by Caz Finlay
Grace and Michael nodded. ‘Of course,’ Grace said. ‘But what has any of this got to do with us?’
Leigh took another sip of her wine. ‘The latest victim is a young woman by the name of Nerys Sheehan. Does her name ring a bell at all?’
Grace shook her head and she felt Michael bristle beside her. ‘Should it?’ she asked.
‘Maybe. She worked at Number 69 for a few months last spring.’
‘Number 69?’ Michael asked.
‘Yes,’ Leigh replied.
Grace swallowed. Jake and Connor owned a stake in the place after acquiring it from a local no-mark, Ian the Thrush, after he had screwed them over on a drug deal. She had advised them to get rid of it – it wasn’t the type of establishment that she wanted her family to have anything to do with. But shortly after they had obtained shares in the place, Paul had been murdered and Number 69 had become the least of her worries. She had no idea if the boys still owned a share, but she was sure the fact that Jake and Connor were connected to Number 69 was the reason Leigh was currently sitting in their kitchen with a large glass of red.
‘It’s that knocking shop on the dock road,’ Grace said as she placed a hand on Michael’s thigh. She felt his muscles tense as he too realised the connection.
He glared at Leigh. ‘So what?’ he snarled.
‘Jake and Connor are part-owners of the place. Did you both know that?’ Leigh asked.
‘Of course we do,’ Grace replied coolly. ‘If you’re here trying to make some tenuous link between our sons and the murder of these girls then you had better tread very carefully, Leigh.’
Leigh placed her glass on the counter. ‘I don’t believe for a second that Jake and Connor had anything to do with the murders, but there is no escaping the fact that their names are connected to the place and sooner or later someone will come asking questions about it. We are vigorously pursuing every line of inquiry. Some madman has killed three women in a month and I have every reason to believe he won’t stop with Nerys.’
‘So are you here to warn us that your lot will soon be sniffing around the boys? Or are you pursuing a line of inquiry?’ Grace asked.
Leigh swallowed. ‘To be honest, Grace, I’m here looking for your help.’
Michael took a deep breath while Grace stared at Leigh. ‘My help?’
‘Yes. As I said, we’re pursuing all avenues but all I’m coming up against are dead ends.’
‘I read that the first two victims were at that awful children’s home together. Maybe this Nerys girl was there too?’
‘She was.’
‘Well, there’s your answer then. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?’
‘I agree,’ she replied as she began to rub the bridge of her nose again. ‘But you remember that place was closed down a few years ago? And everyone involved with the scandal is in prison. We’ve tracked down all of the staff and the kids who would have been there at the same time as our victims and all of them are accounted for. A few of them live abroad now and the rest of them have concrete alibis.’
‘Still. That’s no coincidence, Leigh.’
‘Like I said, I agree. But I’ve pursued every line I can via legal channels.’
Michael started to laugh and shake his head before he took a swig of his wine.
‘I still don’t understand why you’re asking me for help.’ Grace said.
‘Because like it or not, Grace, your boys are linked to this case now—’
‘A tenuous link, at best,’ Grace snapped.
‘Still a link though, and I’m sure they don’t want the police looking into any of their business affairs.’
Michael slammed his glass onto the counter. ‘Is that a fucking threat?’ he snarled.
‘Not at all,’ Leigh shook her head. ‘I don’t think I’m explaining myself very well. We have a serial killer running around Liverpool torturing and killing young women. There is now a link to your family. I could do without my colleagues looking into your business affairs and finding out about our history together, but I also believe that you will be able to get information from the girls at Number 69 that they would just never dream of giving to the police. I’m just asking you to ask some questions for me. Do a bit of digging? See if you can come up with something that might lead us down a new avenue of investigation, or a snippet of information that might help us crack this case. Please, Grace?’
‘I’m not sure you understand the terms of our arrangement, Leigh. I – we,’ Grace said as she looked at Michael, ‘don’t assist the police with their investigations. We don’t work for you,’ she added pointedly.
