Nothing but Trouble (49 page)

For a moment Kirsten looked like she might be prepared to put up a fight. Her eyes blazed and her hands clenched into fists
on the table. She glared back at Valerie, baring her teeth. Then her face suddenly crumpled, and tears slipped from her eyes
and slid down her cheeks. ‘It was him,’ she wailed, giving in to her fear. ‘He made me do it! It wasn’t my fault.’

Valerie and Swann exchanged a quick glance.

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Swann said, leaning across to pat Kirsten paternally on the arm. ‘It’s over now. It’s out in the open. We
know what he did. You don’t need to worry any more.’

But Kirsten could barely speak for weeping. She had her head in her hands and was racked with sobs. ‘It … it wasn’t my fault,’
she repeated. ‘He said he’d take care of me. He … he said that if I did as I was told, you wouldn’t send me to jail.’

It took ten minutes and two glasses of water before she finally started to calm down. Valerie asked if she’d like a solicitor
now, but she refused. ‘No, no, I don’t want anyone else here.’

When Kirsten had recovered some of her composure, Swann said, ‘Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Why don’t you tell
us in your own words what actually happened.’

Kirsten wiped her face with the palms of her hands. ‘I was sixteen,’ she said, her voice small and shaky. ‘That’s when he
first came to see me. He said he’d heard that the police were looking into the Minnie Bright case again, that her mum wanted
us punished for making Minnie go into the house.’ She gave another light sob and gazed at Swann pleadingly. ‘It was only a
game. We didn’t mean … we didn’t know that she …’

‘Of course you didn’t,’ Swann said in a kindly tone. He passed another tissue across the table.

Kirsten dabbed at her eyes before she continued. ‘I was scared, you see. He said we were all old enough now to go to prison,
that it could be … could be years before we got out again. He said he didn’t think it was fair. He said he wanted to help
me.’

‘And how was he planning on doing that?’ Valerie asked.

A red flush stained Kirsten’s cheeks again. ‘He said he knew people, high-up people like judges and lawyers, MPs and that
… and that if I was nice to them, if I … well, they’d make sure the case stayed closed. He said it was the only thing to do.
And he said I mustn’t tell the others, mustn’t tell
anyone
else. It had to be our secret.’

Valerie winced inwardly. How many times had she heard stories similar to this one – young girls exploited through fear or
need, used and abused by predatory men. For the first time that afternoon, she felt sympathy for Kirsten Cope. ‘Go on.’

‘He got me a flat and everything. He was nice at first, really kind. So long as I did what I was told, it was all okay.’

‘And when you didn’t?’

Kirsten gave a shudder, the response more descriptive perhaps than any words could have been.

‘How long did this go on for?’ Valerie asked softly.

‘A couple of years. Until I was eighteen.’

When she was no longer young enough or fresh enough, Valerie thought, to satisfy the perverted needs of the men who were abusing
her. ‘And then? Did he leave you alone, or …’

Kirsten gave a quick shake of her head. ‘He said I was his, that I’d always be his. He said he’d saved me from jail and so
I owed him. I was starting to get some work then, just small parts, but he reckoned I could make it big. He found me an agent
and everything. He said, if I played it smart, I could be the next Jordan.’

Valerie was aware of Swann’s gaze flicking instinctively down to Kirsten’s chest. The D-cup breasts, swollen with silicone,
jutted beneath her skimpy T-shirt. ‘And he took a share of your earnings, I presume?’

Kirsten shrugged. ‘But things got better then. I mean, he couldn’t … he couldn’t hurt me any more. Not in that way. He couldn’t
leave any bruises, see? Not if I was filming or having photos done. It was all going good,’ she said bitterly, ‘until that
reporter woman turned up.’

Valerie baulked at the girl’s definition of ‘going good’ but knew that it was unfair to make judgements. Kirsten Cope had
been controlled and manipulated from an early age. For her, the new situation must have been a hundred times better than the
old one. ‘Jessica Vaughan,’ she said.

‘That’s her. She came sniffing round but I wouldn’t talk to her. He said I mustn’t. She’d found out, you see, about what I’d
done, about how we’d escaped going to jail, and that was what she was really going to write about.’ Kirsten’s voice rose an
octave, becoming thin and whiny. ‘She was going to get the story splashed all over the Sundays. It was going to come out about
… about …’ Kirsten buried her face in the tissue, snivelling loudly.

