Thicker Than Water (11 page)

After undressing, Kayleigh wrapped the towel around herself and carefully entered the bathroom. One of the police team had ended up cleaning things for her and, in that sense, the room looked
and smelled better than it had in years. That didn’t stop her remembering the odour from before.

She turned on the warm water before realising that she no longer had a shower curtain. It had been taken for evidence but she had somehow switched off from the fact that it would need to be
replaced. Kayleigh couldn’t stop picturing Oliver in the bath, even as she stood under the cascading water that half-sloshed onto the floor, trying to wash everything away.

After finishing, she stood and looked at her face in the bathroom mirror. Somehow the water had washed away some trace of the bags under her eyes, but her skin was still a sallow white. Her hair
at least felt a little more normal, and she reached onto the nearby shelf to pick up her hairbrush. Realising it wasn’t in the spot where it usually was, she checked the shelf above, then the
bathroom cabinet. She couldn’t think of a reason why anyone from the police team would have taken it – and hadn’t seen the brush on the list of things they had taken. She had
another in the drawer next to the mirror downstairs but didn’t fancy going all that way.

Kayleigh re-wrapped the towel around herself and walked through to the bedroom where she checked her bedside table, even though she never left her brush anywhere but the bathroom.

She sat on the bed, gently towelling her hair dry and wondering where she could have possibly put it.

‘Cheer up, Dave, we’re going to one of your favourite hangouts.’

Jessica was determined to get her colleague to offer something other than a sullen grunt of acknowledgement. She glanced sideways from the driver’s seat to Rowlands, who simply stared
ahead. ‘Kid there,’ he said, nodding to the side of the road.

‘I can see him,’ Jessica protested, even though she hadn’t. Her reputation around the station as a bad driver had begun to die down over the past year or so but some people,
chiefly Dave, perpetuated it.

‘Cyclist too,’ he added.

Jessica swerved exaggeratedly around the man on a bicycle. ‘Are you going to do this the whole journey?’

‘What?’

‘Point out potential hazards on the road.’

The constable laughed. ‘Maybe.’

‘At least you’re laughing.’

Dave didn’t reply, so Jessica thought she would push it while they were alone. ‘Come on, you can tell me what’s up. I know it isn’t just breaking up with Chloe –
that was ages ago.’

‘It’s nothing,’ he snapped.

‘We’re supposed to be mates. I know you’ve told Izzy what’s going on.’

‘I haven’t actually because there’s nothing to tell.’

Jessica sighed noisily. ‘Why are all the men in my life acting mental at the moment?’

Rowlands shuffled in his seat. ‘Problems in paradise?’

Jessica couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, so she took the question seriously. ‘Not really. Adam’s just being . . . man-like. You know, all “nothing’s
wrong” and so on.’

‘That’s what you’re like.’

Jessica stayed quiet, watching the road, knowing the constable was right. She thought of all the times he, Izzy, Caroline, Adam and everyone else had asked her if she was ‘all
right’, only to be met with her grumpy-sounding ‘I’m fine’, even when she wasn’t. She was more worried by the fact she had recognised that than anything else.

‘Either way, in all seriousness, have you been to this strip club?’ Jessica asked.

The constable sounded indignant. ‘Why would I have?’

‘I don’t know, before Chloe you were always going on about raucous nights out. I figured this would be the type of place you might be familiar with.’

‘Well, it’s not.’

‘All right. You’re not under caution. I believe you.’

Nicholas Long’s club was along a side street not far from Albert Square. The front was completely blacked out, with silver writing declaring it ‘Manchester’s Premier
Gentlemen’s Establishment’.

Because they were only looking to talk to Nicholas in an unofficial way, they had contacted him and asked to arrange a meeting. They told him it was to discuss some of his former employees and
hadn’t offered any further information. Given the choice of him coming to the station, or them visiting his house, he had reminded them he was ‘a very busy man’ and invited them
to his club instead. Jessica didn’t know if he had done that to put them off but had accepted anyway, not even balking at the fact he wanted to talk in the evening. Cole had told her twice in
their briefing to be careful, so she figured meeting on his terms was a good way to start.

