Damaged Goods Page 8

  ‘Even if we were able to do that, Sir, we wouldn’t be able to use a confession. It would simply prove that Valentine was right, and without the right protection the girl’s vulnerable,’ Bradbury said.

  ‘Can we charge her without a confession?’ the Chief Superintendent asked.

  Bradbury nodded. ‘There’s nothing to stop us, but we don’t have enough evidence to secure a conviction.’

  ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘We don’t want to be seen to be pushing this because we’re bowing to political pressure.’

  The Chief Superintendent wagged a cautionary finger. ‘But we do want to be seen to be taking it seriously.’

  Jack kept his silence as the other men considered the problem. Clearly, there were issues here from which he was excluded not only by rank.

  Bradbury spoke first. ‘We could send the case papers to the CPS for advice, and make that public.’

  Jack was surprised. ‘Can’t we just run it past the rep here at the station? They’ll give us an answer on the spot.’

  Bradbury shook his head. Clearly, a speedy response was not what they were looking for.

  ‘I think someone senior should deal with a case of this importance. Maybe the DPP herself.’

  The Chief Superintendent clapped his hands. ‘Excellent. We’d still be taking action, but the ultimate decision not to do anything wouldn’t be ours.’

  ‘In the meantime we could look into the other suspect Valentine mentioned, so we’ve got legitimate ongoing inquiries,’ said Bradbury.

  ‘And we can’t be accused of backing one horse.’

  The two minds working together mesmerised Jack, and he wondered what it would be like to be included in the plan. He was about to find out.

  ‘Jack, you investigate the other body,’ ordered the Chief Superintendent.

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  Jack found Lilly by the vending machine banging the side with full force.

  ‘You’ll break that.’

  ‘Don’t you start.’

  He pressed a couple of buttons and out came a can of Diet Coke. She held the can against the side of her face for a second, opened it and took a grateful drink. The condensation had left a silver film on her cheek.

  ‘What’s the score, Jack?’

  ‘We’re asking for advice,’ he said.

  ‘Can I speak to the rep?’

  Jack shook his head gingerly. ‘This is too big for that. We’re sending the papers to the DPP.’

  Lilly threw up her arms in exasperation, showering herself with Coke. ‘The DPP? What for? You know what she’ll say. Without a confession you’ve no evidence.’ She licked the spilled Coke from her forearm. ‘I suppose Bradbury didn’t want to let it go. These fast-track wankers love the big ones.’

  Lilly rummaged inside her bag for a tissue and Jack took the can before she could spill any more.

  ‘He’s a good copper, Lilly. He doesn’t want to hound Kelsey but he understands how things work.’

  ‘His type are ambitious,’ she said, dabbing her shirtfront.

  ‘What’s wrong with that? He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life nicking fourteen-year-olds for joyriding, and I can’t say I blame him.’

  He took a swallow himself and handed the can back to Lilly. She put it straight to her lips. The gesture seemed intimate, almost sexual, but Jack was sure he was reading too much into it.

  ‘Don’t underestimate what it is you do, Jack. Small things matter to people’s lives. We can’t all change the world.’

  ‘No, but we can try.’

  Back in the custody suite the sergeant had given up on the fans. Sweat poured down his face and pooled under his chin before falling in fat drops onto his paperwork. He ran a damp fist across the soggy sheet and smeared Lilly’s name into a blur.

  Kelsey stood before him and he spoke to the crown of her head. ‘You’re not being charged at this time, love, and you’ll remain on police bail until the CPS have looked at your case. Do you understand?’

  For the first time that day Kelsey reached for the pen and pad Lilly had given her and scribbled a few words. She tore off the sheet and handed it to her solicitor. Tears welled in Lilly’s eyes as she read it. Finally, she placed it on the desk.

  AM I GOING TO JAIL NOW?

  The faded sofa was deliciously comfortable. Miriam leaned back and sipped her wine. She loved Lilly’s cottage, with its bowed ceilings and scuffed wood floors. Every inch of it ran amok, bursting with books, toys and photographs, the very antithesis of her own place, which was pared down to the brittleness of its bone.

