by Linda Regan
“I’d like a word with Mr Gladman,” Alison said.
“Of course.”
“On his own. Can we use the club? Or shall I take him to the station?”
“I don’t want to go to the station,” Johnny protested.
“I bet you don’t,” said Banham.
“I haven’t done anything, man.”
Eddie put his hand out. “Use the club. I’ll stay here in my office.”
“We also need a list of your staff and club members,” Banham said. “And a separate list of everyone working here last night, and another of the guests.”
“My pleasure.” Eddie narrowed his eyes.
“And the CCTV tapes from last night,” Alison added
He gave a curt nod.
“All of it, including the camera at the front door.”
“I don’t have one at the front door.”
“Do you know an Andrew Fisher?” Alison asked.
“Never heard of him.”
“Has anyone else been here today?”
“Not to my knowledge. I’ve been in here all morning, doing the accounts. Ask Johnny.”
Johnny shook his head. “No, no one. Only you.”
Johnny was nervous, that was clear. It was mid-March, the club was empty and the heat was turned off, yet tiny rivulets of sweat were running down his temple. He lifted his arm to wipe his face.
They sat at a table in the far corner of the club. “I presume you knew Sadie Morgan,” Alison said.
“Yes, I did.” He crinkled his forehead and swallowed. “Is she really dead?”
Alison nodded. “She was my friend.”
Alison studied him for a few moments. “OK,” she said. “Tell me all about her.”
He licked his dry lips nervously and his forehead creased again. “She was my friend,” he repeated quietly.
“Do you know who might want her dead?”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. When he looked up tears glistened his eyes. “Was she killed?”
“We’re trying to find out,” Alison said.
His plaits bounced against each other. “She was trying to get free of her ex-husband.” He looked away. “He was always in here, ranting at her. He wanted her back.” He fell silent and stared into space.
“Go on,” Banham coaxed.
“She’s been here about six months. She was the best Marilyn. She just had what it takes. Everyone liked her, even the other Marilyn girls. She was a sweet girl.” He swiped at a droplet of sweat rolling down the side of his face. “She needed money to pay her ex- husband off. She wanted to buy him out of the flat their shared. She was a nurse – this was just a bit extra.”
He wiped his cheek again as more droplets of perspiration broke out. “Her husband was a waste of space...” The plaits moved again as he shook his head. “All she wanted was to get her independence back. She was my friend.”
He’s said that three times in as many minutes, Alison thought.
“Were you working here last night?” Banham asked him.
“Yes, sir. I work every night.”
“How did she seem to you?”
There was a pause. “Unhappy.” He paused again. “Bruno, her ex, was bugging her yesterday. She was real afraid of him. She seemed distant last night. I think she was upset.”
“Do you know what time she left?”
“Well after two, more likely be three o’clock. Straight after her last spot.”
“Did you see Chang after that?” Alison asked.
“Oh, he’s always here, but you don’t see him all the time.”
“Thank you,” Alison said. “Do you live alone?
He shifted uncomfortably. “No, my brother Otis lives with me. He’s only fifteen.”
“And someone can verify you were here all night?” Banham asked.
Johnny looked nervous again, then nodded his head.
As they stood up to leave Eddie Chang was standing in the doorway of his office, his arms folded across his chest.
“Have you got the CCTV tapes we asked for?” Alison asked. “And the list of members and guests?”
He nodded. Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t like being told what to do by a woman. She was delighted. Whether or not he had anything to do with Sadie’s death, she was going to make life as difficult as possible for him. “That will be all for now,” she told him crisply. “Don’t leave the country, though.”
His cold eyes narrowed as he unfolded his arms. He walked slowly to his desk, picked up the papers and handed them to her. “You have nothing on me.”
“No,” Banham said. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t like to have your club taken to pieces brick by brick.” He smiled without humour, exactly as Chang had earlier. “It might be bad for business.”
“You have nothing on me,” Chang repeated flatly.
Millie was in the bath, enjoying a long, hot soak. She was exhausted, and very glad she could do as she chose for the rest of the weekend.
The phone rang, and she reached for it reluctantly.
“Hi, Millie! It’s Lily.”
Millie thought quickly. Did Lily know about Sadie? Was that why she was ringing? If she didn’t, it would probably be better not to say anything.
“Lily! How’s the play going?” Millie tried to sound casual.
“It’s good. I’m really enjoying it.”
“When do you open?” Millie knew the answer, but she needed to buy herself some time.
“We leave London on Monday, and rehearse in Birmingham for a few days, then there the tech and dress, and we open next week. It’s a big theatre, holds about eight hundred people.”
“Sounds good.”
“How are things going at Doubles?”
Millie’s brain raced. “OK.”
“When were you last there?”
Another pause. Did Lily know about Sadie or not? In the runup to opening in a play, the last thing she’d have time to do was read the paper. It wouldn’t be in the paper yet anyway. So unless someone told her, she probably didn’t know.
Millie decided to brave it out. “Last night. I was there last night.”
“Who was doing the Monroe spot? Sadie?”
