He Knows Your Secrets

by Charlie Gallagher

  Kelly discarded the bottle and scooped up the razor from the windowsill then ducked back into the bedroom where Libby was standing at the back, her face a mask of horror, her eyes seemingly staring beyond Kelly to where Freddie’s groans were getting louder and closer to words. Kelly grabbed Libby’s wrist. She led her to the front door and held her breath as she spun the handle.

  The door opened.

  They dashed out into the corridor and broke instantly into a run. Kelly still led Libby by the wrist and they burst through the fire door at the end. The sunlight was bright here, despite the filthy window. She turned to Libby and lifted the blade in front of her eyes. Libby recoiled but then realised that Kelly was hacking at her own gag. Once it fell away she set to work on Libby’s.

  ‘You okay?’ Kelly stammered.

  Libby managed a rushed nod.

  ‘We need to go.’

  Kelly took a hold of her wrist again but after only two steps forward she froze in her tracks. A familiar cough reverberated up the stairwell — Benny was coming back up. His strides sounded stronger than normal, like he was taking two stairs at a time. Kelly pulled Libby desperately towards the lift. She would normally avoid them at all costs but now she pressed the button over and over. A mechanism clunked into action high above them but it sounded laboured. The call button was lit but flickering. It was taking too long. She spun back towards the corridor. A figure was moving clumsily along it with a steadying arm pushed out. It was some way off but, dressed in a bright white t-shirt and underwear, it stood out from the gloom. It was coming closer. It had to be Freddie. The footsteps on the stairwell were getting louder. In just a few seconds Benny would emerge and they would be hemmed in.

  ‘We need to go up!’ Kelly hissed.

  ‘Up?’ Libby exclaimed.

  ‘Up.’ She grabbed Libby’s wrists again and they started up the stairs. After just two flights, she could feel the burning in her thighs. They made the landing of the third floor and she pushed through the door to the corridor. They sprinted along it, past the first few doors. Kelly headed instinctively for the flat she knew on this level then slowed suddenly. Freddie and Benny knew it too! Of course they couldn’t hide in there. Kelly dragged Libby past it and thumped the next door she came to. She only waited a second before she moved to the next. She thumped again, using the bottom of a fist, trying to communicate the urgency while not being too loud in the process. There was no answer. She knew this building; she knew the cloud of fear hanging over it that Freddie had deliberately fostered. No one got involved in other people’s business. No one answered panicked knocks either.

  She moved to the next door. Libby was still with her, she was hitting the doors on the other side of the corridor. Kelly tried a lighter knock. The door opened quickly and an elderly woman filled it. She scowled out into the dim corridor through thick glasses.

  ‘That you, Janey?’

  ‘Janey . . .’ Kelly bowled towards her, stepping through the door, ‘Janey yeah, it’s me!’ Libby followed her in. The woman moved back into the room too and Kelly stepped back past her to close the door.

  ‘You’re not Janey! Get out of my house!’

  ‘Please, lady! My name is Kelly. This is Libby. She’s sixteen! There are men that are trying to find us. They’ve already hurt us. They’ll do far worse if they find us again. Please . . . we need to stay in here for just a few minutes. We’ll just stand here and be quiet — we all need to be quiet!’ Kelly reached into her pocket and wrenched out the piece of material that had been covering her mouth. She held it up as if it might back up her point.

  ‘I don’t know about that!’ But the woman was looking intently at Kelly’s cheek and jawline on the side where she had taken Freddie’s blow.

  ‘I don’t usually get involved. You just looked like my Janey through the peephole. She’s due here. I don’t normally open up.’

  ‘Just a few minutes, that’s all! Please?’

  The hammering on the door silenced them all. The woman’s thick lenses spun to the door then back to the two girls.

  ‘Don’t answer it,’ Kelly whispered. ‘He won’t just hurt us.’

  ‘I know who you mean. I bet I know. It’s that bully. It’s that bully from downstairs. People talk about him. They say to stay away and if you can’t stay away, just do as he says. Don’t cross him!’ The woman was whispering too but the panic was clear in her voice. She seemed to be thinking out loud, but the more she spoke the more panicked she sounded. The door beat again. Louder this time.

