Aftermath (46 page)

‘Where was the house?’

‘The Hill. It’s the same one that’s in all the papers. I’ve
been
there.’

‘Okay. What happened next?’

‘Well, first we had a drink and they chatted to me, putting me at ease, like. They seemed a really nice couple.’

‘And then?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I’d still like you to tell me.’

‘He said let’s go upstairs.’

‘Just the two of you?’

‘Yes. That’s what I thought he meant at first.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, we went up to the bedroom and I . . . you know . . . I got undressed. Well, partly. He wanted me to keep certain things on. Jewellery. My underwear. At first, anyway.’

‘What happened next?’

‘It was dark in there and you could only make out shadows. He made me lie down on the bed and the next thing I knew she was there, too.’

‘Lucy Payne?’

‘Yes.’

‘On the bed with you?’

‘Yes. Starkers.’

‘Was she involved in what went on sexually?’

‘Oh, yes. She knew what she was doing, all right. Proper little minx.’

‘She never seemed to be coerced, a victim in any way?’

‘Never. No way. She was in control. And she liked what was happening. She even came up with suggestions of her own . . . you know, different things to do. Different positions.’

‘Did they hurt you?’

‘Not really. I mean, they liked to play games, but they seemed to know how far to go.’

‘What sort of games?’

‘He asked me if I’d mind him tying me to the bed. He promised they weren’t going to hurt me.’

‘You let him do that?’

‘They were paying well.’

‘And they seemed nice?’

‘Yes.’

Banks shook his head in amazement. ‘Okay. Go on.’

‘Don’t judge me,’ she said. ‘You don’t know anything about me or what I have to do, so don’t you dare judge me!’

‘Okay,’ said Banks. ‘Go on, Candy. They tied you to the bed.’

‘She was doing something with hot candle wax. On my belly. My nipples. It hurt a bit, but it doesn’t really hurt. You know what I mean?’

Banks hadn’t experimented sexually with candle wax but he had spilled some on his hand on more than one occasion and knew the sensation, the brief flash of heat and pain followed by the quick cooling, the setting and drying, the way it pinched and puckered the skin. Not an entirely unpleasant sensation.

‘Were you frightened?’

‘A bit. Not really, though. I’ve known worse. But they were a team. That’s what I’m telling you. That’s why I came forward. I can’t believe you’ve let her go.’

‘We don’t have any evidence against her, any evidence that she had anything to do with killing those girls.’

‘But don’t you see?’ Candy pleaded. ‘She’s the same as him. They’re a team. They do things together.
Everything together
.’

‘Candy, I know it probably took you a lot of courage to come here and talk to me, but what you’ve said doesn’t change things. We can’t go and arrest her on—’

‘On some
tom’s
statement, you mean?’

‘I wasn’t going to say that. What I was going to say was that we can’t just go and arrest her on the evidence of what you’ve just told me. You consented. You were paid for your services. They didn’t hurt you beyond what you were prepared for. It’s a risky profession you’re in. You know that, Candy.’

‘But surely what I’ve said makes a difference?’

‘Yes, it makes a difference. To me. But we deal in facts, in evidence. I’m not doubting your word, that it happened, but even if we had it on video, it wouldn’t make her a murderer.’

Candy paused for a moment, then she said, ‘They did. Have it on video.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I saw the camera. They thought it was hidden behind a screen, but I could hear something, a whirring noise, and once when I got up to go to the toilet I glimpsed a video camera set up behind a screen. The screen had a hole in it.’

‘We didn’t find any videos at the house, Candy. And as I said, even if we had, it wouldn’t change anything.’ But the fact that Candy had
seen
a video camera interested Banks. Again, he had to ask himself where was it, and where were the tapes?

‘So it’s all for nothing, then? My coming here.’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘Yes, it is. You’re not going to do anything. She’s just as guilty as him, and you’re going to let her get away with murder.’

‘Candy, we’ve got no evidence against her. The fact that she joined in a threesome with her husband and you does
not
make her a murderer.’

‘Then find some evidence.’

Banks sighed. ‘Why did you come here?’ he asked. ‘Really. You girls never come forward voluntarily and talk to the police.’

‘What do you mean,
you girls
? You’re judging me again, aren’t you?’

