Death's Privilege

by Darryl Donaghue

  ‘I know when to stop. You not on shift in the morning?’

  ‘Of course. In for seven.’

  The secretary finished up. One last twirl and she was fully naked. She strutted to the rear of the runway and through a black curtain at the back. The pink lights switched to blue in preparation for another girl to saunter out and cash in on the baying crowd of cash-rich, self-esteem-poor men. The noise level rose as the blood rushed back to their brains allowing them to talk again. On hearing the conversations, Sarah would have preferred it to have stayed below the waistline.

  ‘That one was a right slut. We’d get no work done if she were our secretary.’

  ‘I’d have her working over a desk rather that at a desk.’

  ‘That arse is the best job application I’ve ever seen.’

  The last guy gave a quick glance over at Sarah and stopped himself saying any more. His navy suit, which looked as if it’d once been a sharp tailor-made number, was a little too well worn, and his white shirt collar was open one button too many. His wedding band had seen better days. He looked apologetic, like he’d been caught by a teacher scribbling rude words in his textbook. She didn’t want to judge, but found herself doing so. Men came to places like this for different reasons. She felt like she’d snuck into a place she wasn’t allowed, like the little boy in The Witches, seeing things she wasn’t supposed to see. She felt their eyes on her. When she couldn’t see them, she was certain they were either picturing her in stockings and suspenders wrapped around the pole or cursing her for whatever blanket view of women brought them to a place like this in the first place. But when she made eye contact, all that changed. They were reduced to embarrassed schoolboys caught in a lie.

  Alison swayed her head back toward the table. ‘You’d let your husband come to a place like this?’

  The speakers boomed again before Sarah could answer. A heavy thud repeated throughout the room as the blue lights started to pulse. The punters quietened down and everyone looked back towards the stage. A siren wailed as a woman flung the black curtain back and strode out wearing a short black leather skirt, a black leather shirt and wielding an old-fashioned truncheon. She swung it by her side as she walked towards the pole. Alison clapped. The stripper bent down, sticking her bum in the air making it look like it was pouting, and placed her hat on a drunken guy’s head. He responded by pushing a handful of twenties into her cleavage. One day they’ll design card swipers to fit in there. The police officer undid her bun and long, auburn hair unravelled, resting on her shoulders and chest. Alison clapped again and let out a howl.

  Sarah leant towards Joel. ‘It might be time we get going. A loose word from her and they’ll all know what we do for a living. That could lead to hassle we don’t need.’

  ‘You might be right.’ He nodded towards Alison, who was too engrossed in what was happening on stage to notice anything they were doing. ‘We’ll go after this one. It’s rude to walk out in the middle of a dance.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware there was an etiquette to these things. Watch them strip, put cash in their undies, but don’t turn your back on them?’

  ‘I don’t know about etiquette, but I’ve got a personal rule to never walk out on a naked woman.’

  ‘I’m sure they’d be flattered to hear that.’

  ‘Glad you came?’

  ‘It’s an experience. Not one I can say I’m itching to have again in a hurry.’

  The siren wailed to the background of the heavy bass line. The police officer, now naked from the waist up, patrolled the runway to the delight of the crowd of men that had formed at the side. She looked down on them and twirled her truncheon, her seductive eyes and swinging hips ensuring their compliance.

  ‘And I thought she was the only copper in the room.’ The server carrying the tray of drinks had a familiar voice. ‘Coppers on stage and coppers in the crowd.’ Leilani Hayes put the tray down on the table. ‘Okay, let me guess. Beer for you. The red wine’s gotta be Sarah’s. And the sweet and sour mojito for your little firecracker friend over there.’ Alison had left the table and was now standing next to the runway alongside the row of men. Security was eyeing her up.

  ‘Leilani? You work here?’ If there was someone she really didn't want to see after a few drinks, it was Leilani Hayes.

  ‘My sister owns it. I cover a few shifts from time to time. She’s got me working here every night this week. It helps to make ends meet and helps her out too. What’s this? An office night out?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t order anything. I should bring her back over. She’s likely to get thrown out.’ Sarah went to stand up, but Leilani raised her hand before she could.

