Those pouty lips of hers were thinned and almost white with rage. ‘I think it’s time you left.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re going. Before the sickness in the air here seeps into our bones.’ Bliss turned to leave, then paused and said, ‘By the way, do you fancy telling me who stepped in to fill the void when your boss got banged up? I’ve just realised I might have been talking to the monkey when I should’ve gone to the organ grinder.’
Parkinson responded with a laugh, which in turn caused her to cough: a hacking, wheezing sound. When she’d recovered, she said, ‘Jesus! You really are bloody old, aren’t you? Almost as ancient as those sayings of yours.’
Bliss angled his head. ‘Is it you, Nicola? We know Drake kept his family out of it, and for good reason. So they needed someone expendable to shepherd the sheep. A figurehead to play at being the boss. Perhaps that person is you.’
Arms refolded, the woman’s fingers began to tap against her own ribs. ‘You never know. And you never will. You got lucky before; Mr Drake is not about to let that happen again.’
‘Yeah. I think it is you. I can see all that ambition burning in those haggard old eyes of yours.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You haven’t got a fucking clue, you useless fucking pig!’
Bliss tutted. ‘That’s no way to talk to an officer of the law. I’d threaten to drag you to the nick in cuffs, only I suspect you’d enjoy it too much.’
‘That’s your problem, filth. You have no idea what enjoyment is these days. I bet you haven’t truly enjoyed yourself since you lost that pig wife of yours – Hazel, was it? Way I hear it, she was murdered by the bloke she was fucking… that had to hurt. I do hope so. I hope it hurts you every time you take a breath.’
Bliss did not rise to the provocation. She had tried a similar tack before, and it hadn’t worked then, either. She was little more than a virus, and his many confrontations with her had led to him building up an immunity against her particularly virulent strain. Instead he grinned. ‘Nice try. You’re deflecting. I can tell. I struck a nerve when I mentioned you running the show these days. I know it’s you, Nicola. I didn’t before, but I do now.’
‘Prove it.’ The demand emerged in a loud snarl.
Bliss nodded and continued on his way out of the door. ‘I might do that. Either way… we’ll be seeing you.’
Fifteen
The evening briefing dissolved into a mood of vocal enthusiasm. Bliss took the opportunity to inform the team about the conversation he’d had with DS Bishop earlier in the day, by which point everybody with something to report had already said their piece.
DC Hunt, who had attended the post mortem with Phil Gratton, revealed little more than they had already surmised for themselves: death by manual strangulation, with clear indications of fingers being placed around their victim’s neck, the thumbs pressing into her throat. Evidence of petechial haemorrhaging had also been noted in her eyes. Time of death had been narrowed down: Nancy Drinkwater confirmed the victim had been dead for no longer than eight hours by the time she was found. That set TOD at no earlier than 2.30am on Tuesday.
Further investigation had been carried out into their victim’s background. No birth records or National Insurance number were found. Checks with the NHS had also come back negative. Immigration revealed no record of a Majidah Rassooli having entered the country, even on a student visa. She had not applied for asylum status, either. Her presence in the UK was about as illegal as it got, and had almost certainly arisen against her will. This confirmation immediately brought Bliss’s attention back to Lewis Drake.
There were other traffickers – plenty of them, in fact. But this poor girl being on the books of one of Drake’s escort agencies was no coincidence, to Bliss’s mind. They’d brought her into the country having either abducted her themselves or paid a pittance for her. After cleaning her up and feeding her a few decent warm meals, she was put to work for them. That was her life when she was murdered.
Bliss mentioned this when it came to his turn. He said it as much for Glen Ashton’s sake as anything, believing he’d be reporting back to DI Kennedy later that same evening. ‘Penny and I will continue to work together with ERSOU to gather as much information as we can, but we do have to accept and understand how limited our scope will be. While none of us are dismissing the lone punter as killer theory entirely, I suggest the clean-up of her flat afterwards is key… I think Penny and I met Parkinson’s daughter, by the way. What’s interesting about her is that she matches the description Beaumont gave us of the young blonde who was running the show that day.’
Bishop was keen to pursue that angle, and decided it would be good to establish communication between all parties during that entire period. ‘Where are we on our victim’s phone?’ he asked.
‘Phones, plural,’ Ansari reminded him. ‘So… the number attached to the web page we believe to have been controlled by one of two agencies comes back to a batch purchased for cash roughly two years ago. Twenty of them were bought at King’s Cross station, all on the EE network, all prepaid pay-as-you-go. None of them,
