B002VHI8GS EBOK

by Cole, Martina

  But it was the use of the women that bothered her. The girls were dead, and they were dead because of people like him and Peter Bates. So why did she feel she was being unfair to him? Why did she miss him so much? Kate closed her eyes and tried to push him from her thoughts.

  Annie came in and refilled her glass for her.

  ‘Thanks, I needed this.’

  Annie nodded. ‘Join the club. I’ve left all the stuff Jennifer gave you with Margaret, she is a computer whiz-kid by all accounts. But to be honest, I don’t think we’ll get anything from it, do you?’

  Kate shook her head in agreement. ‘No. I think whoever this is, they are too fucking shrewd to leave a trail of any kind. The crime scene is almost sterile, and that takes a lot of planning, and a lot of guts. But that doesn’t mean we can rule anything, or anyone, out. Speaking of which, how did your interview with Patrick go?’

  ‘Exactly as you’d expect!’ Annie laughed. ‘He was more interested in asking me questions about you.’

  Kate shrugged. ‘So who are we looking for? Jennifer James reckons it isn’t a regular but I’ll put my money on it being someone we’ve had dealings with before. This person is in the system somewhere, even if not here in Grantley. He would have done other stuff before this, and that’s what we need to be looking at. We need to see what we can dig up over the last ten years, men who’ve specifically targeted prostitutes. He’s perfected his trade somewhere, we just need to find out where the fuck that was.’

  ‘What do we need?’

  ‘You need to request everything relating to attacks on working girls from all the different forces in the British Isles. But I think he knows this area, so I’ll concentrate on anyone who was born here, lived here, or went to school here. He’s chosen Grantley for a reason, he’s killing here for a reason. Like I say, we just have to find out what the reason is.’

  Annie sighed. ‘Look, Kate, the arsehole wants to bring in another lead detective. He says it’s to help me, but I think it’s because he doesn’t trust us to deliver quick enough. He’s not even got the fucking guts to tell us to our face. He told me over the phone.’

  Kate laughed then, a loud, cackling laugh. ‘I expected him to do something like this. Don’t worry, I still have a few friends I can rely on. Unlike him, I never made the mistake of tucking up my own colleagues.’

  Kate gulped her wine down and held out the glass for another refill. ‘I’ll sleep like the dead tonight, Annie. Tomorrow I’ll start pulling in favours. You’ll be surprised at how many I am actually owed.’

  Patrick looked around him with unusual interest. He was wondering how he had come to be so bloody domesticated, and trying to work out when this domestication had begun. He even used a coaster, despite there being no one around to remind him.

  His mother had once run this place with almost military precision. After his wife had died, he had been bereft and he’d needed a woman around. He’d needed normality in a world where normality had been destroyed. His daughter had been all he had cared about then. She had been like a beacon, shining out to remind him that life still went on, that he had someone who needed him, someone he loved with a vengeance. Like most self-made people, Pat had gradually learned how to sort the wheat from the chaff, had got rid of the hangers-on and the spongers. He had learned early on that someone with his reputation was not always told the truth, even when it was requested. Only his old mate Willy Gabney had ever had the guts to disagree with him. He was dead this long time, and Pat still missed him.

  Along had come Kate. He had admired her, her strength of character. She had awakened something in him and he had felt the pull of her almost from the start. That same strength of character now got on his nerves. She was too bloody good at times, she saw everything as black and white. Well, that didn’t work for everyone, especially not the people in his world.

  He had been terrified of her finding out about him owning the flats and the houses, but why had he cared so much? He had done nothing illegal, not in the eyes of the law anyway. He was a partner in a business, no more and no less. He wasn’t about to be given any kind of tug, and he had ironed it out so she was safe from anything untoward. She wasn’t even a real Filth any more, so why was she so fucking bothered anyway?

