Midnight's Door

by Robert F Barker

  Jess and I had met several times since the murders started. She’s nice; friendly, quick-witted, but easy to wind up. I’ve already mentioned I was at school with Jamie Carver. Come to think of it, quite a few I went to school with ended up in the police. Back then, I suppose it was either one way, or the other.

  ‘Any progress?’ I said.

  Carver rocked a hand. ‘Some sightings but no break-throughs. Maybe tonight.’

  ‘You still doing the appeal?’

  ‘That's why we're here. When’s best?’

  ‘Soon as you’re ready. They're still coming in but if you leave it much longer those who are in now will be too far gone to listen.’

  ‘Will they anyway?’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be on the floor making sure.’

  Jess leaned round her boss to give me a look. ‘You seem pretty sure of yourself.’

  ‘In my business, you’ve got to be, love.’

  She gave me another look, but this time through half-closed eyes. She was beginning to cotton on.

  Carver checked his watch. ‘Let’s make it fifteen minutes.’

  I told him I’d let Frank know. I needed to tell him how it had gone with Yashin anyway. As I was about to leave Carver said, ‘Everything okay upstairs? Do you need us for anything?’

  I looked at him. How the-? ‘It’s sorted. And thanks, but no thanks.’

  ‘Is Agnes okay?’

  Jesus. ‘She’s fine. Nothing happened.’

  ‘Good.’

  Coming away, my thoughts were around who the blabbermouth was.

  I found Frank upstairs in the Early Hours Coffee Bar. When I filled him in on what had happened with Yashin he looked worried. I couldn’t not say anything, so I went for it.

  ‘I know it’s none of my business, but you do know what you’re doing with this guy don't you? I told you before he’s bad news. This thing with Agnes could have been nasty. If something had happened and the Guardian found out, you can imagine what they’d have made of it.’ He nodded, glumly.

  The Warrington Guardian has been waging war on the town’s nightclub scene for years. Every week they publish photographs of blood and vomit on the streets and never fail to give full coverage to the assault cases when they come up in court. The on-line edition is even worse. That said, the local council keeps quiet on the subject. They know what the scene does for the town’s economy.

  Eventually, Frank looked up from his coffee. ‘I understand your concerns, Danny, but-’

  I waited, but then had to give him a nudge. ‘But what?’

  ‘It’s complicated. It’s not just about what he’s paying for the room.’

  ‘You mean he’s setting up to buy you out?’

  Frank paled. ‘Where did you hear that?’

  ‘Come on Frank, it’s obvious. This is the biggest club in the Northwest outside Manchester. Why else would someone like Yashin be showing so much interest?’

  He became flustered and for a few seconds looked like he was going to avoid answering, then he said. ‘It’s not what you think. And I’d appreciate you not spreading any rumours.’

  I showed him my palms. ‘I never comment on my client’s business. It’s your Club.’

  He nodded, but stayed silent. Time to change the subject.

  ‘One thing I will ask. And I’d appreciate an honest answer.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘What did Charnley want?’

  His face showed he wasn’t expecting it but he recovered quickly. ‘Nothing in particular. He just called in.’

  ‘Frank, Dave Charnley doesn’t call on his mother unless he thinks there’s something in it for him.’

  ‘No need to be paranoid, Danny. You know what he’s like. He likes to think he’s keeping well in. He’s just full of bull.’

  I gave him a long look. ‘If you’re not happy with the service you’re getting from DoorSecure Frank, I’d like to think you’d speak with me about it before speaking to the likes of Charnley.’

  ‘No Danny. Honestly, there isn’t a problem. Like I say he’s just doing the rounds.’

  ‘Well I’d appreciate it if you’d remember that when my guys see you entertaining our main business rival, it makes them a little unsettled, if you know what I mean?’

  ‘Of course. Sorry Danny. I’ll bear it in mind in future.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Are the police doing the appeal?’

  I checked my watch. ‘Five minutes. I’d better get down there.’

