Unfinished Business (17 page)

“He had a few fights at the pub, he got mean when he was drunk, but that’s it,” she said.

“I mean, did he hurt other women?”

“You mean did he kill those women in Camden?”

She said it so off the cuff that he was momentarily lost for words. “Yes.”

She shrugged. “He was nasty enough. He didn’t like women, he called me and Mum bitches all the time, said we deserved it when he hit us.” She smiled when Brodie’s eyes darkened with rage. “I love it when your eyes do that.”

He jumped when her foot slid up his inner left leg.

“Sexy,” she breathed.

He cleared his throat. “That must have been so hard for you,” he said, attempting to keep her on track.

“It’s amazing how you adapt. It became normal after a while, it was all I’d known since I was little.”

“No one should have to live like that.”

She shrugged again and took a sip of tea.

“Did you ever go in your dad’s shed Lauren?” he said casually, taking a bite of sticky bun.

Lauren slammed her mug down on the table as though it had come alive. “No. Why are you talking about that?”

“Just curious,” he said as casually as he could although her reaction intrigued him.

“We were never allowed in, well, me and Mum weren’t anyway.”

“And your brothers?”

“They went in. Dad did his woodcarving in there and he wanted them to learn his trade.”

Brodie forced himself to remain still in his seat and not give away how momentous this information was. He also tried to ignore her hand, which rested itself on his left knee under the table. He cleared his throat. “Did they enjoy it?”

She scrunched up her forehead. “Not sure. Sometimes they didn’t always look keen when he dragged them in there, they were teenagers and wanted to do their own thing but it was always best to obey Dad. If you didn’t you got hit.”

“Did they ever tell you about what they got up to in there?”

“No. Dad told them not to discuss it with me. They were both good at art though so I suppose they got something from it. Mark once said that it was the only time Dad didn’t get angry with them, he really loved woodworking, it calmed him.”

“Who do you think is killing the women in Manchester?”

“Who knows?” She gave him a sly look. “You think it’s Seth, don’t you?”

Lauren was more astute than anyone gave her credit for. “Do you?” he said, trying not to leap out of his seat when her hand started to run up and down his thigh.

She just smiled at him before taking another bite of her bun, her hand under the table tightening on his leg. He wanted to push it away but didn’t like to in case she stopped talking.

“Tell me about your Aunt Jenny,” he said.

“Why do you want to know about her? She died years ago.”

“I’m curious,” he smiled, trying not to look relieved when she released his leg to dab her lips with a napkin.

She picked up her cup of tea and stared into the contents. “She was Mum’s older sister. I didn’t like her much, she wasn’t very nice. She kept calling Mark names, saying he was no good and a murderer and when he was released from prison we should have nothing to do with him. It didn’t seem to matter to her that Dad had hurt us all our lives. She got ill just before Mark was released and was relying on us to look after her, so she couldn’t complain when he came to live with us. It took her two years to die,” she said coldly. “I was glad when she finally pegged it, she was horrible. She did one good thing for us though, she left us the house.”

“Did she ever meet your dad?”

“A few times. We lived in London and she moved to Manchester when I was a baby. She married a local man and when he died ten years later she decided to stay up here. Good thing she did too because it gave us somewhere to run to after Dad died.”

“Did you have to run?”

Her eyes filled with hurt. “People called us names, painted nasty things on the front of the house, Seth got into fights. It was horrible.”

“Some people have nothing better to do. They’re not worth getting upset about.”

“That’s why it upsets me when you start talking about The Carver. I’m frightened it’s going to start all over again.”

“I’m sorry Lauren, the last thing I want to do is upset you but this man has to be stopped before any more women are hurt.”

“I know. Mum won’t let me read the newspapers, she says they’ll make me depressed but sometimes I watch the news on telly when everyone’s out. I don’t want to see another picture of another victim.”

“Then help me Lauren, if this is Seth then…” He broke off and jumped in his seat when her hand landed firmly on his groin.

“I like you Brodie,” she breathed. “Very much. No man has ever made me feel like you do.”

He leapt back, pushing his chair out when she started to rub her hand up and down. “Please Lauren.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t like me?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…I’m so much older than you.”

