Two Victims

by Helen H. Durrant

  “Well, her presence isn’t doing you any favours. I mean, look at her. She certainly doesn’t do style. You should have taken her shopping first, saved her the embarrassment.”

  Jed McAteer took Leonora Blake’s arm and pulled her, none too gently, into a corner. “Don’t badmouth my friends. You’ve got her all wrong.”

  Leonora jerked her arm free, stared him in the eye, and slapped his face hard. “Don’t you dare put your filthy hands on me again,” she hissed. “Or next time it’ll be Ronan on your case.”

  Jed glanced quickly towards Rachel and her sergeant, but they seemed oblivious to this little spat. They were each holding a glass of something, and were looking out of the huge floor to ceiling windows at the city spread out below. He recalled that Rachel didn’t do heights. It was probably freaking her out.

  He turned to face Leonora Blake. “Be warned, Leo. Your tantrums will come back to haunt you. Ronan’s negotiations are at a critical stage. He has too much riding on this to allow a selfish bitch like you to rock the boat. He might be your husband, but he looks after number one. He always has.”

  “Don’t you fucking threaten me! You are nothing but a grimy little hoodlum who’s made a bit of cash. You know nothing about Ronan’s business, or our relationship. You’ve got it wrong. Ronan would never allow anything to come between us.”

  “Get out of my sight, Leo, before I wipe that stupid, self-righteous look off your face.”

  She swept off to find her husband. No doubt she’d give him an inflated version of events. Ronan would get annoyed, and that wouldn’t help anyone. What Jed didn’t want was Rachel getting wind of any of this. She was right, both his reputation and that of the building were on the line. If potential buyers heard about the raid, if they even got a whiff of the trafficking allegation, he wouldn’t be able to sell another unit.

  * * *

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The woman stood behind Rachel and Elwyn. They turned to look at her, and she pointed to Jed. “He has a rare talent, that man. He puts up the most brilliant buildings. This one’s done wonders for the area. Property prices have rocketed.”

  She wore her long dark hair swept off her face and fastened at the back with a diamond comb. She had delicate features and a perfect figure. Rachel reckoned she must be in her late forties.

  “Leonora Blake,” she said. “My husband, Ronan, and I have the floor below this.” She smiled. “I fell in love with the place at first glance. Ronan is so indulgent — he bought the apartment for me at once. It makes a great place to stay when we’re in the city on business.”

  This Leonora woman was doing her best to tone down her northern accent but Rachel wasn’t fooled. If she had to make a guess, she’d say she originated from somewhere north of Bolton.

  “You’re very fortunate,” Rachel said.

  “Not really. We work damn hard and reap the rewards.” Leonora looked back towards the bar. “Have you met my husband Ronan?”

  This piqued Rachel’s interest. The name had come up in the incident room. Ronan Blake had been down as owning Lion Industries. “No, but I’d like to,” she said.

  Leonora laughed. “Women are like flies round a honeypot where Ronan is concerned. You’re Jed’s friends. I saw you with him earlier. How do you know him?”

  Straight to the point. Rachel finished her wine. Dutch courage “Oh, our paths have crossed,” she said.

  “You’re police, aren’t you? I have an instinct for these things.” Leonora smiled. “We’re about to do some business with Jed, so I’d love to hear more. We wouldn’t want to get involved with him if there was anything about him that wasn’t above board.”

  Charming and as smooth as silk, but she was fishing. “We’re currently investigating an incident on some land he owns,” Rachel said. “The incident is historical and has nothing to do with Mr McAteer.” Well, that was true, wasn’t it? Hopefully it was enough to get Leonora Blake off her back.

  “I see. He invited you tonight?” Rachel nodded. Leonora smiled. “He’s very proud of this place. But make no mistake, he is a businessman. What he’s really after isn’t praise, it’s customers.”

  Rachel laughed. “Then it’s no use looking at us. Not on police wages. But I’m sure the apartments will be snapped up in no time.”

  “You’d think so, but sales are slow, I believe.”

  “Leo!” a man called out.

