The DCI Isaac Cook Thriller Series: Books 1 -3

by Phillip Strang

  ‘She told me she didn’t, but you’d better check. She hasn’t come out too well in this.’

  ‘Maybe there are extenuating circumstances. I’ll reserve my opinion until I’ve met with her.’

  ‘We can leave within the week, maybe two days,’ the husband said.

  ‘Keep in contact. I’ll do what I can to protect you.’

  ‘Thank you, Farhan,’ Olivia said. Her husband thanked him as well.

  With one woman’s situation hopefully resolved, Farhan turned to the one woman he hoped he could protect. Her phone, barely the first ring before she answered.

  ‘Aisha, where are you?’

  ‘Close to the office. Can we meet?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not possible. We need to maintain a distance until this blows over.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They know me. I don’t want them following.’

  ‘You would know if you were being followed, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Most of the time, but some of them are good. The risk's too great.’

  ‘Then it’s good that we spent time together yesterday,’ she said.

  ‘I wish we could repeat it today, but your safety is more important than my lust.’

  ‘Don’t you mean love?’

  ‘Of course, but I need to protect you now.’

  ‘That’s what people who love each other do, isn’t it?’

  He had to agree. ‘Yes, that’s what they do.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Maintain your normal routine. Go to work, go home, act normal.’

  ‘I’ll try. It won’t be easy.’

  ‘It will not be easy for either of us, but your protection is all that matters now.’

  ‘It will kill my father if the truth comes out. He has a weak heart.’

  ‘Then follow my advice. Is that clear?’

  ‘It’s clear, but this is a time we should be together, not apart,’ she said.

  ‘That may be, but it’s not possible. Believe me, I will be thinking of you. I can only hope that this is concluded soon.’

  ‘Will it be?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. We’re floundering at the moment, not sure what the significance of the missing woman is.’

  ‘You’ve never mentioned that before.’

  ‘I’m talking out loud, that’s all.’

  ‘Are you saying Marjorie Frobisher is the key to this?’

  ‘She worked with Sutherland, knew Sally Jenkins, and she disappeared before the murders started. It’s suspicious.’

  ‘Maybe she knew she was being targeted?’ Aisha said.

  ‘Until we speak with her, assuming she’s still able to speak, we’ll not know.’

  ‘There’s something about her early history,’ Farhan said.

  ‘Maybe I can help?’

  ‘Maybe you could.’

  ‘Give me some details,’ she said. Farhan realised that he was in error, but Aisha was a smart woman, legally qualified, and she may find something the experts had missed.

  ‘Until we know what this information is, I don’t think we are any closer to solving it.’

  ‘Send me what information you have that is relevant, some dates, and I’ll scurry around. That way we can keep in touch, even if only by phone.’

  ***

  Two minutes after ending his conversation with Aisha, Farhan arrived at Marion Robertson’s office. ‘I need to put my case forward before you judge me out of hand,’ she said.

  ‘I’m here with an open mind. If you help me, then maybe I am able to help you. Are we agreed?’ he said.

  ‘I had no option but to give one of the names.’

  ‘Olivia?’

  ‘Yes.’ Farhan could see the woman was not as relaxed as at their previous meeting. She was moving around the office, unable to sit down. Farhan had chosen to sit on a chair close to her desk. He needed her to be calm.

  ‘Please sit down.’ He took the initiative and made two cups of tea using the machine in the corner. For several minutes, nothing was said.

  ‘They threatened to expose me.’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘The two men who came here.’

  Farhan realised that if the woman had been threatened, then maybe she had no alternative. She certainly seemed less sure of herself, almost demure as she sat behind her desk. The assuredness, the inner calm, no longer apparent. He suggested they sat in more comfortable chairs.

  ‘It may be best if you tell me the full story,’ Farhan said calmly.

  ‘I am ashamed of what I did.’

  ‘You had no problem with supplying women for sex.’

  ‘I’ve never had any qualms about this business. There has never been any serious trouble. I always reasoned that it was a necessary service, and no one was hurt.’

  ‘Were you an escort once?’

  ‘For many years. It’s a long story, but I never sold myself on a street corner, and there were never drugs involved.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘The mobile phone, the one with the gold case that you observed last time. That was given to me for services rendered, not some other woman. He is a wonderful man, very decent, very generous.’

  ‘Why did you give Olivia’s details?’ Farhan realised that he had not been shocked by Marion Robertson’s revelation.

  ‘Is she alright?’ She seemed genuinely concerned. Farhan was certain it was not a pretence. Some of her self-assuredness had returned. She sat easily in the chair. Farhan, in charge of the situation, made another cup of tea for the two of them.

  ‘Hopefully, she will be all right.’ He was unsure if he should elaborate just yet. He was aware that Olivia and her husband were buying airline tickets and were planning to leave within two days. If Marion Robertson had been pressured, then maybe she could be pressured again. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t tell.

  ‘I can only hope she accepts my apologies.’

