Broken Dreams (12 page)

‘Her father is the key’ Sarah said.

I agreed. ‘Donna found him difficult to live with. They had different outlooks, different values.’

‘He didn’t seem a very pleasant individual, never mind father.’

‘We’ve got to remember the kind of man Ron Platt was’ I said. ‘He obviously found it difficult to deal with what his daughter wanted from life.’

‘So we think this friction was what caused her to disappear?’ asked Don.

Sarah and I both nodded. ‘Nobody will confirm it, but it seems likely’ I said.

I explained to Don we knew for definite she was in the city three or four years ago.

‘I think I’m going to talk to her friends again’ said Sarah.

‘So we’ve got some sort of paper-trail to follow.’ He wrote the details down on his pad. ‘I’ll see what I can do’ he said, before tapping his empty mug with his pen. I laughed. Hardly a subtle hint he was thirsty. We were done.

I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but it was too tempting. I’d served a court warrant and realised I was only a couple of streets away from Salford’s massage parlour. As I turned down the one-way street which led to it, I saw the manager I’d had the run-in with previously walking away from the building. I pulled into a parking space and quickly walked down the street. I wasn’t sure what I could learn, but I wanted to see a bit more of Salford’s empire first hand. Entering the massage parlour, it was as seedy as I remembered. I nodded to the man behind the reception desk. ‘Who’s working?’

‘Anastazja. Massage is £25.’

I got my wallet out and passed the money over.

‘Anything extra you negotiate with her, alright?’

I nodded. He pointed down the corridor which ran down the side of the reception area. I knocked on the door and waited. The door was opened by a dark-skinned brunette, probably in her mid-twenties, wearing a short silk wrap and I assumed little else.

‘Anastazja?’ I asked, wondering if it was her real name.

She nodded and invited me in. The room was small, overheated and fusty. If it was designed so you wouldn’t want to hang around any longer than necessary, it succeeded.

‘Please, make yourself comfortable.’ She was gesturing to the massage table. ‘You want massage?’ she asked me.

I looked at the table and the collection of oils and eventually nodded. I’d have more chance of picking up some information if I played along.

‘You want anything else from me?’

I shook my head. ‘A massage is fine, thanks.’

She smiled. ‘It’s Okay. I have to ask this question, you understand.’ She pointed to the table. ‘We start now.’

I nodded my understanding. She was very attractive, but given that I could barely bring myself to date women, this type of situation was simply too much to bear. As I removed my coat, I fingered the wedding ring in my pocket and thought about Debbie and everything she had meant to me. I felt Anastazja go to work on my shoulders.

‘Have you worked here long?’ I asked her.

‘A while now. How many times have you visited us? I do not remember seeing you before.’

‘It’s my first time.’

‘I thought so. You are so tense.’

I tried to focus on the job in hand, though it became more difficult as her hands worked down my back. I suppose I should be pleased I could still feel like a man. I propped myself up and rested on my elbows. ‘Where are you from?’ I asked.

‘I am from Romania’ she told me.

‘Long way to come for a job.’

‘A very long way.’

‘Are you here legally?’

She stopped the massage. ‘Why all the questions?’

‘I’m not the police.’

Anastazja folded her arms and took a step away from me. ‘Why are you asking about me? I will give you massage. I will fuck you, if that is what you are really here for, but you have to pay me. I do not want to answer your questions.’

I weighed things up and decided to chance my luck. ‘I’m a private investigator.’ If she didn’t want to talk to me, word would get back to Salford, but then again, so what? It was about time I had a chat with him. I told her I wanted to know about him.

‘Okay, I will tell you. Just so long as you promise not to tell him I spoke to you. I will take a chance with you because you have told me the truth. Mr Salford offered me a job. He paid for me to travel to Hull.’ She looked away, her eyes glazing over. ‘I am very grateful to him.’

‘Is this the job he promised you?’

‘I was told Mr Salford owned a casino. I have never seen it.’

‘How does he treat you?’

She shrugged. ‘I have a house to live in, I eat, I have a job. I am paying my way.’

‘Does he pay you a wage?’

