by Martina Cole
Janice started gossip and embroidered it until it fitted her mood at the time. She knew this, but it didn’t stop her from indulging in her favourite pastime. Consequently, she was given a wide berth and treated rather distantly by her fellow members of staff who had experienced her troublemaking at first hand.
When she saw a uniformed policewoman and another in civilian clothes walking along the pavement outside she nearly had a seizure, convinced they had finally come to arrest Mandy Clarkson’s son, Thomas, for drug dealing or similar.
At last, it was happening! She’d known by the way he dressed and that stud in his nose that he was breaking the law somehow. You only had to look at his long hair and baggy trousers to see that much. Art student indeed!
Then Janice saw the women hesitate at her gate. Her mouth was a perfect O as she realised they were coming to see her. The uniformed woman stayed put. To see a plainclothes policewoman walking up her path was a terrible shock. There could be only one reason to bring the police to her respectable doorstep.
Her husband must have died.
On her way downstairs Janice wondered how she felt about that, and was amazed to find that she didn’t actually feel upset. But, she reasoned, no one had actually told her that he was dead yet so maybe she was still due for a shock.
She opened the front door, a hesitant smile on her coral-painted lips.
‘Mrs Hollington?’ Kate enquired pleasantly. ‘May I talk to you for a moment, please? DI Kate Burrows, Grantley police.’
Janice registered the ID card with the woman’s picture on it and thought it didn’t do her justice. She looked like a convict herself in the grainy black and white photo.
‘Please. Come in.’ She took Kate through to her pristine lounge with its burgundy Dralon corner unit and large overfilled MFI cabinets.
‘Now - how can I help you?’
Kate noticed the gleam in the woman’s eyes and realised she was enjoying the drama.
‘Can I get you a coffee? Or tea perhaps?’ Janice asked.
‘No, thank you. I am just going to ask you a few questions about work yesterday. I understand you were on duty and brought in a visitor to Regina Carlton. A certain Suzy Harrington?’
She saw Janice Hollington visibly relax.
‘Oh, you scared me. I thought me husband was dead and I was already spending the insurance in me head!’ She laughed nervously and Kate laughed with her, though she wasn’t sure if it was an actual joke. It sounded more like a statement of fact.
‘Can you remember her?’ she asked politely.
Janice grinned. ‘How could I forget? What’s he done?’
Kate was nonplussed. ‘I’m sorry, who are you talking about?’
Janice shook her head knowingly. ‘It was a transvestite, that Suzy, I’d lay money on it. We’ve had a few of them on the unit over the years.’
Kate was still unsure what she meant.
‘Can you start at the beginning?’ she asked. ‘Tell me exactly what you saw.’
Janice pointed to a seat and Kate sat down. Janice perched on the end of the corner unit and crossed her legs at the ankle.
‘I knew it was a bloke straight off. But then, we get so many strange cases these days as I’m sure you are aware. So I just acted normal like. He was a tallish man, in a wig and heavy make-up. He was dressed smartly, though. Not over the top. From a distance he could probably get away with it. Nice eyes.’
‘You’re sure this was the person who came to see Regina Carlton?’
Janice nodded vigorously. ‘No doubt at all, she gets so few visitors. Mainly her solicitor or Social Services. Not only that, he was so outlandish you couldn’t help remembering him really.’
‘You are sure it was a man?’
Janice grinned again. ‘Look, love, I know it was a bloke. He had great big feet and hands. Even without the obvious, you could just tell. Nice eyes and nice teeth, I remember that much, but the make-up was overdone. Heavy foundation so he ain’t had any hormone treatment. Definitely a TV not a transsexual.’
Janice laughed, launching into one of her stories.
‘We had one on the unit last year - right nutter. He used to walk around the streets late at night dressed as a woman. His wife had had enough and in the end he was talked into going into hospital voluntarily. He was a barrister and all, but there you go. It affects all sorts. I still see his wife sometimes, you know, around town. I have to laugh. She never acknowledges me like, but she knows I know. You being a policewoman would probably know him if I said his name . . .’
