Bad Blood Rising

by Eva Carmichael

  The two men shook hands.

  “No, it’s nothing like that, Mr Maddox,” he said politely, sitting on the chair across from the desk. “This is just a courtesy call to make sure you are aware of the rules. Running a club like yours can be a tricky business. There are lots of pitfalls, if you know what I mean?”

  “Nothing that can’t be sorted out, I’m sure,” Karl replied, “and please, call me Karl.”

  “I’m David,” he grinned, lighting a cigarette. “When are you planning to open?”

  “We should be ready in about three weeks.”

  “I’ve had a quick look downstairs. It looks pretty impressive. I understand you’re having a private members’ lounge up here. That sounds interesting.”

  Karl reached for one of his cigars. “Perhaps you’d like to come to the opening night as my guest, David?”

  “Perhaps I might.”

  “Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee? Or perhaps something a little stronger?”

  “A coffee would be nice, black, no sugar.”

  Karl nodded to Joe and he left the room.

  Karl put his cigar in the ashtray and leaned forward. “Now, David,” he said, his tone suddenly menacing, “suppose we stop fucking about and you tell me the real reason you’re here?”

  “My! What a suspicious nature you have,” David grinned.

  Karl glared at the policeman and for a few seconds there was silence.

  It was David who spoke first.

  “Yes, you’re quite right. I do have an ulterior motive for being here.”

  “Well, suppose we stop wasting each other’s time and you tell me what it is?”

  “All in good time. You and I could be a great help to each other, Karl, in all sorts of ways.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. How can you help me?”

  “Luckily for you it was me who was working last night when that young tart came in to report the rape. It wasn’t easy covering it up, you know. Victor’s done it before.”

  “Victor’s raped a woman before? When?”

  “Two years ago he half killed a young woman working in Canal Street. Danny begged for my help to cover it up and I did. Victor’s a very dangerous man where young girls are concerned.”

  “Thanks for that,” Karl muttered, somewhat begrudgingly. “But don’t you worry about Victor. From now on I’ll make sure he doesn’t get near any more young girls. But tell me, David, what’s in it for you?”

  “I’m a police officer,” David said, a broad grin across his face. “A very ambitious, well-connected police officer, but not a very honest one, I’m afraid.” He took out another cigarette and lit it before continuing. “You run a vulnerable business, Karl. You could benefit from having someone like me looking out for you.”

  “Go on, I’m listening.”

  “I have access to information, information that could keep your business out of trouble in the future.” David drew heavily on the cigarette causing a plume of smoke to rise into the air. “I don’t mean just this club. I mean the whorehouses you run and the girls up on Cedar Road that work for you. I could be very useful to you, very useful indeed.”

  “And what is all this information going to cost me?”

  “Well, there will be a cost of course, but don’t worry, I’m not a greedy man. No, what I really want is a sort of payment in kind.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, payment in kind?”

  “Karl, I’ll be honest with you. I have a weakness for working girls. All types of working girls.”

  “Well if it’s sex you want, I suggest you visit one of the brothels, they’re full of girls. Or you could go down Cedar Road, that’s teaming with ’em too.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I have to be discreet, after all I have a position to maintain. I can’t be seen picking up some slapper off the street, although I have to admit that’s the type that turns me on the most.” He laughed. “No, what I want is for you to send me a girl every now and then to my flat, a little hideaway I have in town. I’ll tell you which girl and when, and of course, it goes without saying that there’ll be no charge.”

  “Are you crazy?” Karl snapped, rising from his chair. “You want free shags whenever the mood takes you?”

  “Well, that’s a crude way of putting it, but yes. That is what I want. And I want the utmost discretion of course.”

  “And what do I get out of the deal? I presume you do have something to offer?”

  “Of course,” David smiled. “Like I said before, you get information.”

  Karl walked over to the cabinet and poured himself a whisky. “What sort of information are you offering exactly?”

