Broken Dreams (13 page)

‘I’m fine. Just a little tired.’ I didn’t want to share what I’d learnt about Murdoch yet. Don hadn’t been keen on me agreeing to represent him in the first place. If I was getting us into a mess, I wanted to be able to get us out of it.

‘Right. Donna Platt. So we know when she first started seeing the boy from the shop she was working at, she was the average teenager, agreed?’

‘Agreed.’

‘But by the end of their relationship she’d changed, became fame-hungry?’

 ‘Agreed.’ I shuffled the paperwork around. ‘And we know from the last boyfriend we’ve met, this guy from the factory, that she’d stopped singing altogether. The dream seemingly dead.’

 ‘And we know her father would have disapproved. The fact is he drove her away.’

‘Sounds about right but it doesn’t get us any closer to knowing where she is.’

Sarah gathered the paperwork up. ‘I’ll let you know if I get anything more.’

‘Somebody has to know something’ I said, standing up to stretch my legs.

Sarah’s mobile vibrated and she read the text message.

‘Shit.’

‘What’s the problem?’

‘Dad was babysitting for me tonight. But he can’t now.’

‘I could look after Lauren.’

‘It’s short notice. I’ll cancel.’

‘Cancel what?’

‘A bite to eat with a guy from college.’

‘I owe you one from the other night.’

‘I couldn’t ask.’

‘It’s fine, really. You go and enjoy your night.’ I’d made arrangements to meet Anastazja but I could still be back in time.

‘Thank you for bringing me here, Joe’ Anastazja said, all smiles as she read the menu.

She insisted if she was going to talk to me, it would be over an Italian meal.  It was still early, so the restaurant was almost empty, which was unusual for Princes Avenue. Other than ourselves, there were a handful of couples eating, I assumed on their way home from work. Not many people had money to be spending.

‘It is very nice here. My friends and I have never had the opportunity to eat here. Thank you very much for bringing me here. It is very good of you.’

I was pleased she was enjoying herself. We both ordered pizza and settled back, waiting for the food to arrive.

‘You wanted to ask me about my job’ she said to me. ‘I have not told anyone about our meeting.’

‘Thanks.’ I forced myself to focus in on what I needed to know. ‘You told me Frank Salford isn’t around too much.’

‘That is correct. It is Mr Johnson who is in charge. He is a not a nice man.’ She lowered her head. ‘He makes us do things or he will tell the authorities about us. Sometimes he comes to our house.’

I understood what she was telling me. ‘Do you think Salford knows about this?’

‘I do not know. We do not see Mr Salford very often. If he comes, he speaks to Margaret. She is our manager and in charge of the reception desk.’

I nodded. Margaret. It was nice to put a name to the face.

‘It is very hard work. I usually have to work from 12 o’clock midday to 12 o’clock midnight. We are not allowed a proper rest time if we have customers but today is not so busy so I was allowed to go.’

‘How long have you been in Hull for?’

‘Nearly three years. Before this I lived in Italy. I hoped it would be better here because England is a nice country.’

‘Have you tried to get another job?’ I asked.

‘How would I get another job? I do not have the skills to work many other jobs and I would have nowhere to live. I have no friends to ask other than the people I live with.’ She shrugged. ‘I cannot go home as I do not have the money to travel and I would have to explain to my parents. I tell them I work in an office in the city centre. I have got used to life as it is.’ She caught her breath and looked me in the eye. ‘I have dreams, you know; big dreams. I will stop this life eventually.’

I’d read enough in the newspapers to know how the system worked. People like Salford brought vulnerable women like Anastazja into the country, usually under false pretences of respectable work. They would then have to work to repay their transportation debt, but the catch was it would never be paid. She had no money and no escape route. Anastazja might even be working legally, but it was no life to lead. Salford controlled her.

‘I know it could be worse’ she continued. ‘The people I live with are nice, the city is nicer than back home. I do not have much but at least here I have some comfort. The worst thing is the job but I deal with it. The men are not too bad with me. Most of them are lonely men or men travelling for their job and only want massage. They are not nasty like Mr Johnson. I would like to meet a nice man, who will take me away to live in a big house. I would do shopping all day, like all the big stars in the magazines.’