  ‘One other thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  Tony’s going to do some staff checks later. Thought I’d let you know.’

  ‘No problem,’ I said. Everyone who works at Midnight’s, including my guys, signs to say they agree to be searched at the end of a shift. It includes bags, lockers, etc. I've always thought it’s a good idea. Helps keep the place clean.

  ‘You know where I am if you need me,’ Frank said.

  As I headed for the dance floor I wondered what it would take to get the club’s owner to show himself in front of the clientele, if the possibility of them being murdered wasn’t enough.

  CHAPTER 5

  Two sets of double doors, fifteen yards apart, lead from the lobby into the club proper. Both open onto a short stretch of wall that curves away left and right. The walls' main purpose is to stop people seeing into the club from the lobby, or even outside. But they also act as an effective sound buffer so that it isn't until you round the wall that the full impact hits you. I've probably made the short walk from the relative quiet of the lobby into the main dance area more times than anyone. But I've still never quite got used to the assault on the senses you experience as you turn to find yourself looking out over the main dance floor. These days clubs are all about creating mood and atmosphere through noise, and light. And I've nothing but respect for the techies who know how to set things up so that the lights, music and amplification are always in harmony wherever you are around the dance area. Nevertheless I sometimes think about the similarity between what the techies do in terms of manipulating people's senses, and the dealers and pushers we work so hard to keep out of the place. The longer I work in a club environment, the more I'm sure there's an interesting thesis waiting to be written by some bright researcher on the subject. At the end of the day they are all about altering perceptions of reality.

  That evening, as I rounded the wall and saw the mass of writhing humanity that is the dance floor and both felt and heard the thumping beat that underpins every new sound these days, I experienced the same feeling I always do. An undercurrent of almost sexual excitement mixed with edgy anticipation over what the night might bring. A college professor once told me it is an automatic physiological response, induced by the pheromones generated by a couple of hundred sweating, cavorting human beings, and the pulse-driving music. Taking a deep breath, I joined the chaos.

  I found Carver and Jess at the Dusk ’Til Dawn bar. They were sipping orange juice from tall glasses while trying to talk over the music to Babs and Carmen, a couple of the regulars. A couple of years ago I’d probably have described Babs and Carmen as, ‘Babes.’ Hair, legs, make up, tits. Not necessarily in that order. Girls like them are as much a part of the club as the music, the lights, the booze and, sometimes, the drugs. The way Babs and Carmen were making up to Carver and ignoring Jess I guessed they were probably into policemen as much as they were doormen. Seeing me coming they slid off their stools and I had to put up with some embarrassment as they went through the big eyes, smiles and ‘Hi Danny,’ routine before I shooed them away.

  As they tottered off towards the dance floor, Jess turned to me. She had to shout to make herself heard. ‘Friends of yours?’

  ‘Fan club members.’

  ‘I’d never have guessed.’

  ‘You ready?’

  Carver nodded and downed the rest of his drink before shouting back. ‘Lead on.’

  They followed as I skirted round the edge of the floor until we reached th
e metal spiral staircase that leads up to the DJ Podium. Up top, the club’s resident DJ-MC, Mickey Midnight - real name Mike Ashbrook – was doing his thing. As we emerged onto the platform, Mickey was jigging about in front of his laptops and decks the way he always does, juggling, scratching and looping like a demon. From what I could tell in the semi-dark he had three decks on the go, a disc spinning on each. As usual, he was dressed like a modern-day version of some sixties disc-jockey; shiny white and blue shell suit, beanie hat and sunglasses. ‘Ay-Oop, Danny,’ he shouted as he saw us. ‘You doin’ it now?’

  I nodded and said, ‘If that’s okay?’ The night before I’d filled Mickey in about the appeal.

  ‘No problem.’ He was still twirling and whirling like a madman, at the same time doing things with the decks that looked pretty impressive. When the track ended he cut the music and brought up the lights. There was a buzz as everyone looked up to see what was happening. He spoke into his headset mic.