From the times on the front window, Jessica knew the club had been open for less than five minutes. Before entering, she rested against the glass, leaning in closely to talk to Rowlands.
‘When we’re inside, just go with it.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You’ll see.’

Before Rowlands had a chance to reply, Jessica pushed open the door, entering a darkened hallway. She led the way towards the light, where there was a man standing behind a counter sucking his
little finger. He stopped as he noticed them approaching and stood taller, eyeing them up and down from a distance. He was tall but not particularly imposing and, on first impression, looked too
young to be working in such a place. He had short brown hair that was gelled and spiked and it was only when Jessica got closer that she saw the beginnings of crinkles around his eyes that
indicated an age somewhere in the early twenties, as opposed to the teens.

‘All right, Scott?’ Jessica said, noticing the man’s name tag. At first he seemed taken aback, partly by having his name mentioned but also, Jessica assumed, because they
didn’t get too many female visitors.

He seemed almost annoyed when he realised how she had found out his name. ‘Are you members?’ he asked tersely, picking up a tissue from the counter and throwing it into a bin in the
corner.

‘We’re here to see Nicholas,’ Jessica said. ‘You might want to work on your welcoming strategy, by the way. Sucking your fingers and keeping snotty tissues on the counter
surely can’t be good for business.’

Scott scowled as he picked up a phone from the desk and spoke too quietly for them to hear. ‘You can wait there,’ he said, putting the receiver down and pointing towards a sofa on
the opposite side of the cramped entranceway.

The room could have only fitted two dozen people in if they were packed tightly. There was the door they had come through, then a second one which presumably led to the main part of the club.
Next to that was a closed hatch with ‘Cloak Room’ written over the top. The decor was almost entirely red, with matching carpets and wallpaper and a beech-coloured wooden border running
around the walls. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, with fake candles on each of the prongs, and Jessica could almost taste the air-freshener which had seemingly been emptied into the room at
some point in the past few hours.

‘Familiar setting this, Dave?’ Jessica whispered.

‘I told you, I’ve not been here before.’

‘Maybe not to this one . . .’

Before she could wind her friend up any further, a brute of a man stomped through the door opposite the one they had entered by. His head was shaven and his dark shirt was bulging from the
muscles underneath. Jessica stood but still felt half the man’s size as he stretched out sausage-like fingers to shake her hand. ‘I’m Liam,’ he said before Jessica could
check his name tag. ‘I’m the bar manager here. Nicholas is a little busy at this exact moment but I’ve been told I can offer you any drink you might like on the house while you
wait.’

His tone was cheerful and didn’t sound forced. Although it wasn’t high-pitched as such, Jessica would have expected something much more booming from such a hulk of a man. He
didn’t even squeeze her hand tightly as they shook.

‘I’m all right, thanks,’ Jessica replied.

Liam glanced towards Rowlands, who offered a sheepish, ‘I’m fine too.’

‘We did have an appointment time,’ Jessica said sternly, wanting to remind the man that they weren’t simply people who had wandered in off the street.

Liam scratched his ear and Jessica realised he was wearing an earpiece. A small radio microphone was clipped to the lapel of his suit. She looked into the top corner of the room and saw a green
light blinking underneath a CCTV camera that was pointing straight at them. The man said ‘no worries’ loudly, then turned and waved them towards the door.

The inside of the club was decorated in much the same way as the lobby: red carpets as far as she could see, and the same paint and wood effect around the walls. Liam led them past a row of
empty bar stools but Jessica couldn’t help but feel her eyes wander towards the half-dozen women sitting in the back corner. None of them was wearing very much but they spun almost in unison
to stare at her. Jessica made sure not to turn away but her attention was taken as she heard a clatter behind her, where Rowlands was picking up a stool he had walked into. Jessica would have
offered a ‘look where you’re going’-stare, if it wasn’t for the fact Liam had stopped in front of a door just to the side of the bar.

He used his body to shield a keypad from Jessica’s view and typed in a code before turning the handle and holding it open.

She took the hint, squeezing past him into a large corridor with Rowlands just behind. ‘First one in front of you,’ Liam called after them.