Another pause. “I’m not sure,” Millie lied. “I was on duty, and I only popped in for a quick fitting with Terry King. He’s odd, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. Watch out, though; he can be unkind. He wants to be Marilyn himself.”
“Really? He’s been OK with me.”
“Terry hates Sadie.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” This was getting very interesting.
“Because she is so good at being Marilyn.”
“Is that all?”
“Far as I know.” There was a pause. “Millie?”
“Yes, I’m still here.”
“I need to tell you something. I’m telling you because you work for the police.”
Millie held her breath. “What?”
“I think I’m being stalked.”
Millie closed her eyes. Her heart began to race as she replied. “Go on.”
“I keep seeing the same person. Wherever I am, he’s there.”
“What does he look like?”
“I don’t know, that’s the problem. He wears dark glasses, and a mackintosh. And I’m sure his hair’s a wig.”
“Are you sure he is following you?”
“Yes.”
“Lily, are you locked in your flat?”
“Yes, course I am.”
“OK, you’re safe at the moment. No one has a key that you know of?”
“No, the only spare is with my neighbour.”
“And will you be travelling to Birmingham with the others?”
“Yes. They’re picking me up on Monday evening and we’ll all travel together.”
Millie’s heart was still thumping. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Lily. Will you be at home?”
“Yes, I’m planning a day off to look at my lines.”
“You
know I should tell the police about this, don’t you?”
“Do you think they’ll be interested? I mean, no one has approached me. It’s just sort of a strange stalker.”
“I’ll let you know what they say.”
Chapter Six
It was the first time in a while that Banham had experienced one of his violent reactions to a young female corpse. He leaned against the glass front of the shop next to the morgue, slowly pulling himself together.
He’d thought he was dealing with it, until Mrs Morgan let out a wail as the attendant drew back the covers on Sadie’s body. That took him back eleven years, to the day he had found his wife and baby, their blood soaked into the nursery carpet and the room smelling like an abattoir.
Alison had noticed as the colour drained from his face and he began to tremble, and quietly helped him over the embarrassment by suggesting he wait outside while she talked to Sadie Morgan’s mother and father after they had identified the body.
As soon as he got through the door of the building he threw up his lunch.
Sweat trickled slowly down his face. The memory of that nightmare day was as clear as if it was happening right now. The wail Sadie’s mother had let out was ringing around inside his brain, and he wanted to crumple into a heap and weep.
He leaned against the wall next to the window, shaking like an alcoholic. He understood only too well how the poor woman felt. The machete-wielding madman who had butchered his wife and baby was still free and walking the streets.
The questions refused to go away. Why them? Were they targeted? Or just unlucky, in the wrong place at the wrong time? Eleven years had passed and still he had no answers. The only thing that helped was solving other brutal murders. Perhaps it would help these parents if he could find their daughter’s killer.
He took deep breaths, gradually steadying himself. He didn’t want Alison to see him like this. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it hadn’t been this bad in a while. Things should be different now, after last night. Alison was his woman at last, and he wanted to be there for her.
He smiled. Alison would be the first to tell him she could take care of herself. When she was in one of her famous tempers, and those squirrel eyes of hers flared, she could take on the whole of the murder squad and come out on top. That was part of the reason he had fallen for her.
Maybe this upsurge of emotion was a mixture of memory and guilt. Last night had been the first time for him since Diane’s murder. He had wanted to get closer to Alison for a long time, but had always ended up saying the wrong thing. He wondered how the sex had been for Alison. After such a long time it had been difficult for him to stay in control, though all he wanted was to hold her and please her. He had been nervous and fumbly, but she had been patient, and he knew it would get better between them, if he could just stop feeling guilty about Diane.
Diane had been his childhood sweetheart, and he couldn’t help feeling he was betraying her. He had promised her that night, as he stared at her unrecognisable face, that he would find the person responsible, and he wouldn’t move on until he had. Last night when he made love with Alison he had broken that promise. Yet, in his heart he knew Diane would approve; she would know that loving Alison didn’t mean he had stopped loving her.
He wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief. So why did he feel guilty and confused and emotional?
His mind began to clear, and he came to a decision. For the moment they needed to focus on finding Sadie’s killer – but once that was done, he would take Alison to Venice. She deserved a holiday, and they could cement their relationship far more easily away from the prying eyes of the rest of the team.
The incident room smelt of burgers and curry. Phones trilled, warm paper was burring through the fax machines, and the murder division detectives were making the best possible use of the golden hours, talking on the phone – sometimes more than one phone at a time – or scrolling through pages of criminal records or witness statements on their computers, desperately looking for a lead to help crack the case.
Alison stood in the doorway and gazed around the incident room. Banham followed as she walked towards the whiteboard and stood with her back to the pictures: the grisly shots from the murder scene, and the poignantly contrasting ones of Sadie dressed as Marilyn Monroe, looking happy, gorgeous and vulnerable.
“Gather round, everyone,” she shouted.
