“That was crazy back there,” I said, once we were en route.
“I know. I almost died when that kid booted you. Did it hurt?”
“No. He didn’t have any shoes on, thankfully.”
My stomach growled and I looked forward to stuffing my face. I was meeting Steve at the gym later and would work the calories off there.
“How’s things with Max and the kids?” I asked, just for something to fill in the time with.
“I don’t wanna talk about it right now, if you don’t mind.”
“Got it.” Her problematic private life was definitely beginning to take its toll. She was often blunt and came across as officious and, while still presentable, she’d lost the edge she usually had with her appearance. Her face was makeup free and her hair had been scraped back into a tight ponytail. But, if she didn’t want to talk about it, that was her choice.
We stepped into the diner, the aroma making my mouth water.
A waitress approached. “Table for two?”
“Yes, please,” I replied with a smile.
We were seated quickly and efficiently. “Kimberley, your waitress, will be with you in a few moments,” she said before zooming off to another couple who had just entered behind us.
“Thank you,” I said, pleased.
“Kimberley…” Layla was putting two and two together. “The one from Dorothy’s?”
“Yeah, but don’t mention what we do for a living.”
“I’m not stupid, Dylan.”
Kimberley approached, looking less glamorous than she had on Friday, wearing tight jeans, a branded blue T-shirt with an apron tied around her waist, and a cap on her head. She still wore a full face of makeup, but nothing over the top. “Good afternoon, my name is Kimberley and I’ll be your waitress today.”
“Hi, Kimberley, it’s good to see you again.”
She looked at me, trying to place where she might know me from. “Sorry, but have we met?
“Yeah, last Friday at Dorothy’s—you told me to pop in next time I was in the area.”
“Dorothy’s?” She studied my face. “I’m not sure… oh, hang on a minute. Avaline?”
“The very same,” I replied, my voice rising a few octaves.
“Bloody hell!” Her face was a picture of surprise. “I’d never have recognised you walking down the street. You’re gorgeous as a man too.”
“Well, thanks.” I didn’t know how to respond to the compliment. “This is my good friend Layla and, during the day, I’m Dylan.”
She laughed at my crappy attempt at humour. “Hi, Layla, I think I remember seeing you on Friday too. How are you?”
She was observant which was a good sign for me.
“I’m good, and you?”
“Busy as usual, but you know how it goes.” She looked to me again. “Wow, Dylan, I can’t believe the difference. Most drag queens I could spot a mile off, but not you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, totally. Although you don’t seem the usual type.”
“I guess I’m not your run-of-the-mill queen. I always had the urge to dress up and perform but was too scared in case my friends found out, which is why I arrived and left in full drag.”
“Whatever works for you, doll.” She pulled the pad from her apron, poised to take our order. “You looked fantastic. I’ll be there on Friday and hope to see you perform, but I’m on prep duty again Saturday so won’t be able to stay past 11. Make sure you say hello if you see me.”
“Of course I will.”
“Okay, what are you having?” She looked to Layla first.
“The classic cheese burger meal and a diet cola,” Layla replied.
“Same for me.”
“Great, help yourself to the salad bar when you’re ready.
“Will do, thanks. So, have you been to Dorothy’s since Friday?” Not wanting her to leave just yet.
“I haven’t but I was speaking to a friend of mine on my break earlier and remember that guy I was speaking to at the bar?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s only been arrested for murder this morning.”
“You’re kidding me?” I couldn’t believe the jungle drums had been beating already.
“No,” Kimberley replied. “Another girl was found dead earlier–a right mess she was in, apparently.”
“Shit!” I said, feeling bad for my deception. “Makes me nervous working there if some loony is after the girls.”
“You’ll be safe,” Kimberley added. “Unless you’re T, Darren wouldn’t be interested.”
“So you think it’s him?”
“Like I said to you at the bar, he’s an evil bastard.”
“But murder though?”
“Who knows? It’s just odd that three girls he’s been mixed up with have ended up dead. Might be a coincidence but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. Still, I feel a little safer with him behind bars. Let’s hope they find something on him.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just be careful coming and going in the meantime.”
“Thanks, doll.” She placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Right, is that it? I’m starving and all this talk of dead people is making me feel sick,” Layla said rather brusquely, obviously not in the mood for idle chit-chat.
I was pissed off. Layla knew I was here to scout for information and had butted in at the wrong time.
“I’ll leave you to it, Dylan.” She glowered at Layla, seemingly unimpressed with my moody partner.
“Did you have to be so bloody rude?” I hissed once she’d gone.
“She doesn’t know anything and I’m starving.”
I wanted to make allowances for Layla even though she’d really annoyed me. Manners cost nothing, but I wasn’t about to cause an atmosphere taking her to task about her behaviour. It wouldn’t do me any good. “It’s nice being away from work, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” she replied, quietly. “The constant noise in the office drives me to distraction. It’s hard to think sometimes.”