  “Well, for starters, this weekend there’s going to be a series of police raids on sex workers on the streets, including Cedar Road. You need to get your best girls off the street for a couple of days.”

  “If there’s going to be a raid, I need to get all of them off the street.”

  “No, don’t be bloody stupid. The police will have to pick up some girls, or they’ll smell a rat. Just put the scrubbers out that don’t earn as much. Put your best girls in the houses, or give them a couple of nights off.”

  Karl glared at David suspiciously. “If you’re fucking with me…”

  “Don’t be a prat, just do as I say. I’ll be back in touch in a couple of days. We’ll talk more then.” David got up to leave just as Joe entered the room with a mug of coffee.

  “Thanks, but I have to go,” David said, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. “I’ll see you soon, Karl.”

  “What did he want?” Joe asked once David had left the room.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Karl said thoughtfully, “but we have some sorting out to do for this weekend.” He quickly outlined to Joe what David had said.

  “Leave it with me. I’ll make sure the quality girls lay low.”

  “Just make sure you don’t stand all the girls down, the police mustn’t be made suspicious.”

  “You trust this bloke then?”

  “I’m not sure yet. If he’s genuine, he could be very useful.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  The expression on Karl‘s face hardened. “If he’s not, he’s going to regret fucking with me.”

  Joe shrugged. “Well, I’d best get on. When you’re ready, come and have a look downstairs. The poles are all up now, it’s looking great.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute.”

  When Joe left the room Karl opened the cupboard door to release Victor. He was sitting on the top step, his head in his hands.

  “Hurry up and get out,” Karl ordered.

  Victor quickly got out of the cupboard and attempted to get to the office door. Karl grabbed his arm, pushing him back against this wall.

  “Not so fast,” he said sternly. “This is your last warning, Victor. You keep your dick in your pants from now on, or next time I swear I’ll cut it off myself. Do you understand?”

  Victor nodded vigorously.

  “Yes, yes, Mr Karl,” he faltered. “I’m very sorry for what I did.”

  “Don’t forget what I’ve said,” Karl glared. “I don’t make idle threats. Now, get downstairs and give Joe a hand, and remember, I’ll be watching you.”

  “Thank you, Mr Karl,” he gulped. “I won’t let you down again.”

  “You’d better not.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was nearly nine o’clock in the evening. Business had been slow at Broughton Street, partly due to the heavy rain that had been falling all day and partly due to the football match on the television that evening. Marion knew from experience that whenever England played Germany it always affected business. The three girls working the late shift had barely made their rent and were sitting on the couch looking miserable.

  “Anyone want a cup of tea?” she asked cheerfully.

  “No thanks,” chorused all three girls.

  “Cheer up, for goodness sake. There’s still another three hours to g
o. The match will be finished soon and you know how blokes love to celebrate.”

  “What if England lose?” asked Rosie, a pretty mixed race girl of nineteen. “They’ll probably go down to the pub and drown their sorrows.”

  “Happy little soul, aren’t you? There’s nothing…” There was a sharp rap on the door. “Ah, what did I tell you? You just have to be patient.” Marion got up from her chair and went to the door.

  “We have three girls working at present,” she said smiling as she led the two middle-aged men into the room. Both men were smartly dressed in suit and ties. “This is Rosie, Hannah and Lucy.”

  “I’ll take Hannah,” said the first man. He was tall and thin with a crop of thick sandy coloured hair. “I love redheads. My mother was a redhead.”

  Hannah gave her sweetest smile and took the man’s hand.

  “Follow me,” she smiled. “My room’s up here.”

  Marion turned to the second man. He was short and chubby with a ruddy complexion and thinning grey hair.

  “I’ll take that one,” he said, pointing to Lucy. “I love tall women.”

  Lucy jumped up from the couch and locked her arm in the man’s. She was almost a foot taller than him.

  “This way,” she grinned. “What’s your name, love?”

  “It’s Edward, Eddie to my friends.”

