A silver Vauxhall Omega, probably a company car, passed along the street. The type driven by many a middle manager. The tracksuit girl sidled up to the Vauxhall’s open window and leaned down, talking to the driver. Ten seconds later she rounded the car and got into the front passenger seat.
“It’s a bloody dirty game all round, don’t you think?” said Eva.
“It’s the worst. These girls don’t know they’re selling their soul every night of the week. And the reason they don’t know it is because they don’t want to face it. The drugs come first and last. It’s all they focus on. Nothing else matters.”
“And the guy in the Vauxhall has a wife and two point four children who think Daddy is the greatest guy in the world.”
“Or maybe he’s a jerk around the clock. Personally, my money’s on around the clock.” Dan’s voice got excited. “Hang on. There he is. John Balfour, come back to his favourite stomping ground.”
John Balfour was on foot in a big black bomber jacket and a red baseball hat, presumably to disguise his face. It didn’t work. His lumpy head and long-broken nose looked as distinctive as ever. The Alfa was parked two hundred yards from where Balfour turned the corner onto the street. He walked with his hands in his pockets, all business like. Like he wasn’t here to bag a hooker, he was just some guy walking through a bad neighbourhood. But his eyes said otherwise. His eyes were roving, targeting his prey like terminator, selecting his chosen girl from those parading their wares.
He walked past the big two in leather miniskirts. They cooed and wooed him, but Balfour ignored them completely. Not his style.
Eva started the engine when he’d walked a way beyond them and started to follow.
“He’ll go for that one, don’t you think?” said Eva, nodding at a girl with a brown bob cut. She looked slender and petite and seemed to be skipping along like a school girl, though she was dressed like anything but.
“Any pervert would,” said Dan.
The girl was dressed in puffer jacket and a leopard print miniskirt, classic fishnet stockings were in evidence too. Of the girls on this street, this one had made the most effort.
“She’s new to this, don’t you think?” said Eva
“Not that new, or she wouldn’t be alone. Maybe she just charges more.”
Balfour got within a short distance of the girl with the brown bob cut as if he was going to walk past and then changed direction at the last minute. He cut a diagonal straight across the pavement toward her.
“How did you know, Eva?” said Dan.
She stopped the Alfa and they watched from a distance, but close enough to make out most of the visuals on Balfour and the girl. “I looked up the Rhiannon Calderwood case. It was exactly like he described. The bastard did nearly take her head off. Rhiannon Calderwood was a small woman in her early twenties. She had short brown hair and the photograph in the Record showed her wearing a short skirt. That girl doesn’t realise she’s almost a carbon copy of a murdered prostitute.”
“But that bastard does. Now I’m worried.”
The girl laughed at something Balfour said and then she pointed down the street. Balfour gave her his arm and they walked like a couple. Now he had picked up his pace. He wanted to be off the street and having chosen one he fancied, it seemed his urges were taking control. The couple took a right turn away from the street where most of the girls walked. Eva followed in the Alfa, keeping the speed low and the car unobtrusive. When they turned the corner, the girl was leading, opening the front gate of a pebble dashed council house, and she led Balfour towards the front door.
“Can we risk letting him do this? If this girl looks like Rhiannon Calderwood, he could do it again,” said Dan, shifting in his seat and sounding edgy.
“What are you going to do? If you stop him before he does anything we have nothing on him and no proof of a crime. We just saw him proposition her and now he’s going with her to pay for sex. If we have that on him, he may cooperate with us.”
“Bullshit. That man is a thoroughbred con. There’s no way he’ll cooperate with us. To him we’re lower than the police.”
“Well, we’re sticking with the plan. We agreed this was the plan, remember.”
“I think the plan needs to be changed.”
“No, Dan. Not yet,” said Eva, with finality. The front door closed. Eva looked at the clock on her dashboard. It was eight-thirteen. “Now we wait.”
“I just hope we don’t sit around in a car while he takes another girl’s head off.”
Eva was hoping exactly the same thing.
At Eight-fifty eight, the door opened and Balfour emerged, a smile quickly wiped from his face as he restored himself to street mode. The girl appeared behind him and shut the door on her way out. Eva sank into the driving seat. The feeling of relief between the both of them was almost tangible.
“The girl’s not even taking a break.” said Eva.
“No. A pimp will be taking a cut of whatever she earns. And then there’s the size of her habit. When they’re young like this one, maybe there’s even enough money left for lifestyle treats like new clothes. Poor Laura was so far gone it only went on her habit. But she wanted out. She never stopped wanting out of the life. What now?”
“I want to speak with the girl. We need to know more about him.”
Dan nodded. “It’ll cost you.”
“That’s to be expected,” said Eva.
Balfour and the brunette passed the Alfa Romeo without paying the least bit of attention. Balfour had already said his goodbyes, leaving the girl behind as he set off in the direction he came from. He was walking at a pace.
“He looks like he’s going home,” said Dan. “We can catch him there later.”
“Now it’s my turn.” Eva stood up out of the car as soon as Balfour was out of view.