Valerie had no time for Jessica Vaughan – she could well believe that the woman had been looking for a scandalous angle –
but she was also aware that there had never been any suggestion of the girls being prosecuted. Kirsten had been played, just
like they were playing her now. ‘Do you have any idea how she found out?’

Kirsten blew her nose and nodded. ‘He said it was Hannah Bright stirring up trouble again. That the two of them were in it
together. He said we had to stop the other girls from talking or all of us would end up in the dock. She’d have twisted our
words, see, tried to make out that we’d
forced
Minnie to go into the house. And then she’d have written about all the other stuff too, about the judges and—’

‘Okay,’ Valerie said, interrupting before Kirsten had the chance to start weeping again. ‘So you reckoned that if you could
stop the other girls from talking to Vaughan, this whole problem would just go away.’

Kirsten balled up the tissue, put it on the table and pushed it away from her. ‘I told them it would ruin my career if the
article was written, that no one would want to employ someone who’d been connected to the murder of a child. No one knows,
see, ’cause I changed my name and everything. I gave them a thousand each, but then when Becky was killed, Paige rang me up.
She guessed there was more to it, that there was other stuff I didn’t want coming out.’

‘And she wanted more to keep her mouth shut,’ Swann said.

Kirsten nodded again. ‘Five grand.’

‘But you didn’t try to pay off Sam Kendall,’ Valerie said. ‘Why not?’

‘He said he’d deal with her.’

Valerie was still waiting for Kirsten to reveal his name. She hadn’t used it, not once. Could it be Higgs? Or Livesey? And
wasn’t there a boyfriend? Some footballer, she thought, although he didn’t seem a likely candidate. Whoever was pulling Kirsten’s
strings was dark and sadistic and willing to kill. When Kirsten had first embarked on her revelations, Valerie had felt a
slightly shameful feeling of relief – at least this had nothing to do with the safety of Donald Peck’s conviction – but now
a few doubts were starting to surface.

Swann must have been thinking along the same lines, because he suddenly said, ‘Tell me about the call that Lynda Choi made
to you on the night she died.’

Kirsten screwed up her face. ‘She was drunk, not making any sense. She was rambling on about a light she’d seen. A light that
had gone on in the house on the day that Minnie was … you know.’

‘Rambling on?’

‘Saying that it couldn’t have been the Beast and it couldn’t have been Minnie and so there must have been someone else in
there. But there wasn’t. Everyone knows that sick bastard killed her. She kept going on and on like I was thick or something
and just didn’t get it.’

‘Why was she so sure that it couldn’t have been Minnie?’ Valerie asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘She didn’t explain? That seems a bit odd seeing as it was the reason she called you in the first place.’

‘I told you,’ Kirsten said. ‘She was pissed, wasn’t she? Completely trolleyed. I couldn’t understand half of what she was
saying.’ Her forehead creased up as she tried to recollect exactly what Lynda had told her. ‘Pictures. Something to do with
a picture she’d found in an old newspaper. And then she started saying about how she was going to go to the cops to tell them
all about it.’

‘And you didn’t want that,’ Swann said. ‘Because you were scared she’d draw attention to the case again.’

‘I suppose,’ Kirsten admitted. ‘Yeah, I tried to calm her down and talk her out of it. That was why the call was so long.
I said she’d be in trouble for lying all those years ago, that she was better off keeping her mouth shut. I mean, it wasn’t
going to make any difference now, was it? Not after all this time.’

‘And then Lynda conveniently drowned.’

Kirsten scowled at her. ‘That wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. But
she was drunk, wasn’t she? She must have slipped and fallen in the water.’

Valerie gave her a thin smile. ‘But then Lynda’s brother went though her phone records and started asking difficult questions.
If you hadn’t lied, he wouldn’t have got so suspicious.’

‘He was just trying to cause trouble for me,’ Kirsten said, her tone growing peevish again.

Valerie wondered at the girl’s ability to make everything revolve around herself. A consequence of the years of abuse, or
part of her natural character? It was impossible to tell. She watched Kirsten closely as she made her next statement. And
so you got Micky Higgs to sort it out.’

There was no reaction to the name other than genuine puzzlement. ‘What?’

