“Dad can be a bit bolshie if the girls don’t seem to be pulling their weight,” he said, explaining the speed of her recovery. “I’ll watch over her for the rest of the night.”
“Nobody will demand your presence elsewhere?”
“No. That’s one of the few perks of being the boss’s son,” he admitted.
“You did a good job out there.”
He beamed. “Thanks!”
“I haven’t seen your dad around. He still helping the police with their enquiries?”
Brian winced. “Yes. If you see him, I wouldn’t mention it to him. It’s a sore point. When he heard what had happened he went off his head! You’d have thought the girl had died just to spite him! ‘The last thing we need with everything else going on!’” He shook his head. “That was about the only repeatable thing he said. I suggested he should watch where he aired that opinion, else the boys in blue would be asking him where he was on the night she was killed. He always tries to be seen as a respectable businessman. Now he’s got the papers, the police and his bank managers all looking at him as if he was a glorified pimp.”
Bang went my chances of getting him to throw his weight behind the suggestion that the girls employ us to look into the incidents.
Another bouncer beckoned further along the balcony.
“Sorry, gotta go.”
“Of course. Have a better one.”
“God, I hope so!”
The night was troublesome. It seemed that without the influence of a high-ranking police official among them, everybody was taken with the desire to misbehave. I spent more time breaking up fights than patrolling. I actually relished the few occasions I was asked to sit in the Star rooms for the breather it afforded.
By the two a m closing I still hadn’t been called into the office for anything more significant than my pay. By then I was too tired and dispirited to pursue the issue of a contract.
Tori, too, was despondent. Either the general mood had rubbed off, or her own situation and Lisa Moran’s death was weighing heavily on her mind. I didn’t press her for reasons.
All the girls with no one to pick them up called for White Knights to take them home. I was just happy to drive Tori back to my place, shower and fall into bed beside her. Not even the promise of tuxedo sex could keep my eyes open a minute longer.
7
I scrambled on to the low wall surrounding the penultimate level of Blackpool Tower, clipping the rappelling line coiled around my waist to a piece of chicken wire, while he checked the position of his men and made sure there were no witnesses. I hid the line before he looked back.
“You’re going to have to do this. I’m not going to make it easy for you. I’ve got more pride. And I don’t think you can’t afford the noise of shooting me without a silencer.”
I thought for a minute I’d pushed him too far. That he’d call one of his thugs to do the job. But I’d read him right. He wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.
Snarling, he ran at me full tilt, palms out to push me off. I grabbed him as he barrelled into me. His momentum carried us both over the edge.
He screamed as he plummeted toward the roof.
Line played out. I spun end over end. Chicken wire stretching in slow motion as I fell…
I woke drenched in sweat, smothering a scream.
Tori slept peacefully on. For a moment I wanted to wake her up, needed someone to hold me after reliving my plunge from the Tower. Then I pulled myself together. Right now she needed me to be strong. And I needed to put that mess behind me.
I climbed carefully out of bed so that I didn’t rouse her. It was still early but I was wide awake. Normally I sleep like the dead, don’t dream anything that I can remember. When my body-clock has been disturbed, as it had by the hours this job demanded, I have nightmares, and relive some significant moment in my life – like that one – where I’ve found myself facing certain death. In my line of work, that happens more than I’d like. As you can imagine, my dreams are fairly colourful.
I stripped out of my T-shirt and Calvins and stepped under a shower as hot as I could stand. Stinging needles of water eased away the last vestiges of the dream. By the time I emerged ten minutes later, I was almost fit company.
I’m not a morning person.
As Tori was still sleeping, I dressed in sweat-pants and a fresh T-shirt and took myself into the lounge/kitchen and swallowed down a multivitamin with orange juice.
I’m not a breakfast person either.
I fished my Walkman and a Bon Jovi tape from a drawer, then slid the exercise bench and bars out from their place beneath the sofa and the weights from the bottom cupboards of the kitchen cabinets. After a few warm-up stretches to You Give Love A Bad Name, I settled down to the steady mindlessness of lifting weights.
I was on side two of the tape, lying on my back, on the God-knows-how-many’th repetition, eyes closed, humming tunelessly along with Living On A Prayer, concentrating on my breathing, when I felt the air move. I opened my eyes in time to see Tori sweep past in a swirl of silk dressing gown to open the apartment door.
Sammi, Joy, Liu and two others girls whose names I didn’t know tumbled inside. After their initial greetings for Tori, their eyes were all for me. They scurried over, cooing about my muscles and the healthy glow of my exertions, running their fingers over my slicked arms as if I was a prize heifer. I dropped the weights quickly enough to dent my cork floor and elicit the usual pounding on the ceiling from my landlord. I fled to the sounds of their laughter.
When I returned in my usual uniform of suit pants and silk shirt, Tori had collapsed the exercise bench, slipped it back under the sofa and rolled the weights across the floor to the cupboards. Putting them away gave me a few moments to force the blush from my skin before I had to face them again.
