Dark Service

by Linda Coles

  “You’re right there. Straight to the bin outside, I think,” Amanda said, collecting more trays and putting them all back into the plastic bag they had arrived in. She tied the top in a knot and headed for the back door to dispose of them.

  “It was nice, though, as usual. Jack enjoyed it. And the company.”

  “He gets lonely on his own; I know that. I feel sorry for him sometimes, you know. He’s not that old, really. There is still time for him to find another partner to spend his retirement with, but he spends far too much time in his job. And he’s not going to find someone at work, is he?”

  Ruth watched as Amanda wiped the table down and returned the dishcloth back to the sink so she could finish off. “He’ll have to search a bit farther afield than that. I wonder if he’d try Tinder?” Ruth was trying to be helpful. It wasn’t working.

  “Are you serious?” Amanda said incredulously. “He barely uses email and text, bless him, and he still plays CDs in his car. ELO, for goodness’ sake.”

  Ruth’s mouth dropped open at that one. “Eh?”

  “Yes – I kid you not. He probably thinks Spotify is some form of acne outbreak. He’s a damn good detective, but he’s a total luddite.”

  “Hmm, I see your point. Then we should help him, you know, without him knowing. Not a blind date, but something. Someone in a certain place we all are, you know, and we get chatting.”

  “He’s a detective, Ruth, remember? He’d sniff that out like you sniff bacon cooking next door.”

  Ruth had to smile at that one. She could never become a vegetarian; bacon was too strong a pull. “Then maybe we should look at our wedding guest list again. There must be a suitable single aunt between us? Sit him with her.”

  Amanda rolled her eyes in exasperation. What was she getting into?

  “No?” Ruth said, still smiling.

  “No.” Amanda was firm.

  “Then I don’t know what to suggest. No apps, no blind dates, no single wedding guests. What else is there?”

  “Nature. That’s what it is, nature. Let it do its thing. Without interference from either of us.”

  Ruth knew when to press and when not to bother. She left it alone. Some battles you fought, some you didn’t. The kitchen once again tidy, Ruth announced she was making hot chocolate.

  “Want a mug?”

  “Always, thanks. Seriously, leave well enough alone. He may find someone all on his own. Talking of single friends, how is Stephanie doing now she and Aaron have split? Is she dating yet or is it too soon?”

  “You can’t seriously be thinking Jack and Stephanie, can you? He’s as old as her dad, nearly.”

  “No, of course not. I was just thinking of another of your friends in the same boat. Single. I don’t think Jack would be her type, really. Aaron was a good-looking man, but Jack? Well, he’s Jack, isn’t he? And he needs a haircut.”

  Back to hair conversations.

  “Now that is weird, isn’t it? The woman with her hair chopped off. My goodness, what a cruel thing to do.” Ruth filled a pan with milk and put it on the stove. “I’m actually meeting Stephanie tomorrow for lunch, so I’ll fill you in on any dating gossip there might be.”

  “Well, say hello from me. It’s been a while since I saw her.” Amanda said no more as she thought back to the night when Stephanie had got the fright of her life and Aaron had almost lost his. They’d driven up to Grasmere in the Lake District to their cottage, though separately, and things had exploded somewhat, leaving their relationship in shreds. It was beyond repair and would never be stitched properly back together again. Their two young sons were coping well with the new family living arrangements, but it was far from ideal.

  “Come on, let’s take these up to bed and read for a while,” Ruth said, handing Amanda a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

  “You go on up. I just need to grab my laptop. There’s a couple of things I want to check up on first.”

  “Jack said as much, didn’t he? What are you up to now? I can read you like a book.”

  “Oh, you just reminded me of something talking about Stephanie again. Someone, actually. In fact, being a techy you might even know the answer.”

  “Try me.”

  “Well, if you were up to no good ten or fifteen years or so ago, before the dark web was created, say, how would you get involved in shady stuff, things a little out of the everyday ordinary?”