  When Lewis had died she’d wanted to rid herself of everything frivolous or futile, but the clearout became a purge until she could no longer allow herself any comforts.

  Looking at the warm chaos around her she knew she was denying herself the most basic of things – a home. It was the ultimate punishment, which she inflicted on herself and gladly suffered.

  Lilly stumbled from the kitchen with a tray piled high with food. Miriam helped herself to the dips and salads her friend had rustled up in less than ten minutes. Damn, that girl could cook.

  ‘You did good at the station,’ said Miriam. ‘We both did.’

  Lilly slavered purple putty onto some flatbread and spoke through a mouthful. ‘Not good enough, girlfriend. The CPS will hang on to it for at least a month, and in the meantime there’ll be a media frenzy. Whatever the outcome, no one will foster this kid.’

  Miriam was ever the optimist. ‘You don’t know that for sure. There are some great people out there.’

  ‘Which is the next problem. If Kelsey is guilty then other people need to be protected, particularly saintly foster mothers with four kids of their own,’ said Lilly.

  Miriam licked her fingers. The tang of yoghurt and fresh coriander was exhilarating in an evening still crushed by the heat. ‘She says she didn’t do it and that’s enough for me.’

  Lilly gave a half-smile. Evidently she couldn’t agree.

  One last piece of tomato sat in the empty bowl. Lilly stuffed it in her mouth and sighed.

  ‘I’ve been through all the files and there’s nothing to incriminate Max. I can’t even find his website.’

  Miriam pulled a buff folder from her rucksack. ‘That’s because you’re looking in the wrong place.’

  Lilly took the papers from her friend. They were dog-eared and dirty. ‘Where’d you get them?’

  Miriam shrugged that it was better not to ask, so Lilly began reading the social services file for Maxwell Hardy, dated 1989.

  Lilly offered a finger of Twix to Miriam, who took it and went back to her half of the paperwork.

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Nah. Quiet kid,’ said Lilly. ‘No background of violence, just a couple of cautions for TDA.’

  Miriam shook her head. ‘Taking and Driving Away? He’s not exactly a master criminal, is he?’

  Lilly nodded at Miriam’s pile. ‘What about that lot?’

  ‘No social problems beyond what you’d expect of a kid in care,’ said Miriam. ‘School describes him as a persistent truant and an underachiever. Blah, blah. Good at music and art. Actually, he won a prize for a film he made in Media Studies.’

  She handed the certificate to Lilly, who took one look at it and walked over to her computer.

  ‘Sorry to bore you,’ Miriam called after her.

  Lilly tapped the name of the film into her search engine. ‘Let’s see if this thing is on the net.’

  ‘A school music video? I don’t think so,’ said Miriam.

  ‘Maybe he still uses the name.’

  ‘After all these years?’

  ‘In a life full of crap maybe it’s the only thing he’s ever had to be proud of.’

  Bingo. Up came the site: www.maximum exposure.co.uk.

  Lilly and Miriam huddled together in front of the screen, which had been catapulted into inky black. They looked at each other expectantly and then back to the blank screen. At last, red banners began t
o emerge.

  Check out our live webcam girls. Uncensored xxx action.

  see the ladies play in the pool

  get hot hot hot in the sauna

  or get down to some dirty action in the bedroom.

  ‘On a night like tonight it’s got to be the pool,’ said Lilly, and clicked the mouse.

  Two buttocks separated by a sliver of leather thong appeared in the left-hand corner, their owner unprepared to show herself until she saw the colour of her viewer’s money.

  Hi, I’m Randy Mandy and I’m dying to talk to you live on my webcam. Sometimes it makes me so HOT I have to take off all my clothes.

  ‘So turn down the central heating, girl,’ said Miriam.

  Lilly trudged through the security and confirmed that, yes, she was over eighteen, yes, she understood that the site contained nudity and items of a sexual nature which some may find offensive, and, most importantly, yes, she would agree to the call being charged to her at a whopping £1.87 per minute.