‘Candy, for crying out loud . . . You’re a tom. You told me yourself. You sell sex. I’m not judging your profession, but what I am saying is that girls who practise it rarely make themselves helpful to the police. So why are you here?’

She shot him a sly glance so full of humour and intelligence that Banks wanted to get on his soapbox and persuade her to go to university and get a degree. But he didn’t. Then her expression quickly changed to one of sadness. ‘You’re right about my
profession
, as you call it,’ she said. ‘It’s full of risks. Risk of getting some sexually transmitted disease. Risk of meeting the wrong kind of customer. The nasty kind. Things like that happen to us all the time. We deal with them. At the time, these two were no better or worse than anyone else. Better than some. At least they paid.’ She leaned forward. ‘But since I’ve read about them in the papers, what you found in the cellar.’ She gave a little shudder and hugged her skinny shoulders. ‘Girls go missing,’ she went on. ‘Girls like me. And nobody cares.’

Banks attempted to say something but she brushed it aside.

‘Oh, you’ll say you do. You’ll say it doesn’t matter who gets raped, beat up or murdered. But if it’s some little butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-knickers schoolgirl, you’ll move heaven and earth to find out who did it. If it’s someone like me . . . well . . . let’s just say we’re pretty much low priority. Okay?’

‘If that’s true, Candy, there are reasons,’ said Banks. ‘And it’s not because we don’t care.’

She studied him for a few moments and seemed to give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘Maybe
you
do,’ she said. ‘Maybe you’re different. And maybe there
are
reasons. Not that they get you off the hook. The point is, though, why I came and all that . . . not just that girls do go missing. Girls
have
gone missing. Well, one in particular.’

Banks felt the hairs bristle at the back of his neck. ‘A girl you know? A friend of yours?’

‘Not exactly a friend. You don’t have many friends in this
profession
. But someone I knew, yes. Spent time with. Talked to. Had a drink with. Lent money to.’

‘When did this happen?’

‘I don’t know exactly. Before Christmas.’

‘Did you report it?’

Her cutting glance said he’d just gone down a lot in her estimation. Curiously, it mattered to him. ‘Give me a break,’ she said. ‘Girls come and go all the time. Move on. Even give up the life sometimes, save up enough money, go to university, get a degree.’

Banks felt himself blush as she said the very thing that had crossed his mind some time ago. ‘So what’s to say this missing girl didn’t just up and leave like the others?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ said Candy. ‘Maybe it’s a wild goose chase.’

‘But?’

‘But you said that what I had to tell you wasn’t evidence.’

‘That’s true.’

‘It made you think, though, didn’t it?’

‘It gave me pause for thought. Yes.’

‘Then what if this girl didn’t just move on? What if something
did
happen to her? Don’t you think you at least ought to look into that possibility? You never know, you might find some evidence there.’

‘What you’re saying makes sense, Candy, but did you ever see this girl with the Paynes?’

‘Not exactly with them, no.’

‘Did you see the Paynes at any time around her disappearance?’

‘I did see them sometimes, cruising the streets. I can’t remember the exact dates.’

‘Around that time, though?’

‘Yes.’

‘Both of them?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll need a name.’

‘No problem. I know her name.’

‘And not a name like Candy.’

‘What’s wrong with Candy?’

‘I don’t believe it’s your own name.’

‘Well, well. I can see why you’re such an important detective. Actually, it’s not. My real name is Hayley, which, if you ask me, is even worse.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s not that bad.’

‘You can spare me the flattery. Don’t you know us toms don’t need to be flattered?’

‘I didn’t mean—’

She smiled. ‘I know you didn’t.’ Then she leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk, her pale face only a foot or two away from his. He could smell bubblegum and smoke on her breath. ‘But that girl who disappeared. I know her name. Her street name was Anna, but I know her
real
name. What do you think of that, Mr Detective?’

‘I think we’re in business,’ said Banks, reaching for pad and pen.

•

She sat back and folded her arms. ‘Oh, no. Not until I’ve had that cigarette.’

•

‘What now?’ asked Janet. ‘I’ve already changed my statement.’

‘I know,’ said Annie, that sick feeling at the centre of her gut. Partly, it was due to Janet’s stuffy flat, but only partly. ‘I’ve been to talk to the CPS.’