“I’m twenty two and you can’t be more than fifty.”

“I’m forty four,” he retorted.

“It’s her, isn’t it? Cass?”

“She’s a colleague and one of my best friends so no, it’s not her. It wouldn’t be ethical for me and you to get involved because…”

“You just want to get information out of me.”

“No, Lauren listen…”

“I know I’m not pretty like Cass…”

“Yes you are.”

“I thought you were better. You’re only here to try and make me tell you bad things about my brothers. Well I won’t,” she shrieked before burying her face in her hands and starting to cry.

The café had gone quiet and everyone was glaring at Brodie. He knew what they were thinking and he couldn’t blame them, it didn’t look good.

“Lauren, please,” he said, lowering his voice, aware of lots of beady eyes on him. “It’s not like that at all.”

“Yes it is. No one’s interested in me, it’s always my brothers. That nice DS Clarke came asking about them. I thought he genuinely wanted to know about me too but it was only because of them. All any man sees when they look at me is Mark or Seth or my dead dad. It’s not fair,” she wailed before bursting into noisy sobs.

“Oh…hell,” he muttered. He’d never been any good at comforting distraught females. “You’re a very attractive women with a lot to offer…”

Her head snapped up and she grasped his hand, her tears drying up in an instant. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down Brodie.”

“What? I…” He jumped again when her hand disappeared back under the table. He caught the eye of the elderly woman sitting at the next table, whose look said he was a dirty old man who should stop breaking the hearts of pretty young girls. Marvellous.

CHAPTER 14

Cass was surprised by just how identical Mark and Seth were. The latter was standing behind the bar playing with his mobile phone to pass the time as he had no customers to serve. The place was empty. He looked extremely bored and - she had to admit - pretty damn gorgeous. Although he was identical to his brother Seth had that something extra, that element of danger that a lot of women found attractive. Those heavy black eyes settled on her, his mouth breaking into a big charming grin that didn’t quite meet those eyes and he straightened up to greet her, putting the phone aside.

“Hello,” he said in a voice that swirled around her like treacle. “I’ve not seen you in here before.”

“That’s because I’ve never been in here before,” she replied. “I’m lost, I’m looking for the university. I’ve been going around in circles for the last hour. Can you tell me how to get there?”

“I do know but before I reveal all why don’t you take a seat and have a drink?”

“I didn’t realise directions came at a price.”

“They don’t. I’d just like to talk to the most gorgeous woman ever to walk into this bar.”

Cass resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d met plenty of his type in her time - a cheesy lothario who thought he was God’s gift to women. Some of them could be genuinely charismatic. Fortunately she was impervious to all their charms.

“What’ll it be?” he said, leaning on the bar, closing the gap between them.

“White wine and soda please,” she replied. She watched him prepare the drink, noting he put in a lot more wine than soda. She’d have to be careful, she wasn’t very good at holding her drink. At least she wasn’t driving, Brodie had taken his car, not that she’d ever drive that death trap.

“So what’s your name?” he said as he placed her drink on the bar before her. “On the house,” he added when she took out her purse.

“Thanks and the name’s Cath,” she replied. That was the alias she tended to use. It was a useful one, close enough to Cass should anyone she knew shout out her name.

“Where are you from Cath?”

“Burnley.”

“Lancashire?”

She nodded. This wasn’t strictly true. Yes she was from Lancashire but she was from one of the small Pendle villages. The best lies were the ones closest to the truth.

“And what brings you to Manchester?”

“I want to enrol at the university.”

“Doing what?”

“Psychology.”

“Brains and beauty. Like it,” he grinned.

Cass forced herself to smile back. There was something wrong about this man, something that made her very uncomfortable, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly.

“Thank you,” she said coyly, feigning pleasure, twirling a finger through her long hair. She’d let it down and it streamed down her back in soft, heavy waves. As she took a stool at the bar she had to be careful not to sit on it, it was so long. “What’s your name?”

“Seth.”

“Exotic.”

“I know. It means
appointed
but I prefer to think I was named after the Egyptian god of chaos.”

“You like chaos?”

