Jenny Parker Investigates

by D J Harrison

  ‘I’ve already told you, the man was trying to rape me. I had to bite him, it was self-defence. It’s him you should be locking up, not me.’

  ‘This isn’t about your assault charge, Mrs Parker. A man has been killed and you were at the scene when it happened.’

  A cold vision of Alex’s mangled body, the sound of splintering wood, a man advancing with a knife, all flash through my mind. It’s obvious now what happened. Alex must have been stabbed and pushed down the stairwell. He’s dead. These men know all about it, all about us, but all they care about is making enquiries. Following the book, obeying procedure. People don’t matter to them, my feelings are irrelevant. The distress they’re causing is not a consideration to them. I can feel myself sliding off the chair, under the table. My whole body is numb and lifeless. I have no control over my actions. All my hopes have gone with Alex, my being is crushed. My life extinguished.

  *

  I’m woken up yet again having only just fallen asleep. Maybe it’s part of a process of disorientation to make prisoners more likely to confess. It’s more likely to be a reflection of their lack of organisation. I fully expect two new faces in the interview room asking the same things. Instead it’s an elderly man on his own. He has an air of familiarity, as if I already know him. In contrast to Mr Ali, he exudes calm assurance and my confidence is inspired.

  ‘Where’s Mr Ali?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, he’s gone now. Let me introduce myself. I am Edward Knott. Stephen Daly has asked to see if I can be of assistance.’

  ‘So Stephen knows I’m here?’

  ‘Yes. He says not to worry about your London meeting, they’ll postpone it until next month, it won’t be a problem. His colleague is already down there, so she can explain.’

  ‘No, that’s not possible, I can’t wait another month, the deal will fall through. Look I’m desperate, can you get me out of here and down to London, it’s absolutely vital.’

  ‘Not before you appear in court, I’m afraid.’

  ‘When will that be?’

  Edward looks at his wrist watch. ‘About two hours, ten o’clock you’re scheduled for anyway. It’s not likely to be much before twelve though.’

  ‘But my meeting is at ten. Can’t you get them to speed up my hearing?’

  ‘The hearing isn’t the problem, Mrs Parker. The police are insisting on you being remanded in custody. It’s a murder enquiry. You are not only charged with assault, they also think you’re implicated in the killing.’

  ‘You mean they’ll send me to prison?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s exactly what we are faced with.’

  ‘But I haven’t done anything, you’ve got to make them believe it. Who’s dead, do you know if it’s Alex?’

  Edward consults his notes. ‘They have released the name of the victim. A thirty-year-old male, name of Gennady Borodin. No mention here of anyone called Alex.’

  My breath sighs out of my lungs. I feel the hurt and tension leaving my body. Alex isn’t dead. The knowledge makes me so happy. Prison holds no fears. The deal can fall through if it wants, as long as I have Alex.

  ‘He was there being attacked, surely the police have him here then?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. I can ask.’

  ‘Go and ask, please.’

  A female constable stands by the door to keep an eye on me while Edward is gone. When he returns he says, ‘No, your friend isn’t here.’

  I can’t understand what’s going on. I was sure Alex was dead, otherwise he’d have contacted me by now, surely.

  ‘Where is he, what’s he up to?’

  76

  The longer I go without word of Alex, the more I worry about him. The prospect of being remanded in custody is horrifying enough. The mental image of Alex lying dead somewhere is far worse. Almost as disturbing is my feeling of abandonment. If he isn’t incapacitated has he driven home and gone to work, leaving me to manage on my own? The implications of that are too hard to bear. Where the hell is Alex?

  The court proceedings are a farce, as per usual. I am forced to stand and face two elderly women and one self-important man who take less than five minutes to decide to accede to every request the police make, despite the best efforts of Edward Knott to convince them that I am neither a prostitute nor a murderer. By now it’s almost noon and I’m wondering if Suriya is enjoying tea and biscuits in London and explaining where I am. Worse still, I imagine the reaction Hector Brighouse is having to all his carefully laid plans being put to waste by a tardy female.

