'Yes. Does that worry you?'
'Bergin? Nah. If he comes near me I'll be surprised.'
'Any idea where he might be?'
'Not that I can think of. Have you tried Runcorn docks? There was a Russian boat in there last week.'
'Someone made an enquiry there this morning. They say they haven't seen anyone fitting his description.'
'His looks may have altered.'
'In eight hours?'
'You never know.'
'Hmm. Well if you happen to see him, you will let me know, won't you?'
'Of course.'
'Same goes for Dave Charnley. Apparently he's not been seen since last night either.'
'Really? I did hear he was talking about heading off to Thailand.'
During the silence that followed, I tried to imagine what sort of expression Carver was wearing.
'Take care of yourself, Danny.'
'And you.'
About to ring off he added. 'By the way, we may see you again tonight. There's still the other problem to sort out yet.'
A shadow fell. I'd all but forgotten. 'Of course.'
After, I stood staring out the window onto the car park for a while, thinking about what Carver might be thinking. I was still there when a voice said, 'Hello stranger.'
I turned. A tall black girl smiled back at me. 'Donna,' I said. 'Long-time no-see. How are you?'
'Great. How are you?'
'Not bad, what're you up to?'
Donna Parkiss is what some would call, a looker. A keen athlete - distance runner and javelin - she is, in every sense of the word, fit. Once a regular at Midnight's and maybe the best podium dancer we've ever had - before Vicki that is - I hadn't seen her for months. She was sweating buckets and had obviously just come off one of the treadmills.
'You look like you might need to replace some liquid,' I said.
'I do.'
'Me too,' I said. 'Come on.'
We retrieved our formulas and went out to the small courtyard at the back where Sammy has put out some tables. The sun was out, but it wasn't particularly warm, which is okay when you're working out. As we supped at the spouts on our flasks, we caught up. It turned out that the reason I hadn't seen Donna for a while was, she'd taken some sort of Medical-Sales Rep job near Cambridge and only got back to visit family once every few months. And though her membership had lapsed, Sammy had told her she was free to use the gym, anytime. He isn't daft, our Sammy.
'How are things at the club? You still running things?
I thought she didn't need to know about anything that had happened since we last saw each other. 'Yep. Same-old, same-old.'
'And the team? They all still okay?'
I knew she meant Winston. Donna was Abi's predecessor, long ago. I told her the team was fine. The way she hesitated, I guessed what was coming next.
'I heard about Agnes. And the others. Isn't it awful?'
I nodded. 'Very sad. And yes, it's bloody terrible.'
We spoke a bit about the murders. She asked if the police had any ideas and I told her I wasn't aware of any. After our nice conversation, it was bit of a downer.
She finished with, 'I hope they catch the bastard soon,'
'That's what we're all hoping.'
She stood up. 'I've got another five thousand metres to do, so I'd better be getting back to it.' She bent to pick up her flask and towel off the chair next to me. While she was there, she gave me a peck on the cheek. 'Nice to see you again, Gladiator.'
I smiled. 'And you, Princess Marigold.' Private joke.
As she was about to disappear back inside, I turned in my chair. 'As you're around, why don't you and whoever come to the club tonight? I'll sort some admissions if you like, for old times' sake.'
She looked back at me, hesitating. 'I, er-'
There was something there, but I wasn't sure what. I wondered if she'd maybe thought I was trying to hit on her, and I worried in case I'd embarrassed her. I thought to try and retrieve it.
'Don't worry if you can't. Just thought I'd offer, that's all.'
'No, it's good of you to offer. It's just that- I, We, er-' She seemed to make a decision. 'To be honest, Danny. I am out tonight. But I'll be doing Stacy's.'
I started. 'Oh.' In fact I was stunned. I'd always thought of Donna as Midnight's through and through. Stacy's is hardly the same.
She must have read my reaction, as she turned round and slid back to the table, as if she thought she ought to explain. She didn't have to, but I understood.
'Its just that- Well, its just that Hayley and me, and some of the others. We don't do Midnight's any more. It's just- It was-' The way she was skirting round it, my thoughts were heading towards a problem with Winston. I asked her outright if it was.
