The Major Crimes Team - Vol 1: Lines of Enquiry

by Graham Smith

  He took her hand in his and held her fingers in a gentle embrace as the hospital porter pushed her bed towards the ward.

  Steering her bed into a vacant space the porter went to pass the doctor’s notes to the nurse sitting behind the desk.

  ‘Harry.’ Janet’s voice was a hoarse whisper as her fingers sought out the button which controlled the morphine drip. ‘I lost our baby because I was raped.’

  Dealing with the Drugs

  DC Lauren Phillips pulled on a black skirt and turned to examine herself in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. Satisfied with what she saw, she picked up her keys and a clutch bag.

  Today was the first step towards getting the answers she needed. Once her questions were answered she’d be able to inform DI Harry Evans of what she’d learned. Until she had some hard evidence, she was on her own.

  The initial facts she had were sketchy at best. The one concrete lead she’d got had come from a source too scared to testify.

  Discussing it with Evans had been a disaster. Preoccupied with his wife’s rape, He’d been more caustic than usual. Both her professional skills and her personal interest in the case had come under fire, leaving her smarting at his put-downs.

  Determined not to let this one slip, she’d decided to pursue the case in her own time until she could gather what was needed to prompt a formal investigation.

  * * * *

  Parking behind a row of cars on Peter Street, Lauren locked her car and click-clacked her way towards Finkle Street. The three hundred yard walk through the centre of Workington saw her draw stares from shoppers and people going about their everyday business.

  She knew her clothing was more akin to a night on the town than four o’clock in the afternoon but she’d dressed this way for a reason. Lauren didn’t care about the disapproving looks she got from the women or the mental undressing of the men she encountered. Blessed with a pretty face and shapely body, Lauren knew she looked good and used her charms to her advantage whenever possible.

  Reaching the club, Lauren tried the door only to find it locked. Three rounds of knocking later it was answered by a scruffy man in his early twenties. Lauren waited for the obligatory scan of her figure.

  When Scruffy was finished examining her body he took a moment to look at Lauren’s face. ‘You here for the interview?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m Monique.’ Lauren held out a hand, hoping Scruffy was the one who’d interview her. The way he’d looked at her, she was sure he’d give her the job.

  ‘Mr Nicholson is through here.’

  Scruffy turned on his heel and led her into the club. Looking around Lauren saw pretty much what she’d expected to see. A long bar filled one wall, while the opposite side was lined with leather bench seats arranged in a series of crescents. At the far end of the narrow room were a series of booths with red velour curtains hanging from brass rails.

  ‘Grab a seat. I’ll get Mr Nicholson.’ Scruffy took off towards a door marked ‘Private’ behind the bar.

  The centre of the room was dominated by two poles, set on waist high platforms. Each of the walls had burgundy flocked wallpaper and pictures of models posing in their underwear.

  The smell of stale beer and unspent testosterone hung in the air. The lighting was muted although there were a series of unlit spotlights pointing at the twin stages.

  Lauren supposed she ought to feel nervous applying for a job as a lap-dancer, but she didn’t feel even the slightest twinge of apprehension. An exhibitionist by nature, she enjoyed the attention her body got her and she took a care to always make the most of her assets.

  The higher purpose which brought her here eradicated any fears she may have about exposing her body to a bunch of strangers. The biggest worries for Lauren were failing to get the evidence she needed or her superiors finding out and firing her.

  Either would spell disaster and mean Peter Nicholson getting off scot free. She’d researched Nicholson on the Police National Database and had found him to be a smooth if shady operator. Linked to many petty criminals, he’d managed to amass a share of Cumbria’s organised crime without stepping on the toes of the Leighton family with enough weight enough to start a turf war. Arrested numerous times, he’d never been charged thanks to a rapacious lawyer who always found a way to nullify investigations.

  Lauren recognised the man following Scruffy as Peter Nicholson. Well groomed, the black hair above his handsome face had the first showings of silvery grey.