Kate didn’t like the way the woman was practically confiding someone else’s private business in her. She knew that if she asked for the name she would get it. Instead she stood up.
‘I’ll send round a PC to take a statement from you. If you remember anything else that might be of help you can tell them, OK?’
Kate knew she was being petty, just dismissing the woman, but Janice’s sort got on her nerves.
Janice stood up uncertainly. ‘Well, it was a shock as you can imagine. But after what I read in Carlton’s notes . . . I mean, is it really surprising she’d mix with that type of person? I wonder, could I ask why you are enquiring about her? Is it to do with her kids and that?’
The last was said in a low, concerned voice as if they were in a room full of onlookers. She was letting Kate know that she was in on what was happening.
Kate ignored her. ‘Thank you for your help,’ she said, and was out of the house almost immediately. People like that really did leave a bitter taste in her mouth.
Kate knew her visit would be a hot topic of conversation for Janice, in the hospital as well as with the neighbours. Regina didn’t need any more on her plate than she already had, but thanks to the Janice Hollingtons of this world she was going to get much, much more than she’d bargained for.
But if Janice was telling the truth about the visitor being a TV, which Kate felt she was, then this case had taken on yet another strange dimension.
As she got into the back of the police car it gave Kate food for thought. All the mothers, though admittedly involved with the paedophile ring, had sworn they personally had not done anything to their children. This was a long shot, and she knew it was, but what if someone had dressed as them? Trevor had said something about pretend hair . . . hair for every day of the week. And he was too small to understand about men dressing as women, would have assumed it was a real woman. He’d also said the person smelled of apples and that had struck a chord in Kate’s head though she couldn’t think why.
Had someone else said it? She would have to comb through the statements again.
Whoever had visited Regina had distressed her enough to make her try once more to end her life. So what had they said? Regina was under heavy sedation, pushed over the edge again. She had been the catalyst for their investigation, the first mother to be arrested. She had also sworn over and over that whatever she was guilty of, she had not tried to kill her son.
If someone else was behind it all, then whoever it was knew about the paedophile ring, knew the children were being abused and knew the mothers. Every movement of their lives. Someone had watched them and had taken opportunities that were as dangerous as they were sinister.
Maybe the mothers had been telling the truth all along. Maybe they had not abandoned their own children. Maybe whoever had taken Trevor and little Mikey had also killed their mothers. It would have been a logical step if they’d been opposed while trying to snatch the kids.
This was quite a story Kate was spinning herself but it was all she had. That and Barker.
She needed to talk to his wife and she needed to do it soon. She was also due to see Kerry Alston today and wondered what fresh revelations that might bring.
She lit another cigarette and stared out at the passing scenery without seeing it. All she could see was Suzy Harrington walking away from arrest.
Well, not for long. Not if Kate Burrows had anything to do with it. Suzy’s days of being protecte
d by an influential pervert were strictly numbered.
Boris ate slowly as usual. He savoured food, enjoying the taste and the texture of it. Sergei usually knew better than to question him while he was eating but today he decided to chance it.
‘Have you thought any more about Patrick Kelly?’
Boris looked at him for a few moments before answering.
‘What is there to think about? He is an intelligent man. He understands. I will take the club from him for a fair price. What has he to worry about?’
Sergei, for the first time ever, wondered if his friend and mentor had become overconfident. It was almost inconceivable, admittedly, but there was a first time for everything. How to hint as much without causing offence was going to be difficult. Boris was always on his dignity, looking for slights where none were intended and constantly questioning his men, trying to gauge their opinion of him. He needed their reassurance that he was respected by everybody. And, if Sergei guessed rightly, so did Patrick Kelly. He had a feeling that once Mr Kelly was back on his feet, he might well come looking for retribution. Boris would. Sergei himself would. Why was his boss so convinced that Kelly wouldn’t?