'Oh God, no. Me and Winston, we're fine.'
'So what then?' More hesitation. 'Come on, you can confide in Uncle Danny. I won't tell anyone.'
She sat down again, looked around, not that anyone was there to listen.
'I began having a bit of a problem. It put me off. Eventually I'd had enough and stopped coming.'
I was intrigued. 'What sort of problem. You mean with someone, or what?'
She thought about it. Made another decision. 'Oh, Hell. If you must know, it was Mickey.'
'Which Mickey?' I could think of several.
'You know, DJ Mickey.'
She'd caught me again. 'You mean, Micky Midnight?'
'Mickey Creep-Me-Out more like.'
'Why do you say that? What happened?'
'It was silly really. And it was probably as much my fault as his.'
'I leaned forward and rested my hand, lightly and only briefly, on hers.
'Tell me what happened.'
She told me it all went back to when she was dancing the podium regularly. She described how she'd sometimes look up and she would see Mickey looking down at her, 'strangely.'
'Strange like how?' I asked.
'Like-' The embarrassment again. 'Like he was doing something... naughty.'
I almost smiled. Donna comes from a good background. 'A well-brought-up young lady,' is how my Mum would have described her .
'Naughty..?'
'You know, playing with himself.'
Supping on my spout, I almost choked. 'WHAT? Up there? In the club?' She nodded. 'That's not all.'
She described how, one Saturday night, she was making her way home - her family live on Callands - when she thought someone might be following her. She slowed down to check and saw someone dive behind a wall. She went round a corner, then ran and hid behind a car up someone's driveway. A few minutes later the man she thought she'd seen came past. 'It was Mickey.'
'Are you sure?'
'Defo.'
She waited until she was satisfied he was gone, then went home and thought no more about it. It had always been obvious to her that Mickey fancied the pants off her. So did lots of men. She just put it down to Mickey being, 'maybe a bit creepier than most.'
'What happened after that?'
'A couple of weeks later, I was walking home again, in the same area, when I heard this music coming up behind me. A car came past with its windows down, then stopped and reversed back. It was Mickey. He made out it was a coincidence, that he was on his way to some party in the area, and asked if I wanted a lift.'
'And you said?'
'Well, I knew it was no coincidence. He'd bloody-well set up to just, 'happen' to bump into me. I told him thanks, but no thanks. Mickey's charms never did work on me. Unlike some of the girls.'
I sat back, beginning to work on it. 'So that's when you stopped coming to Midnight’s?'
'Oh no. I kept coming. For quite a while after, I think. But over time, I began to notice that every time I was around the dance floor, if I happened to look at Mickey, I would catch him watching me.'
'Playing with himself again?'
'No, different to that. It was like he was-'
'What?'
'I can't really say. He used to
have this weird look on his face. You know, like a stalker-type look?'
I didn't know what a stalker-type look looks like, but I could imagine something close. Donna continued.
'It was really creepy. In fact, it got to the point where he was freaking me out and I became quite scared. That's when Hayley and I stopped going to Midnight’s and started doing Stacy's instead.'
'Did Hayley-'
'Hayley used to go to school with Mickey. She said he'd always creeped her out back then as well and was happy to try somewhere else. So now, we just do Stacy's, and sometimes one of the other clubs.'
'Have you seen Mickey since?'
She shook her head. 'It wasn't long after that I got the job in Cambridge, so the problem solved itself I suppose.' She leaned back in her chair. 'That's why I'm not really that bothered about coming back to Midnight’s. Not while Mickey's there at least.'
I nodded. 'I'm not surprised. It can't have been very nice.'
'It wasn't.'
She stood up again. 'I hope you didn't mind me telling you all this. I feel like I'm being, like, disloyal.'
I stood with her. 'Don't be daft. And of course I don't mind. I'm glad you did.'
'You won't tell anyone else will you? I don't want to cause any embarrassment.'
'Like I said. Don't worry.'
'Thanks Danny. Say 'hello' to Winston for me.' She gave me another peck.
'I will.'
She disappeared back inside.
