A Proper Charlie (18 page)

‘
No,’ the answer was short as he glanced in his mirror at the woman behind. She wore a denim jacket over the top of a black polo jumper, which covered the lower half of her face as if she was cold, yet she had her head turned towards the opened window. Black hair had escaped her baseball cap, and blew over her face. ‘You can just drop me here.’

He indicated and pulled over. ‘There you go, lass,’ he said, and watched as she scrambled out of the car. Then it struck him. Of course! How could he have been so stupid? The description of the abductor’s car – posh – could be deemed similar to his own. He groaned, he must have frightened her to death! But why did she get in the car?

The woman hobbled away, and he noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes. He watched her head for the nearest taxi rank, then look up as if to see him inside the car, before bending down to climb in a taxi.

Ben felt uncomfortable. There was something strange about this particular prostitute. She didn’t fit the picture. Shrugging off the feeling, Ben pulled away from the kerbside, and began his search again.

Inside the taxi, Charlie felt inside her pocket for the scrap of paper she had found in the back of the Audi. But she was disappointed. It was only an old petrol receipt with an illegible scribble on the back. But she pocketed it anyway, believing it evidence worth keeping.

She let herself into her flat in a weary silence. Inside she put on a CD and turned it high so she could hear it from the bathroom where she had a long bath. For once, the thump-thump of music from the flat above was welcomed and, together with the smooth tone of Micheal Bublé, she didn’t feel quite so alone.

But neither the bath and music could soothe her. Her mind was in overdrive: Gentleman Abductor; red Audis; Sally Readman; Jan… she could almost feel the steam spurting from her ears. And she was so tired. Suddenly everything seemed to catch up with her, and she wearily sank into the bubbles as her mind trundled over the thoughts in her head.

She burst up from the bath with a start, and a cascade of water was sent over the side. ‘Why did he let me go?’ she asked herself. ‘I was in the car, already his prisoner. Yet, he let me go.’

She pulled out the plug, stood and reached for a towel. Carefully she stepped out of the bath into the puddles on the bathroom floor. She dried herself, folded her hair up into a turban, and pulled on a towelling robe. The bath hadn’t relaxed her as she hoped it would, and neither did it wash away her restless thoughts.

Moving towards the kitchen, she eyed her jacket, thrown casually over the back of a chair. She fumbled for the pocket and took out the discarded petrol receipt.

She turned it over. Was that an ‘S’ or a ‘J’? She couldn’t make out the scrawl. It could be initials of something or someone. The abductor’s? No, why would he have his own name written on a piece of paper?

A chill swept through her. Maybe it was his last victim, and her attempt to help herself? What was her name? Charlie thought hard and then it came to her, Samantha Jenkins! The woman went missing a month ago, about a month after Janice Parker vanished. Charlie screwed up her forehead. Samantha Jenkins disappeared in August, Janice in September and Sally in October. A prostitute a month.

No, no, Sally’s not missing. She’s probably visiting rellies or on holiday or something. Prostitutes can have holidays, of course they can! Charlie stood up and began to pace around her flat. She finished up at her large window, and rested her head against the cool pane. She felt she was involved and in too far to pull away. Her research into writing a book seemed small against the possibility she had been in the abductor’s car.

Turning from the window she stared at the scrawl still clutched in her hands and was certain the initials were S.J. She took in the long telephone number beneath. It was a lot easier to read than the letters. She picked up her mobile and before she could talk herself out of it pressed in the numbers 07798527801 – the number five she wasn’t so sure of, but she crossed her fingers and pressed the green key on her phone. After a brief lull the phone began to ring, and continued to ring until it went to the standard network voicemail. Charlie disconnected.

In the kitchen, she tiredly made herself a hot chocolate, then sat down with her dictation machine and forced her drained brain to remember all she had seen and heard in the car. He had appeared tall even though he was sitting down, and he was Scottish. She sighed and took a sip of her drink. Well, that ruled out the Audi owner as the Gentleman Abductor, she thought to herself. ‘The only reason he was called the Gentleman Abductor was because he spoke in a posh English accent… unless he was faking, of course,’ she murmured her thoughts aloud.

Hmm, he’d dark hair. She had seen the way his hair had curled around his ear as if he was in need of a good haircut, and his face was definitely clean-shaven – although the dark shadows could have been stubble. It was just too dark in the car to see. She had tried to look after she’d got out of the car, when the interior light should’ve come on, only it didn’t.

She rewound the tape again and listened. Nothing. There was nothing there the police didn’t already have. But why’d he let her go?

She couldn’t think of any single reason why.

TWENTY FOUR

I
n her lunch hour, Charlie headed towards the car park and her car. She had been waiting all day to telephone the number again, and now had her chance. Inside the Fiesta she took out her mobile and before she could lose courage she rang the number that was readily stored in her mobile’s memory.

She chewed on her bottom lip as it rang – what would she say if, unlike last time, it was answered?

‘
Hello, Jane speaking.’

Charlie jumped. ‘Oh, er, hello,’ she said. Did she say Jane? She looked at the writing again on the receipt. The first ‘S’ could be a ‘J’, she supposed.

‘
Hello?’ said Jane again, and Charlie noted faint annoyance in her voice.

‘
Look, you might think I’m a complete loony but your life could be in danger,’ she said in a rush. So much for breaking it to her gently! There was silence on the other end and then,

‘
Who is this?’

‘
I’m a, er, reporter, and I’ve been –’

‘
A reporter?’ Charlie could have sworn there was a trace of hope in the woman’s voice this time.

‘
Yes, and I’ve been investigating the Gentleman Abductions. Last night I thought I had him, but instead I found a piece of paper on the floor of his car with your name, or rather initials, and this number on.’