They were sitting quite primly, as if nothing had happened (maybe Tori had given them grief about it?) along my sofa and every available seat when I returned. I would have sat on the floor, but this felt like an official visit. I stood in a kind of parade rest, a stance you learn to adopt when you’re spending any length of time on your feet, and tried to look capable.
“We’re sorry to turn up unannounced,” Joy began.
“And so early,” Liu added.
“But we’ve made some decisions,” from Sammi.
Then they allowed Tori to do the talking.
“Yesterday morning we got in touch with Lisa Moran’s parents. We gave them our condolences and asked what was happening to Lisa’s body when the authorities released it.”
Of course, since it was a suspicious death, there would be an autopsy.
“You can sit by me,” Sammi interrupted, revealing a miniscule space on the sofa.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I assured her, determined not to get distracted.
“They’re taking her home to Cambridge,” Tori continued. “She’ll be buried or cremated there. We didn’t get into details. We’re arranging a memorial service for her. It was our thought that you and Dean might want to come; you could sit with the bouncers, take a look at the guests who turn up. By now you know most of the cast in our lives. If someone is out of place or looks as if they’re gloating instead of grieving, that might be a good place to start looking, don’t you think?”
I did, but I sensed there was more to this impromptu gathering than throwing me that particular bone. I simply nodded and let her speak.
“We’d also like to employ you and Dean to look into what’s been happening to us. Officially. We want to sign a contract.”
“We’ve got the money,” one of the unnamed girls said, opening a huge handbag. Stuffed full of twenty pound notes.
“Give me a minute and I’ll print some contracts up.” I went over to my PC and booted it up, gave the printer the appropriate commands and paper. While it got to work, I asked, “What changed your minds?”
“We’ve been watching you,” Joy said. “We trust you. Tori’s told us about what you do and… Well, you kn
ow about Lisa. We’re scared. We don’t want it to happen to us.”
“I was sorry to hear about Lisa’s death. I don’t think I ever met her.”
“She was new. She started after you came down to watch the last time, but before you became a bouncer at the club.” This from Liu.
“You know we can’t directly investigate Lisa’s death, not without her parents’ say-so?”
“I told them that, Randall,” Tori replied. “After talking to them I’m sure you won’t get it. You might find something out while you’re looking into what’s been happening to us. If it’s the same person doing it.”
“That’s true. We’ll have to hand it over to the police if we do. They don’t take kindly to what they think of as amateurs tripping all over their investigation.”
I collected the forms, logged off then turned back to the ladies to hand them out. “I take it none of you have been to the police about your own situations?”
There were a few uncomfortable and indignant looks. How much of their reluctance was Brian Senior’s gag order? How much because they had some reason not to trust the police? And how much because they had something to hide?
I could see this wouldn’t be easily resolved, even if the perpetrator was the same in all their crimes. Getting at the information and evidence to bring him – or her – to justice was going to be an uphill struggle, especially if they kept hiding things from me along the way.
“Look, I can’t promise we won’t have to turn over some of what you tell us to the authorities at some point, not if it will help them catch Lisa’s killer.”
“What about client confidentiality?”
I was tempted to tell Joy she’d been reading too much detective fiction, but I bit my tongue and explained patiently, “That doesn’t always work. If the police think we’re impeding the progress of their enquiry they can imprison us or subpoena our records. Like confiscating hardcore porn from a sex shop. If we keep everything above board, pass on what they need to know, look helpful, they leave us alone. For the most part your private business stays private. I’m not saying everything you tell me will be pertinent, but on the off chance that it might be, you have to be aware we can’t conceal it. That would make us guilty of a crime too. Anybody who doesn’t want to do this should leave now. It’s all in the contract. Read it before you sign.”
“Why are you making this so difficult? We came to you for help!” This from another one of the unnamed girls.
“I’m not trying to make it any harder than it is. I know it’s difficult for you to talk about things like burglaries, assaults, vandalism of your homes, or rape. You feel violated and rightly so! Tori will tell you that I haven’t forced her to talk about what happened, I’ve let her deal with it in her own way. She’s only said what she felt comfortable saying.”
Tori nodded.
“But it wouldn’t be legal or ethical if I let you sign under false pretences. Kindness doesn’t come into it. After what you’ve been through I don’t want you to feel trapped because I didn’t explain something to you. If you say something in confidence that isn’t pertinent it will stay between us. Nothing gets committed to paper that doesn’t have to be.”
Sammi looked at me. “Randall’s right. She’s just telling it how it is. Quit bitching and read the small print, Stace. Randall’s telling you your rights, unlike the pigs.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear how negative Sammi was about the local constabulary.
“Why does it ask whether I have a criminal record?” Liu wondered.
What to say? I finally settled on, “So we can exclude your personal details from anything we pass on to the police if that will present a problem at a later stage.”
It was also for our own records. If we didn’t check our clients out, we could end up being used as the weapon to harass a completely innocent party. Knowing whether the person paying your bills was a victim or an abuser was a good place to start the investigation. Quite often the first place. Investigate the client before you investigate their story. Always.