Valerie had been hoping for an indication that Higgs might be their man, but Kirsten’s response told her otherwise. ‘You didn’t?’

‘I barely know him,’ Kirsten said. ‘I never met him before today.’

‘So why did he threaten David Choi?’

‘Maybe Paige told him to.’

‘And why would she do that?’

‘I dunno. You’d have to ask her.’ Kirsten wriggled in her seat. ‘Well, I may have said something. You know, like Choi was
looking to blame me for what happened to Lynda. I don’t remember exactly.’

‘Try harder,’ Valerie said. For an actress, Kirsten was a pretty bad liar.

‘Okay,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘I told her he was threatening to go to the police. And I’d already lied about talking to
Lynda that night. All they had to do was check the phone records and … Well, I didn’t need the hassle, did I?’

‘And Paige offered to help you out?’

Kirsten gave a barely discernible nod of her head.

‘For a small fee, I’m presuming.’

‘Five hundred pounds.’

Swann let out a sigh ‘What a mess, eh?’

Anger flashed across Kirsten’s face. ‘If it hadn’t been for Hannah Bright, none of this would have happened. Why couldn’t
she leave it? It wasn’t our fault. We didn’t want Minnie to get hurt. We didn’t—’

‘Shall I tell you something about Hannah Bright, Kirsten?’

Valerie glanced at Swann, knowing what was coming next. A piece of information that was about to shatter Kirsten Cope.

‘What?’

‘She’s dead, love. Hannah took an overdose more than twelve years ago. She was never trying to have you prosecuted. He’s been
lying to you. He’s been lying to you from the first day you met.’

‘No,’ Kirsten said, shaking her head furiously. Her eyes darted wildly around the room.

‘It’s true,’ said Swann, sliding a sheet of paper across the table. It was the same document he’d shown Valerie at the door.

Kirsten stared down at the copy of the death certificate. Then, leaning forward she wrapped her arms around her body and started
to rock. ‘He’s going to kill me,’ she whispered, as if the full ramifications of what she’d done were only just beginning
to sink in. Her blue eyes grew wide as saucers. ‘When he finds out what I’ve told you—’

‘He won’t be killing anyone,’ Swann said firmly. ‘He’ll be banged up, Kirsten. He’ll be banged up for a bloody long time.’

Kirsten stopped rocking and looked across the table at him.

‘I promise,’ he said. ‘But first you have to state his name for our records, love. You have to say it out loud.’

There was a pause, a very long pause, but finally she did.

Valerie felt the shock run through her like an earthquake tremor. Her mouth fell open. And then, after a moment, she heard
a soft, distinctive hiss escape from Swann’s lips.

Jess’s initial surge of excitement at positively identifying the mugshot of Paul Rafferty had quickly subsided. Even if he
was still in London, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. ‘Where do we start looking?’ she’d asked Mac.

‘We don’t,’ he’d said. ‘We get other people to do it for us.’

For the next hour, Mac, Lorna and Warren were on the phone to every contact they had.

The old principle of never grassing up a fellow villain didn’t hold for long when money was involved, and with three grand
up for grabs, the phones were soon ringing off the hook. After several false leads, the news they were hoping for was finally
delivered at ten past two. A high-class escort called Jennifer Jay had spotted Rafferty in a hotel bar in Chelsea. After giving
her strict instructions to keep him in her sights, Mac grabbed his car keys and turned to go.

‘I’ll deal with this,’ he said.

Jess put a hand on his arm and frowned. ‘You’re going on your own? What if he does a runner?’ She was worried that if Rafferty
took off and went to ground, they might never find him again.

‘He won’t,’ Mac said. ‘Not when I’ve explained what his options are. As he’s still in London, I’m betting he doesn’t have
a clue about the shooting. When Stagg hired him to play the part of Martin Locke, I doubt he mentioned anything about the
fact that the guy was going to be brown bread by the end of the week.’

‘Probably slipped his mind,’ Warren said.

Mac gave a grunt. ‘I’m sure it did. And our Mr Raffles is going to have loose bowels when he finds out what he’s really got
himself involved in. He’s a con man, not a hardened criminal. Faced with a choice between being done for impersonating Locke
and being an accessory to his murder, I sure as hell know which one I’d choose. I don’t think I’ll have too much difficulty
persuading him to hand himself in.’