‘
I see.’ There was that annoyance again.

‘
Of course I don’t know they were
your
initials, I was just ringing the number I found on some old petrol receipt I found in his car.’

‘
You’re mad.’

The voice was young, but well spoken, and Charlie imagined her to be in her late teens to early twenties, with neatly styled hair, immaculate makeup and nails and styled in Burberry. The voice also sounded suspicious, as if the anonymous person was expecting to get caught out, and Charlie’s heart sunk. She didn’t want to terrify the woman, just make her aware of possible dangers.

‘
If you’re trying to frighten me…’

‘
No, of course not.’ The last thing she wanted was for Jane to believe she was a nuisance caller and hang up. ‘I could have it all wrong. They might not be your initials at all. In fact, the writing is so bad they could be anything.’

There was silence.

‘
Hello?’

‘
What newspaper are you from?’ the woman asked.

‘
London Core
.’

‘
I think you should leave me alone!’ The words were said in a sob, and then the connection went dead as Jane ended the call.

TWENTY FIVE

C
harlie had joined the women in the red-light area again last night hoping she’d spot Jan and apologise for stealing her ‘trick’. But the teen hadn’t shown. She didn’t stay out for long. For one, she had finally acknowledged its dangers and secondly she was worried Fanny, like Melvin, would notice her tired face in the mornings – or worse Mr Middleton!

She had been ambitious thinking she could pretend to be a prostitute in the evenings, achieve suitable research for her book, and continue with her ordinary work during the day.

She stood under a cold shower squealing as the icy water ran down her back and woke her up. Fanny wasn’t around to see her jaunty walk into the office. Clair Michel was at Mr Fanton’s desk instead and too engrossed in paperwork to notice.

She glanced behind Clair into Fanny’s office. Mr Middleton was on the telephone, spinning one way and then the other on his chair like a small boy. As he spun he caught Charlie looking and stopped abruptly. Charlie lowered her gaze, but continued watching from beneath her eyelashes. He jiggled the top of his tie, placed one elbow on the desk and continued to talk on the phone while his other hand rested on his hip. After a moment he changed this hand to a fist on his hip. Charlie could imagine him putting on a stern, no-nonsense voice as he continued his charade of tough business man making a corporate call, and smiled in genuine affection.

Charlie looked up as he put down the phone, and watched as he got up and strode out of his office.

‘
Clair,’ he called.

For a moment…

Charlie’s heart was racing. She had a silly notion that he was going to come over and wish her a good morning or make a joke about being caught spinning on the chair.

‘
Silly,’ she muttered but couldn’t help feeling disappointed. She bent her head, and didn’t see Ben’s lingering look on her as he held the door open for his PA to go through.

*

It was nearly her finish time and she was looking forward to the weekend where she could spend longer on the streets looking for Jan and explain to her why she couldn’t let her get into the Audi. Maybe they’d have coffee or something as they discussed both of their near misses with the abductor?

‘
Going to Sarah’s
Anne Summers’
party tomorrow night, Charlie?’ Faye called as she was shrugging into her jacket.

‘
Is that this Saturday?’

‘
Yup! Dress up, because we’re all going to Cargo’s after.’

Charlie mentally groaned. ‘I’ll only come to the party. I’m not keen on Cargo’s.’

‘
Since when,’ Faye scoffed.

‘
Gallies for you Faye,’ Sarah said, and placed a pile of reports on her desk.

Faye turned to them with a sigh. ‘Talk to Ginger Minger would you Sar, she’s backing out of Saturday night.’

‘
Oh, no!’ Sarah turned to Charlie.

‘
Since when were you two best friends?’ asked Charlie as she reached for her bag. ‘One moment you’re at each other’s throats, the next –’

‘
We’ve always been mates,’ said Sarah. Charlie
rolled her eyes remembering when Sarah was shedding tears over Faye’s sarcastic remarks.

‘
So why aren’t you coming to my party?’ Sarah asked Charlie.

‘
I never said that! I’ll come to your party, but I doubt I’ll go to the club after, that’s all.’

Sarah waved a hand airily. ‘Oh, you’ll so change your mind once you get into the party spirit at mine. Seven o’clock, right?’

‘
Jesus!’ Faye said, and Charlie and Sarah both looked over at her. She was studying the galley proofs and not listening to their conversation.

‘
What’s up?’ asked Sarah.

‘
Another prozzie has vanished. When did you get these Sar?’

‘
News gave them to me just now. I was told to get them over to you ASAP.’

Charlie’s heart was banging in her chest. ‘The Abductor?’ she asked.

‘
Yep,’ said Faye absently as she studied the proofs. She looked up, and over towards the news desk; a large table manned by a team of eight close to Mr Fanton’s office. ‘We’ll struggle to get this in for tomorrow.’ No work seemed ever to be done on News; the people there always appeared to be arguing and phones were constantly ringing. ‘Cheers, guys!’ Faye called sarcastically, but no one looked up.

Trying to act nonchalant, Charlie sat back at her desk.

Melvin came in backwards, opening the door with his back while he was engrossed in reading something from a thick ledger.

‘
Mel,’ said Charlie.

He turned with the ledger, his eyes still scanning the print, ‘Hmm?’

‘
Mel.’

He finally looked up. ‘Sorry, doll, miles away. The Gentleman Abductor struck again Tuesday night,’ he said, before she could ask. ‘Tuesday evening, or the early hours of Wednesday according to police. It’s going to be our headline tomorrow, which’s why it’s going to be a late night. Be a doll, and let Dean know, eh?’