Detective Amanda Lacey Box Set

by Linda Coles

  Amanda got out and helped Jack to the door, ignoring his question. She hoped this wasn’t going to go down as well as a cold sore at an orgy. It opened before they arrived. An older woman stood waiting, a pretty floral apron tied around her middle, a smile on her friendly face.

  “Why does she look vaguely familiar, Lacey, and what’s she doing wearing an apron in my house?” Jack said, stopping halfway up the path.

  “This is Mrs. Stewart. She’s helping you out a couple of days a week, and she looks familiar because you met her once. The book club chap that died – James. Remember him?”

  “How could I forget? He really was a stiff, wasn’t he?”

  Amanda shushed him and marched him to the door.

  “Hello again, Mr. Rutherford,” said Mrs. Stewart, “or do I call you Detective?” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke and she held her hand out to shake.

  Jack took it. “Nice to see you again. And Jack will do.” As he spoke, he caught the smell of something savoury on the air and wrinkled his nose like a dog to take it in.

  Amanda was right behind him with his bag. “Let’s go inside,” she said and ushered him into the living room. The curtains were open; a breeze entered through the open windows and the room looked a whole lot more inviting than it had a week ago. Photo frames gleamed, a clock on the wall ticked, yet nothing had been moved.

  “Wow. Looks like someone has been busy,” Jack said, clearly impressed. “And what’s that glorious smell – a pie, by chance?”

  The women smiled at each other and Mrs. Stewart spoke up.

  “It’s a meat and potato pie. I believe you’re partial to those. It will be ready in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you wash your hands and get ready?”

  Jack turned to Amanda with a mixture of amusement and delight on his face, his eyes twinkling too at the prospect of pie.

  “Need a hand upstairs?” Amanda asked him.

  “I’ll manage.”

  Amanda waited as he climbed the stairs slowly, knowing his first port of call would be his bedroom. If he was going to be pissed off with this new arrangement, it would be round about now. The floorboards told her he had entered the room, the shrine to Janine, then there was silence. Amanda had given strict instructions to Mrs. Stewart to clean but not move a thing. They heard him exit again, his footsteps calm and quiet, and knew she’d done just the right amount to freshen his room. The two women collectively breathed out as Jack slowly made his way back downstairs.

  “Is there gravy with the pie by chance?” he enquired.

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Amanda didn’t stay for pie, though it did smell damn good. She was extremely pleased that Jack was okay with her well-intended interference. The man needed some care and attention, and the bit of company would do him good, too. Mrs. Stewart had jumped at the chance of a bit of extra income, and Amanda had a feeling they were going to get on fine. The pie had been a great peace offering – who didn’t like a homemade meat pie? Her mouth watered a little at the thought of it. She herself was stuck with her wilted ham sandwich from a nearby garage, but there was work to be done. Jack had asked to tag along, of course, but since he’d only left hospital a few hours earlier, she wasn’t taking any chances. Detectives leapt out of hospital beds and back onto the job in movies, not in South Croydon.

  Up ahead, she could see the door for Body-licious and pulled up outside. To her right was the car she’d seen last night, the one that had followed Chris Smeeks to wherever he’d gone. Perhaps Jules would tell her where that was exactly. Amanda hoped she was in a receptive mood. She opened the door and climbed the stairs to the main office. Another striking receptionist greeted her warmly. Perhaps the models took turns doing the job.

  “Good afternoon. How can I help?” Long eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly kiss. Amanda was mesmerized for a moment by the length of them and then caught herself.

  Don’t stare.

  “I’d like to speak to Jules Monroe, please. DS Amanda Lacey.” Amanda flashed her credentials and the woman took a closer look.

  “I’ll see if she’s available. I won’t be a moment.”

  “She’d better be,” Amanda muttered to her retreating back. Standing alone in the reception area gave her the opportunity to look again at the perfect images of body parts that adorned the walls. They made her feel frumpy stood there in her sensible work boots and trousers, though she’d never been the feminine type, not even as a child; always the tomboy. Ruth was the gorgeous one, the one who could have been in any one of the pictures on display. Still, not everyone could be perfect.

