‘Sorry, hello,’ Jimmy said. ‘Er, is Angela there please?’
‘Who?’
‘Angela. She’s a student nurse.’
‘What’s her last name?’ the woman asked. Jimmy paused again, realising that he didn’t know. Her surname had been on her name badge, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was.
‘I’m not sure,’ he replied. ‘She’s Irish though. Red hair?’
‘Is this a personal call?’
‘No, no,’ Jimmy said. ‘She called me earlier about my appointment tomorrow morning.’
‘What’s your name, please?’
‘Tucker. Jimmy Tucker.’ He could hear nails clacking on a keyboard.
‘Yes, we have you booked in at nine for a scan. How can I help?’
‘Can I speak to Angela, please?’
‘She’s with a patient at the moment,’ the woman replied. Jimmy knew from the way she answered the question so quickly that she was lying. A few seconds ago, she hadn’t even known who Angela was. ‘How can I help?’
Jimmy didn’t reply, but just ended the call.
The next morning, Jimmy was standing at the bus stop waiting for the Number 24. It was almost half past seven, and the bus he’d been waiting for hadn’t turned up. Not only that, but it was freezing cold. He swore under his breath and was just about to phone for a taxi when one pulled up outside his house over the road.
Jimmy started hurrying across to see if he could grab the taxi when he realised it was Gareth and Laura climbing out of the back seat. They’d come to collect his truck. The previous evening, Jimmy had taken the water barrels to where they needed to go, and filled the truck up with diesel. It was the least he could do, especially as he’d driven it further than he’d intended. Jimmy was fairly sure that Gareth wouldn’t notice the mileage, though. If he did, Jimmy would just lie and say he’d got lost.
‘Hey, Gareth?’ Jimmy called out as he approached the couple. ‘Can I grab your taxi, mate?’
‘Jimmy,’ Gareth replied, looking at him with a curious expression. ‘How you doing?’
‘I’m fine, but the sodding bus never turned up. I’ve got an appointment at the hospital.’ He paused, breathless after the short jog across the road.
‘Is everything okay?’ Laura asked with a frown.
‘Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just a routine appointment. But the bus…’
‘We’ll give you a lift there if you want?’ Gareth asked.
‘It’s the wrong direction, Gareth. Really kind of you to offer, but I’ll just take your taxi.’
‘No, we’ll give you a lift,’ Laura replied in a firm voice. She grabbed her purse and bent over to talk to the taxi driver.
‘It’s not a problem, mate,’ Gareth said. ‘Honestly, no dramas.’
Laura insisted that Jimmy have the front seat while Gareth drove his truck to the hospital. It wasn’t that far by car, but to get there on the bus meant Jimmy would have had to go into the city centre and catch another bus out to the hospital on the outskirts of Norwich. While Gareth drove, Laura told Jimmy about the film they’d been to see the previous evening—a romantic comedy with Renée Zellweger. It didn’t sound like the sort of film that Gareth would have chosen. Gareth was also quick to point out that he’d picked Laura up from her flat this morning, just to make the point they’d not spent the night together. It was a tender touch on Gareth’s part, Jimmy thought, to protect her that way.
‘I’d have you down as more of an action film fan, Gareth?’ Jimmy asked, mischievously.
‘Got your barrels sorted out did you?’ Gareth replied, glancing at Laura in the rear-view mirror.
‘I did, thank you.’ Jimmy went along with the change in subject. ‘Thanks for the loan of the truck.’ Gareth glanced down at the dashboard.
‘That’s more than a tenner’s worth of diesel, Jimmy.’ Jimmy just waved a hand in response.
A few moments later, Gareth pulled up outside the outpatients’ department of the hospital. They said their goodbyes and Jimmy walked into the hospital, keen to get out of the biting wind. As he walked down the long corridors to the neurology department, he was on autopilot. When he’d got out of the car just now and held the door open for Laura to get into the front seat, Jimmy had seen the look that had passed between the young couple. He allowed himself a brief smile, hoping that things would work out for them. There was a sense of fragility about the way they interacted with each other, but given what had happened to Gareth’s wife, it didn’t take a neurosurgeon to work out why. Jimmy thought they would make a lovely couple, if they actually ever got that far.
