Paolo tapped his fingers on the desk. “Pity. It would have been neat to have a connection to Azzopardi we could use. Still, there might be a business association we haven’t uncovered yet. What have you found out about the dead woman?”
“Her name was Catherine Andrews. She was well known to the local force. Several arrests for prostitution, small time drug dealing and theft. She’d been on the streets for years, almost an institution up here apparently, but then she disappeared one night and turned up dead about a week later. Beaten and then strangled, but no DNA left behind to match. Either our killer didn’t do her, or he wore a condom. No close friends that I could find, but one of her neighbours says she had a young man who visited a few times. Dark haired, tall, good looking. The neighbour, Mrs Bligh, didn’t think he was a boyfriend or trick because it was always a Sunday afternoon when he came over. She thought he might be a relative of some kind due to the fact that Catherine used to clean herself up and stay off the drugs until after he’d gone.”
“The neighbour didn’t catch his name or anything else useful?”
“No, but I’m not really surprised. The noise level in that place is horrific. I don’t know how they can bear living there.”
“How do you mean?”
“When we arrived it was like listening to half a dozen different radio stations all playing at full volume. Once we’d knocked on a few doors, the sound level gradually went down,” CC said. “Anyway, Mrs Bligh didn’t hear anything useful. She said she wasn’t one to be nosey. I think it’s more likely that she is very much a nosey neighbour, but that Catherine wanted to keep the young man’s visits private. Apparently she used to wait downstairs and only bring the mystery visitor upstairs when she thought the coast was clear. Which means, of course, that Mrs Bligh must have been peering through a crack in the door or something, or she wouldn’t have known any of this.”
“I take it she knew Catherine was on the game?”
“She says not, but she must have done. I could be doing her an injustice, but I think she might have been in the same line of business, only she’s now retired and can afford to be respectable.”
“Good work, CC. Is there any point in you and George staying up there any longer?”
“I don’t think so, sir. George and I have made some good contacts with the local force and they’ve promised to keep us up to date if anything develops. We’ll be back in the office bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Fine, I’ll bring you up to date with what’s going on here then.” As he spoke the door opened and Dave peered across at him. Paolo signalled for Dave to come in and sit down. “We’ll see you and George tomorrow, CC. Have a safe journey back.”
He closed the phone and tossed it onto the desk. “Not much new information from Liverpool, but it seems the sister isn’t on good terms with her brother, so there’s no reason for Azzopardi to wander on up there. They had a falling out a few years back and she hasn’t seen him since.”
He went on to fill Dave in on CC’s other news and then asked what Dave had found out about the missing prostitute.
“Nothing more than I told you last night, unfortunately. I arranged to meet Sandra Massey. Remember she’s the woman who’s reported her friend missing? Anyway, business must have been good for her because she stood me up. I’ve tracked down her address, though, so I’ll go and disturb her beauty sleep when I’ve brought my paperwork up to date.”
Paolo caught sight of the clock and realised he only had half an hour before Lydia and Katy would be arriving at the school. He’d promised to be there to lend moral support – and also because he wanted to see Lydia again.
“I’ve got to go out for a couple of hours, Dave, but hang on until I get back and we’ll go and question Sandra Massey together. Oh, by the way, before I forget, arrange for some discreet surveillance of Larry Harper, he’s the owner of the Nag and Bag. It might be nothing, but I’ve had a tip that he likes to beat his wife and also spends time in the company of prostitutes.”
As he stood up, he toyed with the idea of telling Dave that Larry was an old classmate from his high school days, but decided against it. There was no reason for him to know and explaining the connections would take too long.
Walking across to the coat stand, he issued a few last minute instructions to Dave, grabbed his coat and ran. He had no intention of being late for this meeting. He had a feeling more than Katy’s future depended on what happened this morning.
Lydia and Paolo watched from the hallway as Katy walked back to class after she’d made her apology in front of the head and it had been accepted, although not as wholeheartedly as they’d hoped.
“I thought Father Gregory was a bit grudging in his reply, didn’t you?” Lydia said.
Paolo caught the note of concern in her voice. “Don’t worry, Katy has promised to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the year at least. As long as she doesn’t do or say anything else outrageous she shouldn’t have any more problems.”
“I’m glad you were here,” Lydia said, gripping Paolo’s arm. “I’m not sure I could have got her to apologise, far less sound as if she meant it.”
She looked so lovely, Paolo wanted to gather her in his arms, but this wasn’t the place.
“Fancy going somewhere for a coffee?” he asked.
He looked up to see the priest had come out of the head’s office and was bearing down on them. He turned, intending to whisk Lydia out but wasn’t fast enough.
“Paolo, can we have a chat?”
“Right now?” he said, smiling in what he hoped looked like a friendly manner. “Lydia and I were just off to find a nice coffee shop.”
Lydia smiled. “Another time, Paolo. I have an appointment at the hairdressers anyway, so couldn’t have stayed long.”
She waved goodbye and headed for the double doors of the exit. Paolo watched until the doors closed behind her. He turned back to Father Gregory.