  Rising to her feet, Lauren extended a hand. ‘Hi I’m Monique.’

  Nicholson took the hand and smiled, his appraisal of her was far quicker than Scruffy’s.

  ‘Peter Nicholson.’ He took a seat and gestured for her to do the same. When she was seated he turned to Scruffy. ‘You can go now. I’ll take it from here.’

  Scruffy managed to look disappointed while scowling at his boss’s back. As he disappeared through the door behind the bar, Nicholson picked up the clipboard he’d carried with him.

  ‘I’ve a few questions for you and then I’d like you to demonstrate your dancing skills. Are you okay with that?’

  ‘Sure.’ Lauren nodded and hoped he didn’t see how false her smile was.

  ‘First off, have you worked as a dancer before?’

  ‘No.’

  Nicholson’s eyebrows lifted a half inch. ‘Do you know what’s expected of dancers in a place like this?’

  ‘Of course. Men will pay me to strip for them.’ Lauren didn’t mention she’d researched lap dancing on the internet and had been to the lap dancing club in Carlisle where she’d had a couple of dances to supplement what she’d learned online.

  ‘And you’re okay with that?’

  ‘That depends on how much they expect for their money.’

  It was Nicholson’s turn to nod. ‘The rates in here are ten pound for topless and twenty for nude.’

  ‘What would I get from that?’ Lauren cursed herself. She hadn’t wanted to come across as too intelligent and here she was turning the interview around and setting the questions.

  ‘You get the full amount. We charge a dancing fee of seventy-five pounds per night. Anything the dancers make over and above that is their own business.’

  ‘Okaaay.’ Lauren stretched the word as if considering his proposal. She didn’t care about the money. Financial gain wasn’t the reason she was applying for this job.

  ‘Technically you won’t be working for me, you’ll be self employed and therefore you’ll be responsible for paying your own taxes.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Make no mistake though.’ A steely look touched Nicholson’s eyes. ‘I’m the one in charge and the dancers all answer to me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So why are you applying for a job here, you’re smarter than the usual girls who apply?’

  Lauren hesitated as if reluctant to answer. ‘I’ve got credit card debt I need to get rid of. When that’s cleared I want to start saving for a house. I’ve been in debt too long and I’m not having it anymore.’

  Her answer was designed to show commitment to the job, to show she was in it for the long haul and wouldn’t be leaving after a couple of weeks.

  ‘Sounds familiar.’ A wry smile touched Nicholson’s lips. ‘Now, getting to the meat of the sandwich, do you think you’re going to be able to strip knowing men are staring at you?’

  Lauren stood up and gestured at her clothes. ‘I’ve just walked through the middle of Workington dressed like this. How much of a problem do you think I have with people looking at me?’

  Nicholson’s eyes scanned her body from top to toe for a second time. She felt his eyes as they slid down the lacy top she wore and onto the miniskirt.

  Turning around she let him see the transparent back of her top which showed she wasn’t wearing a bra. Lifting the hem of her skirt a she gave him a glimpse of her stocking tops.

  ‘So you’re not shy then.’ Nicholson smiled as he spoke. ‘I want to see you dance. I nee
d to know that you’ve got the moves and that you’re not all talk.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Lauren had expected no less. Nobody in their right minds would employ a stripper without seeing them strip.

  Nicholson walked over to the bar and fiddled with a music system. As he returned a dance tune filled the otherwise silent club.

  Lauren waited until he was seated and then mimicking the dancer she’d hired in Carlisle, she rested his hands on his knees. Gyrating in time with the beat she began a slow and sensual lap-dance.

  Nicholson watched her with a cold detachment which would have un-nerved her had she not felt the bulge of his erection. One by one, she went through the moves she’d learned from her experience in Carlisle.

  When the track ended she was naked apart from stockings and suspenders. Taking a seat opposite Nicholson, she put her clothes beside her and looked him in the eye.

  ‘So, have I got the job?’

