Bliss nodded. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’
He gave the exhibits back to Carolyn Miller and chivvied up Chandler. Trapped inside his sergeant’s car as they headed over to Orton Malbourne, he was at her mercy and expecting a grilling. Which was precisely what he got.
‘So where did you disappear to earlier?’
‘I had something personal to attend to.’
‘A meeting?’
He flashed a sidelong glance. ‘Personal. You did hear that bit, yes?’
‘You and I don’t keep secrets from each other, Jimmy.’
‘Yes we do. Of course we do.’
‘Only the deeply personal stuff. You didn’t say that.’
She kept it up all the way there, and despite his heart sinking at the thought of another verbal sparring match with Parkinson, he was glad when they arrived at their destination.
Igor must have been running an errand or having a day off, because another man opened the door to them this time. The regular doorman’s replacement was equally tall, but nowhere near as wide. Nevertheless, he looked mean and fit and capable of virtually anything. His bushy beard looked capable of sustaining nests and shelter for all manner of woodland creatures. After showing them into the office, the man stepped out again – all without uttering a single word.
‘I suppose you call that one Fritz,’ Bliss said.
‘Why Fritz?’ Parkinson asked, playing along from the same chair behind the same desk.
‘It’s a popular misconception that Frankenstein’s lab assistant was called Igor. His name was actually Fritz.’
‘Which is also a popular misconception. In Shelley’s original book, the doctor had no lab assistant. He only appeared in the first films.’
Bliss pursed his lips. ‘I bow to your greater knowledge. How do you know that, by the way?’
‘I read.’
‘Mary Shelley?’
‘You sound surprised.’
‘That you can read at all, yes. That you know Mary Shelley blows my mind.’
Parkinson offered up a mock kiss. ‘Speaking of blowing your mind, can one of my girls be of service to you today, Inspector?’
‘How about you, Nicola? You ever turn yourself out these days? Some mutton for the young lambs going to slaughter.’
This time she laughed. Harshened by habits including cigarettes and alcohol, it sounded as if it got caught up between her ribs. ‘Only on special occasions. For special people. You never know – your own Chief Constable might be one of them.’
‘That would surprise me. The way I hear it, he’d be happier with Fritz or Igor.’
Behind them, Chandler puffed out her exasperation. ‘Will you two put a lid on it, please? Jimmy, do us both a favour and ask her what you came here to ask. This place makes me feel itchy.’
‘You can get a cream for that, DS Chandler,’ Parkinson said. ‘I hear it stops all types of irritating cu–’
‘I think my colleague is right, Nicola. We haven’t got all day to bandy words around with the likes of you. As pleasant a thought as that might be.’
Parkinson summoned her son into the room. When he joined them, he was accompanied by a young blonde woman; they looked so similar, Bliss guessed they were siblings. He thought back to his encounter with the landlord, and Beaumont’s description of the woman who’d been in charge of the three men cleaning out the victim’s flat.
Parkinson had been casually swivelling from side to side in her chair behind the oak desk. Now she stopped and leaned forward, clasping her hands together and resting them in her lap. ‘Now the gang’s all here, ask away. I’m not saying you’ll like the two-word response, but I won’t stop you trying.’
Bliss put away his thought about the young blonde behind him. ‘Your cooperation is all I ask, Nicola. You know the score otherwise. In fact, if you’re straight with me, we can get this over with in double quick time.’
She batted her eyelashes at him. ‘I reckon everything you do is over in double quick time. You don’t look built for stamina. Not to worry. I’m all yours, Inspector. Have your way with me.’
Bliss snorted. ‘Not in this or any other lifetime. Tell me, Nicola: over the past few months, has your agency given any specific warning to your girls not to try going independent?’
She leaned back, pondering the question for a few seconds, and examined her nails before replying. ‘They already know that would be a terrible mistake. We tell them precisely who they work for and with. Indies are not welcome, and those who stray are cut off.’
‘In what way do you mean?’
‘Don’t go getting your knickers in a twist, Inspector. When I say they are cut off, I mean they get slung out of their flats and they lose our services and protection. They’re on their own.’
There was that grin of hers again. Bliss wanted to slap it off her face. He had a mental image of a cartoon he’d once seen in which Daffy Duck was dealt a right-hander, resulting in his bill circling his head several times. He wondered if he could generate enough energy to do that with Parkinson’s smug grin.
‘Are they also on the receiving end of a clump or two as they’re being thrown out?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘I’m never there, so I wouldn’t know. If they get mouthy then our people might get handy. But we are talking about just a bit of a hiding. Nothing more than that.’
‘And there were no recent, precise warnings? Possibly that matters could be taken further if any of them persist?’
‘Our girls don’t get the opportunity to persist. There’s no “three strikes and you’re out” bollocks here. If we find out they’re doing business on the side, they’re gone. End of. Simples.’
‘And does it still happen anyway?’ Chandler asked.
‘Occasionally. But not with your victim, if that’s what you’re trying to suggest. I asked around. She knew the score and never gave us any cause to suspect she might be playing away from home. Sadly, some of these girls ain’t got the brains they were born with.’
‘Maybe that’s because some of them are little more than children.’
Parkinson’s mouth formed an ‘O’. She put a hand
