by Faith Martin
Hillary laughed. She’d been a copper for nearly thirty years. There wasn’t anything about teenage girls that she needed telling about. ‘So Jas was always top dog,’ she clarified.
‘Yeah, that was it. Always – and not just with us. With teachers and other adults too, she had a way of … I don’t know. Getting her own way. And it wasn’t just because she was the prettiest of us, or had the best bling. Although she was plenty smart, she wasn’t the brainiest of us, either. That would have been Jenny Buswell.’ Cathy’s face suddenly softened. ‘I wonder what happened to Jen?’
Then she gave a quick shake of her head and looked across at Hillary wryly. ‘Sorry, you want to know about Jas, right? What was I saying? Oh yeah, she was top dog all right, but mostly because she was always the one with the most vim, you know? She was always vital and full of energy and ideas. And she just … I don’t know … expected things to go her way – and so they just seemed to. And she was by far the bravest of us. I remember once, this new shade of nail polish came out – some pop star had “designed” it or whatever. And Jas… . Well, sorry to say, she dared us to go and shoplift a bottle each from Debenhams. Of course, we all said we would and we piled on the bus into town, but we all bottled out.’
‘But not Jas?’ Hillary guessed.
‘No,’ Cathy laughed. ‘Jas nicked one not just for herself, but she kept on going back until she’d nicked one for us all. She could have swiped a half a dozen all in one go, to cut down the risk, but she insisted on doing it one bottle at a time. Just to prove that she could.’ She shook her head, looking suddenly sheepish. ‘Sorry,’ she added. ‘I know you’re the police and all.’
‘Civilian now,’ Hillary said. ‘And really not in the least worried about a shoplifting incident from some dozen years ago.’
‘Would it be that long ago?’ Cathy obviously did a bit of a mental arithmetic, then winced. ‘Where does the time go?’
‘So, at school, she was a bit of a rebel?’ Hillary said, keeping her firmly on track.
‘Oh yeah. She was dead charismatic was Jas. We all danced attendance round her,’ Cathy laughed, ‘sort of competing to please her. You know, looking back, we were really sort of pathetic. Dreaming about growing up and marrying some rock star or other. Or getting to London and doing something that meant we’d be regularly flying off to New York or Milan. Becoming something ”big” in the world. Didn’t really matter what sort of ”big” it was. For instance, Jenny wanted to be one of them women entrepreneurs who make their own millions and get on Dragon’s Den. Brenda wanted to be a fashion model. She was skinny enough for it, but had buck teeth… . Sorry. Going off on a tangent again. Let’s just leave it that we were all full of the usual teenage girl guff. I think we all knew, deep down, that it was just fantasy. That most of us would end up getting married, getting a regular job and paying off a mortgage and all that. But you know, I reckon most of us reckoned Jas might actually pull it off.’
‘Because of her brother, you mean?’
‘Who? Oh! The luscious Jake,’ Cathy said, suddenly grinning wildly. ‘Bloody hell, I haven’t thought of the luscious Jake in years!’ she said, shaking her head. Hillary’s lips twitched, and she wished she could share this little gem with Wendy later. No doubt she’d have made good use of it in order to make the boy wonder’s life a misery for weeks to come. But of course, she mustn’t know what Jake had been up to.
‘We were all in love with him, truly, madly, deeply! How could we not be?’ Cathy swept on. ‘Not only was he a dream to look at – tall, dark and handsome, and with those wonderful green eyes. Dead unusual that – green eyes. But he was also just the right age. Just older enough than us to make him seem super-cool and adult, but not so old as to be gross.’
‘And, of course, he got rich,’ Hillary added dryly.
Cathy laughed and clapped her hands. ‘Oh hell, yes. Lucky sod, making all that money so young. Naturally, we all panted after him. But he was strictly out of bounds,’ she added, giving a small sigh of regret, even now.
‘Oh?’
‘Oh yeah. None of us dared make even a pass at him. He was strictly Jas’s property. And she’d go mad at anyone she caught trying to poach on her turf.’