  They would desperately need her on a case like this, she was very experienced and respected by everyone. Most of that lot in Grantley nick couldn’t find their own arses with two Sherpas and a detailed map. She would be needed down that fucking dump if she had just got paroled after a bank job.

  Now though, he was determined to show her that he didn’t need her, or her bloody-mindedness. He was a businessman, and if his businesses were sometimes on the wrong side of the moral highway, then tough shit. He was still legal enough to guarantee he wasn’t going to get any late-night door knocking. And if that was good enough for him, then it should have been good enough for her.

  So why was he missing her?

  He poured himself another Scotch and turned on the CD player. He liked the old records lately, Dionne Warwick, Dusty Springfield, they were soothing on the ears. They reminded him of better days, when life had possibilities, when he was still striving to make something of himself. Then each day had been a new beginning in his quest to take over the world. Had he really woken up each morning with the urge to get up and out into the world, had he really felt that alive once? Had he always enjoyed the challenge that each new day had brought? All he had been feeling recently was discontentment, he felt as if he had wasted so much of his time, so much of his life, on nothing.

  Pat had always looked down his nose at men with new wives and new kids, the kids often younger than their grandchildren. Perhaps he should have done that, he should have married again, had another family while he had had the time. No child could ever have replaced his Mandy, but he could have loved them, could still have nurtured and cared for them. He could have them around him now, and then enjoyed their children when they came along. Then he would have been a grandfather, would have had something, someone, to say he had lived on this earth when he was gone.

  He should have been open to that kind of possibility. After all, there were plenty of women willing to produce for a decent lifestyle and a nice gaff. He would have looked after them, even loved them in a way but, most of all, he would have been given a new family by them, and for that he would have given them the world.

  Until now, Kate had been enough for him. He felt her presence as an almost physical force; her being beside him had always calmed him, made him feel a level of happiness he had been grateful for. He had loved her deeply, and he had given her something he had never given a woman before; himself. But her leaving him like that, without any kind of hesitation, had made him re-evaluate their relationship. She had always loved and needed her work, and he had respected that, had even admired that about her. But now he felt different, felt that he needed a bit more than companionship and interesting conversation.

  Alone in this hulking great house, it had occurred to Pat that he was, in reality, just waiting to die. Not a cheerful thought, but it was the truth, he was just biding his time. He was not a youngster any more, but he wasn’t in his fucking dotage either. He looked at Danny Foster and saw himself as he had been. Now, when he looked in the mirror, he saw himself and what he had become. He was old, much older than he had ever thought he would be. And all he had to show for his long and eventful life was his money, his businesses, and nothing else. The knowledge frightened him, had woken something in him he had never even known was there. He was lonely.

  It was as if Kate leaving him had opened his eyes to what was left of his life, of his future. He had more money than he would ever need, he had more friends than he had ever imagined, and yet he had nothing to show for his years of grafting, nothing of substance anyway. He needed to feel there was something left for him in his future, he needed to feel that his hard work and his graft would be appreciated, would be of use after he was gone. He wanted something to show that he had lived, want
ed to feel that he would carry on living even after his death. He wanted a child.

  Kate going had brought all these feelings to the fore, but Pat knew that they had been festering inside him for a good while. He had denied them, had felt they were somehow disloyal not only to Kate, but to Mandy, and even to his long-dead wife.

  Kate’s refusal to answer any of his calls, or even acknowledge him in any way, had shown him just what a tenuous link they really had to each other. She could have stood by him, she should have known he would never have allowed her to be implicated in anything untoward. The girls’ deaths were not his fault and she knew that as well as he did. If they had not been working for Bates, they would have been working for someone else. He understood then that she had used the circumstances available to her to do what she really wanted. She had left him, and now he understood that, it was probably for the best. But it didn’t stop it hurting.

  Jennifer James was drinking a large vodka and Coke and, as she listened to Peter Bates droning on, she pretended an interest that wasn’t there. ‘Danny Foster is trying to open up the business by expanding the websites, he thinks he’s Essex’s answer to Bill Gates. I can’t see why you’d have a problem with that. He’s a sensible lad, and he can bring us in a lot of dough. For crying out loud, Pete, what is your problem?’

