by Ted Tayler
“I know what you’re thinking,”
A tousle-haired Suzie stretched and yawned as she threw back the sheet that covered them. The camera hadn’t done her justice yesterday. She looked stunning.
“Do you now?” said Gus, lifting his underwear from the floor.
He needed to move out of the danger zone. His body hadn’t listened to the arguments going on in his head.
“I am a detective,” said Suzie, grabbing his arm, “don’t run away. You think it was a mistake; it wasn’t. It was wonderful. I believed I could turn back the clock with Tim. Rekindle a romance that died over ten years ago. I should have remembered that it died for a good reason. We weren’t right together. Why did I do it? I tried to stand by while you and Vera grew closer. It’s been agony. Since we met, I’ve wanted to be with you. I said the timing was terrible, but last night was perfect.”
Nobody used a name out of place, Gus had to give her that.
“I’m old enough to be your father,” said Gus.
“Bugger the difference in our ages,” said Suzie. “Can you tell me, honestly, that you don’t feel the same way as I do?”
“I feel a heel for letting it happen when this time last week, I slept with someone else. I can’t deny I was jealous when I saw you and Tim together, but that’s no excuse. You’re right. I wanted last night just as much as you. What’s done is done. What do we do now?”
“We have a shower, and then you cook us breakfast. I’m starving.”
“If only it could be that simple.”
“It can be. I’m going riding this morning. I don’t know what your plans are.”
Suzie dragged Gus towards the bathroom. Showering together would be cosy. He didn’t rate his chances of making it to the kitchen to start that breakfast for a while.
Suzie left the bungalow a few minutes after eleven. Gus offered to drive her to the Lamb car park.
“Sorry, if I’ve made you late for your horse ride,” said Gus.
“I’m as much to blame. I can ride out this afternoon. Every step of the way I’ll think of you. What did you plan to do today?”
“I’m ringing Vera later to check if we’re going out for a meal. If not tonight, then tomorrow lunchtime. At some point today I expect to be visiting a prostitute.”
That stopped Suzie in her tracks. She turned in the driveway and walked towards Gus.
“Excuse me?”
“Terry Davis agreed to put me in touch with one of his old drinking pals. A lady called Donna. Terry thought she was my best chance of getting the lowdown on Laura and Gentle Touch.”
“Good hunting,” said Suzie. With that, she left.
Gus closed the door; the bungalow felt empty. He had no excuse this time; he initiated their love-making in the shower. Far from finding a way out of the mess he had got himself into he realised he was more attracted to Suzie than ever.
Gus waited until after lunch before plucking up the courage to call Vera. When his phone rang, he thought his time had come. Vera had found out already.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Is that Gus?”
“It is, who am I speaking to?” said Gus. It didn’t sound like his old sparring partner, Dorothy.
“Terry Davis said you wanted to talk. I’m Donna,”
“Donna, great to hear from you. Where are you? Can I visit you later? For a chat.”
“I’m free at four o’clock,” said Donna, “Terry said you would see me right. Is sixty okay?”
Gus thought that was rather steep, but he wasn’t familiar with the going rate. Terry had said Donna would give him mate’s rates. Sixty would be a small price if he picked up a lead that led to Laura’s killer.
Donna must have thought the silence ominous.
“I couldn’t go any lower than forty,” she said.
“No need. Fifty and it’s a deal, Donna. Just tell me where you live. I’ll be there at four.”
A relieved Donna gave Gus an address in Devizes and rang off.
Gus waited for an hour. Still no news from Vera. He called her.
“Hi there. Are you free tonight? Or do you prefer a Sunday lunch somewhere?”
“Let’s make it tomorrow,” said Vera, “and so we don’t get the premium service you’re so jealous of I’ll leave you to book a table. Surprise me.”
“I’ll look for somewhere we can park in a municipal car park and walk to,” said Gus, “that will fool the management. It will only be the second we walk through the door they realise Royalty are dining there.”
“You’re incorrigible,” said Vera.
Gus thought Vera didn’t know the half of it.
“I’ll text you the details later,” he said, “I’m working on the case later this afternoon.”
“No rest for the wicked,” said Vera.
Gus closed his eyes. Could life get any more complicated?
Donna’s house was a twenty-minute drive from the bungalow. He felt self-conscious strolling up the path to the front door even though the street was quiet. Perhaps Terry had been right. The neighbours wouldn’t know Donna’s profession from the outside appearance of this townhouse. It looked very stylish. He rang the bell. The tune that announced his arrival was Tina Turner’s ‘Simply The Best.’
Donna opened the door, and Gus stepped inside. Donna closed the door behind him.
“If anyone remembers you from your time as a copper it will damage trade for my girls,” said Donna.
Gus studied the woman in front of him. Her next big birthday would start with a sixty. When she was in her twenties and thirties, Donna would have been a beauty. The extra weight she had put on since then was evenly spread. She reminded him of Diana Dors, the Swindon-born film star. With more make-up. Gus realised Donna was holding her chubby hand out for the money. He handed over his fifty pounds.
“Come through to my lounge,” she said, “we can get more comfortable.”