  I have transformed the prospect of a new house and a new start into another prison term. The last twelve hours have destroyed everything. By the time the justice system is finished with me I’ll be back to living in squalor, with no Gary to save me this time.

  *

  The van that’s taking me to prison has SG markings on it. The driver and his mates are all Hector’s employees. I hope this is the final ignominy I’ll be subjected to, but I doubt it. The remand centre isn’t so bad, at least I get a chance to shower and tidy myself up. The whore image was beginning to fit too well. I regret the moment I crept into that whorehouse kitchen. At the time, I thought I might find Kat, in the event, the only people I found were the fat rapist and the police, and I’ve lost Alex in the process.

  I’m locked up all alone, the cell is modern, clean and airy. The whole establishment belongs to SG. They built it and operate it on behalf of the government. This isn’t a business that GOD Security ever had designs on – our employees might feel too much at home.

  Despite my desperate mood, the prospect of a few hours’ undisturbed sleep is welcome and I resign myself to doing nothing but rest for the foreseeable future. All the thinking, worrying and planning I do now is not going to have any effect or do me any good.

  I settle down on the bed and allow my deep weariness to overwhelm me.

  The woman disturbing me is stockily built but with a kind face, framed by an enormous quantity of dense hair. ‘Wake up, you’re needed in the interview room.’

  ‘How long have I been asleep, what time is it?’ My head feels thick, I don’t feel at all well. I roll over onto my side and retch violently. Spasm after spasm voids my stomach, then continues long after I’m empty. My head feels like it’s going to burst with pain. The sour taste of vomit is everywhere. I can feel lumps of sick trapped in my nostrils. The bedclothes and floor are spattered, my tidy room is now disgusting. I wonder if I should try to clean it up, whether there’s a mop and bucket I can borrow.

  ‘Come on.’ She helps me out of bed, sits me in the chair. She brings me a glass of water and a damp cloth to wipe my face. ‘I have a message for you.’ She brings out a folded sheet of paper. I open it and see that it’s a printed email.

  Dear Jenny

  Sorry I missed you at the police station. I am not allowed to visit you on remand but I’m with you in spirit. Don’t worry I’ll do everything I can to sort things out.

  Love Alex

  My nausea recedes to a distant memory. Alex is alive, well and knows where I am. Now I have hope, now I have something to live for. Suddenly the predicament I find myself in isn’t that serious. Biting that man’s nose is common assault at worst. Self-defence in truth. A man may have been killed at the house, but I had nothing to do with that. I’ll be out of here soon, Alex is waiting for me. Hector can buy the business next month. What the hell am I so concerned about?

  I assure the prison officer that I’m okay and she leads me into the interview room. It’s the same policemen as last time, the older one in plain clothes and a younger one in uniform.

  ‘We’ve been making enquiries, Mrs Parker.’

  ‘Yes, good. Now will you let me go?’

  ‘It appears you have previous convictions for money-laundering and assault. You served prison sentences for both offences.’

  ‘It was all a mistake, self-defence, I was attacked by my cellmate.’

  ‘That’s as maybe. It’s not what the record shows though. W
hat we want to ask you about is your role in this chain of brothels, how you launder the money, what you do with it?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘We see you own a security business, is that the vehicle for your money-laundering activities?’

  I can feel the blood in my face, the betrayal of my unconscious reaction. I lose the power of speech, they’re wrong about the brothels, they are dead right about the money-laundering. If they believe that’s what’s happening they will surely keep digging until they find out everything, the caravan sites, O’Brian, false payroll entries, everything.

  I’ve gone from despair to hope and now I’ve been cast down more deeply than ever before. It’s all gone. The business, the deal, the money and worst of all Alex, Toby and my freedom. I am going to get a very long sentence when they convict me this time.

  77

  Stephen Bailey is sitting calmly in the visiting room explaining that Edward Knott is the best man to deal with the case. Edward is quietly listening, apparently unaffected by Stephen’s effusive praise and whole-hearted recommendations.