“Excuse me. What’s your name?”
The girl turned to Eva, the girl’s eyes seeing Eva, the car, and the man in the passenger seat who gave a little wave.
“Who wants to know?” said the girl, folding her arms over her chest. She was chewing gum, and she shifted so her hips were angled arrogantly. Eva knew it was bluster, every single bit of it.
“Me and my friend.”
The girl looked at the car again, and her eyes changed. Her face became a knowing smile.
“It’ll cost you, sweetheart,” said the girl.
Sweetheart. A girl ten years her junior calling her sweetheart was very off-putting. “I know. Ten minutes tops is all I need.”
“Quick movers, eh? Ten minutes or half hour, it all costs the same,” said the girl.
“Fine. Whatever. Please get in the car and we can talk.”
The girl hesitated some more, then eventually nodded. Eva got back into the car and the girl climbed into the back seat. As the girl sat down, Dan turned around. Eva turned and watched the girl arrange herself into something like a provocative posture, short skirt riding high, all the flesh of her legs exposed.
“Like what you see?” she said, as they both looked at her. “So who’s first?”
“It’s not like that,” said Eva.
The girl’s face became serious. She appraised them again. “Then what’s it bloody like then?”
“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll pay you. We just want to ask you some questions first,” said Dan.
“What are you? Pigs?” said the girl. The word sounded like a swear word on her tongue.
“No. We’re private detectives. Hired guns. What you tell us doesn’t go anywhere near the police, believe me,” said Dan.
“We want to know about the man you were just with.”
“Eddie? The one with the squashed nose and the baseball cap.”
Dan and Eva exchanged a glance. “Yeah, him.”
“Are there going to be consequences? I mean, I don’t want him to know I’ve spoken to anyone,” said the girl.
“No. We’re big on confidentiality. Eddie will never know.”
“Fine. Forty quid, as its t
wo of you,” said the girl.
“But we’re not going to touch you! Forty quid? That’s steep round here,” said Dan.
“Two punters. Two lots of dough. Those are the rules.”
Dan sighed and forked out two twenty pound notes. The girl took the notes and grinned. “You can come back. If you like.”
Dan gave a single shake of his head. “Eddie. What was he like? How did he treat you?”
“He was fine. He’s one of the easier punters. Straightforward really. He always wants the works, but he likes foreplay with it. He likes to be kissed on his face and body. That’s the kind of detail you want, right?”
Eva nodded. “Pretty much. Anything that could give us insight into his character.”
“I kiss his chest and his stomach, then he likes me to… you know, kiss him down there until he’s ready for the main course.”
“The main course. I take it he likes his main course the standard way,” said Dan.
“With slight variations, but yes, he’s pretty standard,” said the girl.
“What does he do? What does he talk about?”
“While we’re at it?” The girl shrugged. He holds me and talks trash, like they all do. He likes me talking trash back at him, except not too much. You have to know where the line is with Eddie. If you don’t know where the line is he gets angry real quick.”
“Where is the line…?” Eva struggled, realising she hadn’t got the girl’s name. The girl saw the problem.
“Angie. You can call me Angie,” said the girl.
“Where’s the line, Angie?” said Eva.
“He likes me to swear when he’s on top of me. He likes me to call him all kinds of names when he’s busy. If I get too enthusiastic though, if I swear at him too hard he starts shouting at me and he goes red in the face and the veins on his forehead stick out…”
“That doesn’t sound too standard to me, Angie,” said Eva.
The girl smirked, and Eva knew Angie was mocking her innocence.
“He’s about as standard as it gets, sweetheart. The world out here opens your eyes. You learn things out here, let me tell you.”
“I bet,” said Eva. “Has he ever hurt you?”
“Eddie? Never. He is kinder than most. Before he finishes, he likes to stroke my hair. He likes to have his hands all over my head and strokes my neck and under my chin. First of all, I didn’t like it. But it’s kind of cute in a way.”
Dan looked at Eva, his brow dropping low and severe over his eyes. “Yeah. Cute as can be. Do me a favour Angie. Do yourself a big favour. Try to stay away from Eddie. He’s bad news.”
The girl flounced back in the car. “Yeah? Well thanks for the advice, but Eddie’s easy money, so thanks but no thanks. Have you finished asking questions?”
Dan looked at Eva. Eva nodded.
“I like your car. You’ve paid me forty quid for five minutes so far. You sure neither of you are going to join me back here on this comfy leather seat?”
“Treat yourself to a break, Angie. Have a safe night.”
The girl rolled her eyes like a teenager and opened the door back onto the cold street. “You can’t say I didn’t offer.”
When Angie had shut the door Dan said “No, we definitely can’t accuse you of that. You heard what she said, about Eddie losing it when she swears at him? And fondling her head and her throat? This guy is still deeply sick. He’s fantasising about the Rhiannon Calderwood murder when he’s having sex with this girl.”
“It sounds possible… but he could just be getting his rocks off and thinking about nothing at all.”