  ‘Please . . .’ Kelly said. Libby whimpered. Kelly moved across the floor to the windows. She parted the curtains to peer out. She already knew they were too high. The window had stopped being an option the moment they had gone up instead of down.

  ‘I don’t want to be involved.’

  ‘You’re not in!’ Kelly hissed. But it was no good; the woman had already stepped to the door.

  ‘He’s got no reason to hurt me,’ she said.

  ‘Please!’ It was too late. Kelly grabbed Libby and pushed her roughly into the bedroom, instinctively trying to get out of sight. It was small. There was a fitted wardrobe where they might both fit. Kelly pulled the door open but changed her mind. It would be no use hiding. She was back to searching the flat frantically, the kitchen area was on the other side of the room. There would be knives in there, some sort of weapon at least. She heard the woman’s voice — there was no time. She ducked back into the room and grasped Libby gently by the shoulders.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, then pressed a finger to her lips. Libby was shaking so hard. Kelly sat on the bed, patted the space next to her and smiled, a sudden calm taking her over. She didn’t expect Freddie to ask many questions — maybe not any. In a few seconds he would just barge in. There was nothing they could do but wait. They both took up the end of the bed and faced the bedroom door.

  Kelly balled her fists. She wanted to see him coming at least and she would go down fighting.

  ‘You want what, now?’ The elderly occupant’s voice was distinctive.

  ‘Sorry to bother you.’ It was a woman’s voice! ‘I just want to speak with you for a moment.’

  Kelly reckoned it was the same voice that had called through the door upstairs. The police officer. She stood up, pressed her finger to her lips again and got closer to the door as the conversation outside continued.

  ‘Do you know anything about the flat a couple down? Does anyone live in it?’

  ‘Oh . . . I don’t really know much about what goes on round here.’

  ‘Sorry, are you okay? You seem upset?’

  ‘I’m fine, love. I was waiting for my Janey is all. You caught me in a bit of a tiz. I don’t know about other flats. I keep myself to myself. Sorry I can’t help.’

  ‘No problem. Do you ever see anyone going there? Or maybe you hear people in there? I’m just trying to work out if it’s in use.’

  ‘I hear people, sure. Why are you interested in that place? I haven’t seen you in the building before?’

  ‘Oh, no. I hear it might be coming up for sale is all. I was thinking it might be a good investment place. What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, well, I don’t know about any of that. I just keep myself to myself.’

  ‘So you said. Are you sure you’re okay? When is Janey due back?’

  ‘I’m fine. Any minute — so don’t be getting no ideas! She’ll be back and she’s got a key and a mobile phone. If you’re after seeing what you can get out of me you’re wasting your time!’

  ‘No! No, please, you misunderstand. I was just a little concerned about you is all. I think I may have caused you distress. I really didn’t mean to.’

  ‘Well, okay then.’

  ‘There’s a caretaker, right? I guess he might know more.’

  ‘I guess he might. Top floor. He’s in one of the only flats up there. Can’t miss him.’

  ‘Does he go in Number 22?’

  ‘I really can’t help you, love. Go up to the caretake
r. Good idea.’

  The door pushed back closed. Kelly let out a sigh. She was holding onto Libby firmly, she had grabbed her when she had tried pushing past her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Libby said. ‘That’s the police officer! Why don’t we just tell her?’

  ‘Then why didn’t she say she was a police officer? Even if it was, I think she’s on her own. She wouldn’t even get us out of the building.’

  ‘How are we going to get out of the building? Surely she would have had a better chance than we do?’

  ‘Freddie and Benny will want to be as far away from here as possible. They probably left while she was talking.’

  ‘But what about us? How do we get out?’

  ‘We walk out.’

  The elderly woman appeared. ‘You need to go. I can’t have strange people knocking on the door. That was some woman but I guess she’s something to do with him, is she? I didn’t like her. She asks a lot of questions.’

