by DS Butler
Finally. They were getting somewhere.
Charlotte leaned towards Kristen. “Where? Where does she go?”
“There are a couple of places,” Kristen said, screwing up her face as if thinking hurt her brain.
“But usually she goes to the Walrus and the Carpenter because it’s close to where she works.”
“Right,” Charlotte said, turning away and scrolling through her mobile phone. “We’ll try there.”
Kristen got to her feet. “Oh, that’s good then. Are we done? Because I really need to get ready to go out. I’ve got a date tonight.”
Charlotte raised a hand and clamped it to her ear, to block out Kristen’s whiny voice.
“No,” she snapped, “you’re not going anywhere yet. Not until we’ve found Lisa Stratton.”
Kristen huffed out a breath and flopped down on the sofa, shooting Charlotte a sulky look.
PC Davies and PC Bell were still milling about in the room talking.
Charlotte put a finger in her ear. The noise on the other end of the line was deafening. She could hear the sounds of revellers in the pub.
“This is DC Brown of the City of London police. I’m looking for Lisa Stratton. It’s very urgent. Could you put a call out and see if she’s there?”
Charlotte had to repeat herself another three times before the barman on the other end of the line understood what she was saying.
She listened with her heart in her mouth as she heard the barman shout out Lisa Stratton’s name.
It seemed an eternity before the barman came back on the line and said, “Yeah she’s here. Do you want to speak to her?”
“She’s there. We’ve found her,” Charlotte said, to PC Bell and PC Davies. “She’s at the Walrus and Carpenter Pub, Monument Street.”
PC Bell nodded. “Right. I know it. We’ll call it in and head there now.”
Charlotte nodded then turned her attention back to the phone. “Yes, please. I need to speak to her.”
Charlotte paced the room while she waited for Lisa Stratton to come on the line. Why was it taking so long?
Then Charlotte heard a girly tinkle of laughter and a female voice said, “Hello?”
“Is this Lisa Stratton?” Charlotte asked.
“Um, yeah,” Lisa Stratton said.
“Listen to me. This is very important. My name is DC Charlotte Brown of the City of London Police. I need to come and speak to you. You’re not in any trouble, but it’s imperative you stay where you are until we get there. Don’t leave the bar. There will be uniformed officers there very shortly. Stay in the bar and wait for us, do you understand?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Lisa Stratton said, “What is this all about? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“No, you haven’t done anything, but it’s really important that we speak to you, do you understand?”
“Sorry, the line’s not very good,” Lisa said. “It’s really noisy in here. Um, so maybe you could give me a ring tomorrow?”
“No,” Charlotte said. “Wait, stay on the line. I need you to stay on the line.”
“Yeah, sorry but I can hardly hear you,” Lisa Stratton said. “You’re kind of breaking up. Sorry,” she said.
There was a scraping sound on the other end of the line.
“Hello,” Charlotte said. “Lisa? Lisa, are you still there?”
The only response was the muffled sound of people laughing and talking, and the clinking of glasses.
What the hell was the girl playing at?
Charlotte eyed the stupid fluffy, bunny rabbit slippers Kristen was wearing as the woman poked out her lower lip in another sulk.
Charlotte imagined herself picking up one of the slippers and hitting the girl around the head with it. Why was everybody being so stupid today?
“Lisa, are you still there?” Charlotte shouted into the telephone.
But there was no response until finally Charlotte heard a click, and then silence.
She’d hung up on her. “Dammit.”
Charlotte left the flat in a hurry, taking the stairs two at a time, and pressed redial on her mobile phone. It rang and rang, but this time the bar staff weren’t answering.
This was ridiculous. What the hell was Lisa Stratton playing at?
37
LISA STRATTON HANDED BACK the phone to the barman.
“Nuisance caller,” she told him.
The barman shrugged and put the phone back on the hook.
As Lisa reached for her vodka and orange, her hand trembled a little.
“Who was that?” asked Matt Clarke, who was standing beside her.
“Oh, no one,” she said. “It’s not important.”
Lisa had been having a great time before the phone call. She’d had a bit of a thing for Matt Clarke for months now, ever since their encounter at their company’s Christmas party, but he hadn’t made his move yet.
Tonight it was just the two of them rather than the usual crowd from work, and Lisa thought this might be the night that Matt finally made his move.
But he wouldn’t be impressed if the police turned up looking for her.
She put her drink back down on the bar. What on earth could they want with her? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they were looking for another Lisa Stratton. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon name.
But there had been something about the urgency of the police officer’s voice on the phone that scared her.
She fought the urge to down her drink and leave the bar, pretending it had never happened. But she wasn’t that stupid. She wouldn’t just walk off. What if she was in some kind of danger?
She shot an anxious look around the bar. No one seemed to be paying her any attention. They were all concentrating on their drinks, focused on getting a little tipsy after work.
She directed a sideways glance at Matt, and then wished she hadn’t. He was staring at her with a puzzled frown.
