Passion Killers (6 page)

“Hello, Auntie Katie. How nice to see you,” she said pointedly to Ianthe.

“Hello, Auntie Katie. Hello, Mummy’s other friends,” Ianthe sing-songed back.

Katie handed Kevin a fifty pound note. He really had grown into the most handsome young man, she thought. “Let’s have takeaway for tea. Take Ianthe to the Chinese and get what you want. I’m staying too. Your mum and I will have garlic prawns and noodles. And get duck pancakes for your dad.”

Kevin snatched the fifty pound note. “No problem,” he said with a grin.

“Can we have McDonald’s instead?” Ianthe suggested.

“No,” Katie said firmly, looking at Olivia for support.

Olivia shrugged. “Whatever, eat cow’s arse for all I care.”

“She’s already had a burger for lunch,” Kevin said. “She’d eat them for breakfast and tea as well given half a chance.”

“No wonder your dad won’t allow them in the house,” Katie said, half-laughing. “We’ll have Chinese. Anyway, you like Singapore fried noodles.”

After they left the room, Katie started clearing the empties. Olivia sagged back in her chair with her eyes closed, and the other three gathered their things.

“Just let us all know when you’ve got the videos,” Katie she said to Susan. “I think we’d all like a hand in destroying them.”

Susan dropped her chewed biro into a red plastic handbag with a picture of a kitten on the front. “Will do.”

Kim buttoned up her long military style coat and Theresa packed her tobacco tin and cigarette papers in her backpack. As they were about to leave, Kim turned to Katie. “What about Shaheen?”

Katie looked at Olivia, still slumped in the chair. Olivia shrugged.

“She doesn’t exist,” Theresa said firmly, struggling to hold her backpack and the stuffed elephant Susan had given her for Bernadette.

“Shouldn’t we at least let her know we’ve given Brian the money?” Kim asked.

Olivia straightened up a little and shook her head. “No. There’s no video of her, and she’s already said she isn’t interested. There’s no need to contact her ever again. Once Brian has the money, it’s over.”

“Is it, though?” said Kim. “Are we sure there can’t still be a comeback for us?”

“Only if your Judy knows.” Susan looked closely at Kim’s face. “She’s a cop. You can never completely trust a cop.”

Katie watched as Kim struggled to school her expression. “You wouldn’t break our promise, Kim, would you?”

“Course she wouldn’t,” Olivia said. “After all we’ve all been through? Don’t be silly.”

“If you did tell Judy, it’ll never be over,” Susan said coldly.

“You just don’t like the police,” Kim snapped.

‘No, Kim. What I don’t like is a grass.”

Kim stumbled through the front door, pushing it almost closed in Susan’s face.

Susan caught it and set off after her. Katie put out a hand to stop her. “Let her go.”

Theresa and Olivia nodded in agreement.

Susan sighed. “Well, let’s just hope she ain’t that stupid.”

There are no secrets in a police station. When the woman with the dog came in, news of the body in the car boot had already reached the front desk.

Judy Gardener and Paul Banham had trained together at the Police Cadet College in Hendon, and had become good friends. She had been at his wedding, but after Diane’s murder and Banham’s transfer into CID, he had become withdrawn and something of a loner, so they lost touch.

Judy waited until the reception area was quiet before opening the handbag again. She knew what had to be done. She took out the mobile phone, scrolled down the address book and deleted Kim and her phone number from it. She checked the recent call history for the call they made to her two weeks ago, and deleted Kim’s name. It didn’t matter that her prints were on the bag or its contents; the woman had handed it to her on the front desk after all.

Then, heart beating heavily against her ribcage, she made her way along the corridor to the incident room.

The Chinese meal was laid out on the family-sized kitchen table. Kenneth sat between his son and daughter, and Katie and Olivia opposite. There wasn’t much conversation; the only sound came from Kenneth, crunching noisily on his crispy duck. Olivia passed him a paper napkin to wipe the plum sauce that dripped from his chin. He took it, dabbed his chin, then wrapped more duck in a thin pancake.