“I know what you mean.” She appeared to be mellowing, so I thought I’d chance my luck and find out how things were going in her personal life. “You’re having a rough time of it at the moment, so cut yourself some slack.”
“I’m not the first or last person going through a divorce, Dylan.”
“I know that.” I offered a smile. “How are things with Max anyway?” I waited for her to tell me to mind my own business and was surprised when she didn’t.
“Shit if I’m honest, but if I’m not enough for him…” Her words trailed off.
I didn’t want to play counsellor as nothing I said would make her think differently about why Max had left her. It was clear she blamed herself for the breakup of her marriage, which was understandable, I guess. But, in my experience, it takes two to tango and Max had been the one who turned to another woman instead of trying to fix what he already had.
“Are the boys still upset over his visit the other night?”
She shrugged. “That’s anybody’s guess. I try to talk to them, you know, get them to open up but they keep a lot inside.”
I felt for her. “That must be hard, worrying about them on top of everything else.”
“Yeah, it is, although I’m more worried about Jake than the others.” She blinked away tears. “It’s bad enough he’s acting up at home but being disruptive and disrespectful at school isn’t doing him any favours. I’ve been called in for a meeting with the Headmaster.” There was a slight hint of anger in her voice. “This is all since Max left so it’s clearly affecting him.”
“How do the other two seem?”
“Sad and hurt, which is understandable, but they seem to be coping much better than Jake.”
“Max has a lot to answer for, doesn’t he?”
She nodded and dabbed at her eyes. “I hate him.”
I knew they were just words said in the heat of the moment. If she did indeed hate him, she wouldn’t be hurting as much as she
was right now.
“Do you have any other men in the family you can turn to, that could talk to Jake? Somebody he might open up to, maybe?” I was clutching at straws trying to find a resolution for at least one of her problems. “What about your dad?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know where he is most of the time. He left Mum when I was nineteen and I’d already left home by then.”
“And he didn’t keep in touch with you?”
“Yeah, for a while. But the last I heard he’d gone to France—chasing some woman, no doubt. He’s a waste of space to be honest.”
“At least he had the decency to stay around until after you’d left home.”
“Yeah. Although he was rarely home for the last few years I lived there, anyway. He worked away a lot.”
My stomach growled, breaking the flow of conversation.
Her eyes widened with surprise. “What the heck was that? You sound like you’ve got a wild animal shoved up your shirt.”
“Hey, cheeky. I’m starving.”
“Come on then,” she said, pushing herself away from the table. “Enough of my woes, let’s eat.”
Forty-five minutes later, stuffed up to the eyeballs on burgers and salad, we headed back to the office to await the arrival of Wilkes’ solicitor.
At two o’clock that afternoon, Darren Wilkes sat in Interview Room 2 with his solicitor finally in attendance.
Layla accompanied me.
Once the recording had started, I began my questions.
“For the recording, can you please confirm you are Darren James Wilkes of Wapping Quay, Liverpool Three?”
“You know I am,” he grunted. “Or I wouldn’t be sitting here wasting my fucking time.”
“And for the recording, acting as representation for Mr Wilkes is Mr Nigel Warfield of Layton & Warfield Solicitors. Is that correct, sir?”
“That is correct.” Warfield nodded, his jowls jiggling.
“Thank you,” I said, picking up my file from the desk. “Now, Mr Wilkes, can you confirm you know a Ms Rebecca Preston?”
“Yeah, I know her.” He was slouched in his chair and I felt like kicking it out from underneath him—his attitude made me wild and tested my patience.
“And would you please detail the nature of your relationship with her?”
“There isn’t a relationship, but we hook up sometimes.”
“Would you clarify what you mean by hook up?”
Darren sat up and leaned toward the recorder. “It means we fuck sometimes. Clear enough or do you want me to draw you a picture?”
“Yes, clear enough. Thank you.” I turned to look at Layla. Her lips had almost disappeared into a thin line.
“And when was the last time you saw Ms Preston?” I continued.
“Sometime last week,” he answered.
“Where?”
“At her flat.”
“Do you remember the exact day?” I asked.
“No–my days kind of melt into one.”
“So, sometime last week but you can’t remember exactly when?”
“I just said so, didn’t I?”
“What was the purpose of your visit?”
“I was horny.”
“So you and Ms Preston had an intimate arrangement, shall we say? ”
“I’m intimate with a lot of people,” he snapped, picking up the fizzy drink from the table and guzzling it.
“Are you intimate with many transsexuals?”
Warfield suddenly piped up. “What does that have to do with anything, detective?”
“If you’ll allow me to explain–we have it on good authority, you are well known to the transsexual community, and I was merely trying to ascertain—”
Wilkes interrupted me. “I like to fuck trannies. It’s not a crime, and they enjoy it, so what’s the problem?”
“Any form of consensual sex is legal, Darren. But dealing drugs, namely unprescribed hormone medication isn’t.”
“I ain’t been dealing nothing.”
“We have evidence to the contrary.”