The room was another surprise. It was like stepping into an eighteenth-century drawing-room.
“This is elegant, Donna. You’ve got a good eye for décor,” said Gus and meant it.
“I know what you thought, Mr Freeman. Nobody believes women like me can have a bit of class. You reckon the men who visit my girls and me exploit us. No way are we exploited. It’s our choice. We have the right to do any job without people making a moral judgement. Because I choose to work four days a week and earn a thousand pounds selling sex, they get antsy. What do they want me to do, work a twelve-hour shift in a supermarket on minimum wage? No thanks. I’m not on drugs. Nobody coerced me. All I want is to be allowed to secure a future for myself.”
“What sort of clients do you entertain?”
“The other girls get more young blokes than old these days. It’s easier than dating, and they’re sure to score. I have a few old friends who drop round. I’m winding down now, almost ready for retirement. Do you want to do the tour?”
“We’re not disturbing anyone?” asked Gus.
“We don’t need to work all day every day. I’ve got girls working tonight. Saturdays can be busy.”
Double doors off the lounge led to a small hall which gave access to two en-suite bedrooms on the ground floor. Cream walls, a double bed with maroon bedding and gold silk cushions.
“What do you do between clients?”
“We sit around, drinking tea, checking our phones and laugh about the kinky stuff clients ask for.”
“How many rooms are there upstairs?”
“Three decent-sized en-suite bedrooms on the first and second floor. Eight rooms. Up to sixteen girls use this place. They work different shifts to fit in with their kid's schooling and baby-sitting duties if they’re mothers or grandmothers.”
“It takes all sorts, doesn’t it?” said Gus, “you must run a terrible risk of being raided by the police?”
“Why would the police raid us? I would go to prison, and fifteen girls would be on the streets looking for work. I run a good house. We offer customer satisfaction.
You’re right, of course; it takes all sorts. Different strokes for different folks.”
Gus thought it time to change the subject.
“Terry wondered if you had heard of Laura Mallinder, or Gem as she called herself. She worked in massage parlours in various local towns and cities. Laura got stabbed to death in June 2011.”
“I remember reading about it in the papers. As for the girl, I never met her. I haven’t worked in one of those parlours. They’re not my expertise. A few of my girls have worked in them at various times. You know they offer different things in different places, don’t you?”
“We do, Donna. Laura never had sex with any of her clients. It was a house rule. The owner believed it helped to keep the riff-raff out.”
“We had the same problem, Mr Freeman. Especially the younger blokes, when they get out on the lash at the weekends, they think what a lark it would be to visit a brothel. We used to get plagued with stag weekends and sports club tours. The worst offenders are professional footballers; they’ve got stacks of money. Most spend it on gambling; others spend it on flashy cars. Quite a few spend it on women. More often than not, they want to stick together in a group. God knows why. Six blokes with two or three girls for the whole night. Money no object.”
“You don’t allow that here?” asked Gus.
“Not on your life. The parlours are their preferred target these days.”
“Where do these footballers come from?”
“Plenty of clubs around here pay their youngsters a damn sight more than the money I could earn after I left school. I don’t know much about football, but there are lots of young lads with money to throw around living on the big estates around Bristol and Swindon.”
“Places such as Hayden Wick, Blunsdon or Bradley Stoke, is that where you mean?”
“Those are the places where people with money live and congregate. They tend to socialise together.”
“Interesting, Donna, that could be useful. Thanks for your time.”
Donna came closer to him.
“While you’re here, Mr Freeman is there…”
“Now, now, Donna. Information was what I paid for.”
“A pity, you’re a fine-looking gentleman. Not like Terry Davis. Is he still in Marbella?”
“He’s out there alone, Donna. Perhaps you’ve earned enough for a holiday?”
“I might do that, Mr Freeman. That would surprise the old bugger, wouldn’t it? Terry wouldn’t get it for free, mind.”
Donna led Gus to the door. He looked around him as he made his way to the car. Not one curtain twitched.
Terry was right. The neighbours didn’t have a clue.
CHAPTER 11
Sunday, 6th May 2018
Neil had phoned Jake Latimer late on Friday evening. The detective had offered to ride shotgun if Neil needed to visit any premises where the parlour girls now worked. Their first port of call was to Cleopatra’s in Swindon. They were seeing the girl who called herself Ebony.
She told them how she met Gem in Knowle and why she had moved to Swindon.
“I was one of her trainers,” she said, “when she moved here I missed her company. I asked Maggie if I could split my shifts between Bristol and Swindon. It meant I could watch more sport that way.”
Ebony gave Neil a brief tour of the recently refurbished facilities. It was a rabbit warren; to his left, Neil saw a corridor. A large mirror and twinkling lights invited him forward. To his right was a table waiting for a prospective massage customer to arrive. A warm reddish-orange glow from behind a beaded curtain illuminated a Jacuzzi.
“Here you can have a relaxing bath and invigorating massage,” Ebony told him, “it improves circulation and restores your energy levels; all your stress soothed away.”
Neil walked further along the corridor. The décor was more opulent here. It must be the premium area of the parlour. He peered through the half-open door. A large double bed dominated the room. Neil gave a quizzical look to his guide.