  ‘Maybe, in time.’ Farhan said. Olivia did not seem a vengeful woman; a little contrite about what she had put her husband through, but it was clear that she had no great issues with selling herself if it looked after her family. Farhan was certain she would do it again, but it was not for him to offer an opinion.

  It made him reflect on Aisha. I hope she does not think of prostitution in the same way as Olivia, he thought. He determined to ask her the next time he saw her. He felt he could forgive her for past sins, but future sins? That seemed too much to consider.

  ‘Will they find out where she lives?’ Farhan decided not to answer the question. He had found Olivia’s home address and he knew that anyone else determined would find it with little trouble.

  ‘I said to both women that I would protect their identities to the best of my ability. I intend to do that if it is indeed possible.’

  ‘And is it? she asked.

  ‘I’m not certain yet.’

  ‘Are you able to protect me?’ Marion Robertson looked unsure of herself again.

  ‘Do you need protection?’

  ‘The two men.’

  ‘What can you tell me?’

  ‘They threatened me.’

  ‘It’s best if you describe their visit here. It was here, I assume?’

  ‘Yes, in this office.’

  ‘I’ll record this conversation. Is that okay with you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine.’

  Farhan placed his mobile phone on the table, on record. He knew he would have to write a report afterwards – easier to record now and play back later.

  ‘Marion, please commence. Take your time and take a break if you need.’

  ‘I could do with a glass of water.’ Farhan poured one for her.

  ‘Last week, Thursday, mid-morning, I was in the office. I had just arranged for one of my girls to meet up with an overseas client. He’s a regular when he is in the country. He always treats the girls well, so I had no problem fixing him up. It was close to eleven o’clock when two men walked into the office.’

  ‘Just one
question before you continue,’ Farhan interrupted. ‘Why the office? Surely you could run this business from home.’

  ‘At home, I’m the dutiful wife; here, I’m the Madam.’

  Farhan could see no reason to judge. At least the husband did not have a cold bed and a cold wife in it.

  ‘The two men came in,’ she continued. ‘Normally, I keep the door locked, but for some reason I had failed to do so.’

  ‘You assumed they were looking for you to arrange some women for them?’

  ‘Not at all. There is no sign on the door. That’s all strictly done online or by phone.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘They came in, polite and well-mannered. One sat where you are sitting now, the other one stood. It seemed as if he was there to intimidate me. He succeeded. I felt very insecure, but I maintained my composure. They said that the reason for their visit was a matter of the gravest seriousness. I was unsure what to think. There have been a few well-known clients over the years, including the son of a dictator in the Middle East, although he was a gentleman.’

  ‘Did they introduce themselves?’

  ‘The one sitting said his name was Howard Stone. He even showed me a business card.’

  ‘Do you still have the card?’

  ‘He said it was his last one and would I mind if he kept it. The other one did not offer his name, and apart from a few words, said little.’

  ‘How long were they here?’

  ‘About twenty minutes in total. They were both well-dressed, spoke well.’

  ‘Not heavies, then?’

  ‘Heavies? If by that you mean gangsters, then no.’

  ‘So, what did they say or do that scared you?’

  ‘The one sitting spoke calmly. He told me that they represented some clients in town, important clients, who were disturbed that a senior member of society had been potentially embarrassed, personally compromised, due to his involvement with one of my girls.’

  ‘Did they say who this senior member of society was?’

  ‘No, they were cagey when I asked.’

  ‘Who do you think they were talking about?’

  ‘I assumed it was a politician. The rich don’t care unless the wife is likely to take half the assets if their dalliances became public knowledge. The politicians always worry about their reputations.’

  ‘Has that happened in the past?’ Farhan asked.

  ‘It’s happened, although I was able to keep the woman I supplied out of the newspapers. Luckily, the wife came to a confidential agreement with her husband, so no more was said, at least to us.’

  ‘Let’s assume it is a politician. What happened next?’

  ‘The one sitting down told me that it was imperative that this person remained free of any indiscretions.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘He would not elaborate. I told him that my girls were specially chosen for their discretion and that they would not speak to anyone, or cause trouble.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘His manner changed. He became surly, accused me of running a house of ill-repute, and that his client would ensure that firstly I would be out on the street where I belonged, letting any derelict fuck me for the price of a decent meal. My apologies for the bad language. I’m just repeating verbatim.’

  ‘No need to apologise.’

  ‘And secondly, he would ensure that my husband would be publicly disgraced as the consort of a whore. I could not allow that.’

  ‘You care that much about your husband?’ Farhan could not see his wife making such a statement. Marion Robertson, an escort, a supplier of women for sex, and in his society a person to be condemned, was more honourable than all those that professed piety. He admired the woman immeasurably.

  ‘Yes. He’s a good and kind man who accepts my peccadilloes with a forbearance that many would not.’

  She had moved closer and touched Farhan on the knee. ‘The silent one came close and leant over. He spoke quietly into my ear.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He told me that they had total authority, and if I did not give him some names with contacts immediately, they would personally see that I was revealed as the Madam of a brothel, and my husband would have an unfortunate accident.’

  ‘Who did you think they were?’