  Peter Bates liked Jennifer James. She had a shrewd business head, the girls liked her, and everyone trusted her, himself included. So he knew he had to be honest with her, he knew she would suss him out if he tried to have her over.

  ‘I don’t like him.’

  Jennifer laughed out loud, then began choking on her drink. As she coughed and spluttered, and wiped the tears from her eyes, she wondered at men and their rank stupidity. ‘You don’t like him? Are you telling me that’s the reason you are questioning his ability to bring us in more money? He wants to streamline the business, bring it into another fucking dimension, and you can only say “I don’t like him”? I don’t like a lot of the people I work with, that includes you at times, but I don’t let that interfere with my job. It’s called being a grown-up, Pete, you should try it sometime.’

  Jen’s dismissive tone rankled, but her words were something he knew he couldn’t argue with. Danny had not done anything to make Peter mistrust him. But he absolutely loathed him, he loathed him with an intensity that surprised him. It was irrational and it was groundless.

  ‘Anyway, Patrick likes him and that’s all that counts. Take my advice, Pete, leave well alone and find a way to work with him. We don’t need any trouble.’

  Peter nodded and smiled drunkenly. ‘I know you’re right, but he’s so fucking smug. I want to rip his fucking face off, especially when he does that voice. He talks to me like I’m in me dotage.’

  Jennifer grinned then, showing her expensively capped teeth. ‘Well, you are to him, he’s only in his thirties. He’s still at the age where he wants to show his strength, prove himself. You were the same at his age, I bet.’

  Peter smiled at the truth in Jen’s words. Her mobile rang and he grinned as he heard the tune; it was Monty Python’s ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’.

  ‘Oh hello, Jill, how are you?’

  Peter watched her as she listened attentively.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Jen sounded worried now. ‘Why are you ringing me, doesn’t her mum know where she went?’

  She listened again and Peter saw her nodding her head slowly. ‘Do you know where she was working from?’

  Peter filled her glass once more, and handed it to her as she put the phone down.

  ‘What was all that about?’

  Jennifer took the drink and swallowed it down quickly. ‘A girl worked for us called Lisa Blare, a nice girl, but nervous. Very young looking, she had fantastic skin. Anyway, Jillian Barber had a call from her mum asking if she was with her, it seems she ain’t arrived home. Jill said she hadn’t seen her but thought she’d ring me in case I knew where she was. I’m sure I heard she was renting a room off old Maggie Dinage, she was a bit of a loner anyway. She didn’t like working with the other girls. But with all that’s been going on I think I’ll give Maggie a ring just to be on the safe side. Lisa’s mobile is turned off, so there’s no other way of getting hold of her.’

  Peter nodded. ‘Is Maggie still going? I thought she was dead and buried.’

  ‘No way, she’s as sprightly as a ballerina, still likes a drink and still likes dirty jokes. Only these days she tends to stay close to home. She’s got to be seventy at least.’

  Peter sat down heavily and lit a cigarette. He remembered Lisa all right, she was a Brahma. She had a face like a madonna and the body of a porn queen. He hoped she was all right and they were worrying over nothing.

  Chapter Five

  ‘Jesus Christ, her whole face and chest are gone.’

  Kate didn’t answer, she was too busy looking around the small room. The smell of burned flesh was still hanging in the air making her feel slightly nauseous. The girl’s few bits and pieces were still in place. Other than the monstrosity on the bed, the room was basically untouched.

  It was eerie just looking at the girl’s belongings. Her handbag was under the chair, her cigarettes and lighter were on the small bedside table, her few work clothes were hung neatly in the wardrobe. As before, there were no prints anywhere.

