by Jessie Keane
Then they would do door-to-door down the streets outside the club, and the same at Crystal Rose’s home address. If all that yielded nothing, they would work out a media strategy, asking the public for information on the whereabouts of the missing girl.
‘Her bank details, we’ll need them. Can you get them?’
‘I know where she keeps them,’ said Jenny. ‘Why . . .?’
‘To see if she’s touched any of her accounts in the period she’s been missing.’
‘Right,’ said Jenny, her face pale.
This was starting to look serious.
43
Daniel drove Daisy up to a dingy, rubbish-strewn back street in Stockwell, parked up the car and took the keys out of the ignition. Then he turned to her.
‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘Don’t get out of the car. Keep the doors locked. If anyone bangs on the window, even if it’s a little kid, ignore it. Talk to no one. They’d eat you whole and spit out the bits, so listen to what I’m saying. I’ll be quick.’
Daisy sat there in silence while Daniel was gone. Before five minutes had passed, someone did bang on the window, a smiling tattooed man who mouthed: ‘How you, pretty?’
When she didn’t so much as glance at him, he gave her the finger and moved on. Two women who were probably prostitutes passed by, giving her evils, thinking she might intend to cash in on their patch. One of them kicked her door, hard, in passing. She didn’t react. Three hooded youths took up station on the other side of the road, watching the car, watching her. A flicker of fear began to creep along the edge of Daisy’s grief-numbed senses.
What the fuck was she doing here? Once, she’d done this sort of thing, lived the wild life, gone to raves and crazy parties, pushed her luck, thought it was the smart, the trendy thing to do. But she hadn’t lived like that in a long, long time. And Daniel was right; this place felt dangerous. She could hear police sirens. And now the three young guys were pushing and shoving each other, shouting, grinning, bustling each other out into the road – and closer to the car.
When the key suddenly turned in the driver’s door, she nearly shrieked.
It was Daniel.
‘It’s all kicking off up there,’ he said, getting behind the wheel and indicating with a nod of the head the tower block up ahead of them, the one he’d gone into. ‘One of the usual boys who deals round here has been selling ganja and coke to some other dealers, only it ain’t ganja or coke, it was tea leaves and stuff. His missus told me that six men smashed their way into the flat three nights ago for a chat with her husband, then they flung him out the window. From the tenth floor. He still had the TV remote in his hand when they scraped him off the pavement.’
Daisy’s heart was hammering. The boys had seen Daniel get in and now they’d gone off, down the road. ‘Did you get it? The stuff? Or is that fake too, just talcum powder or something?’
Daniel was staring at her and shaking his head. ‘Yeah, I got it. And it’s the genuine article. Now let’s go somewhere private and get this done, if it’s what you really want. But I’m telling you, Daisy – this is the first and last time. I mean it. Rob would have my guts if he could see all this going on.’
‘Yeah, but he can’t, can he?’ said Daisy, her voice harsh with emotion. ‘Because Rob is dead.’
‘I know. I know,’ said Daniel, starting the engine. ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here.’
44
When Leon dropped Ruby home, passing the press thronging at the gate, she saw that Daisy’s Mini was not on the drive in its usual spot. Feeling a pang of alarm at this, she hurried indoors, and found the note on the hall table in Daniel’s handwriting.
Gone with Daisy
Ruby called up the stairs to Jody, asking if she had any idea where Daisy had gone, but Jody didn’t. Ruby was worried, but at least Daniel was with her. She had barely time to get her coat off when the doorbell rang. Fats answered it. The tall female police detective with the mound of long curly dark hair stood there, with DS Harman right behind her.
‘Can we have a word with Ruby Darke please?’ asked DI Kane.
Fats stood aside, letting the pair of them in.
‘Come through to the sitting room,’ said Ruby, and led the way in there.
When they were all seated, Ruby asked: ‘Can I get you some tea? Coffee?’
‘No thanks,’ said DI Kane. ‘Firstly – we’ve had a missing persons report on a Crystal Rose who works at your club. We need to see all the CCTV footage for the past month. Specifically, we need to look at the night she disappeared.’
Ruby frowned. ‘She’s not back yet?’
‘You knew she was missing?’