  ‘To be honest, Stephen, I’m not seeing any of that on my side. All that happens is that my situation goes from bad to worse. I might as well have stuck with Mr Ali for all the good it’s done.’ Even my outburst has no visible effect on the unflappable Mr Knott.

  ‘There was never any prospect of getting you out on bail, not with such a serious charge over your head.’

  ‘Maybe not, but now look at me. They’re going to go through GOD Security with a fine-tooth comb and get enough to put me away for ten years.’

  ‘I can hardly lay that at Mr Knott’s door, Jenny, all that’s come about because of your previous conviction. How serious are their allegations?’

  ‘Serious enough if you must know.’

  ‘You must tell us only what you think we need to know in order for us to defend you properly,’ Edward speaks for the first time. ‘There’s no merit in widespread admissions of guilt or unfounded protestations of innocence. Let’s examine what they have to build their case, then we deal with that.’

  ‘All that they have is suspicion that I’m up to no good, laundering money through GOD Security.’

  ‘Do they know the source of this black money?’

  ‘They’re assuming it’s related to the brothel they found me in.’

  ‘And that of course has nothing at all to do with you. As I recall you were there on a mission of mercy, looking for some poor Ukrainian girl forced into sexual slavery.’

  The way he puts things is really helping me to drag myself out of the melancholic resignation I’ve been wallowing in. ‘That’s right, if they follow that lead they’ll get nowhere.’

  ‘Fine, let’s see what they do. In the meantime I’ll work on the assault charge. I’ve a feeling that’s not going anywhere, their plaintiff is not going to be a good witness for them, being twice your size and yet complaining that you assaulted him and left him injured and incapacitated. If we get one or two female magistrates that sort of allegation isn’t going to hold water and the police know it.’

  ‘What about the murder?’

  ‘Again good news on that front. The current theory is that the dead man fell over the banisters and onto his own knife, at least that’s what the witnesses appear to be saying. You are not implicated at all so we should have you out of here within a couple of days.’

  ‘What about the new allegations?’

  ‘They’re a different matter, but I can’t see them getting you remanded. Even if they do charge you with something, I’m certain we can get bail.’

  ‘And then what?’ The prospect of getting out of here before they give me a psychopathic room-mate is attractive, but I have my doubts about how long my freedom might last. What the hell do I say to Alex? Oh sorry I’ve been up to my usual tricks, see you in a few years?

  ‘Then, as I say, we see what case they have. Just because there might be evidence for them to find it’s by no means certain that they’ll be clever enough to discover it. Even if they do, courts can take a lot of convincing, particularly when the case is highly technical, as many of those involving complex financial transactions inevitably are. If it were obvious how the money was being laundered it wouldn’t be a very effective method, would it?’

  I’m not sure I share Edward’s optimism, but I much prefer him to my previous legal team who urged me to confess everything and expect a lenient sentence. They were wrong. Maybe Edward is wrong too. Perhaps the criminal justice system has it in for me.

  78

  ‘What happened to you? Where were you when I needed you?’

  Alex picks me up outside the prison, looking bright and cheerful. The Range Rover really suits him, maybe I should give it to him as a farewell present.

  ‘Hang on a minute, let’s get out of the car park first. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Glad to be out of there, glad to see you, worried I’ll be sent back, dying for the loo. How about you?’

  ‘Happy to see you. You don’t look as bad as I expected.’ He smiles. ‘Maybe prison suits you.’

  ‘After my experience in the Ukraine, this was more like a Travelodge.’

  ‘Oh,’ Alex’s nose wrinkles, ‘I didn’t realise it would be that bad.’

  Suddenly Alex’s presence makes the world worth living in. He has a way of making me feel alive and full of hope. All it takes is a few words from him. He stops at a pub so that I can use the toilet; when I emerge, he’s waiting with a gin and tonic for me.

  ‘So where were you all the time I was getting arrested and put in prison?’