  ‘It’s no bother. The boys will let it slide, I’m sure. They’re not used to handling rowdy women and I doubt they’d leave her looking too pretty if things got out of hand. The wine’s on the house.’ Leilani’s green dress brought out her beauty far more than the Oxlaine uniform. ‘From all the eyes on her tonight, maybe we should be offering her a job.’

  ‘I’m almost certain she’d take it.’ Joel drank his beer, his eyes not leaving Leilani’s face.

  ‘You. You are far too fine looking to be a copper.’ Leilani extended her hand and Joel kissed it, holding on a little longer than the gesture took. ‘Leilani.’

  ‘That must be on account of the low lighting. Joel.’

  ‘That bank account—’ Sarah blurted it out without thinking.

  ‘Sarah, let’s talk about work on work time. I know you care, but I'm safe, nothing's happened since. I appreciate it, but this is your night off. Enjoy yourself.’

  ‘Yes, but—’ Sarah wanted to talk about it. It involved her husband. The diminishing sober side of her brain told her that this wasn’t the time to discuss matters of work or emotion, and this particular topic touched on both.

  ‘Call me tomorrow and we’ll talk. I didn’t see you as the strip club type? First time?’

  ‘First time. It just came up in conversation earlier so we thought why not.’

  ‘And you? You’re not the kind of man who needs to pay a woman to get naked.’ She looked at Joel’s pint glass. It was already nearly empty. ‘Drinking like that, do you even remember why you’re here?’

  ‘I like beautiful women and this here’s the best place to see them.’ Joel played the full charm offensive.

  ‘Ha! You’re very charming. Cheesy, but charming.’ She looked at Sarah’s hand. ‘Be careful of this one, he’ll have that wedding ring under a hotel pillow in a heartbeat.’

  White sheets and feeling Joel’s weight on top of her, his skin layered with sweat and looking deep into her eyes appeared in Sarah’s head. Bright, colourful and unhindered.

  ‘There’s no danger of that. Sarah’s not the sort for that kind of thing.’ Joel remarked.

  Who are you to say that?

  Leilani looked at Sarah as if she was summing up whether to buy something at a market. ‘Oh, I don’t know. There’s more to her than what she appears.’ Leilani winked at her.

  Just what do I appear to be exactly?

  ‘No chance. Sarah’s traditional. Marriage, family and that’s it. There’s no tempting her away from that.’ Joel put his hand on her shoulder.

  Maybe I don’t want to be tempted.

  ‘I think she might surprise us. Everyone can be tempted with a little encouragement.’ Leilani smiled at both of them.

  A security guard came over, nodded towards Alison and leaned into Leilani’s ear. ‘Think she needs to go, boss.’

  Leilani shook her head and he left. ‘The security here get a little excited from time to time. Here comes your friend now.’

  Alison came back to the table, picked up her mojito and took a big slurp.

  ‘Thirsty work?’ Sarah was glad for the distraction. Having her trusted workmate and a victim of crime pick apart her frumpiness was a little uncomfortable. Alison can provide the entertainment for these two socialites for a while.

  ‘You’re missing out being back here. Up there’
s where the fun is.’ Alison noticed Leilani. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Looking for a job? I’m sure you’d be a hit up there.’ Leilani smiled. It was hard to tell when she was being serious. Sarah had had quite enough of trying to figure her out this evening.

  ‘No, no. I work with these two. We’re just out celebrating finishing an exam.’ Alison took another glug from her glass.

  ‘Well, that’s reason enough to celebrate. Some exciting advanced investigative qualification?’

  Sarah jumped in. ‘We’re under constant evaluation. There’s always a course to do or an exam to take.’ Dales had told her to use the title detective from day one. No one wants their crime investigated by a trainee, but no one wants to be lied to either.

  Alison finished her mojito. ‘It’s the first one. The detective one. We’re going to be detectives one day.’ She raised her empty glass before putting it on the table, when nobody raised theirs.