A horrible thought occurred to Lisa. How much did she really know about Matt? Was he some kind of weirdo the police were tracking?
She took a large gulp of her drink and felt the vodka burn the back of her throat.
“Do you want to go on somewhere?” Matt asked with a grin.
She used to find that grin attractive. She had liked his deep dimples and his shiny white teeth, but today his smile looked slightly sinister.
Lisa shook her head. “Er, no. I think I’m gonna stay here, thanks.”
Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said and waved to get the barman’s attention.
Lisa glanced at the clock on the wall above the bar.
How long would the police take to get here, she wondered.
If it was as urgent as the policewoman said, they should be here soon.
Lisa turned away from the bar and looked out of the huge windows that lined the front of the pub.
Maybe she should wait outside. She didn’t much fancy being escorted out of her local by uniformed officers.
But the detective had told her to wait inside the bar, and she would be safer inside. There were so many people around. Surely nothing could happen to her here.
She only had to wait a little longer. The police would be here soon…
Lisa gasped. Oh, God.
She remembered what she had in the inner zipped pocket of her handbag: a little something for later, to help her unwind.
It wasn’t like she was a drug addict. She just liked to smoke a bit of weed in the evenings to relax. It helped her sleep.
She didn’t have much on her, but what if they wanted to take her to the police station? What if they searched her bag?
Shit. Shit. Shit. She’d have to get rid of it somehow before they got here.
She put one hand in her bag, unzipped the internal pocket, and her fingers closed around the cling film-encased weed.
She groaned.
“I’m just going to the ladies’,” she said to Matt and slipped down off the stool.
<
br /> She needn’t have worried about Matt. He’d turned his amorous attentions to the blonde barmaid and had forgotten all about Lisa.
Bastard.
As she walked across the bar, her eyes scanned all the faces, trying to see if there was anyone that stood out.
She weaved her way through the crowds. It was absolutely packed tonight. It was always busy, but tonight they were all packed in like sardines.
She jumped as a large group of men in front of her exploded with laughter.
She stood still for a moment, calming herself, then carried on edging her way to the ladies’ toilets.
A woman held the door open for her at the ladies’ toilet. Lisa smiled at her and went in.
Inside, she rested her handbag on the edge of one of the sinks and rifled around until she found the small amount of weed bound in plastic wrap.
Lisa exhaled. Thank God.
She chucked it into one of the toilet bowls and flushed the chain.
As she walked out of the cubicle, she dusted her hands together, set her shoulders and took a step forward.
She faltered. There was a man in the ladies’ toilets.
His dark skin looked shiny under the harsh glare of the lights. His hair was cropped close to his head, and lines had been shaved into patterns on each side of his head.
Lisa took a step back. Oh, God. Why had she come in here alone?
Keep calm. It’s okay. It was a mistake. He’d probably just had a few drinks and picked the wrong door.
Any second now he would realise his error and apologise and leave.
But he didn’t.
He smiled at her lazily.
“Hello Lisa,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
38
BY THE TIME CHARLOTTE got to the Walrus and the Carpenter Pub on Monument Street, the uniformed officers were already there.
She recognised PC Davies from Lisa Stratton’s flat, he nodded in recognition and began to walk over.
Charlotte stayed at the main entrance, her eyes scanning the sea of faces. There were so many people in here. The place was rammed. That wasn’t going to make it any easier to locate Lisa Stratton.
PC Davies reached her side. “She’s not here,” he said.
“What? How is that possible? I spoke to her. I told her to stay where she was until we got here.
“Well, she was here, but she isn’t anymore. I’ve just spoken to a couple of the bar staff and a friend of hers called Matt Clarke.” PC Davies nodded in the general direction of the bar. “About ten minutes ago, she went to the ladies’ and didn’t come back, according to her friend.”
Charlotte’s stomach was in knots. How could this have happened? She’d spoken to her on the phone. They’d been so close. How could she have slipped through their fingers?
Charlotte fumbled in her pocket for her phone.
“Are you sure?” she asked PC Davies. “You’ve checked every inch of this place?”
PC Davies nodded. “Yes, every inch. We even went into the ladies’.”
Charlotte nodded. “Okay, so we need to find out where she went and if she was with someone. We need access to the CCTV.”
PC Davies nodded. “We’re already on it.”
His radio crackled into life, and Charlotte moved past him as he answered it, heading towards the back of the pub.
Lisa Stratton might not be in the ladies’ toilets any longer, but there might be something in there that held a clue to Lisa’s whereabouts.
Charlotte entered the toilets. There was a woman standing by the sink applying a thick layer of lip gloss.
It wasn’t Lisa Stratton. Charlotte moved forwards, pushing open all the cubicle doors in turn.
There was only one occupied. She rapped on it.
“Lisa Stratton?”
“No,” an angry voice replied from inside the cubicle.
Charlotte waited anyway just to make sure. She pulled out a recent photograph of Lisa Stratton. Kristen Deaver had said she could take it from the flat.