“I thrive on it,” he said, something dark in his eyes.

“Impressive,” she replied, keeping up the flirtatious smile while the feeling of discomfort steadily grew. She was going to tell Brodie she wanted double pay for this.

“I know,” he said conceitedly.

Cass knew he hadn’t changed his first name like Mark had after they’d left London, Seth was the name he was given at birth. Now she knew he hadn’t changed it because he was proud.

As the feeling of disquiet grew she looked around, hoping someone would come in but they didn’t. The bar was dead. During the line of duty she’d been alone with quite a few men who under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have gone anywhere near and she’d always been confident that she could take care of herself if things got out of hand, but Seth had a quality that made her think twice. “It’s quiet in here,” she commented.

“It doesn’t get going until the evening. We’re popular with the business set who come in after work splashing the cash.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Two years. It’s a good job - I get to lie in every day, the tips are great and I meet lots of interesting people,” he said with a suggestive wink.

“You’re not from round here. You’re from down south?”

“London,” he replied casually. “I’ve been up here for about fifteen years now.”

“Why did you move?” she said, all naïve sweetness.

“Family reasons,” he vaguely replied.

“Nothing bad I hope?”

“No, not really.”

Cass thought that was a massive understatement. “What’s London like?” she pressed, adding a little eyelash fluttering to keep him interested. “I’ve always wanted to go.”

“It’s alright. Anyway, I’d rather talk about you.”

Cass’s heart sank. He was too busy flirting to tell her anything useful.

At that moment the door opened and the effect on Seth was dramatic. He stood bolt upright, eyes glittering with dark, hateful rage as they focused on the newcomer.

Cass turned to see a large man in a leather jacket with a shaved head approaching the bar. He had the word
thug
written all over him.

“Excuse me Cath,” said Seth before nodding at the man to join him at the opposite end of the bar, as far from her as possible, where they started to furtively whisper. No matter how hard she strained to hear, Cass couldn’t pick out a single word but she did get the impression that it wasn’t a friendly conversation. Both men hissed words at each other through gritted teeth. What she needed was a visual record of this man.

She spied the toilets and hit upon a plan. As she walked towards them she passed Seth and he looked up at her quizzically, nodding in understanding when she pointed to the bathroom before returning to his conversation with the bald man.

The door leading to the toilets opened into a small corridor, which then led into separate male and female toilets. Cass walked into the ladies, allowing the door to bang shut noisily behind her. She gave it a minute before quietly pulling the door open and sneaking out into the corridor. The door leading back into the bar had a pane of glass in the centre, so customers could check no one was behind it before pushing it open. Through this small pane of glass she had a good view of the two men at the bar, whose conversation seemed to be growing more heated. She worried about taking a clear enough picture through the glass but the result was satisfactory enough. Fortunately her camera was the best money could buy, in her line of work it had to be, it was a lifeline to her.

She pocketed the phone and returned to the bar just as the thug was leaving.

“Friend of yours?” she said, retaking her seat.

“Not really,” he growled, glaring at the man’s back as he disappeared out the front door. He looked back at Cass and his expression lightened. “Another wine?”

“No thanks, I really must be getting to the university if you’ll tell me the way.”

“If you hang around for a bit I’ll show you.”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time…”

He grabbed her hand and pulled a little too hard. “Course you do. I can show you the way then we can get something to eat, go onto a club after then maybe…”

“No thanks, I really don’t have time,” she said, trying to pull her hand free but she found she was unable to.

“Come on Cath, I gave you a free drink.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re going to get anything in return. Now let me go unless you want to be wearing that drink.”

He grunted with pain when she took his thumb in her free hand and started to bend it backwards, his eyes widening with surprise when he realised she was more than capable of snapping it.

“Fucking lesbian,” he spat before releasing her.

“Misogynistic prick,” she spat back. She gave him a haughty look then turned on her heel and strode from the bar, resisting the urge to run back and punch him as his mocking laughter followed her outside.

She headed down the street, forcing herself not to rush away, searching for a taxi to take her back to Brodie’s hotel where she’d agreed to meet up with him. She took out her phone to study the picture of the thug. Yes, definitely good enough. She’d got more out of her meeting with Seth Creegan than she’d anticipated.