‘Her brother?’ Hillary probed delicately. ‘A bit off, that, wasn’t it?’
‘Oh, he was never that. I mean, not her real brother. I mean, her mum was married to his dad… . Or was it the other way around? No matter – they weren’t related by blood. So it wasn’t incest. Ugh! What a horrible thought that is!’
‘So, although she moved in with Jake and his mum when she was little, and she grew up with him, she never actually thought of him as a brother?’
‘Oh no. Even when we were little girls, I mean like eight or nine, going to parties, she made it clear that he was special. Her special boyfriend.’
‘Ah.’
Cathy again spread her hands and laughed. ‘I know. Sounds precocious, right? And she probably was. But even later, when we were all well into our teens, she always told us that she’d end up marrying him one day – that they had this agreement. And that they were only waiting for her to grow older, so as not to shock the parents. Then, once she’d left school, she’d be off, helping him spend all that cash. No wonder we were so in awe of her. And envious? Bloody hell, the green-eyed monster ate us all up.’
‘So what actually happened?’ Hillary asked thoughtfully. ‘Where did it all go so wrong?’
‘What? Oh. I dunno. Well, I do. When we hit sixteen, we all sort of … scattered. Some of us stayed on and did our A-levels. Jen went off to a different college to do some course that would get her into uni. Brenda and the others left and got jobs. And of course, by then, Jake had already gone off to uni and simply wasn’t around any more. Or worse – when he did come back, he’d either be talking about some girlfriend or other.’
‘And Jas? How did she take that?’
‘Jas … I dunno. She never really talked about it. Besides, like I said, around then we all drifted apart. Jas, I think … yeah, she left school as soon as she could, but she didn’t get a job. At least not that I heard, she didn’t. But then, she didn’t need to, right? Not with money in the family, and I dare say being a lady of leisure suited her.’
If there was any real resentment in her voice, Hillary couldn’t detect it. ‘And you got married, and now work here,’ Hillary said with a smile. ‘And Jas… . What do you think happened to her?’
Cathy sighed and began to look uneasy again. ‘Well… . You know. I heard she began to get into a bit of trouble. Nothing really major at first, and I thought it was just Jas being Jas – drinking a bit too much, then experimenting with drugs and getting in with a wild crowd. By then, though, I was working in a solicitor’s office. Just temping. I was a world away from all that sort of thing.’
‘So you never ran into her, out and about in town?’
‘No. No, I didn’t. I heard… . Well, rumours. About her … you know … becoming a call girl. I couldn’t really believe it at first.’
‘Why not?’ Hillary asked casually. Only her eyes, watching Cathy intently, gave away the true depth of her interest in the younger girl’s reply.
‘Well … it just didn’t seem likely somehow.’ Cathy frowned then waved a hand vaguely in the air. ‘I mean … you know … being paid for sex. It was so … yucky. So tacky and down-market and not like Jas at all. Jas always dreamed big, you know? The biggest of us all. And she had a way of getting what she wanted, like I said before. Of being in charge. And being a call girl… . Well, that’s sort of opposite of all that, isn’t it? I just couldn’t imagine her doing it, you know?’
Hillary nodded. ‘But drug addiction changes everything,’ she said. ‘Addicts will do anything for their next fix.’
Cathy paled and audibly gulped. ‘Yes. I suppose it does. Oh, hell … I really don’t like to think about her like that.’ She swallowed hard.
Hillary felt bad about bringing the younger woman down, but not so bad that
she was about to give up her questioning. ‘Did she ever approach you for money?’
‘Blimey, no! And I wouldn’t have had any to give her, even if she had.’
‘Do you know of anyone who actually kept in touch with her, after the school years, I mean?’
‘Not really. Not any of our crowd, anyway.’
Hillary sighed. ‘Did you ever notice her around town, with a man, perhaps?’