I couldn’t tell them that. The brighter ones among them had surely already come to that conclusion. It’s what the police do. We operate the same way, albeit on a smaller scale. We can’t afford to be any less impartial if we want to get at the truth, even though we are taking our clients’ money.
Sammi wrote down a long string of convictions. I was happy to see her openness. Why lie? We’d find out. The internet means there’s no such thing as secrets.
Most of them didn’t feel they had anything to hide. They each read the terms and conditions, filled out the appropriate sections, together with a brief description of the complaint they wanted us to investigate, and signed the page. I signed below, dated it, then separated the duplicate and handed it back. Seeing their comrades so easily satisfied shamed the others into completing their own contracts. Once everyone had handed over the papers, I locked them in a drawer until I could get them to the office. Then I counted the money and wrote out a receipt. The money went into the drawer too. I’d take it to the bank the moment they were gone.
“What happens next?” Tori asked for all of them.
“We arrange appropriate times for interviews with each of you so you can tell us in detail what happened. It might help you to spend some time thinking about this, and putting some notes down to remind you of the salient points. Just as if you were going for a job interview. If you feel more comfortable, you can write the whole incident down, make a statement.”
Some of them looked relieved.
“After we’ve read it, we’ll discuss any points we’re not clear on with you, and ask you questions to further open up the problem. This will give us a place to start. Once we have preliminary information and evidence, we’ll begin the investigation. We may need to get back to you, so we’ll use your mobile numbers to clarify any points. There may be times when we need you to come into the office. We’ll arrange something that works for all of us.”
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t feel comfortable talking to a man about what happened to me,” Liu admitted. The others mumbled their agreement.
“OK, I’ll see to it that I conduct the interviews, but I’ll have to tape them. Dean is the real detective in this outfit, I’m still learning the job.”
They seemed content. Having unburdened themselves of both problems and money they were reluctant to stay. Making polite farewells, they beat a retreat. I was left in a quiet apartment with only the smell of perfume and the dent in my floor to show for their presence.
Tori’s arms slid around me from behind. She laid her head on my shoulder. “You OK? You seem shell-shocked.”
“It’s the suddenness of it all. Last night you told me they hadn’t made a decision. Now I find we’ve got two more clients than I’d originally bargained for.”
“Stace and Terri. They heard us talking and spilled the beans – told us they’d had stuff happen to them too. Watching you last night decided them. It’s OK, isn’t it?”
“Of course. Dean will be thrilled to see that much work and that much money drop into his lap.” I thought about it. “You’re sure it’s the same kind of thing?”
“From what little they told me.”
“It’s not going to be difficult for you, is it? Having to talk about what happened? Once we’ve eliminated the obvious suspects we’re going to have to go into things in more depth.”
“It won’t be easy, but if it stops this, it’ll have been worth it. Until I mentioned it to Sammi, I never knew it had happened to other people. Everyone at the club seems to confide in her. I wanted to keep it to myself, forget about it, get on with my life. You know.”
I clasped her hands and squeezed them, saddened that she hadn’t felt able to discuss this with me before the other girls got involved.
“Sammi made me realise it was important. What I’d seen and heard could be used to stop it from happening to anyone else. Staying quiet could allow it to happen to someone else! Th
at would make me as responsible as the person who did it. I couldn’t live with that.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’ve done the right thing.”
“Thanks.”
We stood like that a few moments longer then Tori disentangled herself and made noises about having a shower and getting ready to leave. I’d promised to take her back to her flat today. My time was going to be limited. I had to go into the office, rearrange the work schedule with Dean and bank the money before meeting my client at two.
An hour and a half later, after dropping off the contracts with Dean, giving him a sketchy explanation of the morning’s events and leaving him to bank the money, I picked Tori up and drove her home.
She was happy with what I’d done at her flat. She tried to press money on me for it, and when I wouldn’t let her she insisted she’d make it up in kind! I took her through the security arrangements, then she dragged me out shopping for new curtains and bedding to replace those ruined during the break-in. When we got back she insisted on christening the new bedding as part of making it up to me: an offer I couldn’t refuse! Finally she cooked me an early lunch.
While this was all very sweet and domestic, it firmed my resolve never to live with anyone. Not even someone I cared about as much as Tori. I was looking forward to having my home to myself again. I’d relished the hour I spent on my own while Tori got ready to leave, setting my apartment to rights, eradicating sights and scents of another person’s habitation and our impromptu visitors. I’m fond of my own company. Doing what I want when I want and how.
Tori had been sensible enough to say nothing. She didn’t press me about living together. I liked to think her thoughts on the subject were the same as mine. Maybe she hoped she’d persuade me differently if she didn’t nag?
I left Tori happily cleaning and restoring her home with the prospect of visits from her parents and friends and the promise that I would return for dinner if my client didn’t keep me too late. Failing that, I told her she should eat without me and I’d pick her up to take her to the Paradise. Knowing she was as safe as I could make her, I forced myself to concentrate on my new client and the money that would keep the business afloat.
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