Kenneth had lived well throughout his thirty-nine years. When Olivia patted his paunch and teased him about the extra three stone of weight he carried, he always flew into a rage and told her a tart without a brain would have no idea of the pressures that a senior post in the government brought him. But Olivia knew that the main cause was alcohol, and the expensive dinners he bought his constant stream of lady friends.

He had a broad, chubby face and was acquiring an extra chin. His large brown eyes could have been attractive, but his frightening temper had given them an air of cruelty. All the same, Olivia and Ken had stayed married for nineteen years, and in her own way Olivia loved him, and often lay awake at night while he snored into his pillow, wondering how she could get him to love her back.

“Ianthe chose the duck for you,” Olivia said to him.

“Auntie Katie paid for it,” Kevin said.

“But Ianthe chose the menu,” Katie said quickly. “How is it? Is it good?”

Ken had his mouth full. He gazed coldly at Katie before turning back to Olivia. “You should be cooking your family’s dinner,” he said to her. “You spend more time worrying about Theresa’s bloody child than you do your own.”

Olivia flicked a nervous glance at Katie. “Please don’t swear in front of the children,” she said, topping up her wine glass.

Katie came to her aid. “It’s my fault,” she said. “I asked Olivia if we could have a meeting here. Theresa told me they were holding a fundraising bazaar for disabled children, and we were discussing how we could make it even bigger, and make more money this year.”

Kevin looked at his mother and burst out laughing.

Ken crunched loudly on his duck, but made no comment.

“So I bought the supper as a thank-you,” Katie added.

Ken wiped his mouth with the napkin then lifted a spare rib to his lips and sucked the juice off it.

“Bloody isn’t swearing,” Kevin said to Olivia. “Everyone says bloody.”

“If that’s the kind of company you keep, no wonder you failed all your bloody exams last year,” Ken snapped. “That’s why you’re bloody well having to sit them again, at my bloody expense.”

Ianthe banged her fork noisily on the table and burst into tears.

“Ken...” Olivia wavered between crying and losing her temper. “Please don’t start all that again.” She lifted Ianthe’s hand and stroked it. “It’s all right, darling. Daddy’s just tired.”

Ken threw his half-eaten spare rib into the fingerbowl. The warm water splashed over the sides and into Ianthe’s noodles. She snatched her hand away from Olivia and burst into tears again.

“This food’s disgusting. I’m going out.” Ken stood up and headed for the door. “I hope your charity meeting was successful,” he said over his shoulder to Katie. “My wife is very generous with my money.”

“One of us has to be!” Olivia shouted after him.

Ianthe’s sobbing grew louder, and Katie put an arm around her. “Finish your noodles, they’re delicious,” she said.

Kevin jumped up and ran after his father. “Dad, you have no right to shout like that. Look how you’ve upset Ianthe.”

“Kevin, leave it!” Olivia called after him.

A loud ring at the front door cut her off.

“I’ll go,” Kevin said, pushing past his father. “It’s probably for me anyway. I can’t believe anyone would want to visit you. Or aren’t I allowed to have friends?”

“Not if they’re bringing drugs, you’re not.”

“You should have been a comic, not an MP.” When he’d put a few yards between himself and his father, he added, “Oh no, sorry – it’s the same thing.”

DI Banham, Alison Grainger and Judy Gardener stood on the doorstep, holding up their ID. The door opened to reveal a tall, strikingly good-looking young man.

“Who is it, Kevin,” called a woman’s voice inside the house.

Two women appeared behind him, one well-built and handsome, the other small-boned and fragile, with clear, wide-set blue eyes.

Banham gazed at her, mesmerised. Those eyes were deep, huge and so blue he wanted to dive into them and drown. He hadn’t seen eyes like that for more than eleven years.

Both the women were looking at Judy Gardener.

“Kim’s gone home, Judy,” said the well-built one. “She left with Susan Rogers, a couple of hours ago.”

Judy opened her mouth, then closed it again and looked at Banham. With a huge effort he dragged his eyes away from the smaller woman’s beautiful face and held out his ID.

“I’m Detective Inspector Paul Banham,” he said, “and this is Sergeant Alison Grainger. We work with Judy. Can we come inside, please?”

“Has something happened?” the small woman asked, an anxious note creeping into her voice.