  She turned to look. “Ah, Ronan. Come and meet these nice people. They are both police officers.”

  “Better watch my step.” He gave an artificial laugh. “Wouldn’t want carting off. Spoil the evening.”

  “Is there a reason we would do that?” Rachel shot back.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Law-abiding citizen, that’s me.” Ronan smiled but his eyes remained cold.

  “You own a number of clubs, I’m told. You were also the landlord of the shops on the site in Beswick that Mr McAteer plans to develop.”

  “What of it? Anyway, that land is now in Jed’s hands.”

  “We found two bodies on that land. One was dumped there before he bought the site.”

  Ronan Blake’s smile dropped. He regarded the two detectives through narrowed eyes. “Are you accusing me of something? Because, if you are, perhaps I should have my solicitor present.” Blake wasn’t joking. His tone was serious and his expression was dark, thunderous.

  “I shouldn’t worry — unless you’ve got something to hide, of course,” Rachel said. “But make no mistake, it is a serious matter. You are down as someone we plan to talk to.”

  “Well, I can tell you now that I know nothing about any bodies. Have you spoken to McAteer?”

  “As I said, it was before his time. Once we have an identity, we’ll talk some more. You never know, the young woman might have been a tenant of yours.” With a brief smile at the couple, Rachel took Elwyn’s arm and walked away towards the window.

  “Got him worried, I think,” she said. “Fun, isn’t it, putting folk’s teeth on edge. What d’you reckon to him? He gives me a bad feeling. There’s more going on than he shows.”

  Elwyn merely said, “You need to go easy on the wine.”

  “Don’t you get an instinct about people? I do. Ronan Blake is up to something. He’s a bad ’un. My gut tells me so.”

  He shook his head. “All your gut’s telling you is to stop guzzling the wine.”

  “Don’t you feel you could just walk out there?” she said, gazing at the view. “Although huge windows this high up really aren’t my thing. Just standing here is making me dizzy.”

  “Do you want to leave?” Elwyn asked.

  “Not yet. I want more of that lovely wine. And didn’t Jed say something about a chef? It would be rude not to at least try the food.” Rachel grinned.

  “What did you say to Ronan?” Jed came up to them, blocking their view. Rachel looked around and saw that the Blakes were about to leave. “Things got too hot for them, I reckon. They certainly don’t like the police. That’s quite common, you know. We get it a lot.”

  “How much of that wine have you drunk?” Jed asked.

  “Not a lot, but then I don’t eat much so it goes straight to my head.”

  “Bloody hell, Rachel,” he said. “I wanted to keep that pair sweet. They’ve got money to invest and I could do with it for my next project.”

  “Oops! Sorry, love, I might have put my foot in it.”

  Jed shook his head. “Give it a rest, Rachel.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “I don’t understand you!” Bobby Farrell waved a pair of tickets in his son’s face. “The best gig in town, the sportsman dinner, and instead you decide to risk life and limb out on the streets, feeding the homeless.” He tossed the tickets onto a table. “And there will be trouble, bound to be, police or not. I don’t think you realise how rough it is out there.”

  Jonny shook his head. “It’s work, Dad. I agreed to help because it might get us the break we need. It’s called initiative, and finding our missing gir
l won’t do me any harm.”

  “Attending the dinner is a great opportunity to meet people who can help you in the future. Surely you don’t want to stay a copper all your life? I want you in the business with me, so you need to learn the ropes. I want you ready and able to take over when I’m gone.” He thrust a portfolio at him. “There it is, everything you need to know about Farrell Sportswear Ltd. I won’t go on forever, you know.”

  Jonny took the folder and flipped through it quickly before something suddenly occurred to him. “You’re not ill, are you?”

  “One night, Jonny. Meet the suppliers, our main customers. A few drinks, that’s all. It’s not much to ask.”

  He hadn’t answered the question. Jonny looked at his father. Wasn’t he thinner in the face than usual? And pale too. Why hadn’t he noticed before? “You are, aren’t you, Dad? There’s something up.”

  “No, I’m fine,” his father said. “I’m working too hard, that’s all. Which is precisely why I need you at my side.”