  Leilani looked over. ‘Going to be?’

  ‘We’re already in CID.’ That ought to cover it. Sarah glared at Alison in the hope the hint penetrated the alcohol’s influence over her common sense, if it hadn’t all been drowned under rum and lime juice.

  ‘Oh, stop showing off. We’re the same really, these two just like to throw around the detective title.’ Alison stood next to Leilani and looked at both of them. ‘Don’t you?’

  Leilani stepped away. ‘Maybe if you could take a little more liquor, you’d be sitting alongside them. Detectives tend to be able to handle their booze better than a little girl on her first night out.’ Leilani winked at Sarah. Alison looked dejected, as if her big sister had just refused to bring her along to the party. ‘Am I right? How about another round for you two? I think Princess has had enough.’

  Sarah stood up. ‘We’d love to, but we’re working in the morning.’

  ‘We? Surely you’ve got a little more stamina, big fella?’

  ‘I can’t. Duty calls.’ Joel stood up and lost his footing a little, nudging into Sarah.

  ‘Steady there, maybe it is time to go. Come back soon. Friends get in for free.’

  Sarah was certain she wouldn’t be back. If the strippers and gawking men weren’t reason enough, she really didn’t want to see Leilani Hayes again until she had a few more facts about her allegations. It was supposed to be a quiet drink to celebrate a tough exam. It was now two in the morning and she was in a strip club with a young officer who could hardly stand.

  As they walked towards the exit, Alison lost all colour in her face. ‘I’ve got to...where are the—’

  ‘Over there.’ Sarah pointed towards the ladies and Alison ran, holding her mouth and turning the heads of the guys at the back row of tables. They weren’t drooling anymore.

  ‘You know she could be in our office within months.’

  ‘Our office? Someone’s confidence has gone up in the past few hours.’ Joel smiled his warm smile. She liked him better when no one else was around.

  ‘My confidence? I saw you eyeing up Leilani. You’re not shy of a little confidence yourself. She’d turn most men to mush.’

  ‘I’m certain she’d have quite the opposite effect.’

  Sarah slapped him on the arm. ‘Don’t be naughty. Get those thoughts out your head, young man.’

  ‘Young man? Naughty? Much more of that and you’ll be up there in a schoolteacher’s outfit.’

  Sarah laughed at the thought. ‘Only if they want a quick way to clear the place at the end of the night. Nothing would send this lot running out the door like seeing all my wobbly bits.’

  ‘Careful with the details. You’ll have me following Alison to the toilets.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to agree.’

  ‘What would you prefer?’

  ‘Say something nice?’

  ‘You’re not the kind of woman who runs on compliments.’ He nodded to the stage. A dancer twisted herself around the pole as the speakers made the floor vibrate. ‘You need a little more than that.’

  Sarah looked over her shoulder at the girl on the stage. She’d lost all interest. Now the spectacle was over, she just wanted to go home to her pj’s and a comfy bed. When she turned back, Joel’s face was inches from hers. She felt his breath, warm with a little booze, touch her lips. His hand pulled her hips towards him.

  He kissed her. Gently at first, before pulling away. He knew she was married. He knew the kind of woman she was. He could have any woman he wanted. She put her hands on his chest and wanted to push him away, but her arms had no strength.

  She kissed him. Deeply, in a way she hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Her mind filled with all the reasons why it was wrong, but with no thought of stopping.

  ‘Fucking hell those toilets are posh.’ Alison’s shrill voice came from behind her. Sarah pulled away and turned around. ‘What are you two...? That explains the speech earlier. Just waiting to get your hooks in.’

  ‘No. It’s just—’

  Alison stormed out, leaving Sarah and Joel alone.

  Eighteen

  Word spread around police stations like a cough in a prison canteen. Faster still, if the gossip had a grudge. Sarah had popped into the uniform office to speak to Alison before anything got out of hand, but she’d called in sick. Probably for the best considering how she’d been just hours before.