A man’s voice boomed out from the hallway. “Get them in here, for Chrissake. Do you want the whole of Fleet Street to know the police are at our door?” It sounded familiar, but Banham wasn’t sure where he’d heard it before.

The two women stepped back to allow Banham and Alison inside. Judy didn’t move. “I only came to show them the way,” she said to the women. “Olivia, I’m sorry. I have to go home to Kim. Something has happened to Shaheen. I had to tell them about... I’m really sorry –”

“Kevin,” Olivia said sharply. “Go and clear the dishes, please. And take Ianthe upstairs.”

“Oh, I think I’d rather stay and listen.” Kevin folded his arms and leaned against the wall, a grin spreading over his face.

“Kevin, please!”

The boy made a show of peeling himself away from the wall, and swaggered away down the hall. “If you insist, Mother dearest. Ianthe? Come on, duckie, we have to make ourselves scarce so the grown-ups can talk.”

Judy waited until he had gone before whispering, “Shaheen has been murdered.”

Olivia flinched, and looked across at Katie, who stood open-mouthed.

“Come in off the doorstep,” the man’s voice sounded again.

No one moved. Banham stood just inside the doorway, watching the women’s reactions.

“I must go,” Judy said. She lowered her voice. “Look, you have to tell DI Banham everything you know. I had to tell him about Brian. The note. And the tapes.” She paused. “And about the club. Everything. I had no choice. I’m sorry, really I am.”

Judy turned away and began to walk rapidly down the drive. Olivia called after her, “What on earth has Kim been telling you?”

“I’m sorry,” Judy repeated without turning round. “I have to go to Kim. She needs me.”

In the thirty-foot sitting room it looked like the night after a party. Used glasses and littered ashtrays still cluttered up the coffee tables and stale smoke clung to the air.

The two women were clearly on edge. “I suppose we’d better introduce ourselves,” Olivia said brusquely, “though I expect you know who we are. I’m Olivia Stone, and this is...”

“Nurse Penelope,” Alison chipped in.

“Who?” Banham was properly confused now. As if limpid blue eyes the image of Diane’s weren’t enough to throw him off balance.

“Sorry, guv. It’s Katie Faye, isn’t it? The actress? Off
Screened
?” Alison held out a hand and Katie shook it.

“What’s happened to Shaheen?” Olivia asked before Banham had time to ask for an explanation.

A stocky man with a paunch and receding hair appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. Banham recognised the government minister Kenneth Stone; he made frequent television appearances on current affairs programmes. In the car on the way over, Judy Gardener had told him Stone had a violent temper and Olivia was often on the receiving end of it; this didn’t seem to chime with the charm and perfect manners now on display, but Banham was well aware that appearances counted for nothing when it came to domestic violence.

“Detective Inspector, do sit down.” Stone indicated a deep armchair upholstered in soft caramel-coloured leather. “And Sergeant, perhaps you’d like the sofa. Now, can I offer anyone a drink, or are you on duty?”

“Nothing, thank you,” said Banham, careful to keep his tone formal. He sat down in the chair Kenneth Stone had indicated, and Alison perched herself on the arm of the sofa next to it.

Stone sat down too, but the two women remained standing.

“Please tell us what’s happened to Shaheen Hakhti,” Katie Faye said urgently. “Judy said...”

Judy had told Banham about the pornographic videos, and that Brian Finn, who had murdered Ahmed Abdullah, was newly out of prison and blackmailing the women for the return of the tapes. Crowther was on his way to bring Finn in for questioning; Banham had decided to talk to Olivia Stone himself. That Katie Faye was here too was bonus; Judy had said that these two women were paying the blackmail between them, and that Shaheen Hakhti had disagreed with their decision.

Thanks to Judy, Banham also knew that the Right Hon Kenneth Stone MP had met his wife nineteen years ago at the Scarlet Pussy Club where she was working as a stripper. What he didn’t know was exactly how much Kenneth Stone was aware of.

“Mr Stone, I’ll need to talk to you in a while, but for the moment can I ask you to wait in another room while I have a few words with your wife and Miss Faye?”

The smile left Kenneth Stone’s face, and the eyes he turned on Olivia were like chips of granite.

