Black Daffodil (Trevor Joseph Detective series) (18 page)

‘Sir?’ A constable stood in the doorway that led to the inner hall. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that the flat had the same layout as the one Chris and Sarah were staying in.

‘What are we looking for, sir?’

‘I wish I knew, Constable. Other than to say, we’ll know it when we see it, I can’t help you.’

Trevor looked around the living room one last time. There was a stack of newspapers, a coffee table loaded with dirty cups, plates and stale biscuits and crumbs. A bin full of sweet wrappings.

Only when he was sure there was nowhere else to look did he follow the constable into the largest bedroom. The bed was heaped high with clothes that had been lifted out of the wardrobe. He pulled them off one at a time and dropped them on to a rug on the floor, then stripped the bed layer by layer shaking each sheet and blanket out as he removed it. When he was down to the bare stained mattress, he called out to the constable who had asked what they were looking for.

‘Grab hold of the other end of this and help me lift it off the bed, will you, please?’

The officer did as he was asked.

Trevor checked the sides of the divan base. They were solid – no drawers. He lifted one end of the bed and looked beneath it.

The constable crouched down alongside him. ‘There are enough dust balls there to stuff a pillow, sir.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, Constable.’ He turned back to the wardrobe.

The bottom was a jumble of clothes, some clean, most not. He lifted them out, one at a time. All of them were women’s. At the very bottom he found a pile of handbags and stiletto-heeled shoes.

‘These look as though they’ve come out of Noah’s Ark, sir. Not even fit for a car boot sale.’

‘The other bedroom?’ Trevor went into the hall and looked inside.

‘We’ve been through it with a toothcomb, sir,’ the young officer assured Trevor. ‘It’s more or less the same as this one but with fewer clothes.

Trevor walked into it. The constable was right, but he noticed something that the constable hadn’t mentioned. A tower of unopened boxes of cheap talcum powder and soaps. The standard gifts for an elderly relative. He was glad that Lyn had taken the trouble to get to know his mother and send her the USB pens she’d asked for to store her photographs on her computer. He hadn’t even known that his mother had owned a computer. ‘You’ve looked at the bed and the base?’

‘Of course, sir.’ The officer appeared to be offended by the question. ‘We carried out this search by the book.’

Trevor went into the bathroom. The officer had taken the panel from the side of the bath. The lid had been removed from the cistern. A mess of toothbrushes, dried up bits of soap, mildewed flannels and tubes of dental cement had been piled into the bath.

Trevor knew the answer to his question before he asked it.

‘Nothing sir.’

He went into the last room. The kitchen. The officers had emptied the cupboards on to the work surfaces.

‘Most of the food is out of date, sir.’

Trevor tapped the backs of the cupboards and ran his fingers over the empty shelves. Under the sink he found a solitary bottle of bleach jammed behind the waste pipe that the officers had missed. He opened the electric cooker. The walls and shelves were coated in grease and he shut it again, quickly.

He opened the microwave and removed a box of corn plasters; another of sticking plasters, a blunt-ended scissors and a bottle of antiseptic.

‘She must use it as her First-Aid box.’

‘Obviously.’ Trevor noticed the clothes dryer in the corner, it was empty. He returned to the sink and opened the door on the washing machine.

It was full. He pulled out two pairs of dry black jeans, two black polo-necked sweaters, four black trainers and two full-head black balaclavas.

‘That, Constable, is what I was looking for. Bring me an evidence bag, will you, please?’

Chapter Eighteen

The paramedics tucked blankets around Kelly and wheeled her out into the corridor past Dan and Peter.

‘Her blood pressure is dropping and she’s complaining of dizziness,’ Sarah whispered.

‘You’ll stay with her?’ Dan asked.

‘Yes.’

Dan reached for his mobile phone. ‘I’ll send a couple of officers with you, in case you need help and order a twenty-four guard. Don’t try anything heroic.’

‘I won’t, sir.’ Sarah answered.

Kelly hauled herself out of the chair when they wheeled her past Peter. She grabbed his arm and held it in an iron grip he would never have suspected anyone as slight and frail as her of possessing.

‘You can’t leave me.’

‘I have to work, love.’