Jimmy pushed open the door to the waiting room for the neurology outpatients department and he looked around the room. Although it was early—the department wasn’t even open yet—he couldn’t see Angela. He crossed to the reception desk where a sour-faced woman was staring at the computer screen in front of her. She didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence, and as he listened to her nails tapping at the keyboard, he realised this was the woman who he’d been speaking to on the phone the previous day.
‘Excuse me?’ Jimmy said. The woman raised one hand from the keyboard and extended an index finger to hush him.
‘Two seconds,’ she said, continuing to tap at the keyboard with her spare hand. Jimmy shifted from foot to foot as he waited, looking around as he did so for a flash of red hair. There was no sign of Angela, and his heart started to drop. ‘Can I help?’
‘I need to speak to Angela.’ A frown appeared on the woman’s face, the ease with which it did so telling Jimmy that this was a commonly worn expression for her.
‘You were on the phone yesterday asking for her?’ It was more of a statement than a question.
‘Yes, I was. I need to speak to her.’ Jimmy leaned forward a few inches, desperate to make his point. ‘It’s really urgent.’
‘Well, I’m ever so sorry,’ the receptionist replied, the faintest smile on her face suggesting that she wasn’t in the slightest bit sorry, ‘but she’s not in today.’
‘She told me she would be, though,’ Jimmy said. ‘We were going to meet for a coffee after my appointment.’
‘She’s off sick.’ The receptionist returned her attention to her computer. ‘Would you like me to book you in for your appointment?’
‘Have you got a phone number for her, please?’ Jimmy asked. The receptionist looked at him, her mouth half open.
‘Er, no. That’s not the sort of information we can give out. Why do you need to speak to her so urgently?’
‘I can’t tell you, but it’s really important that I do. Where does she live?’
‘Sorry.’ The receptionist pressed her mouth together in a thin line and stared at her screen. ‘Could you confirm your date of birth, please?’
Jimmy turned on his heel, the woman calling out his voice as he walked back across the waiting room. He retraced his steps down the corridors toward the main entrance, ignoring one or two curious looks from passing members of staff as he did so.
Thirty minutes later, Jimmy was back in his lounge, waiting for his MacBook to finish booting up. He’d paid way over the odds for a taxi back from the hospital after persuading the four or five people already waiting for one that he needed it urgently. The taxi driver must have picked up on Jimmy’s desperation, but instead of sympathising with him had just doubled the fare.
When the laptop finally creaked into life, Jimmy navigated his way into the copy of Max’s hard drive and opened up the folder with the photographs of Angela. He clicked on one of the e-mails and ran his eyes over it, not finding what he was looking for. It wasn’t until he opened the last e-mail that he found a contact number for her. The e-mail was from Angela to Max, confirming their meeting at the Royal Hotel a few weeks before. Confirming that Angela was happy to pay for the portfolio shoot with something other than money.
Jimmy didn’t care about any of that, sickening though it was. All he cared about was the telephone number Angela had included in th
e e-mail. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and tapped in the numbers, hoping that if Angela was sick, she wasn’t too sick to answer the phone. He sighed when a woman’s voice answered, but his relief didn’t last long at all.
We’re sorry, the woman’s voice said. This number is no longer in service.
Chapter 47
‘All right, Tucker?’ Jimmy regarded Carlos with what he hoped was a neutral expression.
‘Very good, thank you, Carlos,’ he replied. The Head of Security looked Jimmy up and down with a critical expression.
Jimmy had been at the hotel for a couple of hours before he was due to actually start work. He’d used his keycard to slip into the main hotel and spent a while hiding in the plant room on the first floor. He’d not been waiting there for long when a white Transit van reversed down the alleyway. It was Max.
Jimmy had kept back from the window as he watched Max unload a bunch of photographic equipment from the van and carry it through the fire doors into the function room in the hotel's basement. Lights, tripods, black storage cases. By the time Max had finished, he was sweating hard, but he hadn’t looked up at Jimmy’s vantage point once. The last thing Max did before he left was loop the thick chain and padlock around the handles, securing the fire doors from the outside. So much for fire regulations, Jimmy had thought.