  ‘Yes. You can start tonight. We open at nine.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure you’ve never done this before.’

  Lauren reached for her thong. ‘Not for money.’

  * * * *

  Harry Evans laid down his book and looked across at his wife. She was holding a book of her own but he could see from her glazed expression she wasn’t reading it.

  Since telling him of her rape she had become a different person. The thousand watt smile had dimmed and while she pretended to put on a brave face, he could see she was distracted by dark thoughts.

  He knew the dangers of dark thoughts, how they possessed the mind, influencing every decision, every word spoken and the tone it was delivered in.

  His own dark thoughts had sent him to the brink of oblivion before he mustered enough self-control to haul himself back. It wasn’t for himself he returned, it was for Janet. He knew she needed him more than he’d ever been needed before.

  He’d reported the rape as was his duty. Yet he’d tried to find the rapist himself so he could enact a different kind of justice. A biblical justice delivered with an un-lubricated baseball bat. A medieval justice.

  His colleagues in the police had kept him away from the investigation, held him back when he’d tried to attack Derek Yates in his cell.

  He knew they’d done the right thing, but he’d happily give everything he owned for two minutes alone with the man who’d raped his wife.

  His and Janet’s lives would never be the same thanks to Yates’s actions. They’d be forever tarnished by loss. Stained by memories and thoughts of what might have been.

  Reaching across the couch he took Janet’s hand in his. ‘They’ve got him. He’s going down for life and will never see the light of day again.’

  Janet said nothing. Her face didn’t even register she’d heard his words.

  He squeezed her fingers just hard enough to get her attention. ‘I’m off shift at six tomorrow. I’ll take you to that place you like at Keswick for a bite to eat if you like.’

  When Janet spoke her voice was flat and lifeless, her attempts at normality failing. ‘I can’t, I said I’d cover for Jessica so I’ll be there until midnight. Maybe next week eh?’

  ‘Whenever you want.’ Evans planted a tender kiss on her knuckles and lifted his book.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t get the words on the page to focus. His eyes were forever travelling further afield, searching for a past happiness no longer visible.

  He knew his team were behind him and he appreciated the way they were absorbing his bad temper and ignoring his abusive comments. He couldn’t tell them as much, but he’d take them for a drink or spring for the fast food the next time they had to work late. Chisholm would understand his intentions and explain them to Bhaki and Lauren if they didn’t work it out for themselves.

  * * * *

  Lauren entered Shakers and looked around seeking either Nicholson or Scruffy. Finding Scruffy at the far end of the room exchanging angry words with an emaciated girl, Lauren approached in such a way that she neither interrupted them nor remained unseen.

  As she got closer Lauren could see the girl sported recent bruising around her left eye. Makeup had been used to disguise any discolouring, but it couldn’t hide the swelling or the burst blood vessels in the corner of her eye.

  Scruffy turned his head and flicked his eyes at Lauren. A nod of recognition was followed by a raised finger.

  Turning back to the unfortunate girl Scruffy jabbed a finger towards her face. ‘Piss off home and don’t come back until you’re fit to work.’

  Every instinct Lauren possessed as a police officer screamed at her to find out how the girl had got a black eye, but she knew it would unmask her to Scruffy. Burying the urge to inquire, she gave a tight smile instead. ‘Is there anything I need to know before I start?’

  Scruffy looked her up and down, his eyes resting on her breasts for an uncomfortable length of time, when his assessment was complete a finger pointed to the back of the room.

  ‘The booths are over there, the customers come in the front door and there’s a small changing room at the back where you can keep your stuff.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘If a customer tries to grab you, you push his hand away. If he tries again, yell for help. One of the bouncers will deal with him.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Lauren wasn’t worried about defending herself against wandering hands. Looking and dressing the way she did, she was accustomed to having her bum pinched or the feel of a sweaty hand attempting to take liberties.

  ‘As far as your own conduct is concerned, if we hear of you making propositions or of you sleeping with the customers after your shift then you’re out on your arse.’