“What’s the problem now? Katy has promised to behave.”
“I know she has, but I had a call this morning from Matthew and I feel I need to warn you so you can speak to Katy. He wasn’t happy about this meeting. He felt Katy’s case should have been decided by the school board. You know what he’s like, Paolo, can’t stand the idea that anything would damage the school’s reputation.”
“You mean his reputation,” Paolo said.
“Yes, maybe, but he does really care about the two schools, Paolo. What I’m trying to say is that Katy needs to be more than careful. Her behaviour needs to be close to perfect. Matthew has lots of supporters on the staff. They’ll all be watching Katy. It isn’t just my class that she needs to behave in, it’s all of them. Matthew only needs one transgression, no matter how minor, and he’ll insist on reopening this.”
“Well, she needs a friend in that case. You’re on the school board, aren’t you?”
“I hardly think I’m the right person to plead her cause.”
Paolo frowned. “Greg,” he said and the frown changed to a smile at the look of shock on the priest’s face. “Oh, come on. It’s still your name. Just because I give you the courtesy of using your title doesn’t mean I don’t think of you as Greg.”
The priest grimaced. “I’m just used to being called Father. It sounded odd.”
“You know, it is odd. I’d forgotten our schooldays. I don’t mean completely, but just hadn’t given them any thought. Then today someone asked me about one of our old classmates and the memories came flooding back. Now, if anyone should understand about a teenager’s rebellion it must surely be you.”
“Paolo, that was a long, long time ago.”
“I know it was, but that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t always been as holy as you now make out.” As Father Gregory scowled, Paolo held up a hand of truce. “Okay, sorry, as holy as you are. But Greg, your drinking and smoking were the bane of the teachers, the priests and your parents. As for your other exploits, the parents of the girls you had so much fun with would have
strung you up with pleasure if they’d been able to get away with it. Come on, you were the worst behaved boy in our school and the only reason you weren’t expelled was because Matthew was your best friend and no one would take a chance on upsetting his family. I didn’t realise any of that back then, but I’m older now and know how these things work. The school needed the Roberts’ money, so as long as you, Frank and Matthew were as thick as thieves, it didn’t matter what any of you did, you knew you would get away with it.”
Paolo made himself pause before saying anything else. When he was sure his temper was under control, he continued. “I’m not asking you to let Katy get away with anything, Greg. If she plays up after today’s warning then she deserves whatever she gets, but if she’s set up by one of your colleagues to suit Matthew’s way of thinking, then, yes, I expect you to stand up for her.”
There was silence for several seconds. Then Father Gregory laughed. “Talk about a chip off the old block. Your Katy sounds just like you when she gets going.”
“I know. She gets worked up and lets fly.”
“She almost caught me out a little while ago. I’d sneaked off to the playing field lockers to indulge in one of the vices I haven’t given up and there she was with another girl. Luckily I hadn’t actually lit my cigarette, but it was a close run call.”
Paolo studied Greg’s face, but couldn’t see anything other than amusement.
“Oh, you still smoking? Me too, but I’m planning to give the patches a try. Katy told me she’d seen you. I don’t think she’d realised that you’d gone over there for a quiet fag. She did mention that she’d found a girl in deep distress though. You know anything about that?”
Father Gregory smiled. “Now, Paolo, you know as well as I do, even if I did know anything, I couldn’t tell you. Whatever is said under the seal of the confessional is covered by a sacred trust.”
Again, Paolo studied the other man’s face looking for any sign of discomfort. Either Greg had become a first-class actor, or Katy was way off base.
“Talking of sacred trust, I believe you’re spreading the word in our red light district.”
Greg’s face darkened. “How the hell do you know that? And what’s it got to do with you?”
“You preaching the gospel is none of my business, but if you’re down there often enough you might notice something that would be of interest to me, or at least to the case I’m working on.”
“What sort of something? I’m not there to tell tales on them, Paolo.”
“I realise that. I’d just like to hear if they mention who their pimp is, or if there’s someone they are particularly scared by.”
The priest sighed. “They’re scared of everyone. Every single man they meet frightens them, even me. I go there night after night hoping to save just one of them from the life they lead, but it seems as though they can’t break free.”
Paolo nodded. “I know. It’s a vicious trap they’re in. Look, Greg, if there’s anything you think might be of use in tracking down the killer who’s preying on them, you will tell me, won’t you?”
Father Gregory’s eyes clouded. “If only I could.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The priest smiled. “Mean? It isn’t supposed to mean anything. There isn’t anything to tell, that’s all. I wish there were.”
“Me too,” Paolo said and turned towards the exit. He’d almost reached the doors when he heard his name called out. He turned back to see Greg smiling at him.
“By the way, you’re right, there’s nothing in my past to be proud of, but people change. I’m living proof of that. I changed when God took over my life. I’ll protect Katy if I think she’s being set up, Paolo, but you should know that if she tries to turn anyone against God’s love, I’ll do all I can to have her expelled.”
Paolo nodded to show he’d heard and understood. He could only hope Katy would keep her head down.