I sank back down into my chair, thinking about her story, while supping from my flask. Mickey? 'Good-old', Mickey? I'd always known he liked to put himself about a bit, and over the time I'd been coming to Midnight's I'd heard how he sometimes doesn't always take 'no' for an answer. But a stalker-type? Mickey? Or even worse..? I thought about it some more. If I'd ever imagined Mickey having a problem with women, I'd have put him in the 'nuisance' category, not someone who was any sort of danger to women. But then, what did I know? Mickey was tallish, but by no means heavily built. I'd always imagined him as a bit a wimp, actually. But that could be down to my prejudice about guys who prance about like loons while wearing stupid outfits. I'd come across plenty of guys whose slight build belied both strength, and a taste for violence. But Mickey...?
Mickey had worked at the club since long before the murders ever started. I thought about the girls who had fallen victim to the killer. Only one other, apart from Agnes, had come from Midnight's, and they'd both been taken on a Saturday, when Mickey would have been there. But I seemed to recall that some of the others had died on other nights. Tuesday and Thursday came to mind. Then I remembered, and sat up straight. Occasionally, Mickey would do a 'guest DJ' spot at another club. All the established DJs do it. Something to do with showing they're 'in demand.' But never on a Saturday, which is always 'Home-Club' night.
I stood up.
I'd never heard Vicki say anything bad about Micky. But then it was only the past week or so she'd begun to spend time around the dance floor and podiums. As far as I could tell they'd been getting on fairly well. Hell, she'd even mentioned about him giving her some of his time to rehearse some routines. I froze. Something she'd mentioned the night before, in the Green Room, had suddenly popped into my head. Something about planning something 'special'. for tonight. What was it she'd said? I'm working on it..? You'll have to look after yourself tomorrow...?
A prickly feeling started at the back of my neck. I remembered her note. 'Back about three...' It was then I realised. Right now I didn't know where she was. Or what she was doing. My heart started thumping. I thought about something Donna had said. I looked for her through the window. She was pounding away on the treadmill. I went back inside. I must have been showing something in my face as she saw me approaching, fast, as she pulled her ear buds out, ready. But the treadmill was whining loudly, her shoes thumping on the rubber.
'THE MUSIC,' I shouted.
'WHAT?'
'THE MUSIC.'
'WAIT.'
She put her thumb on the 'minus' button. The machine slowed, her footfalls became less noisy. 'Say again?'
'The music.'
'What music?'
'You said you heard music coming up behind you, the night Mickey pulled up in his car.'
'Oh, yeah, that. What about it?'
'What was it?'
She looked at me, blankly. 'I've no idea. It was months ago.'
'Try.'
She thought again, shook her head. 'I'm sorry, I can't remember. Why do you want to know anyway?'
I shook my head. 'Nothing. It was just-' I turned away, looking for my phone. It was with my bag, over by the weights. I ran over, grabbed it, then hit Vicki’s speed-dial. It rang for the usual few seconds, then dropped into voicemail. 'It's me,’ I said. ‘If you pick this up, ring me. Right away.' I cut off.
Shit.
'Danny?'
I turned. Donna was waving at me. 'It just came to me. The music. It was the Adagio. For Strings. He always used to play it. If you ask me, I think he's got a thing about it.'
It was then I remembered what I'd been trying all week to think of, off and on, ever since Carver first mentioned it. It was Mickey, the morning after Agnes disappeared, telling me how he'd always loved watching her dancing… to the Adagio.
That was the moment I went into full-on panic mode.
CHAPTER 60
I don't ever remember leaving Sammy's. I do recall the frustration I experienced trying to battle my way back into town through the Saturday-shopper traffic along Wilderspool Causeway while trying to get hold of people. It wasn't just Vicki not answering. I couldn't raise Carver, or Eric either. I'd also tried my font of all knowledge, Greta, but struck out there as well. I imagined her in the middle of some noisy shop somewhere, oblivious that her phone was ringing. There were moments when, if I'd got my hands on whoever invented voicemail, I'd have strangled ‘em.
Nor can I remember what my plan was. I don't think I had one. My only thought was that if I got back into town, I might see or meet someone, or be jogged into thinking of something, that might help me find her.
