Through the open front parlour door, she glimpsed half-naked tarts bouncing up and down on happy punters, and the sounds of sex drifted down the stairs.
Ross sat there, impassive.
She opened the front door and to her shock found Tony standing there. He pushed inside, closing the door behind him. She glimpsed two policemen coming up the path. There was a cop car parked just in front of the black Jag.
‘Shit,’ said Annie.
‘Don’t think it’s a raid, they’re not mob-handed,’ said Tony. ‘Still, better keep it down in here.’
Ross was already on it. He’d shot out of his chair at the word ‘raid’ and was already in the front room passing the word. The music was turned off. The laughter died. As the front doorbell rang he grabbed the visitors’ book from the hall table and ran off up the stairs to spread the word. Silence fell up there. Then he came back down and went into the kitchen, told Dolly. White-faced, she came out along the hall and looked at Annie and Tony standing there. She straightened her suit jacket, patted her hair and opened the front door.
‘Miss Farrell?’ asked one of the young coppers, politely removing his helmet.
Dolly nodded: yes.
‘Sorry to disturb you, miss. Can we come in?’
They went on into the kitchen. Ross was gone, out the back way. Dolly gave Annie a quick ‘don’t you dare fuck off’ glance, so Annie followed her and the coppers into the kitchen and they all sat down. Tony went off into the front room, out of the way.
‘What’s this about?’ asked Dolly.
The coppers exchanged a look, then the older one spoke.
‘Miss Farrell, a body has been found. There was a card on the body that led us to believe that the person in question was working out of an escort agency run by you from this address.’
‘A body?’ Dolly looked whiter than ever.
‘A young black female.’
Annie felt as sick as Dolly looked. She thought of Aretha, not calling in this morning. Aretha had been out on an escort job last night.
‘
‘We’d like you to accompany us to the station,’ said the copper. ‘If you’re willing to identify the body?’
‘It’s okay, Doll,’ she said, standing up, ‘I’ll come with you. Wait up while I phone Kath and let her know I’ll be delayed.’
Five minutes later they were in the back of the cop car being driven to the police station, both sitting silent and shocked, wondering what the hell was kicking off here, hoping against hope that the young black female was anyone, anyone at all, but not—please God—Aretha Brown.
When they reached the station they were led into the bowels of the place, into an antisepticscented room.
‘Oh fuck,’ said Dolly.
There was a body laid out under a sheet.
Annie grabbed Dolly’s hand and held it tight.
An attendant pulled the sheet back while the same two coppers hovered in the background. Annie stepped forward, but Dolly seemed rooted to the ground. But she was close enough to see who was there. Together they looked down on the dead face of their good friend Aretha.
‘Oh no. Oh shit,’ whimpered Dolly, putting a hand to her mouth.
Annie was silent, staring, her guts churning with shock and grief.
Aretha’s face was not her own any more: it was a mask of death, wet and greyish, all the life gone. The eyes were closed, the mouth half open. There was redness along the jaw and around the neck there was a thin, bloody line.
‘Do you positively identify this woman as Aretha Brown?’ asked the older PC.
Dolly nodded, unable to speak, tears starting in her eyes.
‘Yeah,’ said Annie shakily. ‘That’s her. That’s Aretha.’
When they were being led back through the station to the front desk they came across Chris—huge, bald, heavily muscled Chris: Aretha’s husband. Two more cops were taking him into a room. Annie saw to her shock that he was handcuffed. And his hands were bloody.
‘Hey!’ she said, quickening her pace. ‘Hey, Chris!’
All three men stopped and looked at her. One of the cops was tall and dark haired, the other one was dumpy and balding. Chris towered over them both.
‘I didn’t do nothing!’ Chris yelled out, tears streaming down his face.
Annie hurried over. The tall, dark-haired one had the air of being in charge, so she addressed her remarks to him. ‘What’s going on here? Wait up! You don’t think Chris had anything to do with Aretha…?’
The two plain-clothes cops exchanged a glance, then looked at her as if they’d stepped in something nasty.
‘And who are you?’ asked the tall one.
‘Annie Carter. This is Dolly Farrell.’
‘We’re interviewing Mr Brown. The officers will show you out.’ He turned away.
‘I’m going nowhere until I’ve talked to Chris,’ said Annie.
He turned back and stared at her with dark, unfriendly eyes. ‘What?’
‘You heard. Chris used to work for me. He’s a close friend of mine, I want to talk to him.’
He looked at her. Assessing her. He was going to tell her to bugger off, she just knew it. But then he surprised her.
‘All right. You can sit in on the interview for ten minutes, then you’re out.’
Annie nodded and moved forward. Dolly started to follow. The tall one blocked her way. ‘These officers will show you out,’ he said.
Dolly gave him a glare and turned to Annie. ‘I’ll wait,’ she said.
Annie followed Chris and his captors into the interview room.
Chapter 3
The room was small, bare and windowless. On the near side of an oblong table were two chairs, one of which was quickly occupied by the portly, bald and sweaty-looking cop. They seated Chris on the other side of the table. He slumped there, his slab-like forearms spread out on the table, his big ugly ex-boxer’s head resting upon them. He looked fucked.
Annie watched him worriedly. She’d known Chris for years. He was a big, hard man who had once been the bouncer on the door at the Limehouse brothel. He was a Delaney man, but he was rock solid. Tough as nails. Took no crap from anybody. Now when he looked up at her his eyes were full of desperation; his face was wet with tears.
‘Oh Christ,’ he said, and put his head back down again, and sobbed like his heart was breaking.
‘All right, what the fuck you been doing to him?’ Annie demanded.
The tall dark-haired one gave her that ‘stepped in something nasty’ look again. She was already getting a bit tired of it. He moved a chair to the other side of the desk, beside Chris.
‘Take a seat,’ he said.
‘I’ll take a seat when you start telling me what’s going on here,’ said Annie.
He looked at her. His dark eyes were unfriendly. ‘Take a seat.