  ‘I’ll explain everything later. First of all, tell me about what happened to you and why they’ve kept you there until now?’

  ‘First they accused me of assault. They gave up on that one and changed it to murder.’

  ‘The man who fell down the stairs?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. I explained to them that all I did was bite a man’s nose when he tried to rape me.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘They’ve dropped the assault charge, but now I’m accused of money-laundering.’

  ‘Oh, why’s that?’

  ‘They think I’m the mastermind behind the sexual exploitation business, that I’m the one who legitimises all the money.’

  ‘But you’re not, so that’s not going to be a problem is it?’

  ‘Yes it is. When they investigate GOD Security they will find things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Money things, the kind of things they’re looking for.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh, indeed. I couldn’t tell you. Anyway, I’d stopped doing it by the time I got to trust you enough to tell you. I found out where the money was coming from and put a stop to it. So that’s me, what about you?’

  Alex looks a bit weary, I suppose he’s been worried about me. That feels comforting. I don’t want him to be oblivious to my distress.

  I prompt him, ‘Last time I saw you there were two men coming up the stairs to get you.’

  ‘Oh yes, those guys.’

  ‘Well, what happened?’

  ‘ I didn’t expect you to be sneaking in the back door, when I saw you creeping up the stairs I couldn’t believe my eyes. I never thought you’d be that daft..’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome. The man blocking the doorway wouldn’t let me in. I tried money but he was having none of it, he kept telling me it was a private party. I kept begging him, especially with you already inside. In the end, he shoved me outside and slammed the door on me.’

  ‘Whilst you were standing on the doorstep I was upstairs being attacked. You should have bashed the door down, why didn’t you?’

  ‘I realised you must have got in the back way, so that’s what I did. I got to you as quickly as I could.’

  ‘The two guys, what happened with them?’

  ‘Well, I saw you disappear inside the bedroom and thought you’d be safer in there. I decided to
calm things down, talk with the men and get you safely away. Unfortunately they were a bit upset and refused to listen to reason.’

  ‘There was one with a knife, Alex, weren’t you scared?’

  ‘Terrified, but I had no time to do anything about it. Fortunately for me, the guy with the knife was a bit clumsy. He tripped over and fell downstairs.’

  ‘Through the banisters?’

  ‘Yes, he was a big guy; they gave way under his weight when he fell against them. I tried to get to you but I couldn’t because the guy with the stick started hitting me. Look.’ Alex undoes his shirt and reveals an angry-looking bruise on his left shoulder. ‘See what he did? I thought he’d broken my shoulder it hurt so much.’

  I have some sympathy for him but not much, after all I was the one in the bedroom being molested by that naked ball of flab. All Alex got was a smack on the arm.

  ‘It looks okay now,’ I say, hearing my own off-handedness but letting my resentment reveal itself.

  ‘It’s still sore.’ Alex looks at me, holds my eyes with his. ‘I couldn’t get to you. The man was intent on beating me to death. I fought my way into the other bedroom and climbed out of the window. He came after me, chased me into the garden, so I kept running, over fences, out into the next street. I thought I might run back to the car but he caught up with me and I had to fight with him. By the time I got rid of him and ran back to the house, the police had taken you away. They nearly took me as well, just for asking questions.’

  ‘Why didn’t you come to the police station?’

  ‘I did, but they wouldn’t let me see you. They even refused to give you a message. It was only when you got to the remand centre that they let me email you.’

  ‘I was so scared you had been killed.’ My eyes brim with the memory of dark feelings of desperation.

  ‘I nearly was.’ Alex jumps up, leads me back to the car. I should feel less abandoned, not as neglected, now I’ve heard Alex’s story. There should be a warm comfortable feeling now we’re back safely together, but I don’t feel it at all. The prospect of prosecution, the fear of imprisonment, the disappointment of losing the deal are all minor in comparison to the sadness I am sinking into. All my instincts tell me that Alex isn’t telling me everything and this is worrying me more than everything else put together.