  Lucy began to climb the stairs, followed closely by Eddie.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a cup of tea?” Marion turned to Rosie when they were left alone. “I’m making one for myself.”

  “I don’t want a bloody cup of tea,” Rosie snapped. “I want to earn some money. I’ve only made fifty quid today. This is ridiculous.”

  “That’s how it goes sometimes,” Marion soothed. “There’s still time. You’re here until twelve.” Rosie picked up a magazine, only to throw it down in frustration after a couple of minutes. Marion went through to the kitchen and filled the kettle.

  “I might as well empty the kitchen bin whilst we’re not busy,” she called out to Rose, as she took out the white plastic bag from its container. “I won’t be a minute.”

  The rain had stopped but the air was still cold and damp as Marion made her way to the far side of the yard. She quickly lifted the lid and put the white plastic bag inside. On returning to the kitchen, the kettle began to boil. After washing her hands, Marion quickly made herself a drink and went back into the lounge to find Rosie standing by the window.

  “I think I’ll call it a night,” Rosie sighed heavily. “It doesn’t look like there’s going to be much business about tonight.” Before Marion could reply, there was a loud commotion from upstairs.

  “What the…” Marion ran into the hallway. Looking up to the landing she saw Eddie shaking a hysterical Lucy by the shoulders.

  “Where’s my wallet, you thieving little whore?” he yelled. “You’ve got five seconds to hand it back or I’ll ring your scrawny little neck.”

  “I don’t have it,” Lucy whimpered. “Please stop. You’re hurting me.”

  “Hurt you? I’ll bloody kill you, you thieving little bitch.” He raised his clenched fist above her head menacingly.

  Marion rushed up the stairs, two at a time.

  “That’s enough,” she yelled, pushing Eddie back against the wall. “Leave her alone, there’s no need for violence.”

  “This bitch has stolen my wallet. I want it back now or I go to the police,” he hissed.

  “Please, Eddie, let’s stay calm,” Marion soothed. “I’m sure we can sort this out without involving the police.”

  “Do you know who I am?” he shrieked, the veins in his thick neck pulsating. “I can close this place down in an instant, and believe me, I will.”

  Marion turned to face the girl, who was slumped against the wall, quaking with fear.

  “Lucy, did you…?”

  “No, I bloody didn’t,” Lucy protested. “I was in the shower with him all the time. I never left him, Marion. Someone must have come into the bedroom and taken the bloody wallet.”

  The second bedroom door opened and Hannah, wearing only a silk dressing gown, came out onto the landing.

  “What the hell’s going on?” she asked.

  Eddie ignored her. “I don’t know who’s taken it but I better get it back pronto or there’ll be trouble.”

  Hannah shot an enquiring glance at Lucy who shrugged her shoulders.

  “It wasn’t me,” she protested. “I never touched it.”

  “Well, it hasn’t grown wings and flown away,” Eddie shouted. “Arthur, Arthur come out here, mate.” The second man, who had been with Hannah, came onto the landing.

  “Is everything alright, Eddie?” he asked, covering his modesty with a blue fluffy towel.

  “No, it bloody well isn’t,” Eddie growled. “My wallet’s missing.”

  “Are you sure you had it with you when you came in?” Marion asked, trying to defuse the situation.

  “Are you saying I’m stupid?” Eddie said angrily, turning to face Marion. “Do you think I go around leaving my wallet wherever? I know I had it when I came into this dive and I’d better have it when I leave or there’ll be trouble.”

  “Have you had a good look round the room? It could have fallen onto the floor and got kicked under the bed, or…”

  “Of course I’ve looked. The wallet’s gone, I tell you.”

  Marion turned to the girls.

  “You two get dressed. Go and sit downstairs with Rosie. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Both Lucy and Hannah went into their rooms and closed the door.

  “Eddie, I’m sorry about what’s happened. I’m sure there’s an explanation. Please, come downstairs and have a drink and I promise I’ll find your wallet.”