  ‘Listen up boys and girls, this is a special announcement. We’re all going to go a bit serious for a few minutes. As you’ve already seen when you came in, the police are in tonight and they’re going to speak to you about a couple of things so I’d like you all to give them your proper attention.’ The response was a chorus of boos, whistles and cat-calls. Credit to Mickey, he wasn’t for putting up with it and shouted above the din. ‘Now you need to cut that because like I said, this is serious and it concerns something that affects all of us and particularly you ladies. So gents, show respect and put a sock in it.’

  Fair do-s, the crowd settled. Below I could see my team putting themselves about, making sure everyone knew they were there. Mickey continued. ‘I’m going to hand over to the officer who wants to talk to you.’ He passed the mic across to Carver who stepped to the rail so everyone could see him.

  ‘Good evening ladies and gents. I’m sorry to break into your night out, but like Mickey says, this affects the safety of everyone here, particularly the ladies. I’ll only take a few minutes of your time and I’d be grateful for your attention. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Jamie Carver. I’m part of the team investigating the matters I’m going to talk to you about.’

  ‘FUCK OFF YOU BIZZIE TWAT.’

  The shout came from the back of the room by the fire exit. I looked down and saw Winston dive into the crowd in that direction. Carver waited a few seconds. There was a brief commotion, a cry of pain, a door banged, then it settled again. Carver continued.

  ‘As I’m sure you all know, we're investigating the murders of four women that have occurred over the past six months. Some of you will have known one or maybe more of the victims, so I know you’ll want to listen carefully. They were all attacked in the early hours after leaving one of the town centre night clubs, including this one. As part of our enquiries, we’re visiting all the clubs making this appeal for anyone who thinks they may have information that could help us find the person, or persons, responsible. We also want to advise you all, particularly the ladies, on what you should, and should not do when you leave here tonight or any other clubs in the coming weeks until we catch whoever is doing this.’

  At this point there was another shout from below but this time the crowd were straight onto it themselves. A girl’s voice lifted above the others. ‘SHUT IT WANKER, It could be me next.’ Carver waited until he had everyone’s attention again. He knew how to read a crowd.

  ‘I know these things aren’t what you want to hear on your night out but as I say it is important for your own safety. The problem we have is that so far no one has reported seeing any of the girls with anyone in the immediate period leading up to their deaths. We’ve had sightings of them after they left whichever club they were in, but in each case these sightings were before they met their attacker. Right now we don’t know whether they knew their killer or, assuming we’re looking for a man, how he got them to go with him. I’m going to remind you of the details of each case and if you know or think you were around the town on those particular nights I need you to think back and try to remember what you did, who you were with, where you were, and what you saw. I know some of you will find these details distressing, but as I say, it is important. I’m going to start with the first case, Naomi Whitstable….’ As Carver began to go through the details, giving out times, dates, places and describing what the police knew of the sequence of events leading up to each of the killings, I checked out what was happening below.

  By now everyone was pretty much giving him their full attention, - the result no doubt of having realised the message’s importance, helped by my team having ‘words’ with those misguided enough to think they could piss about instead of listening. Considering how, two minutes before, everyone had been in full flow, the change in mood was remarkable. Some of the girls especially were really taking it all in, looking scared and anxious. A few - guys as well as girls - were actually crying, probably because they knew one or more of the victims. Carver didn’t try to dramatise anything. He didn’t need to. The facts spoke for themselves. When you’re out clubbing and someone tells you that when you leave there is a chance you might meet someone who will take you off somewhere and kill you, it focuses the mind. He didn’t say too much about how the girls were actually killed, but it was no secret they were all strangled. Other than that, the police hadn’t released further details. There were rumours of course. They ranged from suggestions – always from a, ‘reliable source’, naturally - that the killings followed in the bloody tradition of The Ripper – Jack or Yorkshire, take your pick - to speculation that the bodies were arranged in ways that hinted at some bizarre religious-style ritual. As Carver explained, the biggest puzzle for the police was how the killer lured the victims away. Clubs have always warned about the dangers of women accepting lifts from people they don’t know, unlicensed mini-cabs, that sort of thing. Inevitably, it had led to speculation that the victims must have known their killer, though Carver emphasised it was just that, speculation. He ended by asking anyone with information to speak to one of the officers who would be around the club the rest of the night. When he thanked everyone for listening and told them to enjoy the rest of their night, some of them actually gave him a round of applause.

