Nothing but Trouble (33 page)

Valerie gave a nod. ‘And the delightful Street family will be happy to oblige.’

‘Always the perfect hosts.’

‘One day we’ll catch the bastards at it.’ She frowned as she thought about the Streets. There had been a rumour a couple of
years ago that the family was finally losing its grip, that their time as a major criminal force was drawing to an end. Unfortunately,
a rumour was all it had turned out to be. Since then, Belles had been completely refurbished, redecorated inside and out,
and become more popular than ever. Quite where all the cash had come from for such a major overhaul was anyone’s guess, but
drugs, prostitution, extortion and theft probably figured somewhere on the list.

Swann slipped off his seat belt. ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath. Terry’s had a hold on this manor since before you were born.’

‘All the more reason to go after him. In fact that whole damn family needs locking up.’

‘And then what? The minute they’re gone, they’ll be replaced by some other piece of shit. Nature, as they say, abhors a vacuum.’

Valerie gave a snort. ‘So what do you suggest? We just sit back and let them get on with it?’

‘I didn’t mean that, guv. All I’m saying is that sometimes it’s better the devil you know. At least Terry doesn’t let things
get out of hand. He knows how far he can go without crossing the line.’

‘He’s always crossing the line.’ She understood what Swann meant, though. A gap in the market simply created an opportunity
for other firms to move in and try to take over. And if the crime level was bad now, it would be ten times worse with several
warring factions battling for power.

‘Shall we go?’

‘Just a minute.’ She reached up, twisted the rear-view mirror and checked her hair and face. Feeling Swann’s eyes on her,
she turned her head to look at him. ‘What?’

He smirked. ‘You thinking of applying for a job while you’re in there?’

‘Why, do you think I’m not up to it?’ As soon as she’d asked the question, she wished she hadn’t. A blush rose to her cheeks
as she remembered that Kieran Swann was in a better position than most to evaluate her assets. When he’d saved her from the
Whisperer, he’d also seen her in all her glory, naked as the day she’d been born. And that was a memory she had no desire
to dwell on. Before he could even begin to think of one of his smart-arse replies, she quickly changed the subject. Turning
the mirror back into position, she flapped a hand towards a massive black guy standing just outside the door to Belles. He
was staring hard at them whilst speaking rapidly into a walkie-talkie. ‘I think we’ve been spotted.’

‘Solomon Vale,’ Swann said. ‘He’ll be passing on the good news to Street.’

‘And giving him time to clear the place of anything incriminating.’

They got out of the car and strode over to the door. Solomon shifted back a few steps, his massive bulk effectively blocking
the entrance. Valerie looked up at him. The guy must be six foot five, maybe even taller. And solid with it. The muscles in
his upper arms strained against the fabric of his dark suit. She took her ID from her pocket and flashed it at him. ‘DI Middleton
and DS Swann. We’re here to see Chris Street.’

Solomon made a show of carefully examining her ID, even though he’d already sussed them as cops. ‘If you’d like to wait a
moment, I’ll let him know that you’re here.’

‘No point in telling him what he already knows,’ Valerie said. She moved forward until they were only inches apart, all the
time keeping her eyes locked on his. ‘So if you wouldn’t mind …’

Solomon hesitated, but not for long. Winding up the law was
a pleasure, but it wasn’t as important as business. Another black cab had pulled in, and the occupants, four middle-aged businessmen,
were already in the process of climbing out. It was never good for trade to have cops hanging around, and so with a shrug
of his huge shoulders he stood aside and waved the two of them in.

It was a while since Valerie had last been in the club, and it had certainly smartened up a lot since then. The foyer was
all gleaming chrome, potted palms and arty black-and-white photographs. But she knew it was entirely cosmetic. Underneath
the slick exterior lay the same sleazy lap-dancing joint with the same sleazy lowlife owners.

The girl on reception was a bored-looking blonde wearing a tight silver dress with a lot of cleavage on view. Her breasts,
almost ludicrously large, must have depleted the UK stocks of silicone. Valerie flashed her ID again. ‘Chris Street,’ she
said. ‘Where’s his office, please?’

The girl looked past her towards the main door they’d just come in by. Valerie turned to see Solomon Vale standing there.
He gave the receptionist a brief nod before heading back outside again.

