‘Show me your dead girl’s picture,’ she said at one point. ‘I check out competition, look at how I am able to improve my own advertising. If you think she did what I do to make a living, I might recognise her.’
Bliss immediately picked up on what she had said. ‘Your own… Marta, please tell me you don’t run your own business on the side.’
She gave a coy smile. ‘I would not tell you this. It is illegal.’
‘You might be surprised. The law is a bit muddy regarding the services you offer.’
‘It is? Then this is good, no?’
‘No. What I mean is, if the people who employ you to escort for them and them alone get to hear of it, they will make you suffer. They’ll hurt you. Not so badly that you can’t work for them, but they will hurt you. And they have long memories, Marta. You must be more careful.’
Lsenko regarded him as if his concerns were unwarranted. ‘I want to have nice things. I have good clothes, I drive and have nice car. I can’t do all this with what I make from escort agency.’
‘So you run your own ads. Online?’
‘Yes. Of course. How else?’
Bliss nodded. How else indeed, in this increasingly digital age. He took a breath. ‘Marta, I can’t tell you what to do or what not to do. It’s none of my business. But the world you live in is a dangerous one, and you will make it more so by working for yourself on the side. My advice: stop it. And stop it now.’
While they had been talking, Chandler had taken out her phone. Earlier in the day, Bliss had sent her the crime scene photos via WhatsApp, and now she edged forward in her seat to show Lsenko the screen. She had selected the least intrusive shot, one that clearly revealed their victim’s features in the best light possible.
After studying it for at least ten seconds, Lsenko nodded her head and jabbed the screen with one of her perfectly manicured fingernails. ‘I do not know her name, but I do recognise her face. She is not with my agency. She work for another that supplies escorts here in Peterborough, but also in Cambridge and Huntingdon.’
Bliss felt the heavy thump of a dead weight striking his heart like a clapper on a bell. Just when he’d least expected progress, it seemed they had a breakthrough. ‘Do you remember which agency?’
She shook her head. ‘No. But is easy to find.’
‘You definitely don’t remember her name, though?’
‘I never knew her name. Not her real name.’ She picked up her own mobile, which had been sitting on the arm of her chair. Her thumbs flashed on it for a couple of seconds. Then she nodded to herself and handed the phone to Bliss. ‘See, here. With my agency I am Rebecca, not Marta.’
The online page she showed him contained four photographs in addition to her assumed name. In the first she wore a full-length evening gown, looking both striking and elegant. In the second she reclined on a sofa, wearing black nightwear that left little to the imagination. In the third she wore white lingerie while lying across the foot of a bed. In the final shot she was standing upright and completely naked, turned side-on to the camera while looking back over her shoulder.
Bliss handed the phone back to Lsenko, who smiled sweetly at him. ‘Here I am Marta, you see. There I am Rebecca. On your girl’s site, she is Honey.’
Five
Upon arriving back at Thorpe Wood, Bliss asked Chandler to update the rest of the team before joining him in the Sex Crimes unit. Officially, the division no longer existed and worked under the banner of the Sexual Offence Investigation Unit. Unofficially, while the squad ran investigations ranging from sexual abuse to rape, it also provided intelligence support for the NCA in connection to local prostitution rings.
Bliss and the squad leader, DI Angie Burton, had once enjoyed a brief fling. It had ended amicably and they remained friends as well as colleagues. He knew her experience would be useful in finding a way through the sleaze and grime he was set to encounter in tracking down the woman they currently knew as Honey.
Burton was sitting at the far end of the room talking with two members of her team when Bliss entered. He stood, waiting to catch her eye, before taking a seat at the closest free desk with a computer terminal. He didn’t bother trying to access any relevant sites, as he knew his network credentials were invalid on this equipment. Given the graphic nature of the material this team often had to analyse, the system was locked down tight with every keystroke monitored, to protect the user as much as the service.
A couple of minutes later, Burton came to sit down beside him. She had the kind of face you could hopefully still describe as being pretty without getting a rap over the knuckles for it. Her smile was warm and genuine, if a little weary. ‘And how are you doing these days, Jimmy?’ she asked. ‘Playing by the rules, I hope.’
‘Don’t I always?’
They both laughed.
‘How is it you don’t seem to age?’ he asked her. ‘Do you have a painting of yourself tucked away in an attic?’
‘Oh, I age. Believe me. I can’t sit or stand without farting these days.’
‘Well, something is working for you. On the outside, at least.’
‘That’s my healthy lifestyle. I’ve kicked out all the bad stuff. Besides, you’re not looking too shabby yourself, Jimmy. What’s your secret?’
‘I enjoy all the bad stuff.’
Burton shook her head at him. ‘Always the contrarian. So, what can I do for you?’
Bliss laid it out for her. ‘I’m working a murder. Young woman strangled to death in Cambridge.