  The incoming stilettos sounded on the floor, and Amanda noted they didn’t seem quite as angry as they had on her and Jack’s first visit. Chanel No. 5 filled the room, and Jules appeared. Amanda smiled warmly, hoping the woman-to-woman thing would work this time too. She stretched her hand out to shake and Jules took it.

  “Nice to see you again, Ms. Monroe.” Start as you mean to go on. “I have a couple more questions for you, if I may. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  By Jules’ face, it wasn’t going to be a problem. Maybe she’d had the right amount of coffee or happy beans so far today.

  “Hello again. Yes, come through this way,” she said, and turned to lead the way back through the door she’d entered only a moment ago. So far so good. “Can I get you a coffee, or water?”

  “Water, thanks.” Amanda watched as Jules filled a glass from a nearby water cooler and then handed her the glass. She took a sip. If Jack had been with her now, he’d have been chomping to get going with the questions, but Amanda waited a moment until Jules was seated. Amanda’s first question was going to be a surprise to her.

  “Where did Chris Smeeks go to last night? Where did you follow him to?” She watched as the colour drained from Jules’s face and she started to stutter a response. She’d clearly been caught totally unaware. Jules took a breath in exasperation.

  “You were following me?” Incredulous.

  “No. I was sat outside his home and as he left, you pulled out too. Want to tell me why, when you’d told us you hadn’t been in touch since the hacking?” Amanda sipped at her water for something to do while she waited for a reply. The one who spoke first was the loser here.

  Jules lost the standoff. With an air of exasperation, she said, “I guess you’ll find out anyway. I followed him to a fetish club, actually. In Islington. I didn’t go in.”

  “Why were you following him?”

  “Because I’ve reason to believe he’s still gaining access to my database.”

  “Oh? What makes you think that?”

  “I have my reasons. I can’t say any more. Apart from the fact that I know some of the girls have been approached.”

  “Approached?” This was like pulling teeth. “Come on Jules, you’re not telling me the full story. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

  “I can’t say. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

  “How did you find him after all this time? And a name change?”

  “Hired someone cleverer than me. He gave me the address and I’ve been watching.”

  “And anything to report, apart from the club visit?”

  “No. But that’s enough, isn’t it? He’s obviously a part of something. Some of my girls have been involved in unpleasantness, and what with the old guy who was cautioned, it’s all fetish related. Maybe the club is a front for something?”

  Unpleasantness? And more than one of her models? Amanda frowned. Was this getting bigger by the minute? A thought was percolating like coffee on a stove. Had Jules’s girls been treated to a nice hotel room and discovered something missing after the fact? Like Stephanie, and like Taylor? Like maybe a bunch of others? Well, she thought, in for a penny, in for a pound.

  “So, some of your girls have received notes encouraging them not to tell, am I right?”

  The colour that had drained and returned to Jules’s face drained for a second time. Amanda hoped she wasn’t going to pas
s out.

  “How do you know about those?”

  That was all the confirmation Amanda needed.

  “So now we have that straight, let’s hear the whole story. What you know so far. All of it.”

  Jules could only nod.

  “When was the first one reported to you?”

  “About ten years ago. There were only a couple back then, but since the hack, they’ve increased quite a bit. The girls who have been targeted were terrified and begged me not to tell, so I haven’t. I only found out by accident – girls missing jobs and odd out-of-character things going on.

  “After the first couple, it was easy for me to ask them, and they trusted me. It was a huge relief for them to get it off their chest and tell someone they could trust, explain their behaviour. There could be many others I don’t know about, of course, but it’s been steady over the years. And because of the mention of a debt being paid, they’ve been loath to take it any further with the official authorities. Some have figured out which debts the notes refer to; others haven’t.”

  “Who is the latest that you know of?”

  Jules sighed heavily again, not wanting to break confidences. She’d told Ellen she wouldn’t report what she’d said, and she’d meant it.