  The girl’s well-manicured hands were relaxed, and Kate felt grateful that she had not been aware of what was happening to her. To Kate it was outrageous that she was, once again, looking at the lifeless body of a young girl with her whole life ahead of her, and that she was pleased because the girl had not felt the pain as she was dying. It was so wrong. These girls were dead, and who knew what they might have become.

  ‘It’s personal, so personal, even more so than the others. This was complete obliteration. Her whole face has been removed. What exactly did the coroner say?’

  Annie opened her notebook and read back the words she had written down verbatim. ‘Lisa Blare. No signs of rape, no signs of a beating, no sign of retaliation. The coroner believes she was already dead when he started burning her, but that will only be confirmed after her hair has been tested. Same acid used as before, same MO, and everything points to the same drugs having been used. In short, fuck all of any use.’

  ‘And, once again, no one saw or heard anything?’

  ‘Nothing, Kate. All the rooms here are used for the same purpose, people walking about at all hours wouldn’t be anything unusual. In fact, most of the girls had already gone home by the time of death. When old Maggie let herself in, she was only expecting to find the girl asleep, apparently that happens on occasion after a hectic night. She’s had to be carted off in an ambulance, she was really fucking freaked out about it. She lives on the ground floor, but she can’t hear anything that goes on, she keeps the radio on twenty-four-seven. She’s also a heavy drinker. I think she’s a bit deaf and all, but then she is getting on.’

  Kate was baffled once more. How could no one see or hear anything? ‘What about the people who live in the road? Have they been questioned yet?’

  ‘The boys are talking to them all now, but if anyone had anything to say, I’m sure we’d have heard about it by now.’

  Annie sighed as she looked at the girl’s remains. It was bloody disgraceful, to think he had walked in and out without a sound.

  Kate looked at Annie with dark-ringed eyes. Even she was looking old, old and tired. ‘He picks his time and his victims with care. These girls were all targeted for a specific reason, he has something against them personally.’

  Kate examined the room again, looking at the girl’s belongings, hoping against hope they would talk to her, tell her something. ‘He knows when they are at their most vulnerable and he allows himself plenty of time to do his business. He has to have been a regular of some sort, or he had to be watching them for a good while, because he knew exactly when to strike. He knew when he would be safest. No one has heard a car or a motorbike, so I think
he walks to his chosen destination. No one notices anyone strange in the area, or wonders what the hell is going on in a house in their street that is being used as a brothel. Is it me, Annie, or am I missing something here? Surely no one can walk in and out of several different locations without someone, somewhere noticing them.’

  Annie shrugged, she was wondering the same thing. ‘Maybe he’s just been lucky up to now? Or maybe he looks like part of the surroundings? Either way, Kate, no one seems to have seen him.’

  Kate nodded slowly, her eyes staring blankly at the girl’s lifeless form. ‘He knew them, he had to have known them. He was familiar with their movements. Which means they probably knew him and, if they did, then so must some of the other girls.’

  Margaret Dole was very pretty, she had short, dark hair and large, doe-like eyes. Her looks were her downfall in some ways, because they made her look soft, made her seem vulnerable. She had a natural grace, even picking up a coffee cup was done with precision and an inborn gentility.

  Margaret, though, was in possession of a brain capacity that staggered the belief of those around her. She was a computer hound; she could hack, track or reroute anything that came her way. She also had a natural affinity for research that had brought her to the attention of her superiors, and she knew it was what would guarantee her getting fast-tracked to promotion. What she didn’t have was a natural affinity with her colleagues, but it didn’t bother her too much.

  As she looked through all the information provided by Jennifer James, she knew there was nothing that would be of any use. The files were time-coded, and there was nothing she could see that might stand out as different or strange. Whoever had arranged to see the dead girls had done it by phone, probably text. As the phones were the only things taken, they were relying on the phone companies’ records. So far there was nothing suspicious there either. She would bet it was a pay as you go so, other than the location of where the call was made, they were still none the wiser.