by Liz Mistry
Charlotte looked at the other girls. Armani shook her head slightly and Charlotte looked back at Alice. ‘No idea, but I don’t blame her. Do you?’
Thinking back to their earlier interview with Bazza Green, Alice repressed a shudder. ‘No I don’t blame her. He’s a filthy, smelly, little weasel, isn’t he?’
A giggle came from behind Armani as the women nodded. Alice thought she heard someone whisper, ‘Trix had her hat set on better fish than Bazza.’
Keeping her face expressionless, Alice looked at the speaker. ‘What was that?’
But, before she could respond, Alice saw Armani nudge her. The woman blushed and rubbed her arm. ‘Nothing,’ she said looking at the table.
‘Okay,’ said Alice with a sigh. ‘So, you’re telling me you don’t know why she’d feed excuses to Bazza and you don’t know who she was meeting in the allotments?’
Nods from all round the table.
‘Okay then. Were any of you in or near the allotments last night between say eight and nine?’
One by one the women gave their whereabouts the previous evening. Some were off work. Some were working but in other areas and some were at home with their children. Eventually, Armani spoke again. ‘Thursday’s usually a quiet night, Alice, so we don’t all work. All the johns are waiting for payday on Friday, you see?’
‘Did Trixie or anyone you know mention a weird punter? Anyone you felt afraid or nervous of? Anyone who was just a bit odd?’
Two or three girls shook their heads. ‘Nah. We’re old hands at this. You know if there’s owt dodgy. We pick up on it straight away and pass the word round. We look out for each other.’
‘What about any of the girls who aren’t here today, any of them said anything?’
Silence.
Alice sighed and leaned forward. ‘Okay, let’s do it this way. If you want to tell me something that you think might be related to Trixie’s, Camilla’s or Starlight’s deaths, you tell me.’
She sat back and waited. John kept his head down focussed on his notes.
‘Well’ said Charlotte, with a shrug. Alice nodded encouragingly.
Charlotte hesitated and then said. ‘Well, it’s about that foreign bird.’
‘The one you helped?’
‘Yeah, that’s her.’
Charlotte lit up a cigarette and took a deep puff. Alice had long since accepted that to implement the smoking laws in the Prossie Palace would alienate the girls so she ignored it. Thankfully, Sampson had the sense to ignore it, too. ‘Tell us what happened?’
‘Well, I’d just finished with my john, you know? I was feeling a bit flush so I bought myself a bottle of Asti Spumante. I wandered into the allotments to drink it in peace when I heard a fuss at the other end near the big conker tree. I ignored it for a while. Just wanted to mind my own business, like. Then, I heard a bit of banging against the fence and I knew it was one of the girls with a punter.’ She looked at Alice. ‘Shagging, you know?’
Alice nodded and Charlotte took another draw on her fag before continuing. ‘Suddenly I heard a really big crack and then someone crying, like. It sounded like a cat. I moved a bit closer until I could see them. There was this huge bloke in a baseball cap holding onto this skinny little girl and banging her head on the fence. She was crying and with the moon and that I could see summat shining on her face. It were blood.’ Charlotte looked round at the other women, nodding all the time as if she thought they would disagree. ‘Then he slapped her across the face and said something. Something foreign like, in another language, not one o’ them Paki languages though, a different kind. Then, he shouted summat and this other bloke appeared from the shadows. He turned her round and pushed her face against the fence. Next thing he was pulling her skirt up and jerking her legs apart. He were going to give it to her up the arse. By this time she looked like she’d fainted, so I ran back down the other end and round the back of the allotment near the houses and I started throwing stones and shouting in a right deep voice. Then, I smashed my Asti bottle on the fence and kept banging it and banging it till I heard them run away.’
‘Good for you, Charlotte.’ said Alice quietly, as the other woman ran her sleeve over her eyes. Charlotte swallowed and sat up straighter. ‘Phew, wouldn’t have minded so much but I’d hardly drunk any of my Asti. Bloody waste.’
Everyone laughed and Cat put an arm round Charlotte’s shoulders. ‘Way to go, girl,’ she said.
Alice gave them a moment, then said, ‘How did you get her back to The Prossie Palace?’
