Gut Instinct (11 page)

Chapter
Sixteen

Friday 28
th
March

There was nothing else to do on a Friday night
Stephen
thought as he washed and shaved. 

Tanya was having her usual ‘budd
y night,’ although he had never met
any of her friends,
as
she
had
never introduced them.
 

This annoyed him a little, was she ashamed of him, or was she ashamed of them he’d wondered. 
He’d even thought that she might be seeing a married
man
that could only get out on a Friday
or Sunday
night.
  But quickly
squashed that idea out
of
his head, he couldn’t go down that road, it would do his head in.

There again she had never met any of his friends either, maybe she had the same thoughts. Not that he had any friends, but he did have his work colleague
s
, and it was Bill’s fiftieth birthday do, next Saturday.  He could take her there, maybe then she would be more open to him meeting her friends sometime.

Bill was the head of the drug squad
, they’d known each other since their beat days, and even now with some cases their paths crossed.  Drugs and murder were like fish and chips these days. 

‘Yes’ he was pleased with himself; Tanya was a fine looking woman, he would be proud to have her on his arm.  He would ask her tomorrow.

He was getting ready to go to Jason’s.
He mi
ght as well have a sniff around, he’d nothing better to do.

They were all still waiting for the DNA results to come through, he had considered getting a few of his team down there tonight, but one they deserved a weekend off and secondly, he didn’t want a large police presence at this point
as
i
t may drive
t
he murderer underground.

Both girls ha
d been to ‘Jason’s on the night
of their murder
his gut instinct
told him there was a connection, but even if he learned nothing it filled in some of his time, lonely time, which was time when h
is thoughts c
ould work overtime about Tanya and what she was doing, those thoughts becoming darker and darker as the evening wore on.
He must be getting quite keen on her he contemplated.

He mulled over the last
week’s
events.  They’d all listened to the Queen
Song
over and over again on the
stations
hi-
fi equipment and scrutinised the words of the song, but nothing significant had jumped out at them.

Derek and John had interviewed all of the staff at Jason’s and had sat through hours of
CCTV,
they had followed up a couple of possible leads but had come to a dead end.

Vera had paid visits to most of the ‘
Ian’s
’ on their data base and they had all had an alibi for one or both of the nights of the murders.

They all felt like they were swimming in mud and getting nowhere.  All their eggs were in one basket now
t
he DNA.

He took one more look in the mirror and was pleased with himself, “Handsome chap” he said to himself out loud, “you never know, you may pull tonight, nothing like mixing business with pleasure”. 

Jason’s was
a nightclub that
was well known for the more mature patrons and for being full of divorcees and single parents, a ‘pick up’ joint where you were almost certain of getting laid by a single mum ‘gagging for it.’

Single mums were quickly getting labelled as easy targets for men
,
which seemed unfair that a few that gave it up quite
easily,
should tar the
name for many decent single mums but that was how the world worked. 

It hadn’t helped when the prime minister had recently targeted single parent families as ‘dysfunctional families.’  He knew as many two parent families that he would deem ‘dysfunctional’.  Besides his mum had been a single mum to him and his sister and there was nothing dysfunctional about him or his sister.

He found himself a tight spot in the car park, it was full, how many people would be driving home drunk tonight he wondered, then brushed it aside, it wasn’t his department and was therefore none of his business.

Jason’s was not in the town as most of the clubs in Leicester were it was set back in between field’s  on the main road between Lei
cester Forest East and
Peckle
ton
.

It was an attractive looking building, and if the Manager had been a little bit more refined it would have made a very nice upmarket restaurant, a successful restaurant as people
did not really want to travel into town on a weekend night for a meal, too much trouble in the town centre these days.

It would have brought in a more sophisticated clientele that’s for sure. 

The queue to get in had only about six people in it, so he stood at the back and waited.  He could have shown his warrant card and got straight in, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, give a possible suspect a head start.

Having paid five pounds to get in he headed for the bar and ordered a coke, he needed to
keep his wits about him tonight, he could always have a stiff drink later when he got home.
 

Coke
, lemon and ice
in
his
hand he looked about, bloody hell they were rough in here he thought, covered in tattoos most of them and that were the women.

He noticed
a group of rowdy men to his right as he propped up the bar, laughing and joking about something or another. 

He eavesdropped for awhile not having much more to do other than observe.

“I came here looking
for a lass
that’s just started her period not someone half way through the fucking menopause” said one laughing out loud, joined boisterously by his companions.

“Not a good looking one in sight”
said another

“
That women I was dancing with
I
said to her ‘let me make you pregnant, and then you’ll be able to get your teeth done on the national health
free
” this
was then
followed by more side splitting laughter.