‘A little. I get to stay in a house with six other women. The money I earn is through what you call the extras. I get to keep some of this money but I do not see much of Mr Salford. He does not come here very often, but he is a quiet man. It is Mr Johnson I do not like. He is here a lot and expects you to do as you are told.’

I didn’t inquire any further as to what she meant. I stood up and dressed myself and passed her some money. I didn’t want to spend too long in the room in case it aroused suspicion. ‘Tell them you had some extras.’

‘I cannot take it. I have not earnt it.’

‘Please. Take it.’ I got out my business card and passed it to her. ‘Could we talk some more about Salford, please? I might be able to help you.’ I don’t know why I said it. What could I do to help her?

She looked at the card. ‘I will be finishing work early today; around six o’clock. We could meet then.’ She insisted I had to buy her a meal.

I walked out of the massage parlour and onto the street. The parlour was situated on a busy shopping street and I felt people staring at me. I quickly headed for a newsagents a few doors away and bought an early edition of the local newspaper, wanting to read the latest on the police investigation into Jennifer Murdoch’s death. Back outside, I stood on the pavement, newspaper open, scanning the pages for what I wanted.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the manager of the massage parlour walking in my direction. More interestingly, Christopher Murdoch was with her. Tempting thought it was to ask why he’d left my flat in a hurry this morning, I didn’t want to get caught. I casually stepped back and lifted the newspaper high enough to cover my face. Once I knew they were past me, I lowered the newspaper in time to see them walk into the massage parlour together.

After folding my newspaper away, I’d quickly walked back to the side street on which I’d parked my car. I turned my mobile back on and played back the new messages. The most recent call had been from DS Coleman, telling me we needed to talk. Urgently. He was at Hull Royal Infirmary and told me I was to meet him there or we’d do it later on in the day at the station. I checked the time of the message, called him back and headed for the hospital.

Situated on the edge of the city centre, the hospital is a concrete monstrosity, barely fit for purpose. Thankfully, I’d not had much reason to visit the place recently. Sarah has a friend who works as a nurse and some of the stories she tells are enough to convince you never to be ill. I spotted Coleman pacing around the entrance of the hospital, smoking a cigarette and talking into his mobile. Under pressure, I thought with a smile to myself. I hit the horn to grab his attention and he flicked the cigarette butt to the floor before jumping into the passenger seat.

‘Drive’ he said to me.

‘Where to?’

‘Wherever. Just get me away from this place. It depresses me.’

I signalled right and pulled out into the traffic, pleased to be driving away from the hospital. We were close to the KC Stadium, so I followed the signs and pulled into the empty car-park. Even though it wasn’t match day, people buzzed around the stadium, going about their business. I switched the engine off and released my seatbelt. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I want to talk about Sam Carver.’

‘What about him?’ I’d only spoken to the barman last night. How did Coleman know?

‘I’ve just taken a statement from him. A member of the public found him last night close to where he works. He’d taken a good kicking. Professional, you might say. The doctors are worried about one of his eyes.’

Coleman turned to look at me. ‘All he had in his pockets was his bank card and your business card.’

I felt sick. Carver hadn’t been that bothered about talking to me. He was going to be leaving the city today. Salford had obviously been watching us.

‘And it gets better, Joe. A patrol car was sent out to Rischio, the casino owned by Frank Salford, and coincidently the employer of Mr Carver, late last night. A man called Derek Jones was causing a scene, insisting Mr Salford knew something about the disappearance of his niece, which he told us you were looking into.’

Coleman turned to face me. ‘I don’t give a shit about this Jones guy, but you might want to get your house in order. Your name keeps popping up with some regularity in my investigation and I don’t like it.’

I shut my eyes and leant back in my seat. What was Derek playing at? I thought he understood the worst thing he could do was to interfere.

‘It’s the Carver business which interests me, Joe. He told me you were talking about Jennifer Murdoch. Why are you working for her husband?’

I wasn’t surprised he knew Murdoch wanted me to look into his wife’s death. ‘Because he asked me to. If he’s paying, I’ll try and help.’ I wasn’t going to talk about my wife to Coleman.