‘It will be seen to have been done, though. It will be common knowledge among his peers . . .’ Sergei’s voice trailed off mid-sentence. He knew better than to push it. Just to plant the seed of doubt was usually enough.
Boris shook his head in a friendly way. ‘He’s not a real villain. Too soft now. He was looking for an out at some point. I mean, he was a sleeping partner, for God’s sake. No, he’ll let it go. Once Mr Gabney has explained the situation Kelly would have to be a lunatic to try and do anything to us. We blew up his offices. We went to his woman’s home. We shot him in the street like a dog. He knows our strength - he’d be crazy to try anything.’
Sergei didn’t answer and Boris, aware that his orders were being subtly queried, carried on talking. He wanted to justify his position.
‘Patrick Kelly is an also-ran, as they say here. At home he would have been murdered long ago, you and I both know that. It’s why we came here. We knew that our kind of operation would clean up in Europe. They can’t control us here. Aren’t geared up for our ruthlessness or our immense strength. We have the money and we have the power to take over. In five years we will run this country as we do our own.’
He laughed at the picture he was painting.
‘Look how easy it was to walk in here, buy a house for cash in Holland Park costing two million, then mortgage it to the hilt. We had clean money in under a month. This country was ripe for a killing and we obliged. Don’t worry about Kelly. He will know by now that I have in effect taken over London and I didn’t even have to fight for it.
‘The money everyone earns for me and for themselves is enough to guarantee their allegiance. We are invincible. I let Kelly live as a sort of public relations exercise. Everyone knows he was defeated and that he took it like a man. It will be a very clear example of what we are capable of. What we are really about.’
Boris looked at his number two and smiled, his handsome face brimming with confidence.
‘So, Sergei, stop worrying and let me eat, eh?’
Sergei saw the sense in what he was saying but the uneasy feeling remained with him. From what he had heard about Kelly he was very much like Boris: fair but hard. But unlike Boris, he would not take any chances. He would take out the opposition even if he liked and respected them.
It was good business sense and Sergei was inclined to go with Kelly on that one. But of course he didn’t say this to his boss. He was aware that if anything did happen to Boris, he would be expected to take everything over.
There was always that to take into consideration. After all, a man had to look after himself, didn’t he?
Kerry looked terrible. Her eyes were black-ringed and she looked as if she needed a good bath. Kate could smell her across the table, a mixture of hand-rolled cigarettes and sweat. She looked back with a sneer on her mouth and a set to her shoulders that told Kate she was not in for an easy time. But she didn’t care. She could play the game, too.
She started it by lighting a cigarette. Kerry stared at it with undisguised longing. Kate pushed the pack across the table and the prisoner lit up with alacrity.
‘I miss the tailor-mades more than anything.’
‘More than your kids, I should imagine, knowing you like I do.’ Kate made sure she sounded nasty and was gratified to see the expression of bewilderment on Kerry’s face.
She quickly recovered herself.
‘You sound happy today, Burrows. Your boyfriend getting shot must have given you the right hump.’ She laughed at Kate’s dark expression, at her obvious shock that someone on remand knew so much about her.
Kerry drew deeply on the cigarette. ‘You make me laugh. You’re trumping a known face and you look down on me?’
Kate was aware of the PO listening to all that was said.
‘A sewer rat would look down on you, Kerry. At least they take care of their babies.’
The other woman looked smug. She knew she had Kate on the hop and she was enjoying it.
‘Patrick Kelly, eh? Bit of all right and all, him. Do you help him with his work at all? I mean, with your knowledge of the law and that . . .’ She was smirking again, revealing yellowing teeth coated with tobacco and tea stains.
Kate had had enough. ‘Think you’re so clever, don’t you, Alston? But knowing what you do about Patrick Kelly, aren’t you nervous of insulting his bird? Only he can be very unpredictable where I am concerned.’