‘The sisters told me they hadn’t seen her or heard from her since she left the club with a strange man. I went over to Crystal’s flat with them, but the place looked as if it had been empty for a while. I thought she’d show up. God, that’s worrying.’
‘We’re on it, Miss Darke. About the shooting at your daughter’s wedding . . . can we have a word with her now? Is it convenient?’
‘She’s out,’ said Ruby. ‘I think she probably got tired of being cooped up inside and wanted some air.’
‘It must be terrible for her.’
‘It is.’
‘Can you think of any reason someone would want to shoot Robert Hinton?’
Ruby blinked, stumped for an answer. Rob? No. But Kit? Quite a few.
‘I can’t think of a reason,’ said Ruby. ‘No.’
‘Miss Darke, if you know anything that might help us in our investigation into the deaths of Mr Hinton and Mr Lewis, please tell us. I’m sure you want to track down the killer as much – even more – than we do.’
‘I do.’
Romilly held Ruby’s gaze. Ruby didn’t blink or glance away.
‘But I really can’t help you,’ said Ruby. ‘Not about the shooting.’
‘We think that it was carried out from a first-floor flat in the Georgian building opposite the church,’ said Romilly. Prising info out of Ruby Darke was like getting blood out of a stone. Personally, Romilly felt torn over this case. Yes, it was her sworn duty to investigate – but on the other hand, it reeked of gangland grudges. Shootings in public places were a no-no. There were law-abiding people to protect. Gangland flare-ups couldn’t be allowed to impact on ordinary, innocent citizens.
‘Oh?’ said Ruby. She already knew that, from the print the photographer’s wife had given her.
‘Yes. Rest assured we are actively pursuing this matter, Miss Darke. Now, the CCTV . . .’
‘I’ll phone Laura, the manageress,’ said Ruby, rising to her feet to indicate that she wanted to wrap this up. ‘She can bring the tapes into the police station, marked for your attention.’ But not until me and Kit have had a look at them, and made copies, she thought. ‘Now, if there’s nothing else . . . ?’
45
The thing with cocaine is, it makes you feel wonderful. Invincible. Euphoric. For a little while, anyway. Maybe thirty, forty minutes. It doesn’t last.
‘Is that all of it?’ Daisy asked, and Daniel thought she looked so different.
They were in Daniel’s flat over the garage at Ruby’s place. There were two flats up here, and currently he was occupying the one at the back with the garden view – this one had been Rob’s and Daisy’s, and how he hated that fact. Leon had been given the one at the front that looked down the driveway to the gates beside the road. There had been a major reshuffling of security following Rob’s shooting – and Daniel had drawn the short straw.
Daisy had wasted no time in snatching the little packet of powder off Daniel, tipping it out onto the coffee table, cutting the lines with a credit card, rolling a fiver and snorting the stuff up. She did it like a pro, like she’d done it a hundred times before, and that worried him.
Then she’d fallen back onto the sofa, and a look of bliss had slowly come over her face. Ever since the wedding, Daniel had got used to seeing her – when he did see her, which was damned rare –
grey in the face, red-eyed, literally washed-out with grief.
Now, Daisy was smiling dreamily. And she was asking for more.
‘No,’ said Daniel, sitting opposite her. ‘No more, Daisy. That’s it.’
Daisy’s eyes popped open and stared into his. ‘I could make you get me more,’ she said.
‘No. You couldn’t.’
‘If I told Kit—’
‘You can tell Kit any damned thing. That I fucked you with a banana, if you like. I don’t give a shit. You’re not getting any more.’
Daisy pouted, then giggled. Giggled. And his brother Rob – her husband – was lying dead in the morgue. Suddenly he felt disgusted with her. Worse, he felt disgusted with himself, too.
‘We lived here,’ said Daisy. ‘Me and Rob. Rob and I. Both of us. Together.’ She was looking around the room.
‘I know that.’
‘They’re doing the post-mortem tomorrow,’ said Daisy. The smile dropped from her face. She sat up, and her eyes met his. He could see the images marching through her mind, pictures of Rob, mighty Rob, invincible Rob, having his innards sliced open, his strong body invaded.
Jesus. Daniel stared at her in horror. Was that what had brought this on?