‘No. But then, I wouldn’t, would I?’ Cathy gave a small sad smile. ‘I mean, Jas was the type to be at the best nightclubs, bars, restaurants, those sorts of places. I was just a struggling secretary. And later … well, if she really did fall that low… . I suppose the places she ended up were… .’ Cathy again went pale. ‘Well, they weren’t the places I would have even known about.’
‘OK, fair enough,’ Hillary conceded. ‘Did you ever hear anything on the grapevine about her? Anything you think I should know?’
Cathy smiled and looked around her at the tiny office. ‘What grapevine? My world consists of my husband, a baby we’re trying to conceive, and our little rented maisonette in Headington. I’d be the last to know anything.’
Hillary smiled, thanked her, and left.
She was pleased to note that the VW’s windscreen was free of any nasty, official little notices as she got behind the wheel to head off to the next of Jas Sudbury’s friends. Not a schoolmate this time but another good-time girl whom Rosemary, Jake’s mother, had put her on to.
In the early days, Cheryl Murray had often been seen at many of those nightclubs, bars and fancy restaurants that Cathy had mentioned, and sometimes in the company of Jas and the rest of the crowd who tended to go anywhere there were drugs and money.
According to Jake, who’d done the bulk of the computer work in tracing his sister’s friends’ current whereabouts, Cheryl had eventually married a retired Costa Con. She now spent her time city hopping her way across Europe, shopping, gambling and partying, and was currently visiting the UK in order to attend her little sister’s wedding at the weekend. And the sister of the bride was forking out for a top London hotel reception for friends and family. And was currently booked in at the penthouse there.
So it was time to do a little gate crashing, and see just what Cheryl could remember of the good old days.
Whilst Hillary Greene headed for the bright lights and the pomp and circumstance of one of London’s finest hotels, Wendy and Jimmy were in Oxford, trawling down a side street at the back of a bus station, chasing shadows.
And as they did this, in another part of the city, Darren Chivnor was sitting in his parked car and thinking furiously about public libraries, money, and his boss’s bad moods.
He’d just dropped off a member of minor foreign royalty at one of Dale’s best cat houses and was vaguely watching the man’s bodyguard, who was walking around the grounds of the large desirable residence and trying to look like he might be a gardener. Given the dreary day, the dormant state of much of the shrubbery, and the ill-fitting business suit that did little to disguise the bulge of the concealed firearm under his armpit, he wasn’t having much success.
But that was his problem.
Darren had problems of his own.
It had been another of Dale Medcalfe’s enforcers who’d first alerted Darren to the fact that the old Bill were doing a review of missing women, since Darren hadn’t heard it on the local television news bulletin, and rarely read the local papers. He tended to like the peace and quiet when he was driving around in his motor, since dealing with upset and uppity whores all day gave him a pain, so the radio also tended to stay off. Besides, the whine of the DJs as well as people wheedling and whining, and trying to explain to him why they hadn’t made this payment or that, gave him earache.
But the big boss had been paying attention, and it hadn’t taken long for the word to filter down from the top. Nobody was to talk about the missing women and it was Darren’s job, along with a few others, to make sure that everyone knew it. Which was why he was going to have to spend the rest of the day making sure that everyone got the message.
All of which left Darren feeling decidedly antsy. Dale, always paranoid and ever vigilant, was going to be even more alert until he was sure that any danger was long past.
So he was going to have to be very careful indeed.
Of course, it could just be a coincidence that Thames Valley had announced that they were looking into their old missing persons case files just after Barnes had made contact with him. And part of him could almost believe it. After all, Jake Barnes was only a civilian, and shouldn’t have the clout necessary to affect policy, but then again, he was rich, and their poster boy for the Big Society. If he said jump, he couldn’t see the coppers saying no.
So when he’d got the call from Barnes asking to meet in the Central Library, of all places, he’d almost told the bastard to sod off. Yeah, he was curious and he wanted that big pay-off. After the sweetener in cash that he’d already been given, plus the real bonus of that good-quality fake ID, he could almost taste Jake Barnes’s promised reward. The thought of it was tantalizing. After all, a cool million was on offer. The thought of it made his palms itch.