‘He’s a serious suspect for this, Joe. You’re going to find yourself in the eye of a shit-storm if you’re not careful.’

I shrugged. ‘Innocent until proven guilty.’

Coleman laughed. ‘It’s not looking good, though, is it? Financial worries and a new life insurance policy on his wife, no alibi. It’s the kind of thing which makes my superiors suspicious. The break-in to the house looks suspiciously staged, too.’

Murdoch had told me about the insurance policy, but he hadn’t told me it was a recent thing. It might be a coincidence, but it didn’t look good. ‘No alibi?’

‘The tapes have already been wiped. Company procedure, apparently.’

‘Surely some of the casino’s other visitors could vouch for him?’

‘It seems not.’ I asked him whether or not I was still a suspect.

Coleman shook his head. ‘I was just testing you. You know how it is.’

‘What about my face? You said she’d put up a fight.’

‘Poetic licence.’

‘Look, I’ve got a job for you, Joe. Well, you and Sarah, really. The Murdochs were involved in a wife-swapping club and we want to know if they were friendly with any one in particular.’

At least they were considering options other than her husband killed her. ‘I don’t see how we can help’ I said, not wanting to volunteer for anything.

‘You and Sarah are going to pose as a couple and become the club’s newest members.’

I laughed. ‘Not likely.’ I didn’t tell him I knew as much as he did.

‘Like I said, Joe, it’s about co-operation. It’s difficult for us to go in and obtain admissible evidence. Anything you learn about is easier for us to use. Besides, if you don’t help us, I’m told we might have to look at this Carver business a bit more closely.’

I got the message but sensed they were empty threats. They had nothing to gain from making an enemy of me. That said, I didn’t want to push my luck. ‘What’s in it for me?’ I asked. There had to be some exchange.

‘Carver said you were asking about a guy he calls Nose? Apparently he was a regular at the casino and a close friend of Mrs Murdoch.’

I nodded. ‘That’s right.’

‘I can tell you his name.’

‘I can find it out. I’m a big boy.’

‘He’s a regular at this swinging club.’

  ‘Why were you watching the Murdochs’ house?’ I asked. I wanted to know who Nose was, but if I needed to, I could find it out myself. It would just take me a little longer to do. The surveillance was more interesting to me. ‘You had me falsely pegged as a suspect. You owe me.’

Coleman sighed. ‘This didn’t come from me, alright?’

I nodded. ‘Fine.’

‘Christopher Murdoch is under investigation on suspicion of fraud and corruption. Obviously, he has a lot of sway in respect of new building work, planning applications and what have you. There’s been allegations he’s not been behaving as you’d expect from a man in his position. Some of his applications for regeneration money are not being spent as they should be.’ Coleman shrugged. ‘It’s not really my area and I’m not involved with it. But it looks like he’s been a naughty boy.’ Coleman paused. ‘You had no idea, did you?’

I shook my head. ‘No.’

‘Plenty for you talk about with your client.’

‘It seems that way.’

‘I think we’re done, then.’

‘You didn’t tell me the name of Nose.’

‘He’s called Steve Taylor. He runs a chain of estate agents. Look him up in the Yellow Pages.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I need to be back at the station. You can drop me near St Stephens and I’ll walk from there. I doubt you’d want to be seen with me.’

I started the car engine and thought there were a lot of things I wanted to speak to Christopher Murdoch about.

I
sat at my desk, thinking about what I’d learnt. I wasn’t comfortable with Murdoch not telling me the truth about the life insurance policy he had on his wife. The fact it had been taken out recently was important, as it undoubtedly gave him a strong motive for wanting her dead. The fraud investigation was an altogether different matter, as it was entirely possible he was ignorant of it, but however I looked at it, he hadn’t been straight with me. My initial reaction was to head straight to his office and confront him. It would have done no good, though. All it would have done was make my wounded pride at knowing less than Coleman a little more bearable. The time to talk to Murdoch would come, but not just yet.

‘Ready?’ asked Sarah. We’d arranged earlier in the day to catch up.

‘Ready’ I said. She’d spread the paperwork and timelines she’d worked in relation to Donna Platt over the table.

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’