‘Did you ever talk to Coco? Find out anything about her while she was there?’ Grace asked.
‘She didn’t speak enough English. One thing though-I’d give her a break sometimes when there was no one else around. I couldn’t let her go, but I’d let her out of that room and get her a cup of tea and something to eat in the kitchen. She wanted to use a phone one day. She kept pointing to my mobile. She was crying so I let her use it. I think she called Peter, whoever he was.’
‘Peter. That’s all?’
‘That’s all I could understand. But I do know that whatever that call was about, it made her happy. That’s when she started to jack up.’
‘What did she do?’
‘When the men came into the room, she’d be curled up in a heap. Sometimes she’d be in the corner on the floor. She wouldn’t move, wouldn’t even look at them. If they wanted sex, they’d have to force it. Look, the place we run-a lot of our clientele is suburban dads. This is their break. They want someone to give them a good time. Marie would leave the clients there, and often enough they’d come back to me and say they didn’t want that. It wasn’t what they’d paid for. Then Marie started getting angry with Coco because she wouldn’t cooperate. One day, madam dragged me down there and told me to sort her out. What was I supposed to do? Coco was wrapped up like this tight little ball. You could see her shaking. I lost it. I shouted at that little bitch for once. I said, you can’t fucking do this! It’s creating too many bad vibes. That shut her up. Anyway, after that Coco disappeared.’
‘Disappeared?’
‘She wasn’t there any more. That was maybe three weeks ago. I never saw her again. Then a bunch of cleaners turned up and went through that room like a dose of salts. Marie came and saw me. She had that look in her eye. She hadn’t forgiven me for swearing at her. If I told anyone about Coco, I was going to regret it, she said. She meant it, too.’
Easy enough, once the brothel was closed, to take someone down in the service elevator and out the back door to a waiting car, Grace thought. But where to from there?
‘Were you expecting us tonight?’ she asked.
Lynette shook her head.
‘You were, weren’t you? Someone called. When? Early? Late? And what about your workers?’ Grace asked. ‘Quite a few of them weren’t there tonight. You had customers waiting. Did you call them or did someone else?’
Lynette refilled her glass. ‘It was just a normal night.’
Someone had called, Grace felt certain of it. But too late to stop Marie making preparations to meet her lover, who instead had sent along his watchdog, Kidd, to keep an eye on her. Not much of an exchange for her.
‘Who’s Marie’s boyfriend?’
‘I wouldn’t have a clue. I’ve never seen him and I don’t want to.’
‘Was there anyone there tonight that you recognised? Anyone you’d seen before?’
‘In your mob?’ She grinned. ‘No, no clients. None that I recognised anyway.’
‘It was your more exotic workers who didn’t turn up tonight, wasn’t it? The Asian and African workers.’
Lynette shrugged, waving Grace away with one hand.
‘Does Marie look after them as well?’ she persisted.
‘No. She didn’t have anything to do with them. I handled the bookings and the money, that’s all.’
‘Do those workers cost more?’
‘What do you think?’
‘And do they get paid more as well?’
‘Of course they do.’
‘You’d know that, wouldn’t you? If you look after them,’ Grace said, watching the sudden panic in the woman’s eyes. ‘Let’s assume they’re not getting paid as much as they should. Where does the money go? Do you split it with the owners?’
Lynette put down her glass. ‘That’s it from me. Good night.’
‘Walk away from here and I’ll have you arrested.’
Lynette, half on her feet, slumped back into her chair, tired and frightened. Her make-up seemed to be slipping away.
‘How can you have me arrested?’
‘There’s plenty in what you’ve told me tonight. Harbouring an illegal immigrant for starters. Deprivation of liberty. Now let’s do this the easy way. You answer my questions. You get looked after.’
‘What do you think I can tell you? I’m just front of house. That’s all.’
‘How much do these workers get paid?’
Lynette looked away. ‘They don’t.’
‘You take the money.’
‘I take a percentage. Do you know how old I am? I’m fifty-three. If I don’t get some money together, what I am going to live on ten years from now? The fucking old-age pension?’
Grace ignored this. ‘Why are these workers doing this? There must be something in it for them. Is it a visa? For them or their families?’
‘I don’t know what the deal is. Some of them have other jobs as well, I’m pretty certain about that. They come in, they work a set number of shifts each week, they go home. I handle it. That’s all.’
‘Do you know Jon Kidd? The man who was at the reception desk when I left.’
‘That little shortie? I’ve never seen him before. And that’s a fact. I never have.’
‘Who brings these workers in to meet you?’
‘They come themselves.’ Lynette took a mouthful of wine. ‘They say they’re here to work for Amelie. I know what that means and I look after them from then on. The money they make gets recorded separately against their names. I send it off to the accountants. They deal with it and then I get my bit at the end of the month. In cash.’
‘They just front up out of the blue? You don’t know they’re coming.’
‘All right. I get a note from the accountant. It comes in a sealed envelope. If they don’t front, I have to send a letter back saying so.’
Someone tells them they’d better be there if they know what’s good for them, Grace thought. And if they don’t or won’t listen to that advice, what happens then?
‘Do they always turn up?’
‘Yeah,’ Lynette said. ‘Except one. That was just a month ago. Another African girl. I had her picture. She was a stunner.’
‘Do you still have the picture?’
‘No, I sent it back when she didn’t turn up.’
‘What was her name?’
‘I wasn’t given a name. I don’t get names for any of them and I don’t ask. We settle on a working name when they get there.’
‘What happened to the one who didn’t turn up?’
‘I don’t know and I didn’t ask.’
‘Why didn’t Marie handle these workers?’
‘Because she doesn’t know her arse from her elbow.’
‘But you do. You’ve been in this business for years. How long have you been working at Life’s Pleasures? Has this been going on all the time you’ve been there?’
‘All my fucking life, it feels like. Three years.’ Lynette had stood up. She was crying. ‘Yes, it’s been going on the whole time. I got paid for it, didn’t I? You can have me arrested now. I don’t give a shit. I’m walking away. I need to get some sleep.’
‘One last question. Did Coco have a wedding ring when she was with you?’
‘Is that a joke? What would she do with that?’
And she was gone, leaving behind an empty glass and carafe and a full ashtray.
Grace walked out to her car, passing a man a distance away from her on his way in. She glanced at him but he was heading for the bar. In her car, she rang the control centre.
‘Did you get that conversation?’