  Amanda could see the conflict in her eyes. “It’s going to be out in the open soon,” she said, more gently now. “There are too many women having these horrific experiences, and it’s gone on too long. It’s time it was stopped. Whoever this latest victim is, we need to hear her side of the story to figure out exactly how this thing operates. It’s distressing, I know, but he needs to be stopped so that no one else has to go through it.”

  “I know. I won’t give you her name just yet, but I will tell you what she told me. Then perhaps I can persuade her to talk to you.”

  “Tell me what you know.”

  And Jules did: that her employee had gone to an address, but the story didn’t pan out as she remembered it. The driver denied taking her, the client denied seeing her, and she’d awoken in a hotel room in Knightsbridge with a scarf tied around her ankles and a note on the side table.

  Amanda scribbled furiously in her notepad. When she had all that Jules was offering to give, she asked, “And what’s your plan now, then? I’m assuming you have some sort of revenge organized?”

  Jules looked a little sheepish. “I do, actually. And while you might not like it, I think it’s a good plan. Maybe you can help?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what it is first? Then we’ll see.”

  When Jules was finished speaking, Amanda had to admit it could work, though there were elements that concerned her. She’d need help to pull it off. Someone strong, someone intelligent and someone with a knockout body. And she knew just the right woman to step in.

  Ruth.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  “Well, first off I think you’re mad, and probably a bit desperate if you’re asking me, but it does sound like fun.” Ruth was pulling out a few stray dandelions from around the rhubarb in the small garden at the back of her house while Amanda watched. Gardening and Amanda were like nails and cheese: not two things that went together. She preferred others to grow food for her.

  “I’ll be there in the background, and it’s only to see what goes on there, nothing more. You won’t be in any danger.”

  “Like I said, it sounds like fun. I get to dress up.” Thinking, she added, “I might wear a sort of mask too, so nobody can see all of my face. Wouldn’t want to see a client in there. Them see me, I mean. That could be a tad embarrassing.”

  “Jules Monroe will be there with you. She’s the woman who runs the body part model agency. I’ll introduce the two of you beforehand. She had a vigilante plan that hopefully I’ve stomped out now, but we did agree a snoop-around would be useful, and she’s game to go in. There’s no point me doing it though,” she said, fanning her hand dismissively across her body.

  “And why not? You’d look great in a pair of tight leather pants and a plunging top.”

  Amanda smiled at Ruth’s attempt at a compliment. “Who are you kidding? Me in tight leather? I’d look like a Cumberland sausage squashed in all the wrong places. I don’t have the figure to draw attention. I’d be a laughing stock.”

  Ruth got to her feet and put her arms around Amanda’s shoulders, careful not to get dirt on her. “You wouldn’t, actually. You have a low estimation of yourself. But I said I’d be happy to help and I will. Now stop with the crappy body image talk. You’ll look knockout in your wedding dress because you’re you. We both will.” Ruth pecked her on the cheek and pulled her in tight for a hug. When she released her, she asked, “When are we doing it? I need to get a suitable outfit organized because, funnily enough, I’m right out of PVC or leather dresses.”

  “Tomorrow evening. The club opens at ten pm, so we’ll leave here about thirty minutes before. It fills up pretty quickly from what Jules has seen, and I want to make sure we get in – that you both get in.”

  “I’ll be ready. It will be fun to go shopping for a bit of fetish gear. Maybe we’ll use it afterwards?” Ruth winked at Amanda, who rolled her eyes in return.

  “Let’s see what you come back with first. I’m not wearing a gimp mask for anyone. Nor a rubber suit. How do you even get into one of those things?”

  “Talcum powder, I guess,” said Ruth, winking. They both laughed.

  “Right, I’m off to make dinner,” Amanda said, and headed back up the path to the house.

  Inside the kitchen, Amanda put water on for the rice and stirred the pot of chilli, tasting it gingerly from the wooden spoon. Chilli was one thing she could cook well. While she waited for the water to boil, she called Jack to see how he was settling in back at home and ask whether he needed anything.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired, but glad to be home. I’ve had a nap in my chair this afternoon – fell asleep with my headphones on listening to The Style Council, of all things.” His gentle chuckle made her smile at the phone.

