Hard Girls (6 page)

Chapter Two

Patrick Kelly was fuming, and he knew he had no one to blame for his predicament but himself. That was why he was so angry. Even if Bates hadn’t told him exactly what the flats were being used for, he had to admit he hadn’t agonised over receiving the more than generous proceeds. It was bloody obvious really, particularly to someone like him. He could have got Danny Foster to check it out. If Kate found out she would de-bollock him without a second’s thought. Yet he had turned a blind eye to what had been going on. He had to face the consequences of his actions and that was not something he had had to do very often in his lifetime. He was a well-respected Face, he had his creds, and he had his reputation. He also had a weakness for easy money and, once more, it had caused his downfall.

He was blaming Peter for his dilemma, but really it was all down to him. He knew what Bates was like, so he had to put his hand up and take the blame. Kate liked honesty; that was her biggest problem, she demanded it, and sometimes people were better off not being in the know. Not that he was going to point that fact out to her in the near future of course. He hoped she would look on this as an aberration of sorts, as a one-off. He would argue the fact that it was an investment, that was all. That he was just helping out a mate who needed a silent partner. He knew he was hoping for a miracle. Kate was not a fool and, worse than that, she was not a person who allowed herself to be treated like one. Patrick Kelly was up shit creek without the proverbial paddle and he knew it.

Annie watched as Kate smiled at the woman and accepted a cup of coffee with real appreciation, breathing in the aroma and hugging the mug with both hands. Each action told the woman she was in the company of a like-minded individual. ‘You can’t beat real coffee, instant is no substitute.’

Carmen Milke was thrilled with the compliment, most people didn’t know the difference. At forty-seven she looked much older. Her husband had traded her in a few years previously for a younger model, and she had fought for a generous settlement, bought her little flat, and put a serious wad of cash in the bank. She was a victim of her husband’s success; after the divorce he had kept his life, and most of their friends. She had found herself at the wrong side of forty, starting over. She had worked to keep him in university, she had worked to give him and their son a good home. She had done everything to see her husband get ahead, she had done the hard work, the graft, the dinner parties, the drinks and canapés. She had been beside him from the start. Along the way she had seen him change, seen the man she had loved become a selfish boor. Their success had changed him Kate knew from experienc. c great the ne until she didn’t recognise him. He had become a snob, something he had always accused her of being, and he became a bully, but she had still not seen it coming. He had walked out on her without a backward glance. Now he had his new life with his new wife. He had taken everything she knew, everything she had ever wanted; he had taken it all from her in a few minutes. Even her son preferred his father’s lifestyle and now only visited her every few weeks.

Carmen was lonely. Lonely and suspicious, but she still loved her husband because he was all she had ever known. He had been her life. She was also worried that any man she
might
meet would be more interested in her money than her sparkling personality. After all, she was hardly a spring chicken, and she knew she was not the kind of woman men were attracted to. Sex had never been something she craved, she was born to be a wife and mother, not a femme fatale. Her husband could have kept the girl on the side, like all the others, and she would have done what she had always done. Ignored it. She had seen off more than her share over the years. She had learned to pretend she was clueless about his amours, even though she had occasionally felt the urge to stab the faithless bastard to death while he slept. Unlike him, she had been prepared to sit it out, that’s what people were supposed to do. But he had decided to be different.

She was bitter, and she knew she was, but she was unable to overcome that. Now, as she sat with these two nice women and enjoyed the unexpected pleasure of some company, she opened up like a flower. ‘I do prefer real coffee. It’s one expense I couldn’t forgo.’

Kate and Annie grinned in agreement. ‘It’s a rare treat for us, I can tell you. You have a great view here, you can see right over to the golf course.’ Kate was looking out of the large picture window as she spoke. And it
was
a great view, all trees and well-tended grass. It also looked directly over the forecourt of the flats so Carmen would see all the coming and goings.