‘Well, I dragged her along till she were near the other entrance. Then I ran and got Armani.’
Armani nodded, ‘Yeah, we carried her back here.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor kid was in some mess. Covered in shit and blood and spunk. That bastard Charlotte stopped obviously wasn’t the only one she’d had to do, that night. The only saving grace was that she was so drunk, she maybe didn’t feel all of it.’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘But she’d have felt it the next day, poor cow. Those injuries would take ages to get over.’
‘Was she treated by one of the rota doctors?’ asked Alice
Charlotte sniffed. ‘Yeah, that nice Pakistani one, Dr Kauser. She were nearly in tears herself when she saw what they’d done to the girl. Then, after we got her sobered up, she got a text. Next minute she looked petrified and were fighting her way past us like we were the enemy. I ran after her, but she’d gone.’
‘Have you seen her since?’
Armani and Charlotte shook their heads.
‘What about the two men you saw? Have you seen them since?’
Again Charlotte and Armani said, ‘No’, but another girl said, ‘I’m not sure, but I saw a big bloke skirting round the allotments last week. He had a baseball hat on and looked as big as Charlotte said, but it could’ve been someone else.’
‘Anything else? Anything at all?’ Sensing that she’d got all she was going to get from them for now Alice smiled and stood up. ‘Well, you know you can talk to me in confidence any time. Just get Carla to phone me, yeah? Okay then, thanks.’
Alice began gathering her stuff together and began walking towards the door. Without notice she swung round, her gaze narrowed in on Armani
‘Oh, by the way, Armani, what’s the big secret about Jessica and Trixie you’re all trying to hide?’
Armani glared at Alice, then lowered her gaze. ‘Don’t know what you mean. You must be imagining it. There’s no big secret?’
‘No?’ Alice inclined her head. ‘Next you’ll be telling me you haven’t a clue who her boyfriend was?’
Armani paled and then stared straight into Alice’s eyes. ‘We don’t know owt else, Alice.’
Alice shrugged and pulled the door open. ‘Oh, one last thing, have any of you seen Trixie wearing a mauve or crimson coloured scarf.’
Charlotte laughed. ‘That’s Jessica’s. She’ll go daft if she finds out Trixie borrowed it. She hates it when Trixie does that.’ She stopped and stared at Alice. ‘You don’t mean he used her scarf? That scarf? Oh fuck!’ and Charlotte fell back onto a chair. When Alice and Sampson left Armani and the other women where shoving Charlotte’s head between her knees.
11:45 Oak Lane
For the rest of the journey from the mortuary in Halifax they remained silent. To Gus it felt like the air had been sucked out of the car and he hated it. Stony silences weren’t his bag, but he knew better than to attempt a reconciliation with Sadia right now. Better to let her work off some of her anger in her own way. Anyway, she’d floored him too with the ‘M’ word and he needed time as well.
As they drove past the bottom end of Lister Park, Gus recognised the group of women; one in a shalwar kameez, two in Burkhas and two in lycra jogging pants, power-walking at a rate of knots round the boating lake. One was Mo’s wife, Naila, and the others worked for Mo in his samosa shop on Oak Lane. They were going nearly as fast as the men in prayer hats with heavy beards who were all out jogging round. When he’d jogged through th
e park before work this morning, the bowling green had been covered by a slight mist of dew and the park had been all but deserted. Only a few weeks earlier, during the summer, it had been alive with mixed cultural groups enjoying the fresh air. The play park had been filled with children and parents whilst youngsters idled on bikes or bounced balls around the basketball courts. It was still one of the best used parks in Bradford, though, even in this drab weather.
Sadia turned off onto Oak Lane, drove up as far as Mo’s Sa‘MO’sa’s and pulled into a vacant spot on the main street outside a small vegetable shop with trays of chillies, garlic, ginger and onions lined up in front. Pointing through the windscreen to the mucky windows above the shop she said, ‘That’s where Jessica lives. Apparently, we have to go round the back to get in.’
