Hard Girls (14 page)

He had walked away from his family without even a whisper. He’d gone from their lives like a ghost, not a word, not a hint, nothing. He had not even attempted to see her all right money-wise, and he had made it clear that he did not want to see his girls. They missed him, they still cried for him on occasion. He had always told them they were his life, had always made a big fuss of them. Then, suddenly, he had gone. Just left them all, and they were still reeling from it. She had waited patiently for him to return until her mother informed her of his new baby girl and his marriage to Regina, and she finally accepted that she was well and truly alone. Regina would go through the same thing one day, when the flush of youth left her, and the daily grind became too much for him. When the lure of another young girl possessed him.

Geraldine had been introduced to the life by her friend Alana; she had needed to pay the bills. Gas, electric, food, clothes and, on top of all that, she was trying to redecorate. Add to that the girls’ dancing lessons and private tuition, and she was finding it hard. But she was determined to make a home for the girls and for herself and make sure they wanted for nothing. She saw this job as her only way to do this.

So as Geraldine opened the front door of her friend’ good enoughc scrapyardys house, she tried to calm the erratic beating of her heart. It was always the same, she felt overwhelmed by what she was expected to do, but at the same time she needed the money she earned.

‘Hi, it’s only me.’

Alana usually called out a response. But today the whole place was quiet.

Too quiet.

She made herself a coffee and leaned against the kitchen cabinets as she sipped it. It was too quiet, it felt wrong. She could smell bleach, it was overpowering.

‘Are you in, Alana?’

Geraldine then knew there was something amiss, there was always noise of some description. Music playing, or the muffled sound of a blue film. Sometimes she even heard the strangled cries of the actual punter as he heaved away for his money’s worth. Today though, there was nothing, and she was getting more and more nervous by the second. It was too bloody quiet, it felt wrong and smelled wrong.

She walked quietly to the bedroom door and tapping on it gently, she called out, ‘Are you in there, Alana? It’s me, Geraldine.’

There was nothing, not a sound, no movement, nothing. Opening the door a fraction, Geraldine peered inside and what she saw made her blood run cold. Closing the door, she walked back to the small kitchen and, after throwing up her recent meal into the kitchen sink, she wiped her sweating face with a dish towel. Then, almost as an afterthought, she went to the front door and locked it.

After she had called the police and an ambulance, she sat by the front door and hugged her knees to her chest until they arrived. Once they were inside, she allowed her feelings to get the better of her. Geraldine was still crying hysterically when the nice doctor gave her an injection that brought on perfect oblivion. She had never thought she would see anything so terrible, so heartbreaking in her lifetime. She knew that what she had glimpsed for those few seconds would stay with her for the rest of her life. She also realised that this new job of hers was well and truly over. She had thought she could cope, but she was wrong. Very wrong.

Patrick was nervous, and that was something he had not felt in years. Nothing had happened between Eve and him yet. But he was sure it would. And soon. Danny was her brother and as Patrick waited for him to arrive, he wondered at what he would make of the situation. As he heard his car pull up in the drive, Patrick walked through the entrance hall to the front door and opened it before Danny had even parked up. As Danny walked towards him, Patrick searched his face, but he was smiling as always.

‘Bloody hell, Pat, you’re a bit lively today.’

Danny followed Pat through to the office, and as they settled into their usual routine, which consisted of a large brandy and a few minutes of small talk, Danny said sadly, ‘Have you heard, Pat? Another girl’s been found.’

Patrick was in the process of pouring the drinks, and the news threw him. He had not heard anything. ‘One of our flats again?’

‘Nah, nothing to do with us. I wondered if you might have heard anything from Kate?’

Patrick shrugged and handed Danny his drink.

‘I haven’t spoken to her for weeks, and she’s got no reason to keep me in the loop.’

Danny watched Pat closely. He was still a handsome fucker, even Danny could see that their nearest and dearest to her, but she alsoymuch. He might be getting on now, but he still had the dark Irish patrician look that women seemed to go for. He still had that air of menace, that extra something that made him seem invincible. And a cool and calm exterior that belied the real man inside. Patrick Kelly was still a big player in their world, and he played the game close to his chest. It was what had kept him out of nick for so long and kept him in the forefront of everyone’s minds.