Yes. Of course it was. And who could wonder at it? The poor cow.
‘Just rest there, Daisy,’ he said.
‘You’re a nice boy, Daniel,’ she said, closing her eyes.
Nice? Only his mother ever called him that. He was the middle son, the forgotten one. Leon had always been Eunice’s favourite, no doubt about it. Trudy and Sarah were next in the pecking order, both as close to Mum as ticks on a cat’s arse. Then Rob. Then came Daniel, bringing up the rear. He’d always felt like an afterthought. Largely missed, overlooked. Rob, as the firstborn, had been idolized. And Leon had been the spoiled baby of the family. He still was, Daniel thought, even though the idiot treated Eunice with contempt in return for her adoration.
Daniel stood up, went and poured himself a beer. As soon as she was more herself, he would take Daisy back over to the main house. It would all be OK.
But Daisy got up too, and came over to where he stood. There was something in her eyes that he didn’t like. She reached out a hand, laid it on his chest.
‘You know, I’ve never really noticed you before. Leon’s stunningly good-looking, but you? You’re . . . ordinary. A bit shorter than Rob, but stockier. Thick-set. And muscular,’ she said almost consideringly. ‘You’re the dependable one, aren’t you? The dull one. The one who stands by whoever needs him. What if I need you, Daniel?’
If you need me, I’ll be there, he thought, but didn’t say it, although it was true.
‘You’re off your head on coke,’ he reminded her, setting his glass aside, avoiding her eyes which seemed to drag him toward her. And he couldn’t let that happen.
‘Daniel,’ she said, her voice husky. Her hand moved on his chest, caressing.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he asked, his head snapping up, his eyes blazing into hers.
‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked, smiling, and her hand trailed down over his stomach.
‘You know, I’ve never noticed it before, but your eyes are like Rob’s, aren’t they. That strange green . . .’
He caught her wrist, stopped her hand moving.
‘Ow,’ said Daisy.
‘I’m not Rob,’ he said flatly. ‘Remember that, will you? I’m not Rob.’
46
Kit showed up an hour after the police had departed. Straight away he asked after Daisy.
‘She’s out,’ said Ruby.
‘Out? Out where, for fuck’s sake?’ Daisy had spent the last fortnight staring into space. Now she was out? Doing what?
‘No idea. Daniel’s with her, that’s all I know.’
Daisy and Daniel went back to the main house nearly three hours later, when everyone else had eaten and Ruby had helped Jody bathe the twins and put them to bed. Ruby and Kit were in the sitting room. Leon was in the kitchen, watching TV. Fats was on the door, reading the paper.
‘I’m going up to bed,’ said Daisy. She had a bad headache. Thinking back, she could remember drug hangovers from her distant past; they were a bitch. It had been a long time since she’d had one, but by Christ she had one now. All she wanted was to take some paracetamol, lie down, and hope to God she could sleep. And never wake up.
‘No,’ said Daniel, blocking her path to the stairway.
‘What?’
Daniel grabbed Daisy’s arm and walked her into the room where Kit and Ruby were sitting in front of the Ten O’Clock News. They both looked up in surprise.
‘Daisy!’ Ruby jumped to her feet. ‘I was worried. Are you all right?’
‘She’s fine,’ said Daniel.
‘Yes, I am.’ Daisy wrenched her arm free of Daniel’s grip. ‘I’m fine.’
Daniel pushed the door closed and then turned, bracing himself but shit-scared. He faced his boss.
‘Daisy went out to score. I caught her as she was going out the door.’ Daisy’s jaw dropped. ‘You bastard!’ she burst out.
Ruby was staring at Daisy, transfixed. ‘Is that true?’
‘It’s true.’ Daisy’s face was a picture of hostile misery. ‘I felt so low. I just had to . . .’ She trailed off.
‘God alive, Daisy, what were you thinking?’ snapped Ruby. ‘What the hell got into you?’
‘I couldn’t stop her,’ said Daniel. ‘So I went with her. Made sure she was doing it safely. There was nothing else I could do.’
‘Christ, Daisy!’ said Ruby.
‘You treacherous sod,’ Daisy shot at Daniel.
‘No,’ said Ruby. ‘Don’t you dare have a go at him, he did the sensible thing. You didn’t.’