‘I know that. But this is a special case. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. I need to find this lunatic and quickly. He’s going to act again. You told me once that this was your city. Do you really want this bastard running around here under your nose carving up young women?’ Leigh stared at her defiantly.
Grace shook her head. ‘Of course not. But you have no idea what you’re asking of me.’
‘I do. The same as you’ve asked of me. I know this goes against your principles. But these girls are innocent, Grace. You know that. Who else is going to stand for them if women like us don’t?’ Leigh picked up the manila folder and opened it. She spread out the three photographs of the victims. ‘This is Tracy Rose, Ellie Castle and Nerys Sheehan,’ Leigh said softly.
Grace flinched as she looked at the battered and broken bodies of the three women. She heard Michael let out a long slow breath beside her and when she turned to look at him he had closed his eyes. The two of them were no strangers to dead bodies, Michael in particular, but that didn’t make seeing the images of the three women any easier to deal with.
‘What was the cause of death?’ Grace asked.
‘Strangulation. We’re still waiting on the full autopsy results for Nerys, but we’re sure the result will confirm the same for her too. The first two victims also had incredibly high levels of opiates in their system, and I suspect Nerys’s toxicology report will reveal the same of her. All three victims were well known to police and had ongoing drug issues, but the levels in Tracy and Ellie’s systems were indicative of an incredibly large dose shortly before death. Perhaps as a way to keep them quiet and compliant? Some of the injuries you can see on the photographs were inflicted just before time of death, but all three victims had a catalogue of injuries that were up to one to two to weeks old.’
‘What does that mean?’ Michael asked.
‘It means they were systematically beaten, most probably tortured, for one to two weeks prior to their deaths,’ Leigh said sharply. ‘There were ligature wounds on each of the victims’ ankles and wrists, which indicates they were all bound to something, or someone, prior to death too.’ Leigh picked up her wine and took a large gulp.
Grace stared at Leigh and, despite their differences, she couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for her. Grace had read about the previous victims in the newspapers and had seen the reports on the rare occasions she watched the news. She knew that no arrests had been made and from the look of Leigh, the investigation was taking its toll on her. Grace wondered if, given Leigh’s background, she felt any affinity to the dead women. Leigh herself had once told Grace she believed she’d have ended up dead in a ditch somewhere if Nathan had continued stringing her along.
‘I will think about speaking to some of the girls at Number 69,’ Grace said. ‘But I want Connor and Jake’s names kept out of this. You will look into their involvement in Number 69 personally and discover that they handed over their share to Opal Henshaw before Nerys ever even worked there. My solicitor will be able to produce paperwork to that effect should anyone care to see it.’
Leigh smiled. ‘Thank you.’
‘I haven’t done anything to thank me for yet,’ Grace replied.
Leigh downed the last of her glass of wine. ‘Well, thank you for the drink. I needed that. I’ll leave you both to your dinner.’
After Grace had shown Leigh out she walked
back into the kitchen to find Michael dishing up two plates of lamb curry and rice. She sat at the table and he placed the food in front of her before sitting at the chair opposite.
‘Do you think the boys are in any trouble with this?’ he asked.
‘No. I’ll speak to Opal tomorrow. She’ll be over the moon to have the boys’ share in Number 69, especially as they’re going to hand it over for nothing.’
‘She’ll think she’s won the lottery,’ Michael agreed. ‘To be fair though, she deserves it after putting up with that cretin Harry for all these years.’
‘Hmm, you’re right about that.’ Opal Henshaw had been responsible for the smooth running of Number 69 for years and was a part-owner in the business. She was the one who always made sure that the girls were well looked after, but her business partner, Harry, her former pimp and all round dirt-bag, whom she didn’t always see eye to eye with, was more interested in profit than anything else. With Jake and Connor’s stake in the place, Opal would be the majority owner. ‘I’ll speak to Faye tomorrow and make sure she backdates all of the paperwork.’