Lisa smiled in the picture. Her chestnut-coloured hair shone and hung in waves around her face. Charlotte hoped, wherever Lisa was, she was still smiling.
A moment later, a short girl with frizzy red hair stepped out of the cubicle and shot Charlotte an angry look.
“There are other toilets free, you know,” she said, gesturing to the empty cubicles.
Charlotte ignored her and took a last look at Lisa Stratton’s photo. She’d have to call DI Tyler and let him know they’d lost her.
As Charlotte turned to leave the toilets, another woman entered. The woman walked into the first cubicle and then made a disgusted noise and walked out again.
She caught Charlotte’s eye. “Some people are rank. Honestly, the things people leave in toilets.”
The woman went into the next cubicle along, and Charlotte headed back to see what she was talking about.
She peered down into the white bowl and saw a green substance wrapped in plastic, floating in the water.
It looked like weed.
Was that Lisa’s? Was that why she’d gone to the ladies’ toilets rather than remaining in the bar?
This was one hell of a mess.
Charlotte left the toilets and headed over to PC Bell and PC Davies, who were talking to the bar manager.
“We’re getting the CCTV from in here,” PC Davies said. “Shouldn’t take long.”
Charlotte nodded and headed towards the exit. She was more interested in the CCTV from outside.
She pulled her mobile from her pocket and dialled.
DI Tyler answered on the second ring.
“News?” he snapped.
“She’s not here, boss,” Charlotte said. “We don’t know where she’s gone. Have you got anything on CCTV?”
“We’re working on it. I’ll give you a call back,” Tyler said and hung up.
Outside of the pub there were more people gathered on the pavement, spilling over from inside.
Charlotte looked around at the area immediately surrounding the pub. There were three possible directions Lisa could have taken.
Which one would Lisa have chosen?
To Charlotte’s right there was a pedestrian zone blocked off to traffic by bollards. Straight in front of her and to her left were two busy roads, jammed with a mass of rush hour traffic.
She could have taken a bus or hailed a cab… She could be anywhere by now.
Charlotte groaned. Their only chance was if she’d been picked up on CCTV. It was a busy area so chances were good one of the cameras would have picked her up.
Charlotte’s phone rang and she snatched it up. “DC Brown,” she said.
It was Tyler.
“We’ve got a visual from eight minutes ago. Lisa Stratton with a tall, young, black male on Pudding Lane. It doesn’t look good.”
Charlotte took a breath. “What do you mean it doesn’t look good?”
“It looks like he’s got a concealed weapon,” Tyler said. “We are calling in SO19.”
39
LISA STRATTON WHIMPERED AS she felt the man digging something cold and metallic into her back. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she knew it wasn’t good.
It had to be a knife or a gun.
Why her? What had she done? She didn’t understand.
She stumbled a little in her heels, and the man jolted her violently.
“No funny business,” he said. “Or I’ll cut you here in the street.”
Lisa bit down on her lip to stop herself from crying. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. There were so many people around.
How could a man be holding a weapon to her back like this without anyone realising anything was wrong?
“An interesting choice of pub, Lisa,” the man said.
He stood so close to her she could feel his breath on her cheek. She shuddered.
“The Walrus and the Carpenter. It’s from a poem by Lewis Carroll, are you a fan?”
Lisa Stratton s
hook her head. She went to the pub because it was the closest one to work. Although if she ever got out of this alive, there was no way she was going back.
He turned right, guiding her through some bollards into a pedestrianised area of the road. Someone had tied a bicycle to one of the bollards, and Lisa caught the corner of her ankle on the pedal as they walked past. She gasped.
“I’m warning you,” he said. “I don’t care who’s around. I promise you, I’ll do it, and I’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m sorry, it was the bike,” Lisa said.
“Shut up,” he said. “I didn’t give you permission to talk.”
This part of the road was quieter than the rest, despite the fact it was rush hour.
There should have been hundreds of people finishing work and pouring out the office buildings, but as they turned to walk towards the Monument, the number of people lessened.
She bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood. She was in central London. How could something like this go un-noticed?
“Pretty isn’t it?” the man asked, nodding at the Monument.
“Do you know what it’s for?” he asked.
She couldn’t believe this. He had a weapon wedged against her ribs, and now he wanted to talk about London history.
She stayed silent.
“You should pay more attention to the city you work in Lisa,” he said, patronisingly. “It’s to commemorate the Great Fire of London. Do you see how tall it is? The column’s height marks the distance to the site of the bakery in Pudding Lane where the fire started.”
She ignored him. Freaky, weirdo creep.
Lisa knew where she was. The street would open out again soon. There would be more people around, and she could make a dash for it.
She went to walk ahead, but he pulled her sharply right into Pudding Lane. Her right shoe caught on the side of the pavement.
“Stop dragging your heels,” he said. “I’m warning you. If you behave yourself, you’ll get out of this unhurt, but if you mess me about...” he left the rest of the sentence unsaid, but Lisa focused on what he had said.
He would let her go if she did everything he asked. He’d set her free.