‘Do you think it’s someone who works for us, Pat? Someone in the know about the girls?’

Patrick had wondered the same thing himself. Though the girls worked out of different places, for different people, they all worked to pretty much the same routines. Whoever this was, they knew the life well, and they knew how to get themselves inside the flats without alarming the Toms. Most of these girls could smell trouble at fifty paces. It was how they survived. So whoever this was, he knew how to allay their fears, knew how to respond to them without arousing suspicion.

Patrick shook his head in denial. ‘I know where you’re coming from, but I can’t believe it’s anyone in the game. It doesn’t make sense, does it? Why would they shit on their own doorstep for a start? They would cast their net wider, away from anything that could be traced back to them.’

Danny Boy saw the logic of that but he was still unconvinced. ‘But if it’s a nutter, and this has to be a nutter, don’t it? I mean, we ain’t talking a fucking hundred per cent with it, are we? So this nutter might not have the nous to take it outside of his world.’

Patrick laughed. ‘I lived with Kate a long time and she will tell you that whoever this is, he’s a crafty fucker, and he probably makes Stephen Hawking look like a fucking dimlo. Not that anyone around him will suss that, of course. He will be a mild-mannered and quiet bloke, the last person anyone would think capable of such crimes.’

Danny grinned. ‘Fuck me, Pat, you sound like Gil Grissom.’

They both laughed. Then Patrick said seriously, ‘I had a daughter murdered, remember, and, believe me, Danny, the bloke who did that was a seriously sad fuck. George Markham. I see his face every night before I go to sleep, and every morning when I wake up. He was shrewd, he was clever, and he enjoyed every last second of his little hobby. My Mandy was young, beautiful, and all I had or cared about in the world. Whoever this bloke is, he has been working up to this for a long time, and he is madder than the maddest person who was ever mad, but he ain’t fucking stupid. It seems that he ain’t put a foot wrong yet, and that tells me he is taking all this very seriously.’

Danny didn’t know what to say. It was the first time Patrick had ever talked about Mandy’s murder, and he could see that it was still raw even after all these years. But then, how did you get over something like that?

‘You’re right, Pat. I think that’s where we all go wrong; we assume because they’re mad, they must stand out somehow. We expect them to look what they are, a bloody nut-bag. When, in reality, it’s their normality that shields them from us.’

‘Well, whoever this is, he’s clever enough to make sure no one suspects him, and that alone speaks volumes. I know from Kate that people usually come out of the woodwork at times like this, accusing neighbours, friends, even family. But that doesn’t seem to have happened this time.’

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ft { display: block; font-size: 0.75r b d knew Pat was speaking sense. ‘Have you spoken to Kate at all, Pat?’

‘Nope. And to be honest, Danny, I don’t want to. She made it quite clear how she felt, and I respect that. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?’

Danny knew when to leave well alone, so he deftly changed the subject. Patrick was miles away though, talking about Mandy always did that to him. It made him remember things that were best left forgotten.

‘Look, Geraldine. We can see that you are overwhelmed with what’s happened, but we really need to ask you a few questions, love.’

Geraldine was terrified, and Kate watched as Annie tried to keep her temper in check. She had to learn that wanting to know wasn’t enough, you had to find things out gradually when these kinds of situations arose. Kate knew that Geraldine needed gentle prompting, she needed to feel she was not to blame in any way.

‘Do you have any idea who her last punter was?’

Geraldine shook her head in denial. Kate knew the symptoms well, she was still in shock. She was also frightened in case whoever was responsible knew her, knew who she was. That they would come after her.

‘If you do know who he was, if he was a regular, or someone you’d seen before, you can rest assured that we will not ask you to stand up in a court of law and accuse him. All we want is a name or a description. That’s it.’

Geraldine looked away from them and stared out of the hospital window. Her nerves were shot and her body rigid with fear.