‘So, what’s the plan, Carlos?’ Jimmy said. ‘Where do you want me?’
‘This way,’ Carlos replied, turning and walking to a set of doors leading off the foyer. He opened the doors and walked through, followed by Jimmy. They were now in a corridor with a set of steps at the end that led down to another door. There was no handle on the outside of the door—just a plain brass plaque with one word on it. Private. ‘You’ll be here,’ Carlos said, pointing at the door. ‘Standing outside, making sure that Mr Hollister and his friends aren’t disturbed.’
Jimmy stared at the door, unsure how anyone could disturb them when there was no door handle. He decided against saying anything.
‘Okay, no problem. What is it, a private party?’
‘Yeah,’ Carlos replied with a sneer. ‘Very private. That’s why you’re on the door.’ He sniffed hard.
‘Sure. When from?’
‘From now.’
Carlos disappeared up the stairs, leaving Jimmy standing alone in the corridor. He looked again at the door, wondering if anyone was on the other side of it. There was no way it could be opened from this side. Jimmy put his hands behind his back in a classic bouncer’s pose and stood with his back to the door, looking up the corridor.
Almost forty minutes later, Jimmy was still in exactly the same position when he heard the door at the top of the corridor open. He rolled his shoulders once or twice, wincing at the aching sensation this caused, and braced up.
Three men were making their way down the steps, closely followed by Carlos. The one in front was the legendary Martin Hollister, looking exactly how he looked in the photographs that Jimmy had seen of him. Assured, confident, rich beyond belief. Behind him were two men Jimmy had never seen before, but as they approached, he wondered if he had seen them on the screen. The context made it difficult to tell for sure, but the way one of them walked seemed familiar. Was this the muscular man with more enthusiasm than size?
Jimmy clenched his fists behind his back as Hollister approached. The hotel owner didn’t even look at him as he approached the door and rapped on it. As he did so, Jimmy caught the faintest glimpse of a signet ring on the little finger of his left hand. Resisting the urge to punch Hollister as hard as he could, Jimmy just watched as the three men walked through the door. Carlos stopped for a second in front of Jimmy.
‘This door’s going to close, and no-one comes in. Got it?’
‘Got it.’
Carlos followed Hollister and his companions into the room, and the door swung shut behind them with a faint click. Jimmy was on his own again. He sighed, wondering how the evening would play out, and got his phone out of his pocket. No signal.
It was at least an hour later when the door re-opened. Carlos stepped through, leaving his hand holding the door open, and Jimmy heard some faint music and laughter from inside the basement room.
‘You okay?’ Jimmy asked him, receiving a sniff followed by a grunt in response. ‘Listen, Carlos. I need a pee really badly. Can I nip upstairs to the foyer?’
Carlos stared at him with an appraising expression.
‘You’ve not even been for a piss, Tucker?’ he asked Jimmy.
‘You told me to stay here on the door.’
‘Good lad.’ Jimmy managed not to frown. He was at least twenty years older than Carlos. ‘Listen, go for your piss and then go to the bar. There’s a girl in there, should be sitting at the bar on her own. Bring her down here and just knock on the door.’
‘What’ll I say to her?’
‘I don’t give a fuck, mate. Tell her Lord Sugar will see her now if you want to.’
‘Who is she?’ Jimmy asked.
‘No idea,’ Carlos replied. ‘But she’s the entertainment, so just fuck off and get her.’
Jimmy made his way along the corridor and up the stairs, thinking hard. He didn’t go to the toilet in the foyer, but hurried into the bar. There, sitting at the bar as Carlos had said, was a girl. She was wearing an expensive-looking black sleeveless dress with matching shoes that contrasted with her flame red hair, making it look even more vibrant. She had her back to the door and was toying with a drink.
‘Hello, Angela,’ Jimmy said as he approached her. She turned, and Jimmy saw a look of absolute horror cross Angela’s heavily made-up face.
‘Mr Tucker,’ Angela said in a whispered gasp. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘You need to leave, Angela,’ Jimmy said with as much urgency as he could manage. ‘Now.’