‘No!’ Kelly dug her fingernails into his hand, drawing blood.

Dan was amazed. He knew Peter was going out of his mind with thoughts of what was happening to Daisy but he took the time to talk to the girl.

‘I’ll do all I can to help you. This is no life for you – your sisters are dead. You’re lucky to be alive but for how long, if you carry on living the way you are now? How old are you anyway? The truth?’ Peter dared Kelly to lie.

Kelly glared back at him. After a minute her defiance crumbled. ‘Fourteen.’

‘I could help you find somewhere to live?’

‘Like where?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘A foster home or school that will give you a chance to live a normal life. You’re a bright kid, but you need to get right away from the parlour and the company you’ve been keeping.’

‘I’ll go anywhere with you.’

‘Me? Not me, love. I work all hours of the day and night. I hardly ever see my home.’

‘But I could keep it nice for you. Look after you. I can cook and clean …’

‘Kelly, you’re a kid. You should be out and about having fun with your mates not cleaning up after anyone.’

‘But I like you. I trust you.’ She sneaked a glance at Lucy. ‘More than I trust anyone else in the world.’

‘Then trust me enough to sort out a decent life for you that offers you a future. I’ll visit you now and again but I won’t make any false promises. You need more help than I can give you, love, specialist help. And, you can start getting it by going into hospital and getting those injuries seen to.’

‘You will come and see me?’ she pleaded.

‘Yes. But now you have to go. Take her,’ he ordered the paramedics.

They wheeled her down to the stairwell, picked up the chair and carried it downwards.

A cell phone rang. Although the ring tone wasn’t the same as theirs, Dan and Peter reached for theirs. Ally glanced at hers and switched it off.

‘Customer?’ Peter asked.

‘What if it is?’ she challenged.

‘The only thing you sell is sex in a parlour – that’s illegal.’

‘You should know, you were there – and buying,’ Ally said angrily.

‘Your boss is Damian Darrow,’ Dan interposed conversationally.

‘Only because he was handed the parlours on a plate by his daddy,’ she sneered. ‘He’s never done a day’s work in his life. He doesn’t even know what work is. His father told Damian to manage the businesses but Damian treats them – and us girls – as his own bloody private harem. When he isn’t getting us to give it to him for free, he’s getting us to give it to his mates.’ She suddenly realised what she’d said. ‘But like Lucy said, if anyone asks, you didn’t get any of that from me. I never talked to you.’

‘
You’ve spoken in front of witnesses.’ Peter smiled coldly.

‘You wouldn’t say anything to Damian, would you?’ She began to panic. ‘It’s more than my job is worth. There’s a waiting list of girls wanting to come into the parlour …’

‘You stupid bloody cow,’ Lucy turned viciously on Ally, punched and kicked her and pulled her hair.

‘Ladies, please,’ Dan stepped between them.

‘Time to hand them over to the locals, sir.’ Trevor appeared. He held up several clear plastic evidence bags. ‘Nice of you to collect Ally’s DNA for us, Lucy. I hope you remembered to take out the follicle as well. We’ll be needing samples. But it’ll be a formality. Four police officers saw you wearing these outfits when you threw Marissa Smith out of the window. Tell me, did you get the idea after throwing Jake Phillips from the balcony in Damian’s penthouse? It worked better here. No balconies.’

Daisy moved slowly and sluggishly. Pins and needles sent mini-electric shocks through her arms and legs. As soon as she tried to put any weight on one of her limbs it crumpled beneath her. It took several minutes of fumbling before she managed to pull the sack from her head. She tore at the tape over her mouth. When she finally managed to pull it away, her mouth was sore, and she felt as though she had ripped off all the skin from her lips. She sat back on her heels and took in great gulps of air – freezing cold air.

She pulled the blanket closer around herself and covered her head again, but not her face with the sacking. She wished she’d put on something warmer than the linen slacks, sleeveless top and shirt she’d taken out of her wardrobe that morning. But the hospital was always over-heated and it was summer.

She hadn’t dressed with kidnap in mind – she tried to smile at the thought and discovered that her facial muscles were stiff, numb and frozen. That was the sort of thing Peter might say.