  “You don’t need to be a techy to answer that one because there is very little tech involved.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the gangs and criminals back then relied on their networks mainly; that’s how they moved stuff around. The smartphone as we know it wasn’t prevalent back then, though there was a small palm-held computer in the nineties, but it wasn’t common. I think it was called Simon, actually. But phones and laptops would only have been of use along with the dark web, hence the need for physical networks. Crims wouldn’t advertise on Google, remember.”

  “Good to know.” Amanda was thinking as Ruth spoke. Why hadn’t she thought of that herself? Of course, there wouldn’t be much to find on a computer from back then because crims didn’t use them. And who kept a computer for more than three or four years anyway? And even if they had, the dark web wasn’t operational to the public back then, and again, there’d be nothing to find.

  Ruth led the way holding two mugs. “Come on. Let’s go and read, then.”

  Personal networks. Maybe that was how Stevens had operated back then, mused Amanda.

  Sebastian Stevens: now there was a name that still sent shivers up and down her spine. Not only had Stephanie encountered him and his strange sexual ways some years back, but he’d turned up dead at his trendy penthouse in Manchester recently after a vigilante who hadn’t agreed with his big-game trophy-hunting hobby had sent him back to his maker. Rather gruesomely so, too: graphic photos of his semi-decapitated head had been posted on his personal social channels for the world to see. The perpetrator had made Stevens their very own trophy that night. And although the method had been gruesome, the death of a vile creature like Stevens was not something the world had lost sleep over. Good riddance to him and his kind, thought Amanda.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ruth always met her friend Stephanie regularly for lunch. And since the breakup of her marriage, it had been an even more important standing diary date, with a few extra evening wines or morning coffees thrown in when needed.

  There had been many such occasions. No one had envisaged their marriage split, least of all Stephanie, but when she’d found out that her husband was a serial adulterer with some rather non-vanilla tastes, well, a leopard never changes its spots. There had been many tears, and still, several months later, a few slipped down her cheeks when she found herself alone and was feeling maudlin. The evenings were the worst. Stephanie looked at the much stronger woman reflecting back from the mirror. She was gradually getting used to being single again and making a life and revised home situation for her two young boys. Stephanie rubbed her freshly painted pink lips together and checked her side view in the glass.

  “Not bad for a forty-year-old single woman with two kids.”

  In fact, she really did look good. With long, dark straight hair and an olive skin, she always looked ‘not bad,’ even first thing in the morning with her hair mussed up. While she didn’t think it or feel it herself, she was a stunning woman, a real head-turner no matter what your taste was. Or your sex.

  She left her Richmond home and drove to the tube station, destination Green Park and Ruth. And lunch. And a glass of wine. Her mum was picking the boys up from school so there was no need to hurry back. Mum –what would she have done without her? The boys needed continuity and she’d helped provide it for them, and for that Stephanie was eternally grateful.

  The train throbbed gently as it sped through the back suburbs of London, and she found the vibration soothing. When it finally pulled into Green Park about half an hour later, her stomach rumbled in anticipa
tion of something good to eat. Breakfast had been a lifetime ago, it seemed. Ruth had suggested Stephanie drop in at the office before they went on to the restaurant in case she was delayed a little, which was a common occurrence. It was better to wait in her office if Ruth’s meeting overran than sit at a restaurant table, waiter hovering, looking like she’d been stood up. She entered Ruth’s building and smiled at Pete, who was just passing through reception.

  “Hi, Stephanie. Ruth is on time for once. She won’t be a minute. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

  “Thanks, Pete.”

  He’d been working with Ruth for a couple of years and was almost part of the furniture now. A rough start at home and a stint in juvie had given him ‘character,’ as he liked to call it, but he’d been on the right road for some time now, with some much-needed support and guidance from Ruth. Not to mention a legitimate job. And one he loved, he’d said. She sat in reception and waited. Ruth’s shoes could be heard approaching long before she herself was visible; her steel stiletto tips echoed on the hardwood. As usual, she wore a figure-hugging skirt and blouse, refusing to go the full ‘tech uniform’ of jeans and hoody, and as usual she looked stunning. Her arms were outstretched as she approached and Stephanie joined her in a full bear hug.