Kerry looked uncertain now.
‘I mean, I have pull in here, but not half the pull that he has. He knows everyone who is anyone, my Pat.’ This was said in a low confidential tone of voice.
‘He also had a daughter murdered, as you probably know, so a case like yours makes him all the angrier. Funny that, isn’t it? He worshipped his daughter but she died. While you . . . you try and kill your own kids. You hand them over to paedophiles and transvestites without a second’s thought. Like me, Patrick finds that weird. Thinks people like you should be hanged. And let’s face it, love, in here anything could happen, couldn’t it?’
Kerry was so astonished at Kate’s threats that she let the cigarette burn down until her fingers began to smart.
‘Fuck you, Burrows.’ She looked at the PO, and whined childishly, ‘She’s threatening me.’
The PO grinned. She was an old hand. She knew what was going down and she laughed as she said, ‘Good! Save me a fucking job, won’t it, nonce?’
Kerry glanced from one woman to the other, deflated now.
‘You bastard, Burrows.’
Kate smiled. ‘I have come here today to help you, as a matter of fact. But let’s get one thing straight, shall we? I’m not taking any more shit from you, OK?’
Kerry watched her warily, puffy eyes gleaming with cunning. ‘Pull the other one. It plays “A Hard Day’s Night”.’
This time Kate was the smug one.
‘Oh, but I did. I came here to say that I actually believe you aren’t guilty of trying to kill your child. Guilty of being a nonsense certainly, but not of attempted murder. You see, I think you know very well who took your kids but it wasn’t you.’
Kerry screwed up her face. ‘What the fuck are you on about?’
Kate heard the hesitation in her voice and knew she was halfway there.
‘Well, I heard a snatch of gossip that there’s a transvestite involved. Someone you all know. This person has been to visit Regina Carlton, and just have a guess who the TV said he was?’
She smiled before carrying on, watching the changing expressions on Kerry’s face.
‘He said that he was Suzy Harrington. Wore a wig, had make-up plastered everywhere. Except the nurse was convinced he was really a man.’
‘So who was it then?’
Kate shrugged and played her ace.
‘Could it have been DI Barker by any chance?’
Kerry s
tared at her for a few moments and then she started to laugh. She couldn’t stop herself. She was absolutely screaming with laughter. Her eyes were watering and she was waving one hand at Kate as if trying to tell her she couldn’t take another joke like this.
Kate watched her stony-faced.
Between gales of laughter Kerry kept saying, ‘Barker! Dressed as a woman!’ It would set her off again.
Kate waited, smoking quietly, until she’d calmed down. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Kerry sniffed as she said seriously, ‘Barker? You honestly think this is something to do with him?’
Kate nodded.
‘You are so far off the wall, lady. Barker’s a cunt but he ain’t got nothing to do with all this. At least if he has, and this is the truth, it’s only something to do with Suzy. Now that’s all I am willing to say and it’s off the record. You never heard it from me. I hate him, and I mean hate him, but I fear him as well. His arm is a damn sight longer than yours or that poncey bloke you hang around with. Take it from me, lady, that is a fact.’
Kate was inclined to believe her. She didn’t know why.
‘So Suzy could be involved with him then?’
‘Could be, probably is. But about the other business . . . If he was involved, the kids would have died, take it from me. He don’t know when to stop.’ She had said too much already and she knew it.
Kate pushed the cigarette packet across the table again and Kerry took another, lighting it slowly, pulling the smoke into her lungs and blowing out a perfect smoke ring.
‘So who is the TV then?’
Kerry shrugged. ‘No idea, mate, and that’s the truth. But it ain’t Barker.’ She was on the verge of laughter again.
‘How about Lesley Carmichael? What do you know about her?’
Suddenly the humour was gone from Kerry’s face.
‘I know even less about that, love.’
She was on the hop and Kate knew it.
