Dying to Meet You (6 page)

He opened and drank a can of beer, and found himself thinking once again long and hard about Mel Goring; the girl with the mischievous brown eyes. She had really cared about Linda. Would Mel Goring manage to keep out of trouble as he’d advised her? He doubted it. She thought that the Kaufman brothers were responsible for Linda’s death and would most probably do her level best to prove it. She could land herself in a whole heap of trouble before long. And Peterson wouldn’t like a journalist interfering either.

He lifted his jacket off the chair, shook off the odd cat hairs and decided to take a stroll out along the seafront to the pier. He could do with the exercise and it was a pleasant evening, with the heat of the day gone.
He stopped before going out of the door, and on impulse looked up Mel’s phone number in the phone book, dialled and the answer phone told him: ‘SORRY WE’RE NOT IN. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR MESSAGE. WILL ANSWER SOON AS POSSIBLE.’

He rang off. It had been a bloody foolish idea anyway. What would he have said to her if she had answered? ‘How do you feel about taking a paddle in the sea with me, fish and chips and a drink afterwards in the Fisherman’s Rest pub?’

Would she have said yes? No, he didn’t think so.

Fifteen

Jude saw Mel Goring first. She was a new face in the Orchid Club foyer that evening, but Jude recognised her from the photos that she’d seen previously in Linda’s flat.

‘She’s an old school friend of mine. We go back a long way I’ve known her a long time,’ Linda had said when Jude had remarked on the many photos of Mel out on display about the place; some with her family and Jack her little boy.
So
why
are
you
here
,
Mel
Goring
?
Did
Linda
speak
about
me
?
Or
perhaps
you’re
after
a
story
. Jude studied her curiously from the other side of the room.

Unaware that she was being observed, Mel already guessed that on her own in the Casino she might stick out like a sore thumb. She had brought Bill along with her, supplied him with some extra cash providing she had his assurance that he wouldn’t go mad and blow all his wages on black jack or roulette.

She sipped a Vodka Campari at the bar and studied the faces of the gamblers at the tables in the room. So how much did they lose or win in a night? When she had walked into the foyer she had been taken aback by the stunning feature display of pink orchids that dominated the entrance to it. She’d touched one of the beautiful blooms which she’d thought would be artificial only to discover that the silky petals were the real thing. Not scented though which was a pity.

She wasn’t the only who took notice of the fine blooms she discovered later as she leant back against the bar.
Out of curiosity she watched and counted the number of people who when they first came in seemed more interested in the blooms rather than in the gambling.

‘Your first time here, miss?’ The good looking young barman, his fair hair caught back in a braided pony tail, said
, passing over her second drink, a fruit juice. She had to drive Bill and herself back home. ‘It’s one of the best places to come if you like to gamble.’

‘You would think so.’ She smiled. ‘Have you worked here long? I expect you’ve seen fortunes won and lost overnight?’

‘Yep. Most of the punters who come here can well afford it though,’ he said with a grin.

When the barman was distracted
Mel moved over close to the curtains and then took a peek behind them at a long lighted passage. It looked like it led to the main offices where she presumed punters were discreetly settling up with the management.

A light touch on her shoulder made her jump and turn round quickly.

‘Can I help you? If you’re looking for the powder room it’s on the other side. Over there. It is marked up.’

Jude smiled at her and Mel nodded. ‘Thanks. Over there you say.’

Mel felt like she was being watched. Closely. A muscular arm came round her shoulders and she looked up into the smiling face of the barman.

‘Hey - why didn’t you say you were looking to score? Knock on the third door along the passage and say I sent you, Connell from the bar. Freddie’ll fix you up with the good stuff, yeah.’

‘He will? Thanks but not just now.’ She moved away as she saw that the woman who had spoken to her earlier was coming over. The expression she wore on her face spelt trouble for somebody.

‘Connell - get back to the bar. Now! It’s busy. Stop trying to make it with every attractive young woman that comes in.’

‘Bitch!’ He muttered as he moved back to take up his post at the bar.

‘Sorry if he’s forcing his attentions on you.’

‘It’s okay, but thanks.’

Afterwards in her car, Mel
wondered why Jude Van Hoet had paid such particular attention to her. After she dropped Bill off she spotted a man weaving erratically across the middle of the road ahead of her.

It was nearly midnight and the man seemed well under the influence. She slowed down and stopped just ahead of him in the road, got out and recognized Ralph Calder, Brian Calder’s father. He’d mended a clock or two for her grandmother when Mel was a teenager and she visited his shop often down the old part of town. It had been most enjoyable; hearing all the clocks ticking and chiming in unison as if they had a life all their own. It had fascinated her as a youngster.

Ralph had changed a great deal since then. His skin looked grey in the lamplight and his hair had thinned considerably over a balding tonsure; the passing years and looking after his sick wife had inevitably altered him. But his ready cheery smile soon appeared when he saw her.

‘Miss
Goring. How are you?’

‘Mr Calder! Can I give you a lift?’

‘Thanks, m-missed the last bus home. Couldn’t find a taxi.’ He caught hold of her arm swaying on his feet. ‘Ver-very kind of you, miss.’ He hiccupped. ‘If-if it’s not too much trouble.’ He stared back at her anxiously, shaking his head. ‘Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.’

‘It’s not. Get in.’

‘Thank you, my dear. I met your Uncle Victor tonight. He-he told me how he found that poor policewoman Linda on the beach.’

Mel frowned.

‘She was your friend, wasn’t she? You must feel badly about it. I know poor Vic hasn’t got over the experience yet. Brian hasn’t either, doubt if he ever will. He’s very sensitive, my lad.’ He said struggling to belt up. ‘So sorry you’ve found me like this. Should have got a taxi ...’

