bandits and fruit machines at the far edge of the target table. Jess felt conspicuous, as if they could read her mind, but after a moment of Parker tinkering at a slot machine with a screen and playing card symbols all over it, she guessed they weren’t paying the slightest attention. Parker nodded at her, fixed smile, and said. “It’s okay.”
Parker hesitated, ummed and ahed, walking around several of the video machines and one-armed bandits before he settled at one called The Winatron and actually had to part with some readies to fit in. Jess read him like a bad novel. It was easy. Parker was a skinflint of the highest calling, the car said enough by itself, and now here he was trying to fit in with the big leagues without shelling out a penny. “Come on, Parker. This one says it’s your lucky day.” True. The Winatron had a video display with a shapely blonde in g
lossy lipstick wearing a perma-smile saying ‘Win big – it’s your lucky day’ in a speech bubble, followed by a wink. Jess thought the wink said everything. Parker nodded with a pained smile and pushed his hands into his creased slacks to pull out a handful of silver, brown and gold coins. Jess didn’t inspect the handful of dross too closely in case there was fuzz or worse among the coins. Sensing the girl’s disdain, Parker kept his smile but snapped, “We’re here to watch the big man, not lose all my money.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic, Devon. Win Big! It’s your lucky day,” she smiled broadly and winked, like the girl on the screen, knowing the old man was already finding her impossible. As Devon reluctantly inserted his first coin, Jess turned round, looking like the novice she was, taking in all the excitement of her first night in a casino – the poker tables, the Roulette, the banks of one-armed bandits and the wild mix of characters and classes all throwing their cash and coloured chips away at intimidating speed. Her eyes returned to centre, to the old man with the messy hair and haggard face. He was talking to Rob Mitkin, and Mitkin was talking back. It was a flowing conversation and, looking at the sharpness of their looks to one another, something of a debate. Briefly, Jess felt the eyes of a thick-necked muscleman on her, one of the big mooks next to Gillespie. The guy was no looker, but he was as meaty as a tin of corned beef. He shot her a sly lop-sided grin that gave away too much of his dirty thinking. Jess cringed. Just as she looked away, she found another pair of eyes from the table fixed on hers. The tall brunette had turned around and was looking straight at her. Her eyes were glistening black, set in a deeply tanned glowing face. Coils of black hair framed her eyes to make them seem more intense. The woman said nothing, but there was an innuendo on her lips and a strange malice in her eyes, which made Jess feel vulnerable and frightened. Jess broke the gaze but felt the woman’s eyes planted on her back. A moment later, Jess checked on the woman with a quick upward glance in the mirrored ceiling. To her relief, the woman was looking back at the table.
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