‘And she’ll definitely be able to sort that?’ he asked.
Grace smiled at him. Her solicitor, Faye Donovan, was a miracle worker. ‘Of course she will – for us.’
They ate in silence for a while before Michael spoke again. ‘Are you really thinking about helping Leigh then?’
Grace swallowed a mouthful and looked at him. ‘I’m honestly not sure yet. What do you think?’
‘It’s your decision. But you need to be careful if you do. If anyone gets a sniff that you’re working with the plod, there’ll be fucking uproar. You’ll lose a lot of credibility with most of our associates.’
‘I know. I’ll be discreet. If I do anything, it will only be to talk to Opal and the girls.’
He smiled before scooping the last mouthful of curry into his mouth.
‘What would you do?’ she asked him.
He put his knife and fork down and rubbed a hand across his beard. ‘I don’t know. It goes against every instinct I have to help DI Moss with her investigation…’
‘But?’
‘But, there is a psychopath running around murdering women in our city and I wouldn’t mind knowing who that was. I’m not saying we need to give any information we find to the police, but I’d still like to find out who the sick fuck is who’s doing this. And it’s true that Opal and the girls are more likely to talk to you than to a bunch of coppers.’
‘I know what you mean. When I speak to Opal, there’s no harm in asking a few girls if they knew Nerys, is there?’
‘Okay. But be careful.’
‘I always am. You know that,’ she replied with a smile.
‘You should take John with you.’
‘John?’ she asked with a laugh. Despite having no reason to, Michael seemed to have an issue with her and John working together so closely. Not that he’d ever voiced such concerns to her, but she could tell by the way his face changed whenever she mentioned John’s name – a momentary scowl flickering over his face. ‘You don’t fancy coming down to Number 69 with me then?’
He started to laugh. ‘No thanks. That wasn’t my kind of place even when I was young, free and single. Besides, Opal terrifies me. I’m pretty sure she wants to have her wicked way with me, you know?’
‘Well, I can’t say I blame her,’ Grace said with a flash of her eyebrows. ‘If you weren’t already my husband, I’d be trying to have my wicked way with you too.’
He stood up and walked around to her side of the table. Pulling her up from her chair, he wrapped his arms around her waist. ‘I seem to remember you doing just that when I was someone else’s husband,’ he said with a grin.
Grace gave him a gentle shove and stared at him open-mouthed, feigning indignation. He had been married to Hannah when the two of them had had a one-night stand which had resulted in their daughter Belle being born. ‘I can’t believe you would even bring that up. Besides, you were the one who was married. I was a free agent. And you pursued me, if I recall?’
‘I most definitely did. I have been chasing after you since the first day I met you, Mrs Carter. But you already know that. I’m just glad you finally came to your senses,’ he said as he pulled her to him and silenced any potential comeback with a long, deep kiss.
‘Do you remember that night?’ Grace asked when they stopped for a breath. ‘I still think about it sometimes.’
‘Of course I do. It was the first time you ever called me Mike.’
She frowned at him. ‘What? I never call you Mike.’
He leaned his head to her ear and whispered. ‘Yes, you do. All the time. When you can’t quite pronounce that second syllable.’ He started to chuckle.
Grace blushed as she realised what he was referring to. She trailed her fingertips across his cheek and whispered. ‘How about we go to bed and you can make me call you Mike then?’
Chapter Six
John Brennan opened the door of his BMW X5 and Grace stepped out onto the side street.
‘You ready for this?’ She grinned at him.
John rolled his eyes. ‘As I’ll ever be, I suppose.’
Grace laughed. ‘Oh relax. Opal is a pussycat really, you know?’
‘If you say so, Boss,’ he replied. ‘But I’d rather take my chances with a bunch of machete-wielding psychopaths than Opal Henshaw.’
Grace placed a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll protect you,’ she said with a wink then she turned and started to walk down the street towards Number 69 with John following closely behind.