Then again, a fortune was no good to you if you weren’t alive to spend it. And Dale had made it clear – he didn’t want any of the girls or other assorted pond life talking to the coppers about the women who’d disappeared. Not that there had been that many – Dale and the rest of his fellow gang members ran a tight ship. But accidents happened. Drugs got misused. Some Johns got a bit too slap-happy.
And bodies had to get buried deep, out in the woods, where nobody would find them.
If only Darren didn’t have such a nasty, sinking suspicion that Jake Barnes was going to want to know where to find one of them, in return for all that cash.
And if that was so, then things could get very tricky indeed. Because very few people knew where any of the bodies were buried – and Darren himself only knew of two. And Dale was going to take it very hard – very hard indeed – if the coppers started digging up even one of his previously buried little secrets.
The heat would be on – a bloody forest-fire worth’s of heat.
Of course, there might be ways around even that, Darren thought now, watching out of his rear-view mirror as a traffic warden strolled casually past the entrance to the street, but kept on walking.
He could still take the millionaire’s money and give him what he wanted, but he’d have to lie low and carry on working for Dale for a good long while before he and Lisa could eventually move away without casting suspicion on themselves. Maybe years. And he’d have to come up with some good cover story for his leaving, even then.
It was risky. Very risky. And Dale wasn’t at all certain that he wanted to take that risk. If anything happened to Lisa, or his mum and brothers… .
So he’d go to the meeting and find out just what it was that Barnes wanted. What did he have to lose in that? He could always say no. And he might be worrying about nothing. Barnes might be after something altogether different, something that he could safely deliver without bringing down the wrath of his boss.
But if it turned out that he did want to know about one of Dale’s buried secrets… . Well, he would have to think very carefully about that.
Of course, by far the best course would be to wangle the cash off him first somehow before giving him whatever it was that he wanted, and then turn Barnes into a buried secret of his own. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about crossing Dale and he and Lisa could just move quietly abroad without any hassle.
But that probably wouldn’t be easy. Barnes didn’t accumulate all that wealth by being stupid.
Darren sighed as he spotted the traffic warden making his way down the street from the opposite direction now, and started up his motor, nodded across at the patrolling bodyguard, and pulled away.
At least he wouldn’t be kept on tenterhooks for long. The meeting with Barnes was all set for tomorrow afternoon. In the b
loody library! Darren snorted with mirth at the thought of it, and cheerfully waved to the traffic warden as he passed by.
The poor old sod looked wet and cold and miserable. As well he might. For all that the Christmas lights and decorations were already beginning to appear in the shops, there was very little cheer to be had in an English winter. And the thought of living abroad in the sun with Lisa, and lounging around a big blue swimming pool, felt so good it almost hurt.
‘I think I know that girl,’ Wendy said in an appalled little voice, as they stepped into a dingy little café not far from Gloucester Green bus station. ‘I do. Bloody hell – I went to school with her!’ she hissed at Jimmy. She sounded shocked, scandalized, fascinated and upset all at the same time.
Jimmy, whose feet were throbbing, merely grunted. They’d been doing the rounds for nearly four hours now, and his back was killing him. Hillary was right – he was going to have to go to the quacks. Ignoring it wasn’t working – whatever the problem was, it clearly wasn’t going to go away on its own. He’d have to take another couple of aspirin with his cuppa.
He glanced around the place with a jaundiced eye, automatically clocking the slim pickings. Already a so-called rag-and-bone merchant had spotted him and was sidling away from his table and making for the door. His speciality, Jimmy remembered from the old days, was fleecing the elderly of their knick-knacks, paying peanuts, and flogging them at antique markets for eye-watering prices. But Jimmy wasn’t interested in him. He was on the hunt for Medcalfe’s people.
But so far today, and just as predicted, nobody knew anything about anything. They hadn’t heard, seen, overheard or guessed anything, about anyone. For all the pathetic women they’d talked to, their aggressive pimps, sad little junkies and just ordinary members of the public who’d happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, nobody was willing to say anything. Which meant the word was already out.