‘I liked the view, it’s why I purchased this property. I find it very calming, I watch the golfers sometimes.’

Carmen watched them because now and again she saw her husband, who she still wanted even after all that he had done. He played there frequently, and she hated herself for her weakness. He had taken everything from her, and yet she still held a blazing torch for him. She fantasised that he’d come back to her, cap in hand, sorry for not appreciating her and everything she had done for him. She knew it would never happen, he had been mentally gone from her for years, it was only when he had left physically that she had understood how shallow her life had been. Now she was saddened that a visit from the police was a highlight in an otherwise bloody boring day. As her son kept telling her, she needed to get out more.

‘You also have a bird’s-eye view of the road, so you must have wondered at the number of strange men coming and going constantly. I understand the flat was in operation twenty-four hours a day. I can’t believe an intelligent woman like you didn’t put two and two together. It must have been awful finding out you were living next to a knocking shop. Men coming in and out at all hours of the day and night.’

Carmen nodded, her sharp features seemed to be closing in on themselves; she was exactly as Kate had predicted, a small-minded woman who saw herself as above the general population.

‘I don’t know what I can tell you really, there
were
a lot of men in and out, and obviously I knew they weren’t coming here for piano lessons { 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; } .fmepiv1iclthe had . But what could I do? The people involved, those girls, they were common, low types. I was afraid to say anything to them so I just ignored it.’

Kate nodded in understanding. ‘It must have been horrendous for you. How did the men get in, were they buzzed in by the girls?’

‘Not always, sometimes the outside door was left open, that way the men didn’t disturb us by ringing the wrong buzzers. That can be very annoying and, as you can imagine, very distressing.’

‘Why is there no CCTV? You have such a great alarm system.’

The woman nodded and then shrugged theatrically. ‘We did have it, but it was disabled a few years back. It was costing us a fortune every month, and that on top of the gardeners, you can imagine. And, in fairness, we were happy enough with the security offered in exchange. It made sense, after all, we’re in flats. We have one entrance and one exit. Why pay out for something we don’t really need?’

Kate smiled again. Annie watched her as she drew the woman out. Last night Carmen had been adamant that she knew nothing of the activities of the flat, and that she had never noticed anything untoward.

‘Who offered you the security system?’

Carmen looked uncomfortable.

‘I promise this will be off the record, Mrs Milke. But we really need to know what’s happened here. I assure you no one will get into any trouble, what security you decide on is your business. I just need to know who was behind it, that’s all.’

Carmen was worried about saying too much, but she felt that she should try and help if she could. After all, a young girl had lost her life, even if Carmen felt deep down that she had asked for it.

‘A man called Bates. He said that what we were paying for the CCTV, he could get us all a much better deal, and also make us safer in the process. He wasn’t a man who you felt would take no for an answer, if you understand me but, in fairness, he was as good as his word. We were given individual alarm systems that were on-site, as Mr Bates put it. Not something we had to rely on as a block. Even the windows are fitted with sensors, as are the doors. It really is a much better system.’

‘Did you hear or see anything on the night of the murder?’

Carmen shook her head furiously. ‘Not a word. I was asleep very early. I take sleeping pills because I find it hard to drop off these days.’

‘Do you see Mr Bates around here often?’

‘Occasionally, not regularly.’

‘Have you noticed any strange men recently, maybe regular visitors to the dead girl’s flat? Has there been anything at all of late that made you think something was odd, off-kilter? Raised voices, strange noises . . .’

Carmen snorted then, her face once more wearing its pinched look of disapproval. ‘There were always strange noises, you can imagine . . . I can’t hear anything from my bedroom, so I tend to spend a lot of time in there. In fact, now this has happened, I hope we’ll be able to get some sort of normality. I mean, you will be closing it down, won’t you?’

Kate heard the relief in Carmen’s voice and wondered at how people allowed themselves to be walked over like this. ‘I think that’s a given, but we have to prove the flat was being used for the purpose of prostitution, and without anyone g taken out her frustrationsed more than goiving us evidence of that, it could be argued that the girl who died had only been there that once. We need solid evidence of the flat’s usage over a period of time.’