Warfield jumped in again. “Then stop dancing around with this silly line of questioning and advise my client what you think you have.”
“Fine,” I said, irritated by the smug git. “Fingerprints were recovered from Ms Preston’s property, and on several items inside, namely a bag used by the aforementioned to store drugs that had not been prescribed by her GP.”
“Really, that’s all you have to go on?” Warfield said with a grin. “My client already told you he had a casual relationship with Ms Preston, and has often visited her home, so the fact you have his fingerprints isn’t a surprise. As for this bag, my client could have picked it up out of simple curiosity—it doesn’t prove he’s a dealer or a murderer, as you well know.”
I hadn’t yet mentioned Rebecca’s death, but as Warfield clearly knew, it was time to change my line of questioning.
“As you may be aware, the body of Ms Preston was discovered in her apartment earlier today.”
“I don’t know anything,” Wilkes snapped. “If she’s dead, you ain’t pinning it on me. You lot already tried that with Jade and that had nothing to do with me either.”
“So, two individuals you were intimate with are found murdered, mutilated.” I watched as he flinched at my words. “And it’s just a coincidence?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“I see,” I said, desperate to wipe the superior expression off his face. “Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Darren. But not only are you a prime suspect for Rebecca’s murder, but you’re back in the frame for the death of Jade Kelly.”
He jumped to his feet, the metal chair slamming backwards onto the concrete floor. “Bullshit! I was cleared for that! The CCTV camera proved it.”
“Sit down, Mr Wilkes.” I grinned, loving the fact I’d finally provoked a reaction from him.
Warfield picked up the chair and Wilkes sat down again.
I continued. “Yes, well, unfortunately, my colleague wasn’t a well man and missed the fact there was actually a rear exit from Rebecca’s flat. You could have come and gone un-noticed anytime. Rebecca hadn’t provided you with an alibi for the entire night. She vouched for you arriving and the fact you were there in the morning, but she didn’t know what you got up to during the hours in-between while she was sleeping.”
He shook his head, clearly exasperated, and looked at his solicitor for help.
Warfield shrugged and glanced down at the papers in front of him.
“So, by your own admission, you called in to see Rebecca a few days ago. Thursday at 7:34pm to be exact, as you entered via the front door and left at 8:05pm—you were picked up on the CCTV.”
“So what? I already admitted seeing her last week, what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, I’m pretty certain you used that visit to plan your next move.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“I believe you released the fire-escape ladder, in order to let yourself in undetected on Friday night.”
“This is all purely circumstantial, detective. None of it’s going to stick,” Warfield said.
“Then I’ll have to make sure I find enough evidence to make it stick. Won’t I?”
I stormed back toward the incident room with Layla trailing behind me.
“Slow down, Dylan,” she called.
I carried on walking. “That slimy bastard is right. We need more evidence.”
“We don’t know what Lauren will find yet so calm down and let’s just wait and see.”
“People are dying, Layla. We don’t have time to wait and see.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Will,” I barked, pushing the double doors open. “Any news on the CCTV?”
“Yeah, just in, boss. The cameras didn’t pick anything up.”
“How is that even possible?” My blood was now at boiling point. “Can you explain it? Because for the life of me…” I
stopped and shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Will approached. “Maybe our killer knew where the cameras were located and avoided them.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Will shrugged one shoulder.
This was beyond ridiculous. “How does any member of the public know where all the cameras are?”
“Search me,” Will replied.
“I don’t know where most of them are. That’s impossible, isn’t it?”
“What other explanation could there be?” Will asked, returning to his desk. “Not one camera picked up the Transit van on Friday, but there could be another explanation and don’t have a go as it’s just my opinion.”
“What?” I asked.
“Maybe you didn’t see the van after all?”
“I didn’t imagine it.”
“You’d had a busy day—”
“I saw the fucking van, Will. Trust me on that.”
“Okay, okay, it was just a suggestion, boss.”
I could feel a headache coming on and sat at my desk pinching the bridge of my nose again.
Twenty-Six
Bella’s invite for coffee couldn’t have come at a better time. I was more stressed than I’d ever been and couldn’t speak to Layla without her biting my head off.
She opened the door and I was surprised to see she was back in her jeans.
“Wow! You look great.”
“Hiya, gorgeous.” She beamed.
I pulled her in for a hug.
“Come in, the kettle’s already on.”
I followed her through to the kitchen. “What are you cooking? It smells delicious.”
“Lasagne, for dinner. You can take some home for later, if you want?”
“Sounds good to me. Is Simon not joining us for coffee?”
“He’ll be home soon. He’s just taken the baby around the block in the pram.”
“How’s everything?”
“Baby’s been a little unsettled today. Simon thought the motion of the pram might send him off to sleep.”
“Aw, I can’t wait to give him a cuddle. Can I help with anything?”
“Nope. Sit down and relax.”
She handed me a steaming mug of coffee “So, tell me what’s going on while we have the house to ourselves.”
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