  When they finally separated Ruth said, “You look amazing as usual.”

  “As do you. Love those heels, by the way.”

  “A girl can’t have too many shoes, eh? Now how does a juicy burger sound for lunch, or have you another preference? Vietnamese? Curry? You name it.”

  “Oh, a burger,” she exclaimed, feeling her stomach gurgle like a bathtub emptying. “It’s been too long since I last had a proper one, and those skinny things the kids eat don’t really count. I’m in.”

  Ruth hooked Stephanie’s arm in hers and the two friends left the building in search of food. As always, conversation between the two of them was easy.

  “So, what’s new in your world, Steph?”

  “Not a lot, I have to say. Just steady. And I think I like it that way.” Stephanie beamed at her friend and confidante. Finally, her eyes had started to sparkle again of recent weeks.

  “You look great, as usual, but you also look great on a different level too, if that makes sense. I can see you have your sparkle back; you’re glowing again, which is lovely to see.” Ruth squeezed her arm. “Things are finally settling for you.”

  “Thanks. I feel much better in myself. Onwards and upwards and all that. I couldn’t have done it without your support, though, and I thank you.” She squeezed Ruth’s arm in return. They walked together in comfortable silence for a few beats, then Stephanie asked, “And what’s new in your world, then? How are the wedding plans coming along? We’ve not really talked about them much.” Ruth looked sheepish as she turned to her friend, and Stephanie caught her meaning.

  “Ah, I see. Me and my disaster of a marriage. Well, that’s all behind me now, so don’t worry about mentioning weddings. I’m as excited about your big day as you are, and I want to hear all about your plans. Don’t avoid the subject on my account, okay?”

  “Okay,” Ruth said with relief in her voice. She opened the door to the pub and the smell of beer, old polished wood and freshly cooked fries assailed them.

  “Then I will get you up to speed,” Ruth went on, “because I’m busting to share them with someone. Amanda agreed for me to organize it all, which is what I wanted to do, so she’s no clue what I’ve got planned.”

  “Two glasses of white wine, please,” Stephanie ordered as a barman caught her eye. Or she his, in reality. Steph never had a problem getting a drink order organized, or any service for that matter. The barman was young, but old enough to be a man. His body shape told her he worked hard at the gym.

  “Burger?” Stephanie enquired.

  “Burger!” Ruth replied.

  “And two house burgers and fries to go with that,” she called.

  “I’ll bring them over. Find yourselves a seat,” he called back. His cute smile could have made ice cream melt in an igloo.

  Ruth watched with amusement. “Well, he’s clocked you for sure. You might be in there. I bet he slips you his number when he brings the food over –mark my words.” She winked, making Stephanie laugh out loud.

  “I’m old enough to be his mother, so I doubt it.”

  “I’ll bet you a fiver he does.”

  “Okay, you’re on. Prepare to lose a fiver.”

  Ruth pocketed the fiver with a smile. They sipped their drinks and chatted about wedding plans as they ate, then Ruth exclaimed, “Oh, I know what I meant to tell you. Last night, Amanda was telling Jack and me a story her hairdresser had told her.”

  And on she went. Stephanie sat back and listened as Ruth went over the story again of the woman whose hair had been chopped off.

  “How weird is that?” she said when Ruth had finished. “And how mean.” Stephanie felt the colour drain from her face.

  “Are you okay? Only you’ve gone as white as the icing on my wedding cake.” Ruth put her hand on Stephanie’s arm.

  Stephanie took a long mouthful of wine for strength, then enquired, “Was there a card left, by any chance? It’s important I know. Do you know if there was?”

  “I don’t know. Why? Whatever is the matter?”

  Stephanie took a deep breath before answering.

  “Because remember that night all those years ago when I was drugged by that pig Sebastian Stevens?