Gus pulled his lanky frame from the car, rolling his tense shoulders, well aware of the iciness coming off Sadia in waves. He stopped on the pavement and glanced at her, wishing she’d lighten up a bit. The job was hard enough without her being in a bloody mood. She really needed to compartmentalise or they wouldn’t be able to work together effectively. Sadia reached into the back seat to retrieve the MacDonald’s bag with the Big Mac she’d insisted they bring for Jessica and then brushed past him on the pavement. He reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her towards him, ‘Come on, Sadia. It’ll all work out, I promise, we can make this work.’
Sadia nodded, but the tightness round her mouth told Gus she was unconvinced. Stretching out his hand, he made to touch her face; she jerked her head away, glancing round and looking nervous. ‘Don’t, Gus. Not here, not outside, someone might see us.’
Gus sighed and glanced round too. This was Manningham, heart of the Muslim area and very close to The Fort. Knowing Sadia was worried about one of her dad’s friends reporting back to him, Gus took a deep breath to calm himself. This was so bloody stupid and he was getting more and more fed up of the subterfuge. From the corner of his eye, he saw a movement from Jessica’s window. The raggedy curtain swayed as if someone had just moved away from it and as he glanced at Sadia, she raised one precisely plucked eye brow as if to say ‘see’.
Gus turned with a grimace and made his way between the bags of onions and potatoes that were piled high under a makeshift shelter. Sadia followed, pushing her way through the haze of fruit flies that, attracted by the pulp of vegetation scattered along the alley, whizzed around their heads. Once clear of the odour, they climbed worn concrete stairs that led to a faded door with peeling blue paint on it. Before Gus could raise his hand to knock, the door swung open and Jessica stood there. The bags under her eyes and her pallor told Gus she’d hardly slept. She stood aside without speaking and indicated that they should follow her through.
The flat smelt fresh and looked tidy except for a handful of woman’s magazines and two cups scattered on the small well-used coffee table. Realising that he was surprised by this fact, Gus smiled ruefully, making a mental note not to be so judgemental in future. Just because Jessica was Bazza Green’s niece didn’t mean she lived by his less than salubrious hygiene standards.
‘Sit,’ said Jessica, and looking as though her skinny legs couldn’t hold her upright a moment longer she sank into an enormous armchair. Sitting childlike between the oversize padded cushions, she scrunched her legs up beneath her and proceeded, with agitated movements, to fold and unfold the tissue she held in her hands. At some point since the previous night she had showered and changed into skin tight jeans and a bobbled old woolly jumper. Replacing the dark mascara smudges, on her face were angry red blotches and flaky skin. Further evidence of her tears lay in the bundles of screwed up tissues that filled the waste paper basket and overflowed onto the threadbare carpet.
Despite feeling sorry for the girl, Gus knew that the best way they could help her would be to get down to business. He’d dealt with too many victims in the past to allow their sorrow to submerge him. He could pity her later, but for now he needed to extract whatever information she had.
‘Jessica,’ said Gus, positioning himself on a chair opposite her, his arms loosely draped over his knees as he leaned towards her, deliberately maintaining a non-threatening stance. ‘I’m Gus McGuire and I’m in charge of finding out who did this to Trixie.’
Jessica’s lips trembled as she nodded, her eyes flicking over to Sadia as if for reassurance. It was clear that Jessica and Sadia had a rapport so, Gus with a brief nod to his colleague, indicated that she should take over.
‘Look, before we start I’ll make us a cup of tea.’ said Gus, ‘and I bet you haven’t eaten?’
Jessica shook her head, looking slightly confused, presumably by Gus’ solicitousness. Like a magician, Sadia drew a bag from behind her. ‘Dada – MacDonald’s Big Mac with cheese. Dig in, Jess, or I’ll be offended.’
A ghost of a smile flitted over Jessica’s face as she pushed her sleeves up her arm and accepted the bag. Withdrawing the boxes, as eagerly as puppy would unearth a bone, she said, ‘Oh, Sadia, you got me, girl!’ Then took a huge slurp of milk shake. ‘Chocolate’s my favourite.’
As Jess stuffed her face, Gus sidled into the small kitchen that had been created by placing a grubby plaster board partition in the corner of the room. Busying himself making the drinks, Gus took the opportunity to glance round the cramped space.