Brodie returned to the crappy hotel feeling drained. It had been difficult maintaining the delicate balancing act with Lauren between friendly concern and making it clear he wasn’t interested in her romantically. It had been exhausting, like fending off a manic depressive octopus, her hands had been everywhere beneath that table.

It was a soothing balm to see Cass at the bar enjoying a stiff drink. The fact she was drinking alcohol wasn’t a good sign.

“You look like crap,” she commented as he plonked himself onto the stool beside her.

“Thanks a lot,” he mumbled, running a self-conscious hand through his hair.

“Lauren get frisky, did she?”

“Yes but I managed to defend my honour. You don’t look so good yourself hen.”

“Seth’s a creep.”

“I did warn you.”

“I know.”

He spotted the bruise on her hand as she raised the wine glass to her lips. “Did he do that?”

“Yep.”

“Bastard,” he yelled, shooting to his feet.

“Sit down, everyone’s looking,” she said quietly.

Brodie looked round and saw the bartender as well as a waitress staring at him. Not wanting to look a fool in front of Cass he retook his seat, eyes turning sherry with anger.

“I dealt with it,” she told him. “I made him choose between letting go and having a broken thumb. Wisely he chose to let go so don’t worry about it.”

“Fucking coward.” He forced himself to calm down. “What did you make of him?”

“Good looking, charming,” she began.

Brodie’s temper flared up again, but it was still aimed at Seth Creegan. How could she compliment the creep after what he’d done?

“But,” she continued, “I got this really weird vibe from him. Something’s not right with that man and his eyes…there was something in them that made me really uneasy.”

Brodie knew this meant a lot coming from Cass, who was a woman who allowed no one to make her feel uneasy. After Matt had tried to attack her when she was a teenager she’d worked very hard not to be a victim again.

“There’s something dark inside him,” she ended thoughtfully.

“That seems to be the general consensus when it comes to Seth.”

“He didn’t tell me anything, not that I was expecting him to, but I did get this.”

She brought up the photo of the thug on her phone and placed it on the table for him to see.

“Who’s that big bastard?” said Brodie.

“He came into Seth’s bar while I was there and they had a really heated discussion.”

“About what?”

“Don’t know. They made sure I couldn’t hear but it was really dodgy.”

“We need to find out who he is. Let’s ask around.”

“You don’t want to pass it onto Pete?”

“The local boys will have a better idea.” He didn’t particularly want to ask Pete for anything else if he could avoid it after he ran that check on the creep in the hotel in Hawkshead.

“Okay. Shall I start with the local bars?”

“We’ll tackle this one together. We don’t know who this guy is, I don’t want you going up against him alone.”

Cass wasn’t going to argue that one after her encounter with Seth. “Or I could just ask Matt,” she said with an evil smile. “He’s his paper’s crime correspondent after all.”

“Let’s do it.”

“By the way, you need to go upstairs and pack. I’ve settled up here and booked us into a better hotel. No way am I staying in this flea pit.”

“So it’s good enough for me but not for Lady Cassandra?” he said, eyebrows going up, purposefully using the name she hated.

“Got it in a nutshell Boss. A lady needs clean sheets and a room that doesn’t smell of damp. Don’t look so pissed off, I know you’re pleased to be getting out of here.”

“I am, I just wish you hadn’t booked me into this one in the first place.”

“It looked alright on the internet.”

“Never mind, we’re finally leaving. Stalag Seventeen, goodbye,” he said to the barman, who scowled.

Matt was eagerly writing about the latest exploits of The Carver, his stubby fingers flying over the keyboard. He was forging a good career out of this freak and finally making a name for himself. The details of the case were as gruesome as ever but he was becoming acclimatised.

“Matt, there’s someone here to see you,” called his colleague, Rosie.

“Tell them to get lost, I’m busy,” he called back, his eyes never leaving his computer screen.

“I don’t think that’s going to cut any ice with them,” she said.

“Them?” he frowned. Realisation dawned and Matt froze. He knew exactly who Rosie was referring to.