Black Daffodil (Trevor Joseph Detective series) (8 page)

Andrew returned, saw Dan sitting behind his desk and took the chair next to Trevor.

‘No more crazies or deaths?’ Peter queried, before remembering Jake was Dan’s nephew.

‘No.’ Dan’s reply was curt. ‘But we can’t be sure whether a batch went sour or someone tried to copy it and got it wrong, or whether it was a deliberate attempt to damage Jake, Alec and the junkies.’

‘If Jake had been rumbled, the others could be a blind,’ Trevor said thoughtfully.

‘I’ve been through Jake Phillips’s reports with a toothcomb,’ Dan countered. ‘There’s nothing in them that suggests anyone suspected him to be anything other than a film student.’

‘Does anyone else think that the Darrows are behind Black Daffodil?’ Peter selected a cigar from his box and removed the cellophane wrapper.

‘We have no evidence.’ Dan pushed a DVD across the desk towards Trevor. ‘Ignore the label. It’s not a DVD of the property you’ve expressed an interest in. The locals interviewed Jake and Alec’s flatmates, Damian Darrow and Lloyd Jones, about the party. These are edited highlights. Don’t expect too much. They both deny knowledge of any drug taking and assault. Don’t leave the disk lying around your hotel room where it can be played by a maid. After you’ve watched it – somewhere quiet – return it to me. Darrow and Jones are being called in again tomorrow with their solicitor so the locals can go through their statements again.’

‘Pity about the solicitor. Bring back the good old days when we could torture the truth out of scum.’

‘And when was that?’ Dan raised his eyebrows at Peter.

‘Before my time, guv.’

Dan pursed his mouth in irritation. ‘Alec Hodges has been interviewed again. Not that he’s coherent. I listened to the recording.’ Dan opened his notebook and quoted, ‘“… I wanted to screw Kelly but Jake got her … Damian gave me Ally … he had Cynara … Lloyd got Lucy … Ally was all right but I wanted Kelly …” there’s more of the same.’

‘Damian?’ Trevor repeated.

‘Alec didn’t mention a surname. Although he lives with Damian Darrow, and the Darrows are under investigation for people trafficking and money laundering we can’t be certain whether the Damian he was referring to is Darrow, or not.’

‘It’s bloody obvious.’

‘Bloody obvious isn’t evidence, Peter.’ Dan was uncharacteristically curt. ‘All the witnesses saw girls at that party who have since been identified as working girls. But we have no proof they were Darrow’s working girls.’

‘Proof … proof …’ Peter said. ‘As fast as we look for hard evidence, the Darrows hide it along with the millions they kive from ignorant punters stupid enough to hand over their hard-earned cash.’

‘It’s possible that whoever’s behind Black Daffodil paid the working girls to pull in punters? It wouldn’t be the first time dealers have used girls to market their goods.’ Trevor pocketed the DVD.

‘The locals have checked out all the Kellys, Allys and Lucys in the city’s parlours.’ Dan took a slip of paper from his notebook. ‘There are three girls of those names working in one on the bay. It’s the address at the top of the list. Call in there, and try to see the girls. They may open up to you in your undercover guise. Last time the locals raided a parlour they suspected the Darrows of owning, none of the girls would talk, even when they were threatened with prosecution, gaol and publicity.’

‘You think they’ll talk to a punter?’ Trevor asked.

‘Before the police – yes. It’s a long shot but worth pursuing, given how little information we have about what went on at that party,’ Dan answered. ‘One of them might have seen Jake or Alec or something significant.’

‘And they won’t be in the least suspicious if we drop Jake and Alec’s names casually into conversation?’ Peter suggested caustically.

‘Not if the person who’s doing the dropping is sympathetic,’ Dan replied.

‘We’ll be risking our cover.’

‘You’re dealers after relaxation. Where better to find it than a massage parlour? And while you’re there, take a good look at the other girls. The locals suspect some are underage. They’re kids, they’re terrified of the law and they’re even more terrified of whoever’s pimping them. There are more addresses, if Kelly, Lucy and Ally aren’t in the first place. The girls are frequently moved from one parlour to another.’

‘Hence the ads in the personal columns “All New Girls”,’ Peter replied. ‘It conjures images of skips out back crammed with girls in stockings and basques, lying back with their legs over the side while they swig vodka straight from the bottle.’

‘Only to you.’ Trevor scanned the list Dan had given him. ‘Impressive portfolio. They all Darrow’s?

‘Not that we can prove. Legal department’s been working on the tangle of registered companies for months.’

‘Lucrative sideline to any business when you consider the turnover of just one of those places.’ Trevor folded the list into his wallet.

‘Call into the first parlour tonight, either on your way back to the hotel or before you go to the casino,’ Dan ordered.

‘Mid-morning is quieter,’ Trevor returned his wallet to his pocket.

Dan glanced at his watch. ‘Seven is a good time. After the office-closing rush hour and before the evening gets going. And, as you well know, time is the one thing we are short of.’

Peter made a face.

‘It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve visited a brothel,’ Dan reminded.

‘The last time I went I wasn’t courting.’

Trevor burst out laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ Peter demanded.

‘The idea of you “courting”.’

‘Glad you find the situation amusing.’ Peter pulled out his cigars.

‘No smoking in these offices,’ Andrew warned.

Peter held up his cigar. ‘Dummy.’

‘Wind-up artist.’

‘That’s me.’

Trevor left his chair. ‘Come on, we have a brothel and a casino to visit.’

‘After a five-star steak, chips and brandy in our private dining room. And I might, just might, make the brandy a double,’ Peter gave Dan a defiant look. ‘You’ll be at the casino tonight?’

‘No, but Andrew will. Bill and I will be listening in.’

‘You’ve bugged the place,’ Trevor guessed.

‘There were problems with the power supply. They were rectified earlier today.’ Dan opened the door for them.

‘Tonight is going to be interesting.’ Peter pulled out his lighter.

‘Remember the law,’ Dan warned. ‘Light that outside, Peter, there’s a good boy.’

Chapter Eight

Trevor and Peter returned to their hotel, showered and ate steak with chips, at Peter’s insistence, before locking themselves in the bathroom in Trevor’s suite. Trevor set his laptop on the toilet seat and they sat on the floor, backs to the door, to watch the DVD. Peter had brought in four bottles of beer, he opened two and handed Trevor one.