  ‘We’re leaving — don’t worry. And thank you.’ Kelly walked to the front door. She opened it gently, trying to make as little noise as possible. She leaned out slowly to take in the corridor in both directions. Nothing moved. The woman who had knocked was gone and there was no sign of Freddie either. She stepped out, looked back at Libby and beckoned for her to follow.

  ‘I’m going to find her,’ Libby said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The policewoman. She’s knocking doors, said she was going up to the caretaker. I heard that. I’ll go up there.’

  ‘The top floor! That’s further away from the exit, from getting the hell out of here! You can’t. If Freddie’s still in here he’ll kill you. This is your chance to get away.’

  ‘I can. How am I safer with you than the police?’

  ‘You don’t know Freddie. He won’t care that there’s a copper here — not a woman on her own. He’ll go through her if that’s what it takes. She won’t know what’s hit her. He can make people disappear. Coppers and silly little sixteen-year-olds who run straight back to him.’

  Libby jutted out her lip. ‘I’m not some silly little sixteen-year-old. I’m going to find her. You don’t need to worry about me . . . I can take care of myself.’

  ‘You’re coming with me. We’re running down the stairs and we’re not looking back. Kelly glanced towards the end of the corridor where a fire escape led to steel steps bolted to the side. She had seen the doors chained shut before. She couldn’t rely on it. The only way out was the main stairwell. She turned back to the sound of the front door shutting. Libby must have closed it. Kelly swore. She tapped it lightly. She was starting to lose her patience.

  ‘Libby! Open up!’ She was back to hissing. Her head flicked left and right, half expecting Freddie to appear at any moment.

  ‘Go away!’ Libby called out. ‘Run if you want to. I’m going to find the police officer!’ There was no way of telling how far Libby’s voice would travel.

  ‘Libby . . . I can’t look after you. Not if you don’t come now.’ There was a pause. Kelly held her breath for the reply, her left hand making a spider shape on the wood with her fingertips.

  ‘No one asked you to!’

  Kelly considered beating again on the door. Maybe even shouting back but Libby’s sentence cut through a haze of growing panic. No one asked you to! She was right. This wasn’t her and Holly. Libby was not her responsibility.

  ‘Last chance, Libby. I gotta go.’

  ‘Go! I’m staying here until it’s calm. A few more minutes then I’ll go and find the policewoman. I’ll be fine!’

  ‘Take my number — just let me know you’re okay when you get clear.’

  ‘Leave me alone! You’re not my mother.’

  ‘Fine. Then take it for the police to call me. She’s going to want to speak to us both.’

  ‘Then come find her with me.’

  ‘I have to go. You should, too, trust me on that.’ There was no answer this time. She waited as long as she could. When she considered she had already waited too long, she started pacing away. She stopped after a few steps and almost doubled back.

  But then she shook her head and continued for the stairs.

  Chapter 22

  ‘You made it back okay, then.’ Maddie spun to the gruff voice of Harry Blaker.

  ‘Just about!’ She chanced a grin and it got her nowhere. She leant back in her desk chair.

  ‘And then you came to see me straight away, just like I asked.’

  ‘Oh. I didn’t realise it was that sort of request. I got a little distracted.’

  ‘This whole investigation is a distraction. Why are you still looking at Freddie Rickman?’ Harry gestured at her screen. Freddie Rickman’s mugshot filled half of it. It was the custody photo from his last arrest, a cannabis cultivation job that never stuck. It was the latest of five arrests, all for different offences, all hinting at serious criminality and nothing had ever stuck. If police systems were anything to go by, Freddie Rickman had never done a bad thing in his life. Maddie didn’t believe that for one second.

  ‘I wasn’t actually. I was looking at his associates.’ Maddie clicked to bring another screen to the front. This man had a much longer rap sheet, which included successful convictions at court, mainly for drugs — some possession and some with intent to supply. There were intel links to prostitution on there, too, but as so often with that sort of crime, it was nothing more than that. ‘Shane Porter. Benny, as he’s known on the streets — who knows why. Do you recognise him?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘Should I?’

