Hard Girls (29 page)

Pouring herself a large glass of wine, Kate meandered upstairs and settled herself into bed. But, as usual, she had trouble relaxing, and knew that she wouldn’t sleep. Not properly, anyway. She seemed to spend her nights napping and waking at regular intervals. She missed Patrick’s snoring, his weight on the other side of the bed but, most of all, she missed the warmth of knowing there was someone beside you.

In the restless early hours of the morning, her mind was filled with pictures of Pat and Eve together. Not just sexually, those images hurt enough, but them sitting and talking, eating together in the big kitchen she had helped to plan, taking a shower together. It was the mundane, everyday things that really hurt her, because she missed them so much. She missed
him
so much. Pat had taken the chance to get rid of her, he had even had her belongings packed up and sent to her former home. He had wanted shot of her, and she had never even
suspected
a thing. Some kind of detective she turned out to be.

Still, it was easier to think about Patrick’s treachery than to keep seeing those dead girls in her head. But she did see them, every minute of the day. What was the connection between them all? Who was the person responsible? Did they choose the girls at random, or did they stalk them first? If it was random, they had next to no chance of finding him until he made a mistake and she didn’t see that happening at any time in the near future. If he was stalking them, it stood to reason that someone, somewhere had to have noticed him, even if it was only for a split second. She determined to do yet another round of all the people connected to the murders. It was strange, but sometimes what you asked provided answers to questions that you had not even thought about asking. It sounded crazy, but it had worked for her before, and she was prepared to do it again. Life could be really shit at times. Kate gulped at the wine and resigned herself to another restless night.

Margaret Dole was going through the computer evidence once more. She had names and dates, which all pertained to the girls who had died. She kept staring at the screen, trying to find some kind of common denominator. That was how she had sussed out Lionel Dart, the filthy animal, but she couldn’t see anything this time. There was nothing that could tie the girls together.

Margaret felt that she was missing something, and the feeling was so strong that she wondered if she was making it up. She was determined to prove herself, not only to Annie but to Kate too. She wanted to prove that she could be a vital member of the team. That was very important to her, especially after she had mugged herself off with Annie. She should have realised that loyalty was all they had, when everything was said and done. She should have realised that this wasn’t a girlie night out, a meeting of friends, that these were her work colleagues, people she had to see on a daily basis for a long time. It was much better if they all got along and kept the back-biting to a minimum.

Margaret was still staring at the screen and her vision was beginning to blur, so she closed her eyes for a few moments to rest them. When she opened them she once more began scrolling through the different girls’ appointments. She was convinced that if she looked hard enough she would find some kind of link.

Later, she poured herself another black coffee. She liked the station late at night, she worked better in the quiet. As she strolled back to her desk, she decided to pull all the dead girls’ police files again.

Whoever this was didn’t necessarily need to have known them as brasses, he might have known them all from school, a workplace, he might even have seen them in a shopping centre. Margaret knew, in her heart of hearts, that whoever this man was, he had picked on these specific girls for a reason though. She didn’t know why she thought that, she just knew it was how she felt inside. As Kate said, work with your instinct, and all her instincts were telling her she was right.

Margaret rubbed her eyes and, after finishing the coffee, she started collating the details of the girls’ lives together as best she could.

It was nine-fifteen in the morning and Kate was amazed Miriam was back at work already. The lump on her head had gone down significantly, but Kate was aware that close up, Miriam still had the dead eyes of a head-trauma victim.

‘Are you sure you’re well enough to be back here, Miriam?’ black and white. ft accepty

Miriam nodded her head quickly. ‘I thought it best to get back to normal. As I always tell my clients, the best thing to do after a crisis is to get back to their routine as soon as possible. That way they won’t have allowed the person responsible for their trauma to win. The sooner they start living their lives again, the better.’

Kate smiled. She certainly couldn’t argue with that. ‘By the way, did young Jemimah get off all right?’

Miriam nodded happily, her ruddy face almost beaming. ‘She left me a text message last night, bless her. I hope she finds peace wherever she lands up. God is good you know, Kate. These days He just has a hard job getting the word out there!’

Kate smiled once more, unsure how to answer the woman.

‘I’d like to take this opportunity, Kate, to thank you for your concern, it meant a great deal to me, much more than you could imagine.’

Kate was embarrassed at the woman’s openness. ‘Well, Miriam, you’re a part of this team, and we respect what you do. You are invaluable, really. Thanks to you, we can get on with our jobs without having to hold the hands of the relatives. It’s very important what you do, and I think we don’t appreciate you enough at times.’

Miriam swelled with pride at Kate’s words.

‘Well, it’s always nice to be appreciated, and it’s wonderful to know I have a good friend in you. I thought maybe we could have a spot of lunch next week, you know, catch up.’

Kate heard the words but did not really believe she had said them. She floundered, unable to think what to say to her.

‘Or a coffee, a quick coffee? I understand how busy you are. It’s just so we can get to know each other better. I think you were right, Kate, I need to get out more. Make another life for myself.’

Kate nodded her assent as her heart sank. Miriam grabbed her hand in hers and said girlishly, ‘Poor James, I hope he’s OK.’

‘He’ll be fine and, though it didn’t work out, we can’t tell you how grateful we are for your help. It was wonderful the way you got Jemimah to open up to us.’

Miriam was almost preening with the praise and Kate thought to herself how little it took to make people feel good about themselves.

‘Well, Alec and I, we counselled a lot of the young street women over the years. The secret is gaining their trust. Like anyone, once you have that, the rest is easy. These girls are often brought up not to trust anyone, not to get too close. I think me and my Alec made them aware that they were worth something to someone. We were aware of how they felt, always having been classed as odd-bods ourselves, and we both understood how hard it is when people look down on you for no real reason.’