I smiled. ‘There’s plenty of women who’d like that.’ I changed the subject. ‘As I was leaving earlier, I saw somebody I knew. Do you know Christopher Murdoch?’ I described him to her.

‘Yes. I know Mr Murdoch. How do you know him?’

‘He’s a business acquaintance’ I said, which sounded almost like the truth.

‘He is a friend of Mr Salford. We are told we must treat him well when he visits. We must do exactly what he wants.’

‘Does he visit often?’ I asked.

‘Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Sometimes he comes two or three times a week. Sometimes we do not see him for a long time.’

‘How long have you known him?’

‘Since I start work.’ Anastazja picked up a slice of pizza and smiled at me. ‘Thank you very much, Joe.’

‘What for?’

‘For bringing me here. For being nice to me and treating me like a friend.’

I smiled back but it didn’t feel convincing. Our talk had confirmed my suspicions but the circumstances left me feeling lousy. Murdoch was seemingly a regular and valued user of Salford’s massage parlour. I also knew his wife had been allowed to accrue debts at Salford’s casino. More worryingly, I knew Christopher Murdoch was under investigation for fraud and corruption. I wondered if there was a link.  I wondered what I was getting involved in.

‘It’ll be fun,’ Lauren said, as she jumped onto the settee. She laughed and hit me with the book she had in her hand. The cat, which was asleep next to me, woke up with a fright.

Sarah walked into the room, adjusting her earrings. I smiled at her. ‘You look great.’ She was wearing a short black dress and had her hair pinned up. I wasn’t lying or exaggerating.

She pointed at Lauren. ‘You just be careful with that book. It’s heavy.’

‘Uncle Joe said he’d read it to me.’

I hadn’t said any such thing. I shook my head and smiled at Sarah.

‘He’ll do no such thing, madam. You know you’ve got to read the book yourself. You don’t want to be in trouble tomorrow at school, do you?’

Lauren climbed down, complaining it was more fun if I read the book and made the appropriate noises for the characters and animals.

‘I won’t be late back’ Sarah said. ‘We’re only going to the new Italian on Princes Avenue.’

‘You can always ring me if you are.’ I didn’t mention I’d just eaten there.

‘No need. The table is booked for 7.30; I’ll be home for ten. Besides, you’ve been kind enough to babysit after Dad let me down.’

‘It was the least I can do.’ Hopefully it would go some way to making amends for disturbing her the other night and having her clean me up. ‘You’re sure? You don’t have to rush for me.’

Sarah laughed. ‘Definitely.’

‘Be careful.’ I don’t know why I said it, or where it came from. ‘Sorry. I’m talking rubbish.’ I knew she could look after herself.

‘I’ll hardly be eloping, Joe.’ She bent down to put a shoe on.

I smiled. ‘I guess not.’

‘Besides, I barely know him.’

‘I thought you went to night-class with him?’

‘That doesn’t mean I know him, though, does it?’

‘I suppose not.’

I watched Sarah hunt for her missing shoe. ‘He’s a nice guy, though. He’s a good laugh’ she said.

I nodded. ‘Good.’

‘You know what you’re doing with Lauren?’

I told her I did. I knew what time she was supposed to go to bed, what she could eat and drink and what she was allowed to watch on television. ‘I’ll be fine.’ I showed her the book I’d brought with me for when I had put Lauren to bed. I’d stopped off at the library on the way home to borrow a book about the city’s trawler industry. I only knew the basic facts and the story Maria Platt and her brother told me left me wanting to know more. Sarah looked at the title and nodded. I also had plenty to think about after my meal with Anastazja.

‘I can’t believe they used to treat people like that’ said

Sarah, pointing to the book.

‘Proper work, and no mistake.’

We heard a car pull up outside the house. Sarah pulled the curtains back to have a look. ‘Taxi’s here.’

‘Enjoy yourself.’

‘Thanks, Joe.’ She was already halfway out of the room, looking for Lauren. ‘And you behave yourself, madam.’

I heard the front door shut. The house fell silent. It was stupid, but I was sure I felt a pang of jealousy. I was jealous she was going out, having a good time, but more than anything, I was sure I felt jealous of the man she was out with.