  ‘What do you take me for? I’m doing this to get myself out of a financial hole not to catch God knows what.’ Lauren filled her voice with indignant outrage but she’d expected the warning. Strip clubs were always associated with brothels and she wanted to lay down her marker before Scruffy or Nicholson miscounted two and two.

  Her indignance would also serve to keep them from getting any ideas about her availability.

  Scruffy gave a lackadaisical shrug. ‘You wouldn’t be the first to try it and I don’t expect you’d be the last.’

  Three girls walked in together. Dressed in jeans and jackets, their bored expressions didn’t inspire Lauren with confidence.

  Scruffy waved them over and pointed at Lauren. ‘This is Monique. She’s starting tonight so show her the ropes.’

  Looking at the trio, Lauren felt the first stirrings of animosity. A tall blonde with an acne scarred face held out a limp hand

  ‘Katya.’ Her thumb jerked to her left then right as she made the other introductions. ‘This is Scarlett, and Candy. We get changed and then talk proper.’

  The way Katya spoke, the promised talk was inferred as more of a threat than a helpful showing of the ropes.

  Despite herself, Lauren began to feel the first prickles of apprehension. Now she was here and about to embark on a stripping career, the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies in her stomach threatened to have her sprinting for the bathroom.

  Steeling her nerves, Lauren walked around the room getting an in-depth feel for the room. As she went she made mental notes of the dark corners, the angles which would see lights flashing into eyes and the areas best covered by the CCTV cameras.

  Looking at the clock on the wall she saw it was almost nine and there still wasn’t any sign of the girls emerging from the cramped changing room. They either mustn’t care about not being ready for when the doors opened or they knew from experience they didn’t have to be ready as it would be quiet at first.

  Regardless of the reason for their tardiness, Lauren wanted to try and befriend them. The key to her getting the information she needed lay in how well she was liked and trusted by the staff and management of Shakers.

  Candy was the first to appear. Her dumpy body clad in a loose fitting babydoll which did little to hide the rolls of flab sagging over the top of her lace knickers.

&nbs
p; Lauren greeted her with a smile, only for Candy to ignore her and head for the bar where she handed Scruffy a sheaf of notes.

  Realising she too would have to pay her way Lauren joined her at the bar and reached into her purse.

  ‘D’you think it’ll get busy later?’

  Candy didn’t look at her but at least she answered. ‘I bloody hope so. I need every penny I can get.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’ Lauren tried a conspiratorial smile. ‘I’m only here for the money too.’

  ‘So pretty new girl is here for the money too. She make sure all girls get fair number of dances she be allowed to stay.’

  Lauren whirled round to find Katya right behind her, a malevolent look on her face. Scarlett was at Katya’s side, her bikini-clad body showcasing a tapestry of eclectic tattoos set against pale flesh.

  ‘What do you mean allowed to stay? I’m just here to make as much money as possible so I can pay off my debts. Surely it’s Mr Nicholson’s decision about who works here not yours.’

  Lauren couldn’t stop herself from snapping the angry reply to Katya. Too often she had seen first hand the damage caused by bullies and their aggressive ways. She’d learned the best way to deal with such behaviour, was challenge it from the start and then let the chips fall where they may. Yet she didn’t want to pick a fight with any of the girls working here. Not when she needed them to confide in her, to trust her with their secrets.

  Katya’s false nail jabbed into Lauren’s chest. ‘You not have to be fired to stop working here. You maybe decide quit. Yes?’

  ‘No.’ Lauren held Katya’s eye. ‘I’m here because I need the money. If you can’t handle a little bit of competition, maybe it’s you who should quit.’

  ‘Pah! You no dancer. You last five minutes. You no competition for me.’

  ‘Then what’s your problem?’

  Katya didn’t answer her. Instead she went behind the bar and whispered into Scruffy’s ear. Lauren couldn’t tell what was said, but she didn’t like the way a broad smirk painted itself on Scruffy’s face.