‘It’s not much of a hotel is it,’ Greenock said. He was a tall man with black wavy hair. Two years with the police, and his first stakeout. He had changed his police uniform for an assistant manager’s at the hotel. Tomorrow he’d have a talk to Homicide and see if he could move over on a more permanent basis.
‘Some of the women who come in here aren’t much either.’
‘Then why was Holden here?’
‘You’d better ask him.’
‘He’s dead, that’s why I’m asking you,’ Greenock said. He could sense the unpleasant man knew more than he was letting on.
‘Sometimes men like a bit of the rough, a woman off the street. Men like Holden, I see them in here occasionally. They spend their lives being respectable, law-abiding citizens, when all they want to do is rebel, the same as all of us. But it’s not possible, you know that, not in the long term anyway. They come down here. One was even a vicar, not that he realised that I knew.’
‘How did you know?’
‘My father, he was keen on the church. Every weekend we’d be there. Everyone gives away what and who they are by the way they walk, their mannerisms.’
‘Regular Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you?’
‘Not me. I’ve read all his books, and he’s right. You watch the next one that comes in.’
Soon after, a woman, dressed in a white blouse with a red skirt, walked in through the door. The man was dressed casually, an open-necked shirt, a pair of jeans.
‘The usual, Joyce?’ the concierge said.
‘I’d say by the way he walked he was a police officer,’ Greenock said.
‘I’d have him down as an army officer. Why the police?’
‘I’ve seen him around, not that I’ve ever spoken to him, and he didn’t recognise me.’
‘Any problem for him?’
‘Not if he’s off duty.’
A forty-five minute wait, another woman. ‘It’s her,’ the concierge said.
‘Excuse me. I’m Police Constable Greenock. I’ve a few questions if you don’t mind.’
The man she had come in with attempted to rush out of the hotel. Greenock had pre-empted him by remotely locking the entrance door. ‘You’ll not get out of here. And besides, it’s the lady that interests the police, not you.’
‘I’ve not done anything,’ the woman protested. ‘I’m registered, legal, even pay my taxes.’
‘I’m here about a man you brought in here in the past.’
‘I’m like a priest. I don’t tell on anyone. They pay their money, they have their fun, and that’s it.’
‘Your name, sir?’ Greenock said, turning to the flustered man.
‘It’ll ruin me.’
‘Were you here on the night of the murder?’
‘I read about it, James Holden. This is my first time here.’
Greenock looked over at the concierge. He shook his head, indicating the man had lied.
‘Okay, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. If you provide me with evidence as to who you are, you can leave now. I’ve got your photo, and I’ll check your phone before you leave. I’ll just take a few contacts off it, phone them up if we can’t contact you, tell them that we’re looking for a man who had been with a prostitute in Bayswater. I’m sure we’ll find you soon enough.’
‘Conrad Evans, I’m a builder in the city. I was on my way home. It’s been a long day, and I see Daisy here, and she beckons me over. That’s the truth, believe me.’
‘I do. Your identification and your phone.’
Greenock picked up his phone while the man fumbled in his wallet. ‘Send a car,’ he said. ‘You’ll need to come to the station with me,’ he said to the woman.
‘What for? Business has been quiet. You’ll have to feed me if you want to talk.’
‘Pizza?’
‘That’ll do.’
Her client left, a police car arrived. ‘I’ll look past your taking backhanders from the whores this time,’ Greenock said to the concierge.
‘Don’t worry. Your Inspector Hill fixed it with the management. I work with you; he’ll protect me.’
‘The long arm of the law protecting the villains. Whatever next?’
‘It was the long arm of the law that put me inside in the first place.’
‘You’ll be here tomorrow?’
‘I hope so. It’s a lousy job, but it does have benefits.’
‘Joyce?’
‘You’ve got it.’
‘You’re a foul man,’ Greenock said. ‘Don’t think tonight has been a pleasure for me.’
‘I’ve got a thick skin. Nothing you say will affect me.’
‘No doubt it won’t. I hope you enjoy your time with Joyce.’
‘More than you will with Daisy.’
Chapter 6
At Challis Street Police Station, the prostitute sat quietly in one corner, eating a pizza. ‘Not much to look at,’ Wendy said.
Isaac thought his sergeant was harsh in her criticism. He could see the woman had the look of the street and the needle marks on her arms were not the best, but considering the life the woman had led, she had fared better than most.
‘What are you looking at?’ the woman said, lifting her head away from the pizza.
‘Nothing,’ Isaac said. ‘When you’re ready.’
‘Are you going to charge me?’
‘There’s no charge. We’ve just got a few questions.’
‘Okay, let’s get on with it. I’ve lost enough money tonight because of you.’
Inside the interview room, Daisy sat on one side, Isaac and Wendy on the other. ‘Could we have your correct name, please?’ Isaac said.
‘Elizabeth Wetherington.’
‘Miss Wetherington…’
‘Call me Daisy, everyone else does.’
‘Daisy, we are interested in a man you took to the hotel several times in