Janet poured herself a shot of gin, neat, from an almost empty bottle. ‘And?’

‘And I’m supposed to arrest you and take you down to the station to charge you.’

‘I see. What are you going to charge me with?’

Annie paused, took a deep breath, then said, ‘The CPS wanted me to charge you with murder at first, but I managed to get them down to voluntary manslaughter. You’ll have to talk to them about this, but I’m sure that if you plead guilty it’ll go easy on you.’

The shock and the anger she had expected didn’t come. Instead, Janet twisted a loose thread around her forefinger, frowned and took a sip of gin. ‘It’s because of the John Hadleigh verdict, isn’t it? I heard it on the radio.’

Annie swallowed. ‘Yes.’

‘I thought so. A sacrificial lamb.’

‘Look,’ Annie went on, ‘we can work this out. As I said, the CPS will probably work out a deal—’

Janet held up her hand. ‘No.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What part of no don’t you understand?’

‘Janet—’

‘No. If the bastards want to charge me, let them. I’ll not give them the satisfaction of pleading guilty to just doing my job.’

‘This is no time for playing games, Janet.’

‘What makes you think I’m playing games? I mean it. I’ll plead innocent to any charges you care to bring.’

Annie felt a chill. ‘Janet, listen to me. You can’t do that.’

Janet laughed. She looked bad, Annie noticed: hair unwashed and unbrushed, pale skin breaking out in spots, a general haze of stale sweat and fresh gin. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘Of course I can. The public want us to do our job, don’t they? They want people to feel safe in their nice little middle-class beds at night, or when they’re driving to work in the morning or going out for a drink in the evening. Don’t they? Well, let them find out there’s a price for keeping killers off the streets. No, Annie, I’ll not plead guilty, not even to voluntary manslaughter.’

Annie leaned forward to put some emphasis into what she was saying. ‘Think about this, Janet. It could be one of the most important decisions you ever make.’

‘I don’t think so. I already made that one in the cellar last week. But I have thought about it. I haven’t thought about anything else for a week.’

‘Your mind’s made up?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think I want to do this, Janet?’ Annie said, standing up.

Janet smiled at her. ‘No, of course you don’t. You’re a decent enough person. You like to do the right thing, and you know as well as I do that this stinks. But when push comes to shove, you’ll do your job. The bloody job. You know, I’m almost glad this has happened, glad to be out of it. The fucking hypocrites. Come on, get on with it.’

‘Janet Taylor, I’m arresting you for the murder of Terence Payne. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

When Annie suggested they meet for a drink somewhere other than the Queen’s Arms, Banks felt immediately apprehensive. The Queen’s Arms was their ‘local’. It was where they always went for a drink after work. By naming another pub, the Pied Piper, a tourist haunt on Castle Hill, Annie was telling Banks she had a serious message to deliver, something beyond casual conversation, or so he believed. Either that or she was worried about Detective Superintendent Chambers finding out they were meeting.

He got there ten minutes early, bought a pint at the bar and sat at a table near the window, back to the wall. The view was spectacular. The formal gardens were a blaze of purple, scarlet and indigo, and across the river the tall trees of the Green, some of them still in blossom, blocked out most of the eyesore of the East End Estate. He could still see some of the grim maisonettes, and the two twelve-storey towerblocks stuck up as if they were giving the finger to the world, but he could also see beyond them to the lush plain with its fields of bright yellow rapeseed, and he even fancied he could make out the dark green humps of the Cleveland Hills in the far distance.

He could see the back of Jenny Fuller’s house, too, facing the Green. Sometimes he worried about Jenny. She didn’t seem to have much going on in her life apart from her work. She had joked about her bad relationships yesterday, but Banks had witnessed some of them, and they were no joke. He remembered the shock, disappointment and – yes – jealousy he had felt some years ago when he went to interrogate a loser called Dennis Osmond and saw Jenny poke her head around his bedroom door, hair in disarray, a thin dressing-gown slipping off her shoulders. He had also listened as she spilled out her woes over the unfaithful Randy. Jenny picked losers, cheats and generally unsuitable partners time after time. The sad thing was she knew it but it happened anyway.