  “Glad you’re resting. I thought I’d see how you were doing and let you know about my meeting with Jules Monroe.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “She couldn’t deny anything. I’d seen her following him, so she fessed up pretty quickly and told me the whole story. She’s very protective of the girls, and while she thought the hack was all over many moons ago, she was shocked and upset to learn Smeeks was still getting access as and when he needed something. It seems it’s been going on for at least ten years that she’s aware of, and a considerable number of her girls have been targeted over the years. The latest one was only a few days ago.”

  Jack grunted he was still listening.

  “I’m hoping she’ll speak to me – the latest victim, I mean – though she didn’t have hair stolen. Get this – she was left in a hotel like the other one but with her ankles bound in a silk Hermes scarf and rose petals scattered all round her. My bet is a bit of foot worship went on. Creepy, eh?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Anyway, Smeeks owns a company called Mild Industries, which owns the club and a few other properties around London, as well as a collection of vehicles. I told you he owned an ambulance, didn’t I?”

  “You did mention it. That in itself is creepy. Wonder what he’d want it for?”

  “Transportation, I’m guessing. Who would query an ambulance turning up? My big question is how he can have so many people involved. You’d need rent-a-crowd to pull some of the stunts off without anyone knowing. Just think about it. How do you get a doped woman in and out of a hotel suite without her knowing, or anyone suspecting anything? And how do they ensure the victims don’t tell? Asking them by note is pretty risky, yet none of them do. There must be some dirt going on in their backgrounds for them to keep quiet, like Stephanie with the sexual harassment case suddenly going away.”

  “I hear you, Lacey. And the answer is I’ve no idea. But do you remember a movie called The Game back in the late nineties
? It starred Michael Douglas and Sean Penn. It sounds a little like the same concept: a rent-a-crowd pulling off something big that goes on in the background of someone’s life. Might be worth looking it up. Maybe it could shed some light on how this fits together?”

  Amanda wasn’t convinced. “What makes you think it’s a game? Because if it is, it’s not a nice one.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant, but the organization of it sounds the same. They were actors and actresses, if I remember correctly, on a big movie set. Look it up and watch it.”

  Amanda grunted in response, not convinced. “Anyway, Jules is going to go inside the club and have a look around. I can’t stop her doing that anyway as a member of the public. I’ve asked Ruth to keep her company, and she’s happy to. I’ll be in the background, preferably outside or in the cloak room, perhaps, and listen in from there.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Just by keeping the phone line open, her phone to mine. If the music is too loud I may not hear everything, but we’ll see. There shouldn’t be any danger, since it’s a public place of sorts, and I won’t be far away.”

  “It goes without saying to be careful though, eh? Was does the DI say?”

  There was a pause in the conversation as Jack realized she hadn’t told him. “Lacey? You’ve got to tell him. He’ll go nuts if things don’t go to plan. Cover your arse.”

  “I know. I’ll mention it tomorrow. But it’s only a look-see, anyway. No need to concern him yet.” Amanda heard Jack’s heavy sigh. “Don’t you be worrying too.” Changing the subject, she asked, “How was the pie?”

  Chapter Eighty

  It was late. But the beauty of having a business on the web was that you could work whenever you wanted, from wherever you wanted, as long as you had an internet connection. Just as writers worked from coffee shops and libraries, nocturnal forum owners could work from bars and clubs, and he had a couple to choose from. Chris had his favourites, depending on his mood and what he was doing. Simple background checks for premium required some degree of quiet, while new member authorizations for the chatroom required nothing more than a tick box. His venue for tick boxing this evening was his small but perfectly formed fetish club, Femme Fet-Elle, one of his favourite places. He had a permanent space at the end of the bar, a space from which he could do his work and observe what went on in the club at the same time, and that was where he was sat now. Not much raised his eyebrows any longer. He’d seen and heard it all, and as a provider to the kinksters and in particular the wealthy ones, he’d filled many fantasies spanning many years.