  “I remember you telling me, yes.”

  “Well, someone chopped my hair off too. It wasn’t him, though; I’m sure of that. But they did leave a card.”

  “And what did it say?”

  “It said, ‘Your debt has been settled. I’d advise you to tell no one. It wouldn’t be wise.’ If this girl had a card left too, then it’s still going on.”

  “What’s still going on?”

  “I’ve no idea. Whatever it is, though, they’re still doing it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ruth couldn’t believe what she’d heard. After all her friend had been through recently, Ruth had managed to drag something up from more than fifteen years ago to add to the poor woman’s recent stress. By the end of their lunch date, Stephanie had regained her colour, thanks to a stiff brandy. Ruth had walked her back to the tube station, Stephanie earnestly assuring her she was fine. It had all been a bit of a shock, that was all. As for Ruth, she knew she had to talk to Amanda, and quickly.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you at work, but this is important.” Ruth hardly ever called Amanda during her shift; she usually resorted to text messages if she had to tell her something. But this couldn’t wait any longer.

  “What’s up? Everything alright?” Amanda was generally cool and in control, but when she’d seen Ruth’s name on the call display, she’d thought the worst.

  “It’s about that woman who had her hair chopped off.”

  “What’s so important about that?”

  “I’ve just had lunch with Stephanie and mentioned it to her because, well, it’s an unusual story. And she went as white as snow. I asked her what was up and before she answered, she asked me the strangest thing.”

  “What?”

  “She asked if a card had been left. It turns out that, that night Sebastian Stevens drugged her, someone cut her hair off too. And they left a card. Like a calling card, with a message on it.”

  “What? Shit! What did the card say? And how come she’s only just mentioned it today?”

  “It said not to tell, that it wouldn’t be wise. And I guess it never came up before, with everything else going on.”

  “I guess not.” A couple of beats passed as Amanda thought about the card. “I wonder what it means? It sounds rather threatening. And this puts another slant on things. I’d better pop over and see Jeremy, see if I can chat to the woman involved or at least to her mum; she’s the one who told him. If this second girl was given a card too – and we don’t know she did as yet – then there is something
to investigate further.”

  “Maybe she had a card with the same message, and that’s why she hasn’t told anyone. Maybe her own mother isn’t aware?”

  That made sense. “I see what you mean. But it’s a start, so I’ll see where I get. And Ruth?”

  “Yes?”

  “Not a word to anyone, not even Stephanie, about this yet.”

  “Of course. My work here is done. Over to the detectives.” Ruth sniggered lightly.

  “Ha, ha, very funny. I’ll see you later.” Amanda hung up and stared at her phone as if the answer had popped up on the screen. No such luck. Jack was nearby, cajoling the coffee machine to dispense a cup, and his exasperation was showing at its non-delivery. Operator error, Amanda thought, smiling ruefully.

  “Give me Nescafe any day. My blood pressure can’t stand the disappointment,” he grumbled, loud enough for Amanda to hear. She smiled at his agitation and walked over to help. It wasn’t the first time, probably not even the tenth time.

  “You really do amaze me, Jack. A smart person you are, yet when coffee machines are involved, you’re the dumbest of the dumbest. Here, let me,” she said, pushing him gently out of the way. Amanda quickly assessed the situation and realized his error. She walked over to the tap and filled the plastic well with water then inserted it back onto the machine, trying hard to contain her amusement. Jack was aware that others in the incident room had stopped working and were watching the performance.

  “I find it works better with water myself,” Amanda said, slotting the water well back into place. There was no need for her to say anything else. Nor Jack. She pressed the requisite button and the machine sprang into life, thick brown aromatic liquid filling his mug with a satisfied ‘chug, chug.’ There was almost a round of applause, but no one wanted to be the one to start it, so the air took on a sort of silent applause in its place, one that could be felt rather than heard. Grinning faces returned to their duties. Rather than hang around while Jack’s mug filled, Amanda left him to wait for his brew and calm himself back down.