  ‘I thought they were connected with the government.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Their training. It was psychological intimidation. A gangster would have felt the need to be physical.’

  ‘Why Olivia?’

  ‘They were clear as to whom they wanted contact details for.’

  ‘Samantha and Olivia?’

  ‘They never mentioned Charles Sutherland.’

  ‘You assume it was related?’ Farhan asked.

  ‘I don’t know what I thought. I was shaking like a leaf, almost wet myself. It took me hours to calm down afterwards, and I couldn’t tell my husband.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I didn’t want to upset him.’

  ‘Why didn’t you give them Samantha’s phone number as well as Olivia’s?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure that I had it. She tends to change the number regularly. Olivia is easier to contact. I knew her number worked.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I had phoned her up earlier in the day, another client.’

  ‘She was agreeable?’

  ‘As always. I believe she likes the thrill of it. Is she a different person outside of the business?’

  Farhan wasn’t sure how much to say. What if the two men returned? Would she give up any more secrets if pressured? He assumed she would.

  ‘A decent person.’ He did not intend to elaborate.

  ‘What if they come back? she asked.

  ‘Difficult question. Do you know any more about Samantha?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Are you surprised that she changes her phone number regularly?’

  ‘Not really. I don’t know what her secret is, but she’s very careful. Besides, she told me that she didn’t want any more clients for a while. I sensed she had met someone and didn’t want to confuse a normal relationship with selling herself on the side.’

  Farhan relaxed back in his chair, almost certainly blushing.

  ‘If they ask for Olivia again?’ she asked.

  ‘Her phone number will not work.’

  ‘Is she safe?’

  ‘I’m not sure. You’ve been threatened. Olivia is hiding, and Samantha is keeping a low profile. Our investigations have placed not only you three at risk, but indirectly brought about the deaths of two people.’

  ‘You’re a policeman; you can’t stop doing your job because it may have unfortunate outcomes.’

  ‘That is true, but it’s a hornet’s nest we’ve stirred up. We’ve no idea how it’s going to end.’

  ‘You said you were separated from your wife.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘If you need company, let me know. I’ll see that you are treated well. No cost, of course, but a man needs an outlet. No point bottling up the tension.’

  Chapter 29

  Isaac decided to visit the production lot. He wasn’t sure why, apart from the fact that all three persons, two dead and one missing, had a close involvement with the place.

  Until Wendy came up with some fresh information or Detective Superintendent Goddard was more forthcoming about why Marjorie Frobisher was so important, then the cast and production crew were his best bet. Maybe a snippet of information, a remark made in passing, and then a new avenue of enquiry would open up. Isaac hoped he would not make a fool of himself if he ran into Jess, but assumed he probably would.

  Larry Hill had taken over the investigation into Sally Jenkins’ death, at least as far as ascertaining who could have murdered her, and how that person had got into her apartment. Was the person known to her? Was Sally Jenkins relaxed when the person mysteriously appeared in her apartment after breaking in? And now Larry Hill
was intimating that maybe the murderer did not come in through the window, only made it look as though he or she did. The person who had held the hapless former PA under water could have been male or female. There seemed to be no way to clarify this.

  It was remarkable when Isaac arrived at the production lot how busy it was. Everywhere he looked, he saw activity.

  He saw why soon enough – Ian Stanley. The series producer with the Napoleon complex was out on the war path, shouting at whoever. He saw Isaac soon enough.

  ‘I hope you’re not going to hold us up today,’ Stanley said brusquely.

  ‘Not at all. Under the circumstances, I thought it would have been quiet out here for a few weeks.’

  ‘Are you joking? We’re here to produce thirty minutes’ worth of entertainment, five days a week, and then it’s syndicated to two dozen television stations around the world. If we don’t supply, they sue for lost advertising revenue.’

  ‘But you’ve had two people murdered?’

  ‘At the end of the day, you’ll find me sympathising.’ Isaac could not see Ian Stanley sympathising about anybody.

  ‘How was the news of Sally Jenkins received out here?’

  ‘Look, I don’t wish to be impolite, but I’m busy. Can this discussion wait?’

  ‘Sure,’ Isaac replied, ‘just interested to know what everyone thought.’

  ‘A few sad faces, but everyone knew she was only working with Richard Williams because she was an easy lay for someone with money. I made an inappropriate comment once about her screwing the boss, while everyone else was being screwed by him. She was so dumb, she didn’t respond, just laughed. I only hope she was better in the sack than in the office. She was damn useless, always stuffing up everyone’s pay and expenses.

  ‘That new one, Linda Harris, she’s good. No idea what she sees in Richard, money or no money. I reckon she could find any guy she wanted. She seems too smart for the job, and if she’s screwing Richard Williams, it must be for a reason.’ Isaac noted the comment.

  ‘Mind you,’ Ian Stanley went on, his voice raised after bawling out a couple of men hastily erecting a backdrop, ‘I don’t know what Jess O’Neill saw in him either, and she was screwing him.’

  ‘Is she here?’ Isaac asked, upset by Ian Stanley’s aspersion about Jess and Richard Williams. He hoped it did not show: it did.