‘Take a right, end of the corridor,’ the blonde drawled lazily.

‘Thank you.’ As Valerie turned to go, she noticed Swann’s gaze fixed firmly on the girl’s breasts. ‘If you’ve quite finished,’
she said to him.

‘I was just making sure that—’

‘Yes, I know exactly what you were making sure of.’

Swann gave another of his annoying smirks as they walked towards the rear of the foyer. Valerie took a deep breath, trying
to suppress her irritation. Even after all the years they’d worked together, she was never sure how much of Swann’s behaviour
was natural and how much was deliberately contrived to wind her up.

Straight ahead was a pair of heavy double doors, from beyond which came the sound of music, the chink of glasses and applause.
Veering to the right, Valerie pushed open the door marked
Staff Only
and stepped into the corridor. ‘Ever get the feeling you’re being watched?’ she said as she glanced up at the cameras set
high on the walls and close to the ceiling.

‘Our Mr Street doesn’t like any unhappy surprises.’

‘Clearly. He’s got more security here than we’ve got down the nick.’

‘Yeah, well, he’s probably got a lot he needs to keep secure.’

They kept going until they came to the end of the corridor and a door marked
Manager.
Valerie gave a cursory knock and walked straight in without waiting for a response. The office was light and spacious, with
royal blue walls, gold woodwork and a cream-coloured carpet with a pile so deep she could feel her heels sinking into it.
The paintings on display, all of them of naked women, were bordering on the pornographic. The room was about as tasteful as
a tart’s boudoir.

There were three desks, but only one of them was occupied, a pale wood affair curved around the left-hand corner. Behind it
sat Chris Street, dressed in a smart grey suit and staring at a computer screen. He didn’t bother getting up. He simply raised
his eyes and smiled.

‘Inspector. It’s been a while. And Sergeant Swann too. To what do I owe the pleasure?’

Valerie approached his desk and looked down on him. Street was about forty, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a pair of cheekbones
sharp enough to cut your fingers on. She supposed that some women, especially those who didn’t mind their men a little rough
around the edges, found him tolerably good-looking. ‘We’re here about Dan Livesey.’

He frowned. ‘Who?’

‘I’m sure your time, Mr Street, is as precious as mine. So let’s not waste it, huh? Dan Livesey, your employee, the man whose
wages you pay every week.’

Street pushed the keyboard away from him, placed his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. ‘Ah,
that
Dan Livesey. I believe I furnished one of your officers with the information you required yesterday.’

Valerie tilted her head to one side. ‘That was yesterday. Things have moved on since then.’

‘Yes, things have a habit of doing that, don’t you find? But I don’t see how I can be of any further assistance.’

‘I’d like a list of all his known friends and associates.’

‘Well then you’ve come to the wrong place. I hardly know the man. I may pay his wages but I don’t organise his social life.
I’m not his keeper, Inspector.’

Valerie leaned down, put her hands on the desk and lowered her voice. ‘But I’m sure, if you put your mind to it, you could
come up with some names. Like who he regularly worked with both here and at the Lincoln.’

Street’s thin lips gradually widened into a mocking smile. ‘And why should I do that?’

Valerie stood up straight again and looked over at Swann. ‘Why don’t you tell him, Sergeant.’

Kieran Swann sauntered over to the desk, folded his arms across his chest and stared down at Street. ‘Because we’re dealing
with the murder of a young woman and we have reason to believe that the suspect may still be in the area.’

Street gave a shrug. ‘I still don’t see what that has to do with me.’

‘He could be hiding out at a friend’s, or in a building he’s familiar with. A building like this one, for example. It must
have lots of nooks and crannies. A basement too, I should think. We may have to make a thorough search.’

Street’s smile slowly faded. ‘Not without a warrant,’ he snapped.

‘Oh, that can be arranged,’ Valerie said. ‘But it will mean the cops crawling all over the place. I hope it won’t inconvenience
you too much.’ She glanced at Swann. ‘How long do you think a search like that might take?’

Swann drew in an exaggerated breath and shook his head ruefully. ‘A place this size? Could take half the night, guv. And that
kind of thing – well, it tends to scare the punters off. It would be a shame if that happened to a good upright business like
this.’