Kit stood up. He looked mad enough to spit. His blue eyes radiated cold fury.
‘With your two kids upstairs, you thought you’d go and do that?’ he said quietly to his sister.
‘I’ve lost Rob. I don’t care about anything, not any more,’ said Daisy, tears filling her eyes.
Kit reached out, took her arms and shook her, hard.
‘Kit . . .’ started Ruby, stepping forward.
‘Are you kidding me?’ he asked Daisy, his voice harsh with anger. ‘Things get rough so you run off and start injecting?’
‘I didn’t inject. I wouldn’t. I did a couple of lines of coke, that’s all. I needed it. And don’t fucking lecture me! This is all your fault. It’s you they were shooting at. Not Clive Lewis. Not Rob. It was you.’
Kit was glaring. ‘Where’s your fucking backbone, Daisy? You can’t be this weak. What the hell are you thinking of?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know!’ Daisy shouted, the tears spilling over. ‘I just . . . I couldn’t . . . I didn’t know what to do . . .’ Her voice trailed away and she started to sob. Kit pulled her in close and held her, stroking her hair. ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘I know, Daise. I know.’
Over Daisy’s head, Kit’s eyes met Daniel’s.
‘I had to tell you, boss. She was going to do something crazy, I couldn’t stop her so I had to stick with her,’ he said.
‘You did right,’ said Kit. ‘And you did right telling me, too.’
Suddenly Daisy jerked away from Kit’s grip. ‘No! Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. I fucking hate you.’
With that, she left the room. Kit looked at Daniel.
‘Never keep anything like this from me, Daniel. I’d have your guts if you did. Go get something to eat now. Grab a beer. And don’t worry. You done good.’
Daniel went off into the kitchen and found Leon in there. Leon was tedious – bouncy and quicksilver and acid-tongued – very different to himself. Leon had his jacket off and his tie loosened.
He was drinking a Coke and heating up a pizza in the microwave.
‘Where you been, bruv?’ he asked.
Daniel pulled up a bar stool and heaved a sigh of deep relief. He’d been sure Kit was going to burn his arse over a low light, b
ut somehow he’d played it right. Fortunately.
‘Gimme some of that pizza, will you. And don’t ask where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing, because, frankly? You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘That why I saw Daisy’s Mini parked out the back of the garage?’ asked Leon, watching his brother’s face with shrewd blue eyes. ‘Don’t worry. No one else saw it there, only me. You always did fancy her on the quiet. What you been doing? Somethin’ bad?’ He made an obscene gesture.
‘Shut your fucking face, Leon,’ said Daniel.
‘Trying your luck with her, now Rob’s not here to stop you?’
Daniel catapulted himself off the kitchen stool, grabbed Leon and slapped his head down hard onto the kitchen counter.
‘I said shut up,’ he yelled.
Leon was laughing when Daniel let him up. ‘Whew! Touched a nerve there, yeah?’
Daniel pointed a rigid finger in his brother’s face. ‘Never say anything like that to me again. Never.’
‘Look at me, I’m shiverin’ with fear,’ said Leon.
‘You ought to be,’ said Daniel. Fuck the pizza. He went out the kitchen door and trudged over the lawn back to his own flat.
Touched a nerve.
Leon’s laughter was still ringing in his ears.
Truth was, he had.
47
The police had searched Crystal Rose’s home address, examining the immaculately tidy mirror-clad apartment thoroughly. They’d photographed everything. They’d looked in the loft, without success. Pulled everything out of the largish cupboard under the stairs, since the sisters had told them that Crystal was a woman of dainty proportions and therefore might fit inside it, and they’d found nothing but feathered fans and a spare bubble machine. They’d looked in cupboards. Nothing.
They had questioned her sisters again, and extended that familial search to include uncles, aunts, her dad in Almeria and a couple of cousins. Nothing. Gone door-to-door down the street from the club, and at Crystal’s apartment. Still nothing.
Crystal hadn’t used any of her cards since she’d vanished, which didn’t look good. She didn’t own a car – she’d travelled to work by Tube or taxi – so there was little chance of tracking her movements on any of the major roads. She hadn’t contacted any of her relations, or her few friends.