  ‘There’s a lot of local intel around him. Links to organised crime and prostitution and of course our friend Freddie Rickman.’

  ‘And I hope, to your murder case involving the Harnett brothers? You know, the one that CPS need to be able to prosecute in less than seven days? The one they keep calling me about because they’ve given up calling you.’

  ‘There’s something going on with this Shane Porter. I met this guy today at one of the addresses listed in Holly Maguire’s book. His reaction to me, Harry . . . he didn’t want me there. It was so clear. He literally stepped out of the flat the moment he knew I was a cop and then walked me out of the building. I let him. But I walked straight back in the moment he turned his back, I wanted to knock the other add—’

  ‘After our conversation? You did this after we spoke?’

  Maddie was a little taken aback. Harry wasn’t listening and he seemed to be working himself up.

  ‘I know what we talked about, okay? I will stay on to get it done if that’s what it takes but—’

  ‘’It’s not okay. What do you mean there’s something going on? There’s always been something going on with Freddie Rickman. He’s a career criminal. You’re telling me that you think he is involved in prostitution and that a dead girl in a car might have been working for him. Now you have an address she had on her that’s occupied by a known associate who also has links to prostitution and who didn’t want you to come into his flat? Where are you going here? Why are you insisting on wasting your time on this?’

  ‘You didn’t let me finish. I got a call. From the woman who saw the car go over the cliff with Holly in it. Her girlfriend appeared, back on top of the cliff. She got into a conversation with her, she was talking about how she was supposed to go to the police, how she had something she needed to tell us, something about what Holly had died for and that she needed to give us the rest of the story.’

  ‘Okay,’ Harry was still angry, there was no hiding it. ‘And who is she?’

  ‘All she could say was Kelly. But I came back and I had another look through Holly’s property, the stuff that was in her rucksack. And this, Harry . . . I can’t ignore this . . .’

  Maddie swept her desk to bunch up the paperwork. In the space she had created she laid out three photos. She ignored Harry’s huff to continue.

  ‘These are the three photos that were in Holly’s rucksack. At that building today I got the feeling that it seemed familiar, l
ike I had been there before. I haven’t, I’d just seen these photos!’ She pointed at the one laid closest to her. ‘This is the entrance.’ Her finger moved along the row. ‘This one is the door that leads to the second floor — you can see the corridor behind it. And this last one . . . this is the inside of a flat. I only saw a snippet of the inside but it could well be the same flat!’ Maddie spun to take in Harry’s reaction. He was leaning forward now, poring over the photos. He pushed off the table to straighten back up.

  ‘Okay?’ His standard growl was present and correct. He wasn’t impressed but he didn’t seem quite so angry either.

  ‘And then there’s this. Also from her rucksack.’ She reached down to her bottom drawer and pulled out an evidence bag that clunked as she dropped it on the table. She flipped it over to reveal the item inside, a worn metal number. The number 12.

  ‘No prizes for guessing which door number our weasel-faced Benny was behind. What do you think?’

  ‘Number twelve?’

  ‘Boom! It’s true what they say about you, Harry. A great detective!’

  ‘So what is this saying to you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not a great deal in isolation, I’ll admit. But that phone call, Harry . . . this Holly . . . what if she was trying to tell us something? What else could it be?’

  ‘Okay . . . So she drives a car over a cliff, killing herself and murdering a taxi driver to tell us to go to a flat where people are engaged in prostitution? Why not just come to us and we could sit down with a coffee and a pen. It’s all a bit much isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. I see that, of course I do. I had a look at Holly. She’s got quite the record . . . petty theft . . . drugs . . . accosting. Nothing recent, but a chequered past. And five years ago she did sit down with us — our colleagues here at least — and she told them how she was raped by a punter. The investigation was closed pretty quickly, and from the notes I didn’t see much evidence of an investigation. I know times were different even then. I know we’re better now. But Holly Maguire doesn’t — didn’t.’

  ‘So she didn’t think she would have been listened to?’