It was after ringing her phone six times on the trot, getting voicemail and ringing again immediately, like some obsessive nutcase, that I realised I was close to losing it. I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the engine. I took a long, deep breath, closed my eyes and said out loud, 'Calm down and THINK, you stupid bastard.'
I did. Nothing came.
'FUCK.'
I thought that maybe I could logic it out. My fear was that she was somewhere with Mickey, rehearsing, and that he might be the killer. I couldn't know for sure of course, but with what I'd heard from Donna and what I already knew, I wasn't about to be giving him the benefit of any doubts. So, where would they go to rehearse? It was early Saturday afternoon, so the club wouldn't be open and Mickey wouldn't have keys or the alarm codes anyway so they couldn't be there. They could be at Mickey's, but I didn't know where he lived - which was why I'd tried Greta. I seemed to recall someone once mentioning that they thought he lived on a boat somewhere. It made me think of the canal, which in turn made me think about the fact that at least two, or was it three? of the bodies had been found somewhere close to canals.
'Oh, Christ.'
But then I thought, even if he did live on the canal, a narrow-boat isn't the sort of place you can rehearse podium dancing, so they wouldn't be there anyway. Which left a room somewhere big enough to dance in and where you could play music. My heart sank as I realised. They could be anywhere. The thought of waiting around until three o'clock to see if she arrived home safe, terrified me. She might need me, NOW.
My phone rang. It was Eric. 'Sorry I missed your call,' he began. 'I'm just at B&Q loading up-'
'I'm trying to find Vicki, have you any idea where she is? Did she say anything last night?'
'WHOA,' Eric said. 'Slow down. What's the emergency?'
I took a breath. 'I think she may be with Mickey the DJ and he may be the guy who’s killing t
he girls. They're supposed to be rehearsing somewhere and I need to know where.' There was the briefest hesitation at the other end and I knew why. 'Before you say anything, this isn't like it was with Elvis.'
'Go on.'
'He stalked Donna Parkiss a few months back. Scared her enough to stop her coming to the club.'
'Mickey the DJ?' I could hear the disbelief.
'ERIC,' I shouted. 'I've no time to talk about it. Do you know where they might be?'
Silence, then, 'Have you tried the club?'
'They won't be there. It's closed and anyway they've no-'
'I gave her some keys.'
'What?'
'Last night. She asked me if I'd lend her the spare set of keys and give her the alarm code. Something about needing to get in today to prepare some sort of surprise. I thought she was talking about one of the girls' birthdays or something.'
'When was this?'
'Last night. Just before she left.'
'Shit. Gotta go Eric.'
'Danny I need to tell-'
But I'd already cut him off. I started the engine and put my foot down. I was less than a mile from the club, but traffic was a nightmare. It always is through Bridge Foot on a Saturday. As I got to the main traffic lights before the bridge - they were on red - I could see the club across the river. My heart was racing faster than ever. There was a line of traffic in front of me. 'Fuck this,' I said, and went for it.
Weaving out of line, I swung up onto the central reservation, then skipped in and out through the gaps until I reached the front of the queue. I paid no attention to the horns and shouted obscenities coming from behind. The lights were still on red, a bus coming in from my right. I floored the accelerator, shot forward. I didn't look to see the expression on the bus driver's face, but had no trouble imagining it. There was a long, loud blast behind but by then I was already heading over the bridge. The left turn off the bridge into Arpley Road is where the traffic slows the worst. The club is only two hundred metres up on the left, where the road snakes right, then left again. I wasn't going to waste any more time. I pulled over onto the narrow pavement lining the bridge, got out, and ran.
The steel shutters over the front doors were down and locked. Normally, if someone is inside they would leave them up, but they can be locked from the inside. I keep a set of keys but they were back at Vicki's. For security reasons, I don't take them out unless I'm planning on calling in. I banged on the shutters, hard, several times. No one came. I put my ear to the metal but heard nothing, which didn't mean anything because if the doors behind were closed, it would stop noise getting through anyway. I banged on the shutters one last time, more a blow of frustration than anything, then legged it round the back.
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