Kate felt awful once more at her words, because she knew they were true. ‘Well, Miriam, I think what you did was wonderful. You tried to help us and we appreciate that more than you can imagine.’

Miriam shrugged then, and finally let go of her hand. ‘I’d better be off, and I’ll look forward to that coffee.’

Kate watched her as she walked away. That, she decided, was surreal. It was as if, overnight, she had just gained a new best friend, only it was to the point of emaciationev for far too long.lt dn’t a cuddly little puppy, but a full-grown Rottweiler. She wondered at a loneliness so great that a tiny hand of kindness could make so much difference. She’d have to go for coffee with Miriam, after all, that’s what the canteen was for.

Still, as Kate walked back to her office she felt immense dread wash over her. She had a terrible feeling that she was stuck with Miriam for life now. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. She knew it was awful to dislike someone for no reason, but the truth was, she
did
dislike her, and she didn’t really know why.

As she entered her office she saw Annie and Margaret deep in conversation, behind them were the white boards with all the relevant information regarding the dead girls. The pictures of them smiling, alive and happy, next to the photos of their corpses was as incongruous as it was tragic. At least Miriam had tried to help them, she had to give her that much.

Patrick was contemplating his removal of the businesses that Kate had had such a problem with. He knew he needed to get her back, and he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it, but reckoned this would be a good start.

She refused to even talk to him, so the phone was out. He wouldn’t show himself up by arriving at the station house, she was capable of fucking him off in broad daylight, and he couldn’t go to her house because Annie Carr was lodging there. So he had to think carefully about how to proceed.

The phone on his desk rang and he picked it up.

‘Oh my God! Why the fuck are you telling me?’

He slammed down the phone and felt the panic rising within him. Kate would have his balls for this latest fiasco. Picking up the phone again he dialled the number for Grantley Police Station. It was the only thing he could think of to do.

Kate and Annie arrived at Number Twelve Rossiter Crescent at eleven twenty-five. Kate saw the neighbours outside their houses, all rubber-necking and wondering what was up. The forensic team were already cordoning off the premises and setting up a perimeter. She knew it would be only minutes before the press and camera crews arrived.

Back at the station, Lionel Dart had done as she asked and moved them too far away for there to be any point in their hanging around. Only the newspaper journos with their telephoto lenses had remained, and even they looked decidedly dejected by the lack of photo opportunities.

As Kate walked inside the house she heard the first squeal of tyres that denoted the arrival of the press hounds.

Inside the house Kate was amazed at how luxurious it was. It was a big, detached place, and it looked like something from a magazine with all its over-stuffed furniture and fine art prints. She guessed that this was the higher end of the brothel market. The kitchen was state-of-the-art, and the only items in the huge, American-style fridge were champagne and vodka. She sighed heavily, the smell of caustic soda was making her eyes water.

She looked into the enormous, double-sized butler sinks and saw that one of them contained a skimpy La Perla bra and knickers set. They were hardly recognisable as they had been drenched in bleach and caustic soda, but the label was still just about readable, and she wondered at how much these girls were earning if they wore something that expensive to work.

Annie came down from upstairs and Kate turned to face her.

‘Same MO. Paralysed, tortured and burned and then left on display. Only, this time he’s changed his routine - she was suffocated with a plastic bag. He placed it over her head and, my guess is, he watched her suffocate. The torture this time was mainly on her genitalia though, for some reason, he cut off all her hair. Lovely hair too, long, naturally blond, thick and with a slight curl. If he hadn’t scattered it around the room I might have been tempted to make meself a wig from it.’

Kate smiled. Annie was at last learning to distance herself from the dead girl with lame jokes. It seemed terrible to outsiders, but black humour helped put things in perspective for the people whose job it was to come and catalogue the lives of the deceased.

‘It’s a big place, I wonder why she was here alone?’

Annie held her arms out in a gesture of complete bewilderment. ‘I think she lived here. And maybe yesterday was the cleaner’s day off, which is why she wasn’t found till today.’

Kate turned and walked from the kitchen. ‘Come up and walk me through the crime scene, give me your first impressions.’

Annie followed.

Margaret Dole was proving herself a valuable asset, and both Annie and Kate were pleased with her. She was adding the dead girl’s information to that of the other victims, trying to establish a common connection.

‘Her name is, was, Valerie Kent and she also went under the name of Candy Cane. I would guess that explains the spanking equipment we found at the house. She lived there, on campus so to speak, and she was the sole occupant of the house when it was not in use. The last men she entertained paid by credit card, and they have viable alibis, nothing unusual there. Same as before. She was in and out of the care system, like most of the others, and she has a mother and two younger sisters who live in Liverpool. The mother remarried and left Valerie here in Grantley when she was eighteen. Mrs Dowse, as she now calls herself, is willing to claim the body. Other than that, we don’t know jack-shit. No forensics, no nothing, basically.’

‘You found anything yet? Anything to tie any of them together?’ Annie asked.

Margaret shook her head. ‘Not a thing, but I have a few ideas of my own I’d like to work on.’

Kate nodded. She was pleased that Margaret was willing to try other angles. Sometimes that was the only way to get a different perspective on a case.

‘Good, you do that, and me and Kate will go back over the witness statements. Not that there’s much to go on.’

Kate stood up. ‘I’m going to talk to the neighbours again, see what they have to say a few hours after the initial shock has worn off. Do you want to come with me, Annie?’

Annie got up quickly, too quickly, Margaret thought. She was a bit like one of Pavlov’s dogs, desperate to please her lord and master. She was sensible enough to keep that thought to herself, however. She had already rocked the boat once, she wasn’t about to do anything that stupid again.

‘I’ll carry on with this, there has to be something, anything that these girls had in common.’