Sixteen

Erik wheeled his chair quickly through the apartment over the Orchid. “Jude!’ He called out. ‘Jude - where are you? Are you okay, babe?’ It was late. The place was so quiet it seemed to echo back his words.

Erik was feeling edgy. Jude made no secret of her dislike for Freddie. She overstepped herself at times with his brother. She was a tease. And Freddie could be spiteful and cruel when he felt like it. Erik felt himself sweating. Three a.m
. and still no sign or word from her. Something must be wrong. She never stayed any longer downstairs in the casino than she needed to, though she was popular with their clientele. Vivacious and fun, she kept a firm hand on the staff; the place had been well run since she had been put in charge.

‘Jude,’ he called her again.

She wasn’t in the bedroom, the bed hadn’t been used. The room was immaculately tidy as usual but she’d undressed in there, her gown and few skimpy undergarments were tossed onto the bed and the carpet.

His face lightened rapidly. Now he could hear the water rushing, running freely in the bathroom, and pushing the door wide open to move in with his chair he saw why…

Jude…lying at the bottom of the open shower cabinet. He saw her dark head first, her hair falling loose over her face. He gulped in air furiously, his heart pounding fast against his rib cage when he spotted the red stained water that surrounded her body and the crimson stains that splashed high and wide running down in red brilliant streamers over the white tiled shower walls; blood that was still fresh.

He screamed out loudly, ‘Jude!’

Jude’s beautiful face was the only part of her left untouched. A knife had slashed into her making an obscene morass of her slim body. Gutted open wide from her chest down to her stomach exposing and spilling out her inner organs onto the tiles.

‘Jude! Jude!’ He yelled out desperately again before nausea filled him up
and he moved backwards in the chair quickly out of sight of the horror he’d just taken in, and vomited over the cream carpet in the bedroom.

He beat his fists down on the sides of his chair, his voice rising high and hysterical with grief, ‘Oh my God! No Jude! Jude!’ he shouted out desperately, tears rol
ling down his cheeks. But she would never hear him again. Never whisper his name in his ear as he woke in the morning and caress him sweetly as only she could.

He couldn’t stop his body shaking uncontrollably as he rocked in the chair.
It took him some time to pick up the phone and dial the 999 number. And shout into it, ‘Murder, please come to the Orchid Club at once!’ before dropping the phone and collapsing back in his chair.

*

They came quickly. Scene of Crime officers moved like sombre acolytes through the rooms and around Erik, forgotten momentarily while the police surgeon and the officers dealt with the crime that awaited them in the bathroom.

Farmer shouted, ‘For Christ’s sake! Somebody turn off the bloody water! Before it floods us out.’

Peterson spoke out sharply, ‘Who is this woman? Did Kaufman say, Trask?’

‘His girlfriend, ma’am - she didn’t come home tonight so he came over here looking for her.’

‘Must have been bloody ghastly for him. Poor bugger! Looks like a fucking knacker’s yard in here. Or at best a bloody good take off of Psycho,’ Farmer said turning away quickly from the victim, his lips curled in disgust.

Digital cameras clicked around them as they attempted to view this scene of butchery dispassionately.

Calder was staring down at the body with a glazed look in his eyes. ‘She-she’s wearing a pendent like Linda’s,’ he said bumping up against Trask in his haste to leave the scene. ‘Sorry, Sarge.’

‘Yeah. Could be,’ Trask said, spotting the chain of gold around the victim’s.

Granger’s normally cheerful face looked grim and pale. ‘Someone used a knife like Jack the Ripper. Took out most of the vital organs here. Two hours ago, I’d say at the most. She was strangled. Can’t tell you offhand much more than that. You’ll have to wait till the pathologist deals with it. You won’t get much out of that man in there - he’s in shock. I’ll give him something.’

‘Was it someone she knew or someone who got in into the premises with a key or password?’ Farmer
asked taking a piece of peppermint gum gratefully from Trask and chewing on it to stop the bile from coming up in his throat. He wasn’t feeling so bloody good, and could do with a drink. Several in fact.

‘This place in general doesn’t look disturbed at all. The victim’s clothes taken off by herself presumably in the bedroom. Everything kept neat and tidy. The bastard probably washed and changed his clothes before leaving,’ Farmer said to Peterson. ‘Is there a connection here with Handley’s death? A knife was used but it could well be the same signature. The victim’s strangled and doused in water again and is wearing a pendent similar to Linda Handley.’

She frowned and nodded. ‘You’re right, I thought I glimpsed that too. Could be committed by the same Perp. No sign of the weapon though so far.’

‘Someone must see that he gets home. Kaufman’s not in a fit state to drive anywhere.’ Granger indicated Kaufman, eyes closed still slumped in his chair. His face still damp and mottled with the tears he’d shed, his hands held tightly together in his lap. He looked up vacantly as his name was mentioned.

‘Trask help Mr Kaufman into my car, I’ll drive him home.’ Farmer announced. ‘Can’t say I’ll be able to sleep much now myself.’

Seventeen

Peterson drove back to her seafront hotel room at the White Rock from whence she had been rudely awakened an hour before by Trask’s urgent phone call. Richard, waiting for her in the double bed was drinking a cup of coffee when she joined him. The strain on her pale face told him all he wanted to know.

‘Bad?’

She nodded with clenched lips and collapsed onto the bed with a groan beside him.

He got up and went over to the drinks cabinet. His hand on the electric kettle he asked, ‘Tea, coffee or something stronger?’

‘I’ll have the something stronger, neat and make it a double, please, Richard.’

‘So, what was it this time? Another homicide?’

She nodded and rubbed the back of her neck. ‘A woman at the Orchid Club. In the apartment upstairs, Kaufman’s partner Jude van Hoet.’

‘Interesting
... Kaufman’s partner!’