Carmen was quiet for a few moments. ‘Talk to Mrs Brown on the ground floor, she knows more about it than anyone. She had words with the girls on more than one occasion. But you didn’t hear that from me. She was frightened off by a man and, from what I gather, after his visit she did what we all did, she turned a blind eye.’

Veronica was tired out. After another hard day watching television and grooming herself to perfection, she was bored out of her mind, and fed up with the murder that seemed to be the only thing on everyone’s mind. Even
Sky News
was milking it for all it was worth. Peter was like a bear with a sore arse, and she was fed up with the lot of it. So he owned the flat? Big news on the grapevine, he owned loads of properties. All he had to do was feign ignorance. As he walked into the kitchen she voiced her thoughts. ‘Why are you so bothered, Pete? All you have to say is you rented the gaff out, and what the person did with it was their business, not yours.’ As far as she was concerned, it was cut and dried.

Peter Bates looked at Veronica for long moments and saw the girl she had been, and the woman she had become. Never the sharpest knife in the drawer, she had been blessed with an innate cunning that had seen her sleep her way to a nice life. She was pampered, she was beautiful, and she was a fucking bonehead.

‘Are you having a fucking laugh, you dozy bitch? Everything I have ever done, ever bought, or ever touched will come under scrutiny. If I farted in 1978 it will be found out and reported back to me: date and venue. A young girl has been horrifically killed, and I was the one who organised the cleaning of the flat and, in doing so, I erased any evidence that might have been there. More importantly, I have landed me mate right in it, and he ain’t a person you can apologise to and guarantee a fucking friendly handshake and instant forgiveness. He’s known to be a bit temperamental when the fancy takes him. I fucked up big time, and now all I can do is try and fucking extricate meself from a potentially lethal situation. So my advice to you is keep your fucking opinions to yourself, and try to restrain your natural ability to talk absolute shite. Am I making myself clear?’

Veronica didn’t answer him. She knew that this was a turning point in their relationship. She would have to box clever for a while, he was capable of aiming her out the door without any worry. He had a lot on his plate, he was not a man who listened to reason and he was capable of taking out his aggravations on her. It was much better to retreat on this occasion, and wait until it had all died down. He was still looking at her with contempt and so she took his advice and restrained herself. Instead she went to him and looking into his eyes she said gently, ‘I’m only trying to help, baby.’

Peter laughed then, a sarcastic and disbelieving laugh that told her she was on very shaky ground. ‘Oh stop it, Veronica. You don’t give a fuck about Danielle Crosby, you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself. So save the amateur dramatics, and let me sort this out without your fucking big trap in me earhole.’

As Peter left the kitchen she heard the front doorbell go, and she stood quietly when she heard Patrick Kelly’s righthand man Danny Foster saying, ‘Hello, Peter, I was worried you might be out, what with your new job as a fucking charlady taking up all your time.’

Danny Foster was a Face, a man to respect and someone who taken out her frustrationsed more than go was seen as on the up. He was Patrick Kelly’s sidekick, Patrick Kelly’s mouthpiece. He was the son Patrick Kelly never had. If he was on the knocker then they really were in deep shit.

Diana Brown was in her late fifties. A small, heavily built woman, she was somewhat reluctant to let Kate and Annie inside her flat. As they followed her into the spacious kitchen Kate noted that the furnishings were very understated, and very expensive. That surprised her, the small neat woman she saw didn’t strike her as having that kind of sophistication. Her clothes were well made, probably Marks & Spencer, but not that well put together. Her hair needed a decent cut and colour, and her nails were bitten to the quick, with traces of chipped pink nail varnish still apparent. She looked as if she had not slept for a while, and Kate assumed this was because of the girl’s murder.

‘I told your officers everything I knew last night.’