Street looked from one to the other as he considered his options. His dark eyes had turned to stone. ‘Well,’ he said after
a while. ‘It would be a shame to waste the taxpayers’ money on a futile search. I can assure you that Livesey isn’t on the
premises. However, as I always like to help the local constabulary, I can maybe sort that other little matter.’

‘Ah,’ Valerie said. ‘I knew we could rely on that public-spirited nature of yours.’

Chris Street stood up and strode over to a blue-and-gold metal filing cabinet on the other side of the room. He opened the
top drawer, flicked through the files inside and drew out a sheaf of papers. Then he walked back to Valerie and held them
out. ‘This is the best I can offer. It’s a list of the rotas for the past three months, showing where Livesey was working
and who he was working with.’

‘Thank you,’ Valerie said, taking the papers. ‘It’ll do. For now.’ She gave him a nod. ‘Goodbye, Mr Street. We appreciate
your cooperation.’

Street sat back down behind his desk. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you do.’

Valerie smiled as she and Swann left the office. It was nice to win the occasional battle in what was always going to be an
ongoing war. Her good mood didn’t last for long, however. The foyer was much busier than when they’d arrived, and they had
to force their way through a crowd of rowdy male customers. The normal social niceties had apparently been left at the door,
and she was aware of eyes blatantly looking her up and down as if she was a piece of meat. If leering had been classed as
an illegal activity, she could have arrested the whole damn lot of them.

Once they were outside, she tossed the car keys to Swann. ‘You drive. I want to look through these rotas.’

‘You okay, guv?’ he asked, seeing the expression on her face.

‘Why shouldn’t I be? It’s the twenty-first century, supposedly an age of equality, and yet women are still peeling off their
clothes to give mindless overpaid wankers a lunchtime thrill.’

Swann grinned. ‘No change there, then.’

‘More’s the pity.’

They got into the car and Swann started the engine. ‘That Chris Street’s a piece of work.’

‘Like father, like son. Still, he’s an angel compared to his brother.’ Valerie was relieved that Danny hadn’t been around.
The guy made her flesh creep. Chris’s psychotic younger brother was every woman’s nightmare – cruel and vicious and predatory.
And if everything else they said about him was true … She shuddered at the thought.

‘Back to the nick?’ Swann said.

‘Back to the nick.’

As Swann drove along Shoreditch High Street, Valerie bent her head and flicked through the sheets Chris Street had reluctantly
given her. Livesey had been working the door at the Lincoln on the night that Becky Hibbert had been murdered – and the Lincoln
was right beside the Mansfield Estate. He must have gone there right after the pool hall closed for the night.

Working backwards through the rotas, she studied the list of people who had worked with Livesey over the past three
months. There was obviously a fast turnover of staff, and some employees came and went within a matter of weeks. Being employed
by the Streets probably wasn’t to everyone’s taste. There were three or four guys, however, who’d regularly done shifts with
Livesey. Only one of the names was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

‘Michael Higgs?’ she said, glancing over at Swann. ‘Mean anything to you?’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard that name somewhere.’ He thought about it for a while, his forehead creased in concentration. The seconds
ticked by, and suddenly his brow cleared. With the tips of his fingers he did a mini drum roll on the steering wheel. ‘I’ve
got it. That girl Harry told you about, the one Lister went to see yesterday. Paige something? The friend of Becky’s.’

‘Fielding,’ Valerie said. And then it came to her too. ‘Ah,
Micky
Higgs. That’s it. He’s the boyfriend, right? She flapped the sheets of paper against her right thigh. ‘Which means he’s not
likely to be offering a helping hand to Livesey, not when the guy’s a prime suspect for murdering his girlfriend’s mate.’

Swann made a grunting sound in the back of his throat. ‘Can’t rule him out, though. Depends on how pally the two of them were.
And what the girlfriend doesn’t know, the girlfriend isn’t going to grieve over.’

‘Is that the voice of experience speaking?’

‘Not me. I’m the honest, loyal type.’

In truth, Valerie hadn’t got a clue about Swann’s private life. She didn’t even know if he was in a relationship. Her own
desire for privacy prevented her from enquiring too closely into the personal lives of her workmates. She did, however, recall
the way he’d ogled the receptionist at Belles. ‘Yes, that’s you all right. Never one to lech over a woman’s cleavage without
a perfectly valid reason.’