She was in a very dark, very cold place. Given the sound of the gulls and a slight rocking movement she felt before she’d been dumped here, she could be on a boat. Near the sea in an urban area? She had heard traffic. She stared at her wrist. But it was hopeless. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face let alone her watch.

She was lying on freezing cold metal. Steeling herself she lifted the blanket from her shoulders and extended her arms. First one way then another. She only encountered freezing air. Wrapping herself back in the blanket she moved to the right until she felt something – something cold and solid. She ran her hands over it and touched cold hair.

Heart thundering, she moved her fingers downwards. She knew the feel of frozen, dead flesh from her days dissecting bodies as a medical student. She summoned her courage and shouted, ‘Is anyone there?’ only to jump, startled, when her voice echoed eerily back towards her.

Shivering she huddled back into the blanket. How long before she froze to death like the corpse alongside her? She held her finger in the air in an attempt to gauge the temperature. It felt below freezing. She tried to recall the statistics she’d studied in college, but already her mind was wandering.

All she could think of was warmth – survival – she had to see Peter again. She simply had to.

‘Talk.’ Peter was sitting on a kitchen chair he’d placed in front of Lucy and Ally who were standing against the wall of the living room in the flat the paramedics had taken Kelly into.

‘Not without a lawyer,’ Lucy snapped.

‘You’ve watched too many American TV programmes. It’s a solicitor in Britain.’ He looked at Dan and Trevor. They’d emptied the girls’ bags out onto the floor and were going through the contents. Trevor opened a large envelope and tipped out the contents.

‘Black Daffodil.’ He showed them to Peter. Dan checked the numbers and messages on Lucy’s phone.

Peter glanced at the pills. ‘Too many for personal use. You a dealer, or a manufacturer, Lucy?’

‘I’m saying nothing.’ She clammed her mouth shut and made a zipping motion.

Trevor shook out Ally’s make-up bag, picked up her phone and hit the voicemail button.

‘You have one new message …’

He listened, and listened again. There was no mistaking the caller’s voice although he didn’t identify himself.

“It’s me. I need you and Lucy, now. We have to take the boat out to dump the rubbish. Meet me at the lucky place. It’s half past one now. I’m waiting.”

Trevor handed the phone to Dan, who listened before handing it to Peter.

‘“The lucky place”,’ Trevor said quietly to Dan. ‘Alexander said the deal was going down “in the lucky place”.’

Peter listened to the message and looked at Ally. ‘Tell me? Where’s the lucky place?’

Lucy went wild again, and attacked Ally. ‘Don’t you say another bloody word,’ she threatened in between blows.

Ally held up her arms to defend herself. ‘It’s no bloody secret, you silly cow. Everyone on the marina knows where it is. It’s the stretch where the Darrows’ berth their lucky yachts,’ she shouted at Peter.

Dan hauled Lucy off Ally and held her fast. ‘They have more than one?’

‘The biggest,
Lucky Star
belongs to Damian’s father. Damian’s is
Lucky Me
and they own
Lucky Charm
which they rent out for fishing parties – not that I’ve seen any fishing whenever I’ve been out on it. There’s huge freezers on board all of them, Damian says to store the catches but all I’ve ever seen in them is booze.’

‘You know Lloyd Jones?’ Trevor asked.

‘All of us in the parlour do. He lives with Damian.’

‘What’s the rubbish he has to dump? Quickly,’ Peter snapped.

‘Say a word and I’ll kill you,’ Lucy hissed at Ally.

Dan pushed Ally towards the door.

‘If there’s any killing to be done, I’ll do it,’ Peter threatened, ‘but I go in for torture and disfigurement first.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Lucy hissed. ‘You’re a copper …’

‘All three of us are coppers who have seen our colleagues murdered, maimed, and had limbs removed by gang members over the last two days. And my girlfriend, who I love very much, is missing. Believe me, ladies, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save her pain.’

‘Let me make your position clear,’ Dan spoke more quickly than he had done in years. ‘Both of you were seen murdering Marissa Smith. You have a large quantity of Black Daffodils in your bag, and you were at the party the night Jake Phillips and Alex Hodges were forcibly injected with Black Daffodil and Jake Phillips was thrown from a balcony. You are both facing life sentences …’

‘So there’s nothing you can do to us?’ Lucy tossed her head defiantly.