  “Fuck this,” Eddie growled. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I’m calling the police.”

  “Eddie, for fuck’s sake, calm down and think,” Arthur pleaded. “If this gets out it could ruin both of us.”

  “What are you suggesting that I let these whores get away with it?”

  “How much cash did you have?”

  “About three hundred, but it’s not just the money, it’s the other stuff. Bank cards, identity cards for work. I can’t let some little whore have access to that.”

  Marion suddenly remembered Rosie. Quickly she descended the stairs and went into the lounge. It was empty.

  “Rosie, Rosie love, where are you?” she called. She went into the kitchen but the girl had gone.

  “Can you give me an hour, Eddie?” Marion pleaded. “I’m sure I can sort this out.”

  “One hour,” Eddie growled. “If I haven’t got my wallet back in one hour, I’m going to the police.”

  Marion went into the lounge and picked up the telephone. After a few seconds it was answered by a familiar voice.

  “Joe, it’s Marion. I’m sorry but we have a problem…”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Erica withdrew the money from her account and handed it back to the bank clerk.

  “Put the money into this account, please,” she instructed, handing the second account details to the woman behind the counter.

  The clerk looked enquiringly at Erica.

  “I can transfer directly from one account to another, dear,” she said in a slightly patronising voice. “It would be much quicker.”

  “No,” Erica insisted. “I want two separate transactions.”

  “Very well,” the clerk said sulkily. “I was just trying to make it quicker for you.”

  “Thank you, but I want you to pay the cash into the second account.”

  When the transaction was completed, Erica left the bank and walked along the High Street, calling at the florist where she purchased a large bunch of white lilies. Hurrying out of the shop, she managed to get onto the bus before it pulled out of its bay.

  “Church Lane, please,” she said to the driver, handing over her fare.

  “Nice flowers,” he smiled. “Going to the cemetery?”


  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “A relative, is it? I have my dad and two brothers buried there.”

  “A friend,” Erica replied.

  “Well, you haven’t picked a very nice day for it. The forecast says to expect more rain.”

  The journey took ten minutes and when Erica got off the bus it was raining heavily. She carefully made her way to the far side of the cemetery to a grave close to the boundary fence. Carefully she laid the flowers down and stood with her head bowed respectfully for a few minutes. The gravestone bore the name Gladys Winterbottom. Gladys had died on the first day of November, aged eighty-seven.

  “Hello dear,” said a cheery voice. “They’re lovely flowers. Mam always did like lilies.”

  Startled, Erica turned to see a chubby, middle-aged woman in a black coat and headscarf standing close behind her. The woman was holding a red and white golfing umbrella advertising Dunlop sports equipment.

  “Come and stand under the brolly, love,” she invited. “You look soaked.”

  Erica smiled weakly at the woman. “Thank you,” she said, “but I was just leaving.”

  “How did you know my mum? She didn’t get many visitors in the home.”

  “She was a friend of my parents.”

  “Were they neighbours?”

  “Yes, a long time ago. Now I really must be going or I’ll miss my bus.”

  “Alright, love,” the woman smiled. “Perhaps next time we can go for a cup of tea?”

  But Erica didn’t hear the invitation. She was already hurrying along the muddy path back to the bus stop.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Karl walked slowly around the ground floor of the club doing his final inspection. He gave a smile of satisfaction. The club was a far cry from the gloomy pool hall it had been just a few weeks previously. Apart from the oak panelling at the far end of the club, all the walls had been painted charcoal with large, ornate mirrors strategically placed. There was a scattering of both green and black leather couches around the room. Six booths were at the far side where girls would give private dances. Five podiums, each with a gleaming silver pole were positioned along the centre of the room and a dozen tables and chairs were placed in front of the panelled wall. A glass and chrome bar ran almost the whole length of one wall and above it, in fluorescent green lighting, were the words ‘Emerald Club’.