  Hurry, caller, Randy Mandy is getting uncomfortable and is dying to get naked with you.

  ‘A pair of knickers that fit might help,’ said Miriam.

  Finally Lilly confirmed she was the person who paid the phone bill and access was granted. ‘Shut up, now, Miriam.’ Lilly adjusted the microphone on her own computer. Randy Mandy would be able to hear them but not see them. ‘If she susses us too soon she’ll lock us out.’

  A few more minutes at premium rate were wasted with banners proclaiming this to be the wildest live site in the UK with the most beautiful babes on the net.

  Our action will not disappoint.

  ‘What action?’ said Miriam.

  Lilly shushed her as the painfully divided cheeks began to swell until they filled the screen.

  ‘Hi there. What’s your name?’ came a detached voice.

  Lilly guessed the woman was from Russia or somewhere in Eastern Europe.

  ‘Miriam,’ said Lilly, and winced as her friend elbowed her in the side.

  The bottom retreated from the camera and a slender woman came into view. She stood in front of a cloth backdrop on which was painted a crude approximation of a beach and a swimming pool. Her flat stomach and smooth thighs were almost girlish but her bleached hair, cut in a poor imitation of Marilyn Monroe, and sallow complexion made her seem much older. She looked directly into her camera, and in the half-reality that is live webcam Lilly saw that she had startlingly green eyes.

  ‘Well hello, Miriam, I am having to tell you I am just loving some girl-on-girl action.’

  She ran her hands over her baby-pink shirt, so tight the buttons strained to keep the woman contained.

  ‘Tell me, baby, what do you like me to do?’

  Lilly turned to her friend in horror and mouthed ‘What shall I say?’, but Miriam could only bite her hand to suppress laughter.

  ‘Come on, baby, don’t be shy. Do you like me to unbutton my top?’

  Lilly coughed. Her voice was dry and small. ‘Er … yes.’

  Randy Mandy’s laugh tinkled as she ripped open her shirt and let it fall out of shot. A huge pair of gravity-defying breasts, utterly incongruous on such a small frame, were revealed.

  ‘What do you think, Miriam? Do you like my body?’

  As the woman fondled herself Lilly caught sight of the telltale half-moon scars. She shuddered.

  ‘How about my pussy, do you like to see that? I am shaving especially for you.’

  Lilly spluttered into her microphone.

  ‘You haven’t done this before, have you, sweetie?’ said Randy Mandy.

  ‘No,’ Lilly admitted.

  ‘Don’t worry, there’s a first time for everything.’ Mandy’s voice was honey. ‘Why do you decide to come to this site?’

  The sex worker’s question may have been posed to put her nervous client at ease, or perhaps to waste a few premium-rate moments, but Lilly seized her opportunity.

  ‘I knew a working girl called Grace Brand, she told me about Maximum Exposure.’

  A shadow of recognition fell over the woman’s face but she quickly plastered her smile back in place.

  ‘Did you know her?’ asked Lilly.

  ‘That’s enough talk now, baby,’ said Mandy. ‘Let’s get hot, yes?’

  Lilly wasn’t about to give up. ‘She got killed last week. It was in all the papers, you must have heard about it?’

  Randy Mandy shook her head and tossed her lifeless hair over her shoulders. The breasts remained static.

  ‘What about Max Hardy? You must have heard of him?’

  Mandy’s smile vanished. She seemed to age ten years.

  ‘Doesn’t he run this site?’ asked Lilly.

  ‘Not any more. He move on.’ Mandy frowned and picked up her shirt. ‘If that is type stuff you want you don’t find here.’

  ‘What type of stuff?’ asked Lilly.

  Mandy covered her breasts with her shirt and leaned towards her camera. ‘I go now.’

  The screen went dead. She had locked them out.

  ‘Well, that’s it, she’s not going to talk to you again,’ said Miriam.

  Lilly smiled at her friend, a twinkle in her eye. ‘If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed …’

  Barrows watched his wife work the crowd. She shook hands with the party faithful and accepted their support and congratulations with aplomb. Hermione was the hero of the hour and she sparkled with a new sense of purpose, her smile broader, her step lighter.