“I don’t believe that, and neither do you, Eva.” Dan looked out of the windscreen as Angie walked away down the long street. There were more girls than ever walking along now. As the night drew on, Eva wondered just how many more would come out to ply their trade.
“I want to see John Balfour, Eva. I want to talk to him tonight.”
Dan was a smouldering stack, a fire ready to burn high and wild. Eva saw the wildness on him, but her current strategy was to support him, not deny him. Eva nodded. “Then let’s go and do that. But please, Dan, let’s not kill him.”
“Kill him? I wasn’t going to do that. Well, maybe just a little.”
Eva frowned until she saw Dan’s smile. The Alfa pulled away, the engine growling as they accelerated away from the red light district.
St Mary’s Walk was a dead end road not far from the vast pale grey stone church in Prittlewell. Historically, Prittlewell was a small conurbation which gave birth to the town of Southend, which back then meant the South end of Prittlewell. These days Prittlewell was just the north part of the South end. It was a built up residential area of terraced housing caught between a set of busy roads. St Mary’s Walk comprised some nice houses which were well tended by their residents with neat gardens and clean render, and some less well tended properties. 15c St Mary’s Walk was part of a slum landlord house from the look of it. A standard terraced house divided into so many multiple occupancy units that could have been barely bigger than rabbit hutches inside. They parked the Alfa well away from 15c and looked out for Balfour in the rear-view mirror. It was ten minutes before they saw him appear at the end of the street, his cap pulled low over his eyes, a carrier bag with a bottle in it swinging gaily from his arm. He stopped before 15c and his hand disappeared into his coat pocket to rummage for his door key. Eva and Dan stood as one from the car, slammed the doors and approached quickly.
“John Balfour.”
The police-like mention of his name froze him. He squinted at them until they entered a pool of light from a street lamp and then he grunted in disgust. “You two? I thought it was proper cops, not let’s-pretenders.”
“Don’t be like that. We’ve come to unbreak your nose. I’m no surgeon, John, but I reckon I could make it look a hell of a lot better than it looks now. What do you say?”
“I say fu…”
“Now, now,” said Eva. “There are ladies present. You know what ladies are, don’t you John? After all, you’ve just paid for one.”
“What? That’s a fabrication.”
“No, it’s not John, so stop lying,” said Eva.
“I don’t have to tell you anything. I served my time, and I’m doing the programme like I’m supposed to. I’m on my way to becoming a fully integrated citizen and a contributing member of the community.”
“Save it for probation, John. I know the truth. Come on, we’re going for a walk,” Dan swept up beside the man and grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Balfour struggled for a moment and groaned, then gave up. Dan pushed him back down St Mary’s Walk. Up ahead was the great big grey church from which the road had taken its name.
“You like churchyards, don’t you John. Let’s take a look at this one.”
Stonewalling them, John Balfour was doing a fine impersonation of the vast grey church looming behind them. In the shadows, Eva was part spooked and part concerned with Dan’s increasing impatience. Dan shoved Balfour to the floor. The man was on his knees but unbowed.
“You can’t touch me, not really. You think you can hurt me, but you can’t.”
“Really? What are you? Casper the friendly ghost? I’m going to test that theory in a minute. I’ll ask again. Did you kill Laura Gosling?”
“I told you before. And the time before that. This is getting boring. I didn’t kill her.”
“You’re lying.”
“No. I’m not. I told you, every slag gets what she deserves in the end, one way or another. But I didn’t top that one and you can’t pin it on me.”
Dan roared and smashed a blow down through the man’s face. Balfour fell into a sprawl back over a broken gravestone.
“Dan, you can’t do this…” said Eva, putting a restraining hand on Dan’s shoulder.
“Listen to your woman. You can’t do this to me. And it won’t get you anywhere, neither.” The man pushed up onto his haunches and wiped his mouth.
“I got beat
en worse inside, mate. By people a lot harder than you, so dream on.”
“Maybe. But I’m willing to put the effort in, just for you,” said Dan.
“No, Dan!”
Dan drew back his fist and aimed again.
“Wait,” said Balfour. Dan held back and slowly dropped his arm to his side.
“I’m not taking a beating I don’t deserve,” said Balfour.
“Don’t deserve? That’s a strange theory, John.”
“Whatever. Listen to me and get this through your dense skull. I Did Not Kill Laura Gosling. I didn’t do it. Do you get me? I’m innocent of this one. Totally innocent. I never even met the woman. But I heard about her. She wasn’t even my type, for God’s sake.”
“I didn’t know you were picky, Balfour,” said Eva.
“Of course I’m picky. This Laura was blonde, right?”
“Right,” said Dan, quietly.
“I don’t do blondes, do you get me? Ask around. Ask my probation officer. They’ll tell you. It’s true.”
Dan and Eva looked at one another. It sounded plausible. “We’ll check that,” said Eva.
“Good. I’m serious. It’s not me…” Balfour’s voice changed… he became hesitant and quieter. “Maybe I know the kind of man who could do something like this these days…”
The Dirty Game Page 5