It was heading towards evening before he and Dave were both free to follow up on Sandra Massey. As they pulled up outside a rundown block of flats, Paolo took in the litter strewn road and graffiti covered walls. Two young women seemed to sum up that they weren’t possible customers because they immediately walked off as he and Dave got out of the car. A group of young lads, hiding their faces behind hoodies, congregated outside a rundown church hall situated on the corner of the street. Paolo hoped the place was being used as some kind of sports hall, but from the look of the youths hanging around outside, he seriously doubted it. The graffiti on the walls hinted at a different kind of meeting place.
“What’s the number of her flat, Dave?”
“According to the voters’ register, she’s lives in 413, sir.”
“She’s on the voters’ roll? People never cease to surprise me. I wonder who she voted for. None of the main parties seem to be interested in doing anything for this area of town.”
Paolo walked towards the communal doorway. The glass panel was shattered, but held in place by the reinforcing running crisscross through it. He pushed the door open, noticing that the security lock was no longer working. The intercom on the side wall had been attacked at some point by someone with a grudge, a hammer and, presumably, a lack of self-restraint.
“We’ll have to go up. There’s no point in trying to use that thing,” Paolo said, pointing to the remains of the intercom. “Fourth floor? What’s the betting the lift doesn’t work?”
Dave shrugged and walked over to push the button. Amazingly, the lift call light came on. The sound of machinery reached ground level and the doors creaked open. Paolo went to walk in, but staggered backwards as the stench of stale urine hit him.
“Jesus Christ, what is it with people? Come on, Dave, I’d rather climb four flights of stairs than travel in that thing. It’s a fucking health hazard.”
They went to the stairwell where the smell was slightly less offensive. Paolo tried not to breathe in too deeply as he climbed. He could hear by the strange noises coming from Dave’s direction that he was probably doing the same thing. As they stepped out of the stairwell onto the open balcony that provided access to the flats, he and Dave both leant over the edge and dragged air into their lungs.
“This Massey woman had better have something worth telling,” Paolo said as he turned to walk along the corridor.
They reached 413 and knocked, but no one seemed to be in. Giving a final rap on the door, Paolo was about ready to accept defeat when the next door along opened.
“What’s the fucking noise for? I’m trying to sleep.”
Paolo turned to see a woman of about thirty standing on the step. Black mascara smudges under her eyes and leftover lipstick gave the impression of a badly made up doll.
Dave took a step towards her. “We’re looking for Sandra Massey. Any idea when she’ll be back?”
“How the fuck should I know? I’m not her keeper. Who are you, anyway?”
Dave flicked his badge and introduced the two of them.
“Oh, that’s different. I thought you might be the bloke Sandra was avoiding. She got home last night in a right state. Came hammering on my door and said she was fucking off and never coming back.”
Paolo walked up to the woman’s door. “Friend of yours is she?”
The woman nodded.
“Did she say where she was going?”
“Nope just asked me to take her cat in.”
“Did she say why?” Paolo asked.
“Nope. All she said was that she was clearing off because she knew something that meant it wasn’t safe for her here anymore.”
CHAPTER 12
No matter how many times he used the lash, still he trembled with lust. Was this it? Was he now tainted by those he’d saved? He remembered reading accounts of long-dead missionaries who had gone to save the souls of savages. In trying to bring God’s light into the darkest places, many of them had lost sight of their mission and fallen prey to the native way of life and the worship of false gods. Some had even taken native wiv
es and lived in sin with them before remembering God’s message. Is that what was happening to him? Was he in danger of losing himself to the way of the flesh?
“Never, Lord, I promise I’ll never let this lust into my heart even if I have to destroy my body.”
He braced his back and lashed the whip again and again, as hard as he could, first over the right shoulder and then the left, but still his erection stood proud, taunting him with its power to seduce his mind. No matter how many times he used the scourge, it seemed as if his desire was stronger than his pain. It couldn’t be. He marked them only to save them, not for his own pleasure, so why couldn’t he control his needs?
Falling forward, he let the whip fall from his hand and clutched his arms around his body. He clung tightly, anything to keep his treacherous hands from giving him the release he craved.
Sin. It was sinful to lust in this way.
Please God, give me the strength to resist. How can this be happening? I haven’t even looked at the images on screen and yet I can see them in my mind, replaying that glorious moment when she went to meet you, Lord.
His hands moved of their own volition. He had no power to resist as the devil entered his soul and forced his way into his mind. He fell onto his ravaged back in an effort to raise his pain level, but that only heightened the sensations flooding his body. He gave in to temptation and caressed his erection. The devil’s hands took over his own and played the sweetest tune. He arched his back, squirming as the evil one brought him to climax.
“Sweet Jesus, it feels so good. So good. So... fucking... good.”
He bucked and thrashed as his seed spurted, wave after wave of pleasure flowing from his groin.
Then it was over. The pleasure faded, leaving a void for guilt to fill, taunting him with his weakness. As he lay spent on the floor, tears of despair ran in rivers from under his closed lids. He’d called out the Lord’s name. How could he have done such a thing?
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