  He waved to her and mouthed ‘well done’. She waved back, but when their eyes met he didn’t find warmth. Instead he saw something colder and darker.

  He reaches for a glass of water and gulps it down together with his fear. He’s being ridiculous, of course. She doesn’t know. How can she? In all the years he’s known her she hasn’t been able to work out how to programme the video recorder let alone the blackest recesses of his mind.

  Hermione curses herself as she walks towards the car. She had been taken over by the adulation and let her guard down. She had let her husband see beyond her façade, and he would now know that she saw beyond his. After twenty years of pretence they would have to confront the truth.

  Barrows drove his wife home in silence. The woman beside him, who he thought he knew, who he thought he controlled, was beyond his reach. Does she know?

  And if she did–what would she do now? Would she hand him over to the police? And ruin her newly ascendant star? He thought not. Even when he’d met her at Oxford she had lived life as if she were being watched. While the other students danced and drank with abandon, Hermione felt that what she wore, what she read, what she ate were matters of grave importance. She had waited her whole life to be somebody, she wouldn’t blow it now. Instead she would insist it stop, insist he give up the hobby.

  He pictured his life without it and rage began to swell in his temples.

  He sped faster and faster through the streets of Luton, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly they hurt. He considered unlocking her seatbelt and slamming on the brakes so she would hurtle through the windscreen. He’d seen it done in a film and knew he had the guts. He had never allowed anything to stand in his way before.

  He glanced at the locking mechanism. Hermione’s hand rested on top and held her belt in place. A coincidence, or could she now anticipate his every move? He imagined she could read his thoughts, then berated his paranoia.

  Eventually he swung the car onto their drive, a crunch of gravel beneath the tyres. He killed the engine and they sat for a few seconds, side by side, both staring straight ahead. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

  ‘Do you have something to say, darling?’ he asked, his voice stagey.

  Hermione took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think so, William.’

  Barrows was shaking but he had to know. ‘I disagree.’

  She spoke looking away from him, so that her voice sounded distant although they were only inches apart. ‘I have known for some time now about your o
ther life.’

  He tried to sound surprised. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  He wondered how she would put it. Would she use careful, deliberate language or the gutter expressions of the tabloids she loved to court? If she called him a child molester he would punch her until she could speak no more. He balled his fist, ready.

  ‘Cut the crap, William, we both know you’re gay.’

  Barrows didn’t speak, didn’t dare to breathe.

  Finally Hermione got out and turned to face him. ‘We’ll have to find some way to work it out.’

  As she closed the door behind her he let out an audible sigh of relief.

  ‘This is beyond stupid,’ said Miriam.

  ‘Way beyond,’ Lilly agreed.

  She wrote down her mobile number for the babysitter and felt a pang of guilt that if Sam woke up he wouldn’t find his mother at home, but she needed to act quickly. If Max had sold his site it would be to someone local – Lilly doubted the man had ever even left Luton. That meant Mandy was probably still working in the area, but in a week’s time, or even a couple of days, that could change. Girls moved parlours and brothels with ferocious speed, trading with whoever would pay the most. Websites opened and closed on an almost daily basis. Loyalty was in short supply for women in the oldest job in the world.

  ‘Have you considered how we’re actually going to do this?’ Miriam asked.

  Lilly picked up her car keys and ushered Miriam out of the cottage into the humid night. ‘We’ll head for Tye Cross. Someone will know her.’

  ‘We can’t just go to the nearest brothel and say, “Excuse me, we’re looking for Randy Mandy. Do you know her? Blonde hair? Big boobs?!”’

  ‘Why not?’ said Lilly.

  ‘Because they’ll want to know who we are and why we’re asking.’

  Lilly put the car into gear and set off. ‘We’ll say we want you-know-what.’

  Miriam looked at them both, a black dreadlocked woman in her early fifties with half-moon glasses and Birkenstocks and her colleague still in her now-dishevelled work suit and trainers.