‘There are prisons and there are prisons,’ Trevor said. ‘In some, prisoners have to share a cell. How would you like to share with Lucy, Ally …?’

‘I’ll tell you everything you want to know,’ she shouted. ‘Just keep me away from her …’

Peter left his chair. ‘You can start by telling us where Daisy Sherringham and Andrew Jones are?’

Dan escorted Lucy, still kicking and screaming, out of the room and handed her over to a couple of constables.

‘I’ve never heard of Daisy Sherringham. This was all Lucy’s idea. Amber was making a fortune from Black Daffodil …’

‘Amber Smith?’ Peter stood facing her.

‘Amber couldn’t afford any Charlie one day and she started mixing things. She’d an A level in chemistry or something. Anyway she made a couple of batches and started selling them on the estate. Made enough to get out of the parlour. Lucy wanted a share, said with her help it would take off. The pills were cheap to make and Amber was selling them for a couple of quid. But Amber told her to sod off; she didn’t want to get too big because she was afraid she’d get noticed. Lucy went to Lloyd. He’d do anything for her, and he knows all about special effects, explosions and things. Lucy and Cynara had a regular in the block Amber lived in. Lucy left Cynara to it, broke into Amber’s flat when she was out, stole the pills and formula and left a firebomb Lloyd had made on the door. Lucy said it was supposed to set fire to the flat so Amber wouldn’t realise she’d been there and taken anything. I didn’t believe her. And some of the pills she took were from a bad batch; so when she sold them on, people died.’

‘Why kill Marissa? Trevor asked.

‘Lucy didn’t see her but she was in Amber’s flat when Lucy broke in. Marissa hid. But after she saw Amber die, she phoned Lucy and tried to blackmail her.’

‘Lucy and Lloyd have been trying to sell the rights to the drug?’ Dan checked.

‘Yes.’

‘What about the police officers who were undercover and were killed … ‘

‘I don’t know anything about that. Lloyd saw to all of that. Him and his uncle. He called him Andy I don’t know his other name.’

‘I’m not waiting for a warrant. I’m going to those boats,’ Peter examined his gun.

‘Whatever and whenever it goes down, you two can’t be a part of it,’ Dan cautioned.

‘Yes we can,’ Trevor contradicted him.

‘You saw that e-mail. If we’re following the wrong lead and you’re being watched by people Darrow’s bought…’

‘If we’re being watched people will know we’re in here.’ Trevor looked up as a couple of rookies knocked the door. He turned to Peter. ‘We need bigger ones.’

‘Bigger what?’ Dan was mystified.

‘Bigger rookies,’ Trevor said decisively. ‘We need two constables, officer. Over six feet, thirty-six inch waist, thirty-four inside leg, forty-two chest, preferably with dark hair. Is there anyone like that upstairs?’

‘Jack and Tim are the closest to that description,’ his colleague answered.

‘Tell them to come down here will you, and ask your Super if we can borrow you for a couple of hours. We’re about to make a raid.’

‘We don’t have a warrant yet, Trevor,’ Dan cautioned.

‘We have suspicion of people trafficking. Remember that Jamaican girl Alfred met in the casino who gave him a sob story – what was her name …’

‘Freda,’ Peter answered off the top of his head. ‘We have reason to believe that she is being held against her will on a boat. If we wait for a warrant, we risk her being moved on and, then we’ll be too late.’

Dan sighed. ‘You two will be the death of me.’

‘But you love us, Inspector Evans,’ Peter said. ‘You love us – really.’

It had been a long time since Peter and Trevor had worn uniform and, although the sizes were approximate to their own, they were tight.

‘Too many five-star steaks and five-star good living,’ Dan commented when he saw the buttons straining on both tunics.

‘Just in case there is anyone else involved, which I doubt, our alter egos,’ Trevor eyed the two constables, who were dressed in their suits, ‘stay visibly here with you, walking in front of the windows. Meanwhile, two constables …’

‘Trev and Pete,’ Peter interrupted.