“It’s all right,” Olivia said apprehensively. “There are no secrets between us.”

“All the same,” Banham said firmly, “I’d like to talk to the ladies first.”

Ken nodded curtly and got to his feet. “Are you sure I can’t get you some tea or coffee?” he asked, his tone no longer silkily courteous.

“No thank you,” Alison replied.

Ken left the room without another word.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to lighten as he pulled the door pointedly shut behind him. The two women sat down, close together on the sofa.

Banham was having trouble taking his eyes off Katie Faye. Her skin was flawless, and her eyes, so large and blue, were fearful. He knew Alison was watching him, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, then take her away from this whole sordid mess.

But he had a job to do, and he was nothing if not professional. He told them about the woman’s body in the boot of the car, sparing none of the details: the broken legs, the bloodied face, the scarlet g-string in her mouth. Then he took out the photograph from the handbag belonging to Shaheen, and handed it to Katie.

Olivia looked away, biting her lip.

Katie covered her mouth with her hand. “Yes, that’s her,” she whispered. “Who would want to do that to her?”

“We’re bringing Brian Finn brought in for questioning,” Alison told them. “We know what happened at the Scarlet Pussy Club.”

A look passed between Katie and Olivia. “What about it?” Katie asked.

“That pornographic videos were made which Brian Finn still has in his possession. We also know he is blackmailing you for their return, and that Shaheen Hakhti disagreed with your decision to pay him.”

Olivia seemed to relax a little; her shoulders dropped, and some of the tension cleared from her face. “We were expecting Shaheen a couple of weeks ago,” she told them. “She was coming down from Leicester to meet Susan Rogers, another member of our... little group. She wanted to take Brian’s note to the police, and Susan was going to try to persuade her to agree that we should pay him what he asked. But she didn’t turn up.”

“We just assumed she didn’t want to get involved,” Katie said. “And to be honest, we were rather glad. She wasn’t even in the videos. We were, Olivia and I – you can imagine what it would do to both our lives if they got in the wrong hands.” She looked at Olivia and then back to Banham. “Exactly what do you know, Inspector?”

Banham held her frightened blue eyes with his own. “It sounds as if you’d better tell me everything,” he said.

“Not a lot more to tell,” Olivia chimed in, hunching forward in her chair. “Brian Finn needs money. He has pornographic videos of us. Katie and I said we’d pay him for their return.”

Katie coloured and looked at the carpet. “We didn’t do anything illegal,” she said. “Just – terribly embarrassing. Especially now.”

“We’re not judging you,” Alison said sharply. “We’re here to investigate Shaheen Hakhti’s murder, that’s all. So if she didn’t turn up for your appointment two weeks ago, when did you last see or speak to her?”

“When Brian sent the letter, about three weeks ago,” Katie said looking at Olivia for agreement.

Olivia nodded reluctantly. “There were six of us,” she said. “We worked together in that club, nineteen years ago. The manager made videos of us all.”

“All except Shaheen.” Katie looked at Olivia again. She picked up her handbag from the floor beside her and took out a letter. “That’s what Brian sent us.” She held it out to Banham but pulled back before he could take it.

“Everything you tell us is confidential,” he assured her.

“Unless it becomes evidence in a murder enquiry,” Alison added, as Katie handed over the letter. “Brian Finn was only blackmailing you two? Is that right?”

“Yes,” Katie and Olivia said almost in unison.

“So why the involvement of the other women?”

“We can afford to pay him,” Katie said. “The others can’t. There are tapes of them too.”

“But not of Shaheen?”

“No, but...” Katie looked helplessly at Olivia.

“Shaheen was one of us. We all worked at the club together. We contacted her, but she didn’t want to know. We left it at that – it was up to her. We never thought for a moment...”

“You’ve all stayed in touch? After a summer job nearly twenty years ago?” Alison sounded incredulous.

The dark flecks in Alison’s eyes were clearly visible. It was plain to Banham that she didn’t like Katie. Since both women were being very co-operative, he had no idea why.

“Stripping is a strange job,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “Strippers bond together; it’s you against the world. We all got on, and we stayed friends.”