The twenty-odd detectives put half-eaten sandwiches back in their wrappers and brought their phone calls to a halt; one left to finish an important call outside in the corridor. Some perched on the side of their desks, others took out notebooks. Eric, as always, put a pencil behind his ear. They all gave Alison their full attention.
“It’s official,” she told them. “We have identification from her parents. Her name was Sadie Morgan. She was a nurse and worked part-time at Doubles, as a Marilyn Monroe impersonator. Crowther has found a bloodstained knife, a bag of crystal meth and her diary, all wrapped in newspaper, hidden in her flat.” She paused, and looked round the room, noting with satisfaction that every eye was upon her.
“This could well be linked with Doubles,” she went on. “Perhaps Sadie Morgan was acting as a mule for Chang? Or for someone else? But where does the bloodstained knife come in?”
“Knife is with Penny,” Crowther said. “She’ll get back with any DNA results as soon as she can.”
“Anything relevant in the diary?” Eric asked.
Alison looked at Isabelle.
“Nothing about the knife, but she did write that she was scared of her ex’s temper. Two entries about him hitting and threatening her, and another where he tried to smother her.”
“We’ve got his address from Sadie’s parents,” Alison said, waving a sheet of paper. “He’s living with his mother – and guess what? She lives within yards of the crime scene.”
“Sadie’s mother has verified he was insanely jealous,” Banham said. “She was trying to buy her way out of the marriage.”
Alison handed the address to Crowther. “Take Isabelle with you and bring him in. If he’s not there, try some local restaurants. Sadie’s parents know he’s a chef, but they don’t know where – just that it’s Italian and local, and owned by his cousins.”
“His mother will know,” Isabelle said.
“Anyone got anything else?” Alison asked the room.
“We’ve been going through last night’s CCTV footage from Doubles,” Eric said. “And interviewing the club members.”
A detective called Sam raised a hand. “I’m getting through that, with help from uniform.”
“Good. So we’re waiting on DNA tests,” Alison said. “Hopefully they’ll turn something up.”
“Penny is going to be working all night again,” Crowther told her.
Alison noticed Isabelle’s eyes cloud when Crowther mentioned Penny. She wondered how she would feel when she found out he was playing away with the pretty new PCSO.
“What about the gun?” someone at the back asked. “Can we link that to the club?”
“The one in the victim’s bag was an Astra Cadix hand-gun,” Crowther said. “We’re pretty sure Chang was selling those a while back, but at the moment he’s dealing in Mac 10 sub-machine guns.”
Banham ran a hand through his hair. “Perhaps Sadie was working for someone else and Chang found out. There’s still a suggestion that she’d taken something before leaving the club, and Chang denies all knowledge.”
“We won’t have the toxicology results until Monday at the post-mortem,” Crowther said.
“It could still turn out to be a simple domestic killing,” Alison said. “I want to talk to the husband.”
“We’ll bring him in,” Isabelle promised. “We’ll sit outside his house all night if we have to.”
Alison threw her a grateful look.
Eric took the pencil from behind his ear and used it to scratch his eyebrow. “We’ve had so many tip-offs about Doubles. How many times have w
e raided the place? And Chang always comes up squeaky clean.”
“And Crowther’s got an informant working in there too,” Isabelle reminded them.
“He’s a good informant,” Crowther assured them. “But Eddie Chang is a clever bastard, but his luck can’t last for ever. This just may be the opportunity we need to trip him up.”
Alison put up a hand. “Look, this is about Sadie Morgan’s murder. We must keep our focus. If Chang is involved, let’s get him – but Sadie is our priority. I want her killer found.”
A rumble of assent went round the room.
“Chang said she was doing drugs,” Banham said.
“I wouldn’t believe a word he says,” Crowther replied. “He’s a vicious, lying killer. I bet he’s behind this.”
“I’m not so sure.” This was Isabelle. “Chang would have had her shot.”
Crowther shook his head. “He knows we’d think that. He could be playing us. We’ll pay my snout a visit tonight too.”
“Yes, do that,” Alison nodded. “But bring Bruno Pelegino in first.”
Isabelle sniffed. “We’ve raided that club twice on information from Col’s snout. We’ve not found anything. I’d say that snout needs to earn his keep. Either that or he’s bent.”
Crowther didn’t rise to the bait. “He’s not clever enough to be bent. We’ll lean on him though. He’ll do anything for the price of a fix. He found out about the shipment of Mac 10s.”
Isabelle nodded.
“He’s sussed about the girls, too – a truckload of them, Ukrainian, coming into Dover on Wednesday.”
“With the Mac 10s?” Isabelle asked.
“Yes.”
“So where does the Astra Cadix hand-gun fit in?”
“He was bringing them in from Spain, before he got his contact for the Mac 10s.” Crowther looked at Alison then back to Isabelle. “It’s imperative we keep those Mac 10s off the streets of south London, hence the CO19 operation.”
Alison took a deep breath. This was about Sadie Morgan, not Eddie Chang. She had to keep them focused on the murder. They might cross paths with the CO19 operation – but they might not even be connected. “I want you to concentrate on finding the husband and bringing him in,” she said to Isabelle and Crowther.