  Unconvinced, Jonny decided to take this at face value. “Some other time, Dad, I promise. But not tonight.”

  “I hope your bunch of no-hopers and that job of yours are worth it, son, that’s all I can say.”

  Jonny was used to his father bellyaching about the job. It was always the same old story. Bobby Farrell wanted his son tied to the business. But it wasn’t what Jonny wanted. From as far back as he could remember, he’d set his heart on becoming a detective. He’d let nothing get in the way so far, and this was no time to start. Perhaps if he didn’t get the promotion he wanted within the next couple of years, he’d think again.

  * * *

  “I wondered if you were serious,” Mavis Smithson said, smiling. “Here, put this on.” She handed him a hi-vis weatherproof coat. “I’ll put you with Terry. He’s an old hand and knows the ropes, but better than that, he knows the people we deal with and they trust him.”

  Jonny nodded at the elderly man, who was short and slightly stooped. He held out his hand. “Jonny Farrell.” The man gripped it briefly and gave him a half smile.

  “You can pull t’trolley, lad, give my arms a rest. By t’time we’re finished, we’ll have walked a fair way.” He pointed towards a sizeable trolley with a long handle. It was laden with all sorts — food, cartons of drink and a selection of plastic bags.

  “What’ve we got?”

  “Sandwiches and soup mostly. There’s tea and coffee, but we need the hot water for that. Bert does the hot water run once we’re set up. Any of them look cold, give ’em one of them bags. They have a hat, gloves and foil blanket. It might be spring but it’s chilly on them streets. We have a base just off Piccadilly and another down Deansgate. We’ll spend an hour in Piccadilly Gardens and then make our way down Market Street. Better get van sorted. Cop hold of them coats over there. One or two of our regulars could do with sprucing up.”

  From the base in Beswick, Terry drove the short distance to Oldham Road off Piccadilly. They unloaded and made their way across the tramlines to the gardens.

  “’Ere will do.” Terry stopped and they parked the trolley against the wall. “Hot water’ll be along in a bit. Anyone wants tea, tell ’em to hang on.”

  It didn’t take long before a queue formed and they were dishing out the food and soup.

  “Got any fags tonight, Terry?” someone called out.

  Terry put his hand in his coat pocket and tossed him a pack. “That’s Wolf,” he told Jonny. “I know him. He’s had some rotten luck, so standing him a couple of smokes does no harm.”

  Jonny looked over at ‘Wolf.’ It was clear where he’d got the nickname from. He did look wild, with that long straggly hair hanging around his neck and the full beard.

  “He gets about. Knows most of the rough sleepers. Ask him about the lass you’re looking for,” Terry suggested.

  Wolf was leaning against the wall, drinking soup. Jonny went up to him and held out a pack of sandwiches. “Cheese and pickle. They’re not bad.”

  “Not seen you before. What yer after?”

  “I’m a volunteer, first night out, so Mavis put me with Terry.”

  “Bloody do-gooder then.” Wolf turned away dismissively.

  “Actually, I’m looking for someone,” Jonny called after him. “Terry reckons you might know her.”

  “Who yer after?”

  “Our Ruby. You can’t miss her, she’s got bright pink hair.” Jonny watched Wolf’s face as he weighed this up.

  “What’s she to you?” he finally said

  “She’s family,” Jonny lied.

  “What’s it worth?”

  Jonny wasn’t sure about giving out money. He knew there was a high level of drug abuse among the homeless. The last thing he wanted was this bloke knocking himself out on spice.

  “We’ve got some coats hanging up over there. You look as if you could do with something warmer, mate.”

  Wolf didn’t look impressed. “A tenner and I’ll speak to you.”

  So much for fobbing him off with a coat. Jonny looked at Terry, who was busy with a group of younger lads. It was taking a risk. Jonny had no way of knowing what Wolf would do with the money, but he needed to find Ruby. Reluctantly, he stuck his hand in his pocket and slipped the money into Wolf’s hand.