“Our elderly gentlemen struggle to climb onto our tables,” said Ebony, “they’re too narrow.”
Neil didn’t detect a hint of a smile. Did Ebony think he swallowed that?
“Do customers ask for sex?” he said.
“Every day. Some ask many times. We run a massage parlour, not a brothel. The police would never allow us to stay open if they suspected we were not above board.”
Ebony had last seen her friend Gem on the Thursday before the murder. They were due to work together again on Monday. Ebony had never heard rumours that Gem ever argued with her family. None of the customers caused them sleepless nights.
“Did you know Ian Hewson?” asked Neil.
“I watched him play when we were younger. I haven’t heard of him lately. We saw players in the Bristol parlours, especially out of season, or if they were in town celebrating a win. They’re like you. Coppers stick together, don’t they? Nobody else will drink with you lot in case they say a word out of place. Athletes can be like that in my experience; they can’t talk about their sport to someone who hasn’t played at that level. They think they wouldn’t understand.”
Neil and Ebony had returned to Reception to find Jake chatting to the girl behind the counter.
“Sorry to break it up,” said Neil, “but we need to get on to our next appointment in Marlborough.”
“She was tasty,” said Jake, when they returned to the car, “I was thinking of giving her a call.”
Neil shook his head. He was glad to be happily married, despite the broken sleep.
“Who are we visiting now?” asked Jake.
“She called herself Janina. I wondered if she might be Polish, but I’ll reserve judgement.”
When they met Janina, she turned out to be a Lithuanian girl in her early thirties. Jake was keen to ask the questions.
“What’s a typical day? For me, at present, I work an eight-hour shift from two o’clock. That means I can have a lie-in, go shopping, read, relax during the morning. Whatever I choose to do. When I start work, the lunchtime rush is at an end. From two until five, I can spend more time on social media than in a room. We get a mixture of regulars who pre-book and those who are in Marlborough for the day. They search through location-based apps for afternoon delight. The pace picks up as office-workers finish for the day. Our parlour closes before the pubs shut, so it avoids the drunks who decide they need something other than a kebab to make their night complete. I can be home before eleven when I’m on this shift. My earnings are still high, and you wouldn’t get me to swap for a nine-to-five job.”
Janina was yet another girl who followed Gem to Swindon from Bath and Bristol. Gem was a good friend to all the girls, a pleasure to work alongside. Gem was only three years older than her, so Janina thought of her as a sister.
Neil thought Jake was more interested in Janina than finding out something that could identify the killer.
“Were you and Gem ever more than good friends?”
“Gem was not like that.”
“There were no men in her life other than her clients. That seems odd for an attractive young woman. What about you, do you meet men outside of the parlours?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend at the minute. I was married when I came to this country. He hit me, so I left him. This work was all I was qualified to do. Since then, I have seen men who come here that I like. Off the books, nothing to do with the parlour. They don’t pay me. A night out for a meal and a few drinks is enough.”
“Gem didn’t do the same as you though, did she?”
“There was never anyone she liked enough to meet away from work. Several asked her for sex in the parlour. Always she said no. The Turkish man asked her for a date. She wasn’t interested.”
“The Turkish barber? Was he a customer?” asked Neil.
Janina laughed.
“Not him. That guy was old-fashioned. He bought her flowers and talked to her when she arrived for work one day. Gem thought it sweet, but she wanted to keep herself
to herself.”
“Did he continue to pester her?” asked Neil.
“I don’t think so. Gem still waved to him as she passed the shop window. She never wanted to fall out with anybody. That’s why we loved her.”
Neil and Jake drove across to Cirencester in the afternoon. There were two girls at Gentle Touch they wanted to interview. One was Carol Gullis, who had introduced Laura Mallinder to Maggie Monk in the beginning.
“Do you still work as Amber?” asked Neil.
“Why change?” she replied, “I blamed myself for Laura’s death. If I hadn’t bumped into her in a bar one night all those years ago, she would still be alive. I convinced her this life was better for her than slogging away in a dead-end job. Here I am, seven years later, and although the money is still great, it’s no different to swiping goods through the scanner on a checkout. Same thing, every day.”
Neil glanced at Jake. He shook his head. Amber could supply little more than background to how Laura got into the business.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“We worked in Bath at the end of 2007. She called me now and then after she bought her own house in Swindon. We talked about taking a holiday together, but nothing came of it. Six months before she died was the last time. She called to wish me a Happy New Year.”
They left Carol Gullis and sought their second interviewee.
“Kathy, what can you tell us about Gem?”
“We met in the parlour in Knowle. I hadn’t been there long. I’d been unemployed for three months. It stings a bit when you can’t even get a job at a call centre. My roommate wondered whether I’d ever move from the sofa again. She spotted an advert for a receptionist in a massage parlour. I was desperate. The owner told me it would be the easiest job I’d ever had. Could I start straight away? That’s where I met Amber. She knew Gem and had encouraged her to join. We worked together in Bristol and Bath. Then Maggie asked Gem to run the Swindon parlour. After a few months, the place became busy. Gem asked Maggie for extra girls. I offered to go because Gem was such a good friend.”