They walked until they reached the giant steel door which was the entrance to one of the oldest and most renowned knocking shops in Merseyside. Using his fist, John knocked twice on the door and waited for ten seconds before knocking once more – the agreed code for punters. A minute later the large door creaked open and a short woman with horn-rimmed glasses peered out.
‘I’m here to see Opal,’ Grace said with a smile. ‘She’s expecting me.’
‘Grace?’ the woman asked.
Grace nodded and the door was opened wider so she and John could step inside. They followed the short woman to the office at the back of the building, passing the crudely designed reception area that could provide at least some semblance of a legitimate massage parlour if the police ever raided the place, which they seldom did. The girls who worked at Number 69 were well looked after and the place rarely came to anyone’s attention thanks to Opal’s influence and her two strapping sons who worked behind the front desk. They passed through a corridor with numerous rooms leading off. Grace ignored the groaning and the banging noises coming from behind the doors and turned to John, who gave her a grin.
They were shown into Opal’s office and the short woman closed the door behind them.
‘Grace? John?’ Opal said as she stood from her chair and walked towards them. She pulled each of them into a hug, enveloping them in a cloud of sweet perfume. ‘It’s very nice of you to visit,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Please, make yourselves comfortable.’ She indicated the two plush purple velvet chairs opposite her desk.
Grace and John took a seat and watched as Opal walked back to her side of the desk. She sat down with an exaggerated sigh and smiled at them both as she flicked her purple pashmina over her shoulder. Opal Henshaw had once been a striking woman with jet black hair and olive skin. Years of working on the streets had hardened her and her appearance. She was in her late fifties now and her working days were well behind her, apart from the occasional exclusive client who was willing to pay through the nose for her services.
‘How are things, Opal? I hear business is doing well?’ Grace asked.
‘It gets me and my girls by,’ she replied. ‘How about you?’
‘Business is good. I can’t complain,’ Grace replied with a smile.
‘And how about that handsome husband of yours?’ she asked with a cackle. ‘It’s a shame you didn’t bring him with you. Not that I
don’t appreciate your company, John,’ she said as she licked her lips and batted her eyelashes at him.
John coughed awkwardly and Grace suppressed a laugh. ‘Michael is good, thanks, Opal. He sends his regards.’
‘So,’ Opal asked as she leaned her elbows on the desk. ‘You have some business to discuss, Grace?’
‘Yes. As I mentioned earlier on the phone, the boys want to hand over their share in this place.’
‘Just like that? Ten per cent of this place? And they want nothing in return?’ Opal frowned.
Grace nodded. Opal was a shrewd woman.
‘Why?’
‘They should never have got involved in the place, Opal. I mean no disrespect, but this isn’t our business.’ She looked around the room. ‘It’s not what we know and that makes me uncomfortable. They took Ian’s share as a punishment, and I understand that, but they never should have kept it. So, now it’s time to hand it over.’
‘I get that. But this place makes a decent profit. So why now?’ Opal frowned.
‘Did you hear the reports of a woman found dead near Cookson’s Bridge last night?’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, it was another working girl. Her name was Nerys Sheehan.’
Opal blinked rapidly. ‘God. Really?’
‘Yes,’ Grace whispered. ‘She worked here, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, a while back now. But I remember her. She was a nice kid,’ she said as she shook her head.
‘The police know about her connection to this place, Opal. And I’m sure you’ll understand that I can’t have the police sniffing around my boys again. Not after what happened a few months ago. So, that’s why I’ve persuaded Jake and Connor to sign their share over to you. My solicitor has drawn up some paperwork, making it all above board,’ she said as she pulled a brown envelope from her handbag. ‘I’ve had her backdate it. I hope you understand why?’
Opal nodded and took the envelope from Grace’s outstretched hand. She took the papers out of the envelope and scanned them. ‘This all looks legitimate,’ she said with a raised eyebrow.