  “By the river off Deansgate, near that new hotel. A club called Leo’s. A few weeks ago, she was working there.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you telling me.” It might be something, then again it might not. Ruby could have moved on since Wolf saw her. But it was all he had. It was still too early for the club scene. Jonny would give it an hour then take off.

  “They’ll be round to fill us up soon,” Terry said. “And then we’ll make a move.”

  “What time d’you finish?” Jonny asked.

  “Had enough already then?”

  Jonny rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. “No, but I’ve got a lead on that girl, and I want to follow it up. I’ll stay here a bit longer and then get off.”

  “Whatever suits, lad. Appreciated the help. We’re always short-handed mid-week.”

  “D’you get much trouble?” Jonny asked.

  “That’ll come later. It’s always them wandering round the pubs, having their night out. Come closing time, with all that booze inside them, they’re less inhibited about what they say. See this lot and fling abuse at them and it gets their hackles up.”

  Jonny handed Terry his card. “Any bother, ring my station. They’ll give you a hand.”

  “It’s okay, lad. The local bobbies keep an eye.”

  Jonny spent the next hour or so dishing out food and tea. He was amazed at the numbers. They were good natured enough, and grateful for the help. But time was rolling by. It was nearly midnight. Jonny was keen to look at that club Wolf had told him about.

  “I’ll be off, Terry. Useful night, thanks.”

  “See you again,” he called to Jonny’s retreating figure

  * * *

  Jonny walked all the way down Market Street and turned into Deansgate. The night was busy, with people milling in and out of the bars and eateries. He walked as far as the John Rylands library and then took a right turn past the Magistrates Court. From there he made his way across Hardman Square, through Spinningfields and into New Quay Street. Spinningfields was heaving. Home to Manchester’s top restaurants, it was one of his father’s favoured stomping grounds.

  He knew the hotel Wolf had mentioned. It was about five minutes’ walk away. Once there, he’d have to find the club. Time to ensure back-up, should he need it. Jonny was no hero. He’d send a quick text to Amy, telling her where he was going and giving her the rough location of Leo’s. After all, he had no idea what he was walking into.

  Finding the hotel wasn’t a problem. Various old buildings in that area were being refurbished, and the hotel was one of these, sitting amidst an assortment of flats and shops. The club was another matter. He eventually found Leo’s tucked around the back of an old factory and off
a narrow, dark cobbled alleyway. Easily missed if you didn’t know it was here. There were a couple of blokes leaning against the wall outside, smoking, and a burly bouncer at the door.

  “Night, mate.” Jonny nodded. But the man didn’t move. He stood, hands clasped in front of him, blocking the way in.

  “What do you want?”

  His accent was foreign. Jonny was no expert but he reckoned Eastern European. “A drink. A friend of mine comes here, we’re supposed to meet up.”

  “This friend — he has a name?”

  “Adam,” Jonny lied. “We were supposed to meet at about eleven. Hope he hasn’t got fed up and left.” He grinned.

  “Move on. There’s nothing for you here.”

  “That’s not very friendly,” Jonny said. “Don’t you want the business? Perhaps I’d better have a word with your boss.”

  Before Jonny could do or say anything further, he was grabbed from behind and manhandled into the building.

  “He’s police!” Another Eastern European accent. This one had been rifling through Jonny’s pockets and had found his warrant card and mobile.

  Jonny’s arms were yanked behind him and his wrists tied together with a length of cable. He was then frog-marched along a corridor and thrown unceremoniously into a dark room, where he slid along the wooden floor before crashing against the far wall.

  “Stupid copper. Your kind never learn.”

  “Look, I can explain. This isn’t what you think,” Jonny said.

  “What I think is that you’ve made a big mistake coming here. And you will pay a high price.”

  Jonny could just make out the man’s shape in the gloom. He was huge, and practically bald. Jonny was trying to fix every detail in his mind when something hard struck the back of his head and he lost consciousness.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Day Five

  Rachel woke the following morning to the shriek of a kettle. She groaned and rubbed her head. What was Megan thinking of, making all that noise?

  “Cut out the howling,” she yelled, struggling to raise herself onto her elbows.