  He handed back to Mickey who surprised me by immediately following up with an earnest, ‘Thank you Officer. On behalf of everyone here at Midnight’s we all wish you well with your investigation. Let’s hope you catch the bastard soon.’ Then he was back in character. ‘Right everyone, let’s get the party going again with one you can rock your socks off to.’ Tapping his laptop screen he yelled, ‘It’s... ENIGMA.’ By the time we got to the top of the stairs, Mickey was already flailing about like nothing had happened. He’s a real pro is Mickey.

  At the bottom of the stairs some kids were already lining up, waiting to speak to Carver and Jess. Over by the doorway that leads to the Green Room I could see Vicki loitering so I left them to it and went and joined her. Her face told me she’d been listening to the appeal.

  ‘How awful.' she said. 'Did you know that they’d all visited Midnight’s sometime?’

  ‘Doesn't surprise me. Sonia Carter was a regular some while back. I think she danced on the podium a couple of times. Everyone visits Midnight's some time or other. Even if it’s just to compare us with somewhere else.'

  She gave a little shiver. It made her look vulnerable and just about pierced my heart. ‘I hope they catch him soon,’ she said.

  ‘Echo that.’

  I waited, not sure if she wanted to tell me something. But when she spoke it was to say, ‘Can you send someone to fetch us in ten minutes? Jack’s just on the phone.’

  I nodded. The guest DJ usually takes the half-hour slot after midnight. It was now quarter past. ‘What’s he like?’ I said.

  She thought about it. ‘Not too bad, if a bit flash. Fancies himself too much, but then they all do. Too much money of course. And he’s young.' She gave a wry smile. 'About ten, I’d say.’

  I smiled back but tried n
ot to laugh in case she thought I was simply humouring her. Vicki doesn’t often talk about her VIPs, but when she does it’s usually something that tickles the hell out of me. But she was right about him looking young. Because I was late I’d missed him arriving, but I’d seen his picture on the posters. If he'd turned up unannounced and without ID, he wouldn't get in. I remembered to ask about Agnes. She pulled a face and pointed behind me. I turned to see a small knot of people in a circle, clapping and waving their arms. Agnes was in the middle, doing her thing. I turned back to Vicki. ‘I thought you were sending her home?’

  ‘I tried to, but she started to get upset and said she hadn’t finished dancing. I couldn’t force her so I had to let her stay.’

  ‘Fair enough. She’s an adult.’

  ‘I know but I don’t like her still being here after what happened. Have you spoken with Frank about what was going on upstairs?’

  ‘Yes, but it might help if you said something to him as well. All I get is pound signs in his eyes.’

  ‘I will.’ She turned to go back to her guest. ‘See you later.’

  As I watched her sashaying her way back to the Green Room, I found myself wondering if she’d ever done any modelling. Then, snapping myself out of it I headed off on my rounds.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Man Who Likes To Watch is doing just that. He is not concerned that others may see him watching, after all, he is hardly alone. Hiding in plain sight, as they call it. He is pleased to see that the girl to whom he has been giving most of his attention recently seems to have lost none of her artistry. As good as ever, he thinks, if not better. It is clear now that she is special, unique in fact. It is that uniqueness that appeals to him. Just for a moment, he allows himself the luxury of imagining the pleasure she will bring him, but then returns, swiftly, to the present. It would not do to lose himself too much. Whilst people may understand him being distracted, it would be foolish to draw attention to himself. Right now he exists, 'below the radar' as far as the police are concerned. At least, that is what the evidence of the last half-hour would suggest.