‘No, you don’t understand, I’m–’
‘I do understand, Angela,’ he replied, cutting her off. ‘I understand very well what’s going on, and before you tell me it’s none of my business, you need to leave.’
Jimmy stared at Angela, whose face was colouring underneath all the makeup she was wearing. Her look of horror was changing into a look of determination in front of Jimmy’s eyes.
‘I’m being paid, Mr Tucker,’ she said thorough gritted teeth. ‘I’m being paid a lot of money to be here this evening, and that’s my choice.’ Jimmy reached out and put his hand on her bare arm. Angela flinched and moved her arm away. ‘Leave me alone!’
Jimmy moved his hand again and circled his fingers around her upper arm. Angela’s skin was smooth under his hand and freezing cold.
‘Leave me alone,’ Angela said again, wriggling to get away from him. He ignored her and tightened his grip on her arm. ‘You’re hurting me, Mr Tucker. Please stop!’
‘Is everything okay?’ a male voice asked. Jimmy turned to see the barman walking toward them.
‘Can you call security?’ Angela asked the barman in a plaintive voice.
‘I am security,’ Jimmy said as he pulled her off the bar stool she was sitting on. ‘You know she’s underage, don’t you mate?’ The barman’s eyebrows went up.
‘I am not,’ Angela said, trying again to free herself from Jimmy’s grip. ‘I’ve got ID. Let me get it, I’ll show you.’
Jimmy ignored her and pulled her sharply from the bar stool. She stumbled slightly in her heels, but soon recovered. He started walking Angela to the door of the bar and into the foyer.
‘Mr Tucker, please,’ she hissed through gritted teeth. Jimmy looked down at her and saw tears forming in the corner of her eyes. ‘Please don’t do this. I really need the money.’
‘I’ll pay you twice what Martin Hollister offered you,’ he said. ‘Not for sex, but for going home.’ Angela’s eyebrows creased as she replied.
‘You can’t… I mean…’ Her voice trailed off. Still holding on to Angela’s arm, Jimmy frog-marched her to the main door of the hotel, ignoring the curious looks of the hotel guests in the foyer. Outside the d
oor were a couple of taxis. Jimmy marched Angela to the one in the front of the queue and, opening the rear door, pushed Angela into it slightly harder than he’d intended. He turned to the driver.
‘Can you take this girl home, mate,’ Jimmy said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.
‘Where to, love?’ The driver turned his head to look at Angela, who had tears streaming down her face. ‘Are you okay back there?’
‘She’s fine,’ Jimmy said, slipping a couple of twenty-pound notes out of his pocket and throwing them on the passenger seat. ‘Just a bit of an argument, that’s all. Can you make sure she gets home, though, and inside her house or wherever she’s living. No detours.’
‘I don’t need that much if she’s in Norwich, mate,’ the driver said, looking at the money on the seat.
‘Just make sure she gets home, yeah?’ Jimmy said, glancing back at Angela. She had her head in her hands, and her bare shoulders were heaving. ‘Safe and sound.’
Jimmy waited until the driver had pulled away from the hotel and out of sight. He turned and walked slowly back through the hotel foyer, turning the lighter over and over in his pocket as did so. He made his way to the door leading to the basement and pushed his way through it, a deep frown on his face. Hopefully, the taxi driver had Angela a long way from the hotel by now. Jimmy thought back to the look that she had given him through the car window just as the taxi had left. She looked sad, vulnerable, and angry all at the same time. Just like Milly had done the last time they’d argued.
He walked up to the door at the end of the corridor, rapped on it a couple of times and took a step back. A few seconds later, it opened a couple of inches and the face of the muscular man peered out. His eyes darted past Jimmy’s shoulder.
‘Where’s the girl?’ the man said. Jimmy didn’t reply, but lifted his foot and kicked the door as hard as he could.
Chapter 48
The edge of the door caught the man standing on the other side of it full in the face, splitting his nose open with a spray of red mist. Jimmy followed up the kick to the door with his shoulder, barging his way past the man and into the room.
Finding Milly Page 30