Broken (18 page)

‘Yeah but, Vi, that only counts if the two heads are above average intelligence. So, love, where does that leave you?’

She grinned. ‘See, you cheeky fucker! Even with all this hanging over your head you’re still making jokes. That Russian had better watch himself, mate. Then, when you’ve sorted this lot, Pat, do me a favour and fucking retire, will you? I can’t take all this any more. I’m too old for it, boy. And without wishing to offend, love, so are you. There’s loads more frosting on your bonce. Grey as a badger you are.’

Patrick chuckled. He loved Violet, nothing fazed her.

‘Just because there’s snow on the roof don’t mean there ain’t a fire in the grate, Vi.’

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘Shagging and fighting are two different things. The sooner you realise that the better off you’ll be.’

He didn’t answer her this time. There was nothing he could say. His show of unconcern was slipping and he knew it.

 

DI Jenny Bartlett was like a breath of fresh air and Kate was over the moon to welcome her into the team.

She and Leila sat and drank coffee as Jenny asked them pertinent questions about the investigation. ‘So, the dead kids showed no physical signs of abuse?’

Leila shook her head. ‘No. The photos show them engaging in oral sex. It’s the older kids who seem to have been used more aggressively. I think the adults concerned were aware that two and three year olds would be outwardly hurt - bruised, cut et cetera. It’s all been arranged very professionally. The mother of one child, Kerry Alston, was herself a victim of abuse, both ritual and parental. Her father handed her round to his friends as a party piece, evidently. There’s no doubt in my mind that she enjoyed what she was doing, though she’s trying to say now she was forced into it. That she’s too scared to open her mouth. The usual old fanny.’

‘Has a specialist interviewed the kids?’

‘Not as yet,’ Kate told her. ‘We have a consultant psychologist coming from Aberdeen. He’s an expert in the field and we want to cause as little trauma to the kids as possible. You must remember that at first these were treated as separate offences. Child endangerment and attempted murder. Now it seems the mothers are in cahoots. Honestly, it’s the weirdest case I’ve ever worked on.’

Jenny sighed. ‘The kids should have been interviewed by a psychologist before now. But there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s start on the mothers.’ She looked at her notes. ‘This Regina Carlton - what has she had to say for herself?’

‘At the moment, she is under supervision in Rampton Hospital. We’ve nothing much on her since as far as we know her kids haven’t been involved in anything else. They certainly haven’t turned up in any photographs so far. We’re pulling apart the Parkes girl’s place as we speak. See if she has anything else that might enlighten us.’

‘This latest kid, Mercedes, she was found in a place that had been thoroughly searched earlier, yeah?’

Kate nodded.

‘So either the search team fucked up, or she had been kept somewhere else for a while? If the mother is involved with paedophiles then it’s logical that she could have been taking her some place, isn’t it?’

Jenny looked at the other two women and tried to explain what was going through her mind.

‘I once worked on a case in Wales where kids were being taxied from playschool to paedophiles’ houses. Even the cab firm was in on it. You can’t underestimate these bastards, believe me. They walk through society invisible to the rest of us. They’re from every walk of life, doctors and lawyers right down the food chain to roadsweepers. And they
all
cover each other’s arses.

‘We have no idea yet how big this network is. It could be small or it could be huge. What we
do
know is that the men in those photographs are
real
. They have names, dates of birth, and more than likely wives and kids of their own. We need to find out who they are and what they do for a living. Chances are there are other kids involved with them. Statistics prove that there’s a paedophile in every street in the country. Scary thought, girls, isn’t it? Over a thirty-year period the number of kids affected could be in the thousands and they keep at it until they drop down dead. We have to stamp on this and do it soon.’

Kate was impressed and it showed.

Jenny sipped at her coffee, her huge bulk overflowing the spindly office chair. She had a light in her eyes that pleased Kate, one that denoted energy and determination. She wanted these lowlifes as badly as Kate.

It was a good start.

‘One more thing - when I interview the suspects you keep out of it unless I say otherwise, Kate. I know how to rattle them and trip them up. It’s a knack I’ve developed over the years. Are you OK with that?’

She nodded her agreement. ‘But remember, I have a few tricks I use myself!’

‘Good. Then let’s finish this coffee and get started, eh?’

Leila grinned. ‘I warned you about her, Kate. She’ll run you ragged.’

Jenny looked into Kate’s eyes and said, ‘But it’s for the common good, that’s the main thing. The sooner we clean the streets of this scum, the sooner I can get on to the next case and the next lot of nonces. And, believe me, they are legion. Fucking legion.’

Willy felt a presence near him and strained to see through the darkness. He was sore, and he was confused. They had put him in the dark, removed his watch and clothes, and left him tied to a small Z-bed. He wasn’t sure if it was day or night, or how long he had been incarcerated.

He could smell a pungent aroma and realised it was aftershave.

‘Who’s there? Fucking get me up and fight me like a man.’ His voice was hoarse from lack of water and disuse.

A heavily accented voice replied, ‘We won’t harm you, Mr Gabney, you are more like insurance to us. We want to use you to bargain with Mr Kelly. Please, put yourself at ease about everything, I beg of you.’

‘Up yours, mate. Pat Kelly will take you and break you like a fucking child’s toy! You don’t know who you’ve picked a fight with, you don’t. Well, you’ll soon find out, mate. Quick smart.’

The voice was laughing now. ‘I speak better English than you do, Mr Gabney.’

Willy said scornfully, ‘Well, that ain’t hard, is it? Everyone speaks better English than the English. The real English, that is. Ain’t you ever noticed how everyone speaks English but we don’t bother learning anyone else’s language? Why would we? When prats like you bother to understand us, we don’t need to learn nothing. But we teach good fucking manners, boy, remember that.’