There were four doors, with a fire exit sign illuminated at the far end. In contrast to the rest of the building, the corridor was painted in pure white and felt cold. With Liam watching them,
Jessica opened the first door without knocking.

Nicholas Long looked pretty much the same as he had in the photos Jessica had seen, although his skin was redder and his hair thinner. His cheeks sagged slightly over his jawbone as he put down
a heavy-looking glass of whisky and stood up from a high-backed leather chair, walking towards her offering his hand. His grey suit looked expensive but it also clung to his portly frame, making
him look enormous.

‘Ms Daniel,’ he said, ‘I didn’t realise from your voice you would be quite so . . . appealing.’ His eyes flickered up and down her figure, the words slithering from
his lips. Whether he was coming on to her, or trying to creep her out, she wasn’t sure. He was like the lecherous bore at the end of a Wetherspoon’s bar, regaling anyone within hearing
distance with stories about how great he was while tucking into a pint of bitter at ten in the morning.

Jessica glared into the man’s eyes and shook his hand. ‘I didn’t realise you’d be quite so . . .
old
,’ she shot back.

Nicholas paused for a moment and then laughed loudly, though his reply didn’t sound genuine. ‘Feisty too. I like that.’

The man’s office was lined on one side entirely by filing cabinets, with two computers on the desk. Jessica noticed a rank of monitors, including one showing a black and white image from
the entrance area they had been waiting in. He saw her glance towards the screen and laughed a second time. ‘I’ve got to keep an eye on my empire,’ he said, returning to his desk
and sitting, while picking the glass up in one fluid movement and downing the contents.

‘You’re not driving home, are you?’ Jessica asked, sitting in the seat opposite him, trying to make eye contact. She could feel Rowlands hovering nervously behind her.

‘I thought this was a friendly visit?’ Nicholas replied, reaching into a drawer under the desk and picking out a decanter.

‘This
is
me being friendly,’ Jessica replied.

The man poured himself a drink and then nodded towards her. ‘Want one?’

Jessica didn’t take her eyes from the man. ‘Whisky’s for old men.’

Nicholas’s top lip began to curl but he stopped himself and nodded at Rowlands. ‘You?’

‘No thanks.’

There was a sofa at the back of the office behind the door and Jessica turned to see her colleague sitting down.

‘Suit yourself,’ Nicholas replied, putting the bottle back into the drawer. ‘So, how can I help you?’ His tone was exaggerated and far too sweet compared to the steely
look in his eyes.

‘Eleanor James and Kayleigh Pritchard,’ Jessica said, watching for a reaction that didn’t come.

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders dismissively and checked his watch. ‘Who?’

‘They’re two women who used to work for you.’

He stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head, making the flabby skin of his cheeks wobble. ‘I’ve never heard of them. When did they work for me?’

‘In your casino around twenty years ago.’

Nicholas put the glass down and stared at Jessica before bursting into a forced laugh. ‘Do you know how many businesses I’ve run in that time? How many people I’ve
employed?’

‘It must take a lot of experience to run a strip club,’ Jessica said.

The man glared at her. ‘I prefer the term “social club”.’

‘It
is
a strip club though.’

‘I’m surprised a young woman such as yourself is so against the empowerment of women to legitimately earn large amounts of money.’

Jessica didn’t want to get into that particular argument. ‘So you don’t recognise the two names?’

‘No.’

‘How about faces?’ Rowlands leant forward and passed Jessica two enlarged photos, which she held up for the man to see.

Nicholas smiled provocatively. ‘The one on the left is pretty.’

‘I thought you liked your women in their twenties? It is Tia, isn’t it?’ Jessica replied, wiping the grin from his face.

‘What’s my wife got to do with this?’

For the first time, Nicholas’s tone was outright menacing, each syllable echoing around the room with a hiss. He was staring at her, trying to figure out what she was up to but Jessica
knew what she was doing – or at least she thought she did. She could hear Cole’s warnings ringing around her ears as she slid the two photographs across the desk.

‘Do you recognise either of them?’

Nicholas didn’t look at the pictures, instead picking up a cigar from the table and putting it into his mouth. He chewed on the end, peering at Jessica and smiling with his eyes.
‘Nope.’