‘I didn’t see anyone, I swear. If I did, I would say, I would tell you. Alana was expecting me, she worked the late night, and I was supposed to take over from her. I got in early and thought she was still at it.’

Kate grasped her hand, and said quietly, ‘You must have seen something, somebody as you went into the building.’

Geraldine shook her head once more. Kate could see she really wanted to help them now, knew she was racking her brains trying to find something she could tell them so they would leave her alone.

‘Well, it was so early, no one was about. I think there was a lady who passed me as I walked to the flat. I park the car a few streets away to make sure no one can put me near the place, so I can’t be certain which road it was on. Other than that, the streets were deserted. It was still dark. Please let me go home to my kids. If I knew anything at all I swear I would tell you . . . My mum and my friends think I work nights in a nursing home . . . I can’t tell them the truth, can I? No one will find out, will they? You won’t tell anyone?’ Geraldine was on the verge of hysterics once more. The fear of people finding out about her, coupled with the death of her friend, was really taking its toll.

‘Who was the woman you saw? Could she have seen anything? Did she go into any of the nearby houses?’

Geraldine shook her head in abject terror. ‘I wasn’t taking any notice, I didn’t think it would be important. I mean, who really bothers to look at people?’

The girl was absolutely petrified, and Kate thought she probably didn’t have anything to say worth hearing now. She was a bloody useless idiot, a fucking no-brain, as Patrick would say. She wouldn’t notice if a madman brandishing a machete asked her the time. But she was all that stood between her and the murderer. { display: block; font-size: 0.75rem; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1em; margin-left: 8em; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } .fmepivalwhogoy

Alana Richards had been drugged, mutilated, burned, and left naked and open for whoever was unlucky enough to find her. This time, however, the cause of death was manual strangulation. As before, the whole place had been wiped over, and there was nothing untoward to be found. The girl’s phone had been taken away, but nothing else was missing. He had once again chosen his victim and his time frame so well that no one had seen anything, or heard anything. He was too clever by half.

Jennifer James opened the front door and seeing the uniform she said aggressively, ‘And what can I do for you?’

Margaret Dole smiled and said quietly, ‘Can we talk inside?’

Jennifer grinned. ‘Have you got a warrant, darling, only this is my home, and I don’t have to let you in if I don’t want to.’

‘I haven’t got a warrant, and I don’t need one. This is private business and I don’t want to talk about it out here.’

‘And what kind of business would that be?’

Jennifer was intrigued now. This girl looked interesting; she had the look of a bent Filth about her and she was still in uniform. Best time to get them, while they still thought they knew it all.

‘I looked over the evidence you gave to Kate Burrows, and I found some interesting anomalies that I would like to discuss with you.’

Jennifer opened her front door wide and, waving her arm in a grand gesture of welcome, she allowed Margaret into her home. Then, shutting the front door, she said quietly, ‘One word out of place and I’ll aim you out that door so fast you’ll burn a hole in the carpet.’

Margaret accepted the threat with good grace and followed Jennifer into the kitchen. She knew she had something that would get her what she wanted.

Kate went over everything once more and, once again, she could find nothing that was useful.

‘Are there no CCTV cameras anywhere along that road?’ Annie shook her head. ‘It’s hardly bloody footballers’ wives territory, is it?’

Kate kept her temper, she knew that Annie was as frustrated as she was about the lack of anything even remotely resembling a clue. They were both on short fuses these days.

‘I am aware of that, but people in less salubrious areas often need the comfort of CCTV more. I just wondered if anyone had come up on the database, that’s all. It’s not a bad little road, it’s quiet, the houses are set well back to afford privacy, and often it’s the privacy that makes burglars think the house might be a viable option.’

Annie wiped a hand across her face. She knew she was being unfair, but she was tired and she was hungry. She was also feeling that she and Kate were living in each other’s pockets. She had rented the house from Kate two years previously, and been glad of it. Now though, Kate was back for good, and she had gone from being an apologetic friend in need to the actual owner of the house and Annie didn’t like having become the lodger.