A variety of brightly coloured magnets on the fridge held a selection of photos of Trixie and Jessica, arms round each other, cheeks together. Gus placed a finger on Trixie’s face. She was slightly shorter than Jessica, and he thought she had an air of sadness about her – as if her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. His eyes moved to a jumbled pile of letters that lay next to a plate with a smear of jam on its rim and covered in crumbs. Humming to cover the noise, Gus sifted through them. They were mainly bills addressed to both girls, but amongst them was a single sheet of scruffy paper without an envelope. Gus glanced through to the other room where Jessica was still stuffing fries into her mouth. He flipped the single page over and read: Lost your phone again? Thursday 8pm. If you can’t make it text me. Luv Sx
Interesting, thought Gus. Wonder which of the girls it was for and wonder who ‘S’ is. No date so nothing to say the meeting was arranged for last night but, this ‘S’ is a definite person of interest. As the kettle pinged off he put the letters back, tossed a couple of Bettabuy tea bags into the teapot and sloshed in the boiling water. A final glance round showed him another picture of Jessica and Trixie together. This time Trixie looked vibrant and smiled widely straight into the camera, whilst Jessica looked intently up at the other girl, with a faint smile on her face. Gus frowned and leaned over to get a better look. He shook his head and moved away. There was something about the picture but he couldn’t think what right now. It would come to him later, if he didn’t push it.
When Sadia came to help carry the tea cups through, he brought her up to date on the scribbled note.
‘Good snooping, Hercule,’ she whispered following him through with a cup of tea in each hand.
Jessica, looking slightly better for having eaten, leaned back balancing the tea on the arm of the chair. Sadia took out a small recorder and placed it on the table between them. ‘You don’t mind do you, Jessica? It saves me having to worry about missing anything out when I’m taking notes.’
Jessica shook her head and Gus leaned forward. ‘First of all, Jessica, have you remembered anything that might help us with finding Trixie’s family?’
Jessica sipped her tea and shook her head.
‘Nothing at all?’
‘Nothing. She said I was all the family she needed.’
Gus smiled and in a gentle tone said, ‘I’m just wondering if her family could have something to do with this. It would be good to eliminate them from our enquiries.’
‘She hasn’t been in touch with them since she left. They don’t even know where she is. I mean was.’ Her voice caught slightly and she grabbed a tissue and rubbed her eyes.
‘Okay, Jessica. You’re doing reall
y well. Any idea what she was doing at the allotments last night?’
Jess shrugged, ‘Seeing a john, I suppose’
‘Didn’t you tell each other when you had appointments? You know for safety and that.’
‘Well yes, if we knew in advance but, if we were picked up off the street we’d just go.’
Sadia leaned forward. ‘Jessica, last night was Thursday.’
Jessica looked puzzled. ‘Yeah, I know.’
‘Didn’t you say that Trixie was Bazza’s pet and didn’t have to work during the week? Wasn’t Thursdays one of his nights?’
Jessica glanced quickly from Gus to Sadia and frowned. ‘So what? She shouldn’t have been working, but she’d done it before. I told her Bazza would kill her if he ever found out.’ She paused, hand to her mouth, ‘Oh Fuck! I didn’t mean that. Bazza wouldn’t kill her.’
‘Would Bazza arrange to meet her there, Jess… at the allotments?’
‘What? Down the allotments?’ Jessica laughed. ‘No way! Bazza took his pet to his flat and used his king-size bed. Fed them champagne and strawberries like in that Pretty Woman film. It’s the only way he could get off. He even had a picture of Julia “Blow Job Lips” Roberts, above his bed. He wouldn’t shag down the allotments. He thought he was a cut above that sort of thing…’ She paused, head to one side, ‘… not that nylon sheets, carpet sticky with spunk and Millions scent with an underlying tone of Eau de BO Bazza, was upmarket by anyone else’s standards.’
How the other half live, thought Gus. Jessica’s words were conjuring up images he’d rather not see. Poor Trixie… it was a toss-up whether she was better off on the streets or holed up with the delectable Bazza Green. ‘Okay then, not Bazza. But, would she meet someone else down there in secret, maybe?’
Jessica looked down at her hands, her chin trembling, ‘No, she wouldn’t. We didn’t have secrets, me and Trix’
‘Do you think Shahid could have something to do with this?’ asked Sadia.