Boris was impressed. This man, an
old
man by his standards, had put up a very brave fight. It had taken three men and eventually a gun to get him in the back of the van, and as they had driven him away he had really gone to town, knocking out one of Boris’s best men with a single punch.

Now he had been kept prisoner for two days without food or water and he was still fighting. Boris envied Patrick Kelly this man’s loyalty and devotion. But he would keep him without food, water or warmth for a good while yet. He didn’t trust the prisoner’s strength. It was abnormal.

‘Mr Kelly knows we have you. I have heard from him and will be making a point of seeing him before very long. You need be patient for only a few more days.’

‘Up yours, you Russian ponce!’

‘The same to you too, Mr Gabney, I’m sure. I will bid you farewell.’

He left as quietly as he’d entered. Willy wondered where the hell he was being held. There was no sound, no smell, nothing. It was a completely dark and sterile environment. He felt better for the human contact, though. At one point he’d wondered if he was going to be left to starve to death. Maybe that’s what they would do to him yet. He didn’t know. He only knew the Russians were hard bastards. But then so was he, and more importantly so was Patrick Kelly. Pat would get him out of it if it was humanly possible, no matter what the price. Willy knew that as well as he knew his own name.

All he could do was wait and hope that things would turn out all right. He knew his boss would be moving heaven and earth to locate him. He only hoped Pat had talked to Maureen. She would have Willy’s nuts and nail them to the wall over this little débâcle.

 

Kate listened to Superintendent Cotter and stifled an urge to tell him where to get off. Politely, of course. The man had an arrogance that was almost palpable.

She listened as he droned on, obviously enamoured of the sound of his own voice. She observed him carefully, taking in every detail, from his sandy thinning hair to the beer gut hanging over his belt. She realised he wore a truss and this made her want to laugh out loud.

Cotter guessed what she was thinking and his shrewd blue eyes glared at her.

‘I understand, Miss Burrows, and please correct me if I am wrong, that you have had an intimate relationship with the murder suspect for a couple of years.’

‘I most certainly have. Mr Kelly and I had a full physical relationship until recently, when we both decided that our friendship had run its course - after which we parted company.’ She shrugged. ‘You understand how these things are, I’m sure.’

‘Mr Kelly is wanted in relation to a recent killing in Soho . . .’

Kate interrupted him. ‘I know. But Mr Kelly has never been found guilty of so much as a parking ticket or even given points on his licence before now, so I really don’t see what all this has to do with me. You seem to be insinuating that I have somehow compromised myself but I have been in touch with my union and they assure me that unless Mr Kelly had any prior conviction, I was perfectly free to see him.

‘I want you to understand, Superintendent Cotter, that I have always kept one eye on the job,
whoever
I was dating. Which is more than can be said for some of my male colleagues who seem to make a career out of escorting prisoners’ wives around town, sometimes even marrying them. Now, if you’re finished with me, I have a rather demanding case to investigate as I’m sure you are aware.’

‘Were you with Mr Kelly last Tuesday night? Yes or no. As you are in such a hurry I will get straight to the point.’

Kate looked Cotter in the eye for a good fifteen seconds and he could see her battling it out with herself before she answered. She knew he wouldn’t believe her. She could hardly believe she was saying it herself.

‘Yes, I was. It was our last night together, so I could hardly forget. I can
categorically
state that Pat Kelly was nowhere near that club. He was a silent partner and had no involvement in the day-to-day running of it at all.’

She stood up and smiled. ‘If you get this tape typed up, I’ll sign my statement and we can all get on with our work.’

Cotter smirked. ‘Not so fast, Miss Burrows. A Mr Thomas Broughton says that Patrick Kelly
was
at the club that night. How do you explain that?’

Kate paused for a moment before drawing breath. ‘I can’t. He’s obviously mistaken. Now is that all?’ Her voice carried far more conviction than she really felt.

‘For the time being, Miss Burrows.’

She went straight to the canteen, saw Jenny alone at a table and grabbed a coffee before joining her.

‘How did it go?’

‘Not too good in all honesty. I think Cotter’s after blood, preferably mine!’

Jenny laughed delightedly. ‘He’s a right arsehole, I’ve had dealings with him myself. You’ve heard I’m a lesbian? He tried to say I was as perverted as the people I put away. He’s the one with the problem, not me. I’m happy. I like myself and my life and what I am. Not many straights can say that, eh?’

Kate admired her honesty. In a profession dogged by homophobia and racism it was hard to be yourself at times even when you were a white heterosexual. Admitting to being gay was tantamount to wearing a sign reading ‘Kick Me’.

But it was getting better. Or at least Kate hoped it was. On the surface everyone was very politically correct but no one, not even the government, could dictate what people were thinking deep inside.

‘Well, Cotter doesn’t like me and quite frankly I don’t like him. But I could do without all this at the moment, I really could,’ she sighed.

‘I’ve heard about Patrick Kelly.’ Jenny laughed. ‘A good-looking villain, by all accounts. Seriously good-looking if the gossip’s true.’

Kate grinned. ‘Who’s been talking - Golding? He’s worse than a woman, him. He’d find gossip at the Last Supper.’

‘You’ve a good rep, Kate,’ Jenny said warmly. ‘You’re respected by all the men here because you
caught
and
tamed
a lion. Never underestimate the power of gossip. It can do you a lot of good.’

Kate saw the logic in what she was saying. ‘Thanks, Jenny. I needed a friendly word.’

‘We all do at times. It’s human nature, love. Now drink up and let’s get back into the fray. We have to talk to Miss Parkes and see what we can get out of her, OK?’

Kate nodded but the lie she had told weighed her down. She’d done it not so much for Patrick but to give Cotter one in the eye. Was it going to backfire on her?