Stephen had, had enough, one reason why he didn’t
wish to
make friends for unruly
lad’s
nights out, he couldn’t stand the banter. 
He easily got offended by t
he derogatory remarks about women. 

Yes he’
d
be the first to say this place was rough and the women not his type but there was no need to be that offensive. They weren’t oil paintings themselves.

He wondered around looking the men up and down rather than the women, he needed to be careful else they’ll think I’m a puff, he thought.

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Murderers didn’t come in a flasher Mac he pondered like most people think,
they weren’t
ugly men with
a
axe hidden inside their trench coat.  They looked like normal people, and not that this place was full of what he would call
‘normal’;
it could be anyone of these guys in here.

He didn’t know what he was looking for, perhaps someone like him, stood around
observing; only Stephen was
looking for a prospective suspect and the killer a potential victim.

“Fancy a boogie love” some woman dressed in skin tight leopard pants and a top that barely covered her breasts was looking up at him.

“No thanks, I’m no Fred Astaire” he replied, hoping that would get rid of her.  No such luck.

“Well a drink then, mines a vodka and tonic” she purred, trying but not succeeding to look sexy.

“Maybe another time” he said and hastily made a
quick re
treat.

“Prick”
he heard her say as he walked away.

Very appealing, he reflected
,
wonder what charm school she went to!

Chapter Seventeen

Thankfully no-one else bothered him for the rest of the evening, and he was just about to leave when he saw a face he recognised. He dodged behind a pillar and studied the man stood at the edge of the dance floor.

What the fuck was he doing down here, he questioned.  He never said he was coming and I certainly didn’t ask him to.  He was not down here on police business, so why was he down here
?

Stephen stood back, so he couldn’t be seen and watched. 

Paul was studying people; he seemed to be alone and was totally unaware that he was being watched.  Stephen was surprised that Paul hadn’t spotted him, but then looked around and saw the crowds around him and understood why.  He hadn’t noticed the place filling up, too busy people watching, focusing on dubious looking individuals.

The
n the
same girl that had tried to pull him earlier in the evening had pulled Paul Spencer on to the dance floor and was
gyrating
her body all over him. He seemed to be enjoying it.

Dark thoughts started to cross Stephens mind
again
, it was
no
t something that hadn’t happened before he thought.  Some crime or another had over the years been an inside job. 

He then recalled his thoughts the other day ...even these criminology courses would describe how to get rid of DNA etc. 

He had brushed them aside, thought he was being irrational and letting his feelings towards Paul get in the way of the investigation, but now he was down here at Jason’s without even mentioning it, surely if it was him he wouldn’t be that brazen, then he thought but psychopaths were like that, they believed that they were too clever to be caught.

Then his rational mind stepped in, Paul could have come up with the same idea as
he had, decided to have a wonder down and sniff about, perhaps he was a sad lonely bastard like he was on a Friday night.

He stood silently observing.

Paul was getting quite into this girl, stroking her hair, kissing her neck.  What the hell was going on? 

His team were allowed to have a private life of course, but here, why would anyone come here unless they had to, like him.  And why hadn’t he mentioned that he used this club?

Thoughts streaming through his mind he watched Paul leave the club with the girl in tow, clearly on a promise.

What should I do? 

Should I follow him?

He ran these questions through his mind, alongside many more, many more indeed.

He decided in the end not to
go after
him,
he might see him and know that he was onto him if he was the killer or think that Stephen was stalking him if he wasn’t.

However,
if that girl turned up dead tomorrow he would know just who he would be pointing his finger at!

Stephen eventually walked out into the cold night air and shivered as the icy wind hit him.  Blooming weather it was the end of Marc
h and still cold enough to snow, he thought.

He hovered around for a while to see if anything of interest happened, anything that
appeared to be suspicious, watched as the patrons came out of the club, drunk and boisterous, laughing and playful,
some heading for the burger van that was parked outside, greasy food to soak up the drink.

S
ome
of the women were falling over in their high heels unable to walk in them now that they were fuelled with alcohol, skirts pulled up showing their underwear, no dignity he thought.

Then there were tho
s
e
getting in
to
their cars obviously the worse for wear and most definitely over the drink drive limit. 

He made a mental note to speak with patrol and get them to monitor this place on a weekend night, rather than focus all their attention on the town centre.

After about half an hour, the cold reaching his bones and nothing irregular to pursue, he got in his car, banged the heating on full blast and drove home to the hum of the warm air floating out of the car radiator.

His thoughts
drifting back to Paul.  He never had liked this guy, not since the day he was transferred to his team.  There was something fishy about him.  Had his gut been trying to tell him something then?
  He began to wish that he had followed him but it was too late now.