  Things still weren’t great at home and the last thing she needed was a rumour flying around the nick that she’d snogged a work colleague in a strip club. No aspect of that story would have her emerge a hero. It had all the key aspects of great gossip. The station hunk bags the homely married woman. Add in a hint of jealously from pretty much every woman in the station and her reputation would disintegrate like a paper lantern. Women always came out worse in office gossip, and police station gossip was far more loaded than the harmless banter those unaffected made it out to be. People up and down the office were having affairs; some more cautious about them than others. From casual one-offs at Christmas parties to regular night shift flings, officers of all ranks struggled to keep it in their pants. Now, she was one of them.

  No. It was just a kiss. A drunken mistake at the end of a series of smaller mistakes. Mistakes I won’t be making again.

  She poured herself a coffee. Herbal tea wasn’t going to cure her hangover. The morning meeting was taking place at the other end of the office and seemed a lot quieter than the last. Hopefully, it’d mean she’d be left alone to catch up on her caseload. Moretti’s phone reports sat in the top of her inbox and she’d need a good stretch of uninterrupted time to look through them. Telling Manford she wasn’t fit to drive would mean she’d have to explain where she was last night, which was best avoided. She’d accepted certain constraints on her life when she joined the job. The main ones were obvious—no drugs, don’t get caught committing a crime and try not to speed too often. Other people had fallen afoul of Facebook, which had resulted in them losing their jobs. Visiting a strip club wasn’t strictly on the list. It was legal, and as long as officers weren’t moonlighting on the podium, there was nothing on the books they could get you for. However, it fell under the ever-growing caveat of ‘bringing the office of constable into disrepute.’ Officers were often disciplined faster for embarrassing the organisation than they were for failing to do their job.

  DS Hayward walked into the office from the side door.

  ‘Morning, Sarge.’

  ‘Gladstone. Much happening?’ He held a grease-soaked McDonald’s bag in his right hand and an orange Tropicana in the other. ‘Trying to get a little fruit in my diet.’ He shook the bottle and laughed. Hayward had probably laughed off every piece of health advice he’d ever been given. He looked at her mug of coffee and, had they just met, she was sure he’d have made a cocky comment to suggest the new girl in the office should be making them for the office. His silence let her know she’d successfully stamped that out. Turned out old dogs could be taught new tricks.

  ‘Seems quiet. Early turn haven’t come over asking for assistance with anyt
hing.’ She brought up NSPIS, the custody system, on her screen. ‘Only two in the cells: a driving offence and a public order arrest. Nothing for CID.’

  Hayward pulled two McMuffins from his bag. Perfect hangover food. She’d rushed out of the door, only having time for a quick shower and to drink a pint of water. The smell, which at any other time would turn her stomach, was far too enticing to resist.

  ‘Want one?’ Hayward held out a sausage and egg McMuffin. Partly unwrapped, shining with grease.

  She was too hungry to refuse and a hangover was a tough thing to fight on an empty stomach. Reviewing data sets like mobile phone records required concentration, and although Mickey D’s hardly served food for the brain, it was better than nothing in a bind.

  ‘Thanks.’ It felt good biting into it. She looked over at Hayward, lounging back as far as his chair would lean with his hands resting on his belly, and wondered if that was her future. It’s just one, what’s the harm?

  ‘Now you’re getting into the spirit of it all.’ Dales came through the rear entrance and put his hand on Sarah’s shoulder. ‘Unlike you to share, Matt.’

  ‘Trust me, it’s a one-off.’

  ‘That’s what happens when you drink too much on a school night.’ Dales pulled a chair up to their shared desk.

  ‘It was just a quiet drink after the exam.’ She expected him to assume they’d gone out afterwards. The chances of him knowing what had actually gone on were slim to none.

  ‘That’s not what I hear.’ He waved his phone in his hand.

  ‘Sounds like gossip to me.’ Hayward piped up, suddenly interested in the conversation.

  ‘It was nothing. We went for a drink and maybe I’m a little tender this morning. Nothing more to it than that.’ Dales doesn’t know any more than that. Joel wouldn’t have said anything. Just don’t rise to the banter.