‘ We expected both of them to be in that limo so it’s safe to assume the killer expected the same. He’s only done half a job.’
A grunting noise made them turn and look up at the building.
A dim light shone behind a curtain on the first floor.
‘ Someone’s up late,’ said Donaldson. He climbed into the car.
It was 1.30 a.m.
Jane the stripper lay awake on the grubby sheets listening to Hinksman’s regular deep breathing as he slept beside her. The room, like the rest of the hotel, was musty and dank-smelling.
Her top lip throbbed from a cut on the inside where it had banged against her teeth. Blood seeped into her mouth. She shuddered at the salty taste. Her right eye was badly swollen and beginning to blacken; she could hardly open it. That too throbbed — a slightly different beat to her lip.
She moved a hand slowly up to her throat, slowly so that she would not disturb Hinksman, and massaged her Adam’s apple tenderly, remembering how Hinksman, on reaching his climax, had clamped a vice-like hand around her windpipe and almost strangled her to death in an orgasm that was a torrent of violent, uncontrollable, jerking spasms.
The injuries to her lip and eye were punishments because she had complained about the near-murder.
When he knocked her around the room — a cold, clinical assault she thought he got even more pleasure from the violence than from the sex. His mad eyes had really been shining.
Hinksman moved onto his back. His mouth fell open. He snored. Crazy American bastard, she thought.
Lying there, motionless and taut, she wondered if she would be able to get out of bed, dress herself and slide out of the room without waking him up. He’d told her that he wanted her to be there in the morning — so she could imagine what his reaction would be to find her fleeing the place: a worse beating than before. Yet to be there in the morning would no doubt entail another beating too.
She squinted sideways at him through her good eye. He seemed well gone. She moved slightly. He groaned. She went rigid again. He didn’t wake.
From somewhere down in the bowels of the hotel a phone started ringing.
‘ Fuck,’ she cursed under her breath and heaved a deep sigh. Until it stopped there was no point trying anything. Escape would have to wait. She glanced at her watch — 2 a.m.
The phone seemed to ring for ever. Then there was the mumble of a voice followed by footsteps on the stairs, getting closer to Hinksman’s room. Jane fully expected them to pass. They didn’t. There was a light knock on the door.
Hinksman continued to snore.
The knocking persisted, growing louder. Hinksman was not disturbed.
In the end Jane could tolerate it no longer. She tugged a sheet off the bed, wrapped it round herself and answered the door.
An unshaven man wearing pyjamas and a stained dressing-gown stood there. Heavy bags hung beneath his bloodshot eyes. It was the hotel proprietor, Pepe Paglia.
‘ Oh,’ he said, surprised at seeing her. ‘I want him.’ He pointed with a nicotine-stained finger at Hinksman.
‘ Help yourself,’ she said. ‘He’s all yours.’
Paglia went over to the bed and shook Hinksman. ‘Wake up, come on.’
He was lifeless. A sustained effort was needed before he was finally roused; it was a fair while after that before he knew what was happening.
The woman kicked herself. Had she suspected he was this hard to wake when drunk, she would have been long gone.
‘ Phone call,’ said Paglia. ‘It’s…’ he glanced at Jane, turned back to Hinksman and whispered, ‘Miami.’
‘ Jeez, what does he want?’
‘ Dunno. I said you were asleep but he told me I had to get you.’
‘ Right.’ He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with the base of his thumbs, pulled on his dressing-gown and padded barefoot out of the room, ignoring the woman.
Paglia was left with Jane. He dawdled, peered closely at her. ‘Given you a belting, has he?’ he said. ‘If you want looking after properly you can always come to me. Great Italian lover.’
His face contorted into what could only be described as a leer. He thrust his hips forward with a jerk.
‘ God forbid,’ she said. She wafted away his halitosic breath.
‘ Suit yourself,’ he shrugged, and left the room, looking pleased with himself.
‘ Yuk,’ she said when he’d gone, and shivered at the thought of him.
She dressed quickly.
Prior to leaving, she picked up Hinksman’s wallet and quickly went through it. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was the first stroke of luck she’d had that night — or that year, come to think of it. Apart from credit cards, six of them, and driver’s licence which she intended to sell on, there was about?1,000 in mixed Bank of England notes, and a thick wad of dollar traveller’s cheques. And he’d only paid her twenty-five quid, the tight bastard.
‘ Criminal injuries compensation,’ she muttered, pocketing the money.
She tiptoed onto the landing above the entrance hall where Hinksman was taking the phone call. She backed into the dark recess of an alcove and waited.
‘ Unfortunate,’ she could hear Hinksman saying. ‘But it’s the name of the game… innocents do die occasionally… so where will he be? Who? Say that again… Right, got that; I speak to him. Right, OK. I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry, boss. Take it as read. It’s as good as done… OK, OK, so long.’
In the shadows Jane’s stomach tightened with fear. She prayed to a God she didn’t really believe in: Please, don’t let him spot me hiding here. She closed her eyes.
She heard him coming up the stairs.
She steeled herself to open her eyes again.
She almost let out a yelp. There he was. Less than three feet away from her! She could reach out and tap his shoulder. Surely out of the corner of his eye he must see her. Surely then he would kill her.
But Hinksman walked straight past her, yawning, massaging his neck muscles. His mind and senses were far away. She was undiscovered.
Still holding her breath, Jane gave him time to get round the corner before emerging like a ghost from the darkness and bolting down the stairs, along the hall and out through the front door — away from a man she never wanted to see again.
Sadly for her, this was not to be the case.
Chapter Four
The phone in the bedroom rang for a long, long time. Slowly it insinuated itself into Henry’s brain cells and forced him into wakefulness. It was a fight against whisky, analgesic and a crack on the head. He lay listening to the shrill noise, not knowing what it was at first. Eventually he threw off the duvet and went over to pick it up. ‘Yeah?’ he croaked.
‘ DS Christie?’
‘ Yeah.’
‘ This is Linda in control room. If you’re fit, you’re requested to be at the murder incident room which has been set up at Preston police station at eleven o’clock for a briefing.’
‘ What time is it now?’
‘ Nine-o-five.’
‘ Right. I’ll be there.’
‘ Are you OK for transport?’
‘ Yeah.’
He reeled slightly as a spell of dizziness hit him and put a hand to his forehead, steadying himself. His fingers