Sarah was good to her word and returned home at the time she said she would. Lauren had behaved and gone to bed without too much of a fuss. I’d read her a story before she went to sleep but I’d probably enjoyed it more than she did. I didn’t know why Don had cancelled, but he’d been the one who missed out on the fun. Once I was happy Lauren was settled, I’d read the book on the trawler industry I’d brought with me. Although it felt like I was getting a better understanding of the Platt family, it wasn’t helping us find Donna. I was certain her father was the underlying reason for her leaving but for now I was happy to let Sarah take the lead in our investigation.

I’d lost myself in the book until I heard the taxi pull up. Sarah walked into the living room and theatrically threw herself down onto the sofa. She told me the night was still warm, so I decided to walk home. It was only a twenty minute walk and the exercise wouldn’t do me any harm. I put the key into the front door and felt a thud on the back of my head. I was aware of a hand removing the key from the lock as things turned to black.

I could only have been out cold for a short period of time, as I was lying on the path leading up to my front door. In those seconds or minutes, though, my hands had been tied behind my back and I had gaffa tape across my mouth to prevent me from screaming. I was picked up by two men, one on each side of me, and carried to a dirty looking transit van before being dumped on the road whilst they opened the doors. Usually, the Avenue had a steady stream of traffic passing through, but tonight when I needed it, there was nothing.

I was picked up again and thrown in the back onto a piece of old carpet. There was nothing else in the back of the van. The two men in the front of the Transit hadn’t made any attempt to hide their faces from me, and that worried me; I tried to fight the fear and the temptation to vomit back down. The engine started on the second try and we pulled away from the kerb. We quickly took two left turns, putting us on Spring Bank and heading towards the city centre.  I tried to follow the route we were taking but the darkness was disorientating. I felt the van increase speed and we drove over an incline. I could hear other vehicles, so it had to be Myton Bridge and the dual-carriageway which led out of the city towards Holderness, a largely desolate area only punctuated by the occasional village. As the transit continued its journey, the air changed, polluted with the smell of chemicals from BP Saltend, confirming we were heading in the direction I thought. The van slowed down several times, meaning we were passing through a series of villages before we turned off the main road. The way the van slowed and bounced up and down made me think we were heading down a private track.  As the van came to a stop, I was thrown into the corner, ignoring the rising nausea in my stomach.

Roughly bundled out of the van, I fell face down into the mud. The two men picked me up, removed the gaffa tape and threw me forward so I landed on my knees. I looked up to see a freshly dug grave, lit up by portable lighting. I knew I was in the middle of nowhere and nobody would be disturbing us. Remembering what I’d been told about Salford’s speciality, I turned to my side and threw up some bile. The two men walked towards the grave, laughing, and leant on the spades.

I wiped my mouth on my shoulder and spat on the floor.

‘What can I do for you, then?’

Neither said a word and continued to inspect the grave.

‘Mr Geraghty. Glad you could join us this evening’ said a voice from behind me. I assumed it was Frank Salford but as he walked past me to join his men, I knew it wasn’t. The man was in his late forties and was slightly built. He had a shaven head and a stud earring in his left ear which twinkled under the lighting.

‘You’ve been a naughty boy, Mr Geraghty, haven’t you?’ He stared at me. ‘Again.’

I continued to stare at him. ‘Call me Joe if you like.’

‘Very civil.’

‘What shall I call you?’ I asked.

‘You can call me your worst nightmare.’

I laughed. ‘If you like.’ I’m not sure where the bravado came from, as given the situation, I wasn’t feeling so brave.

‘How about I call you Dave?’

He laughed. ‘Very good, Joe. There’s no flies on you, is there?’

Dave Johnson. Salford’s lieutenant. It was an educated guess. I looked around. ‘Where’s the man who’s in charge?’

Johnson laughed. ‘You can deal with me.’

‘I’d rather deal with the organ grinder than his monkey.’

Johnson stepped forward towards me and kicked me in the face. I collapsed backwards, tasting blood in my mouth. He grabbed my hair and pulled me back upright.

‘Don’t mess with me, cunt.’ He was so close to my face, I could smell his breath. He let go of me and walked back to the grave. ‘Mr Salford can’t be with us this evening, but it seems like you’re still not getting the message, Joe. The lads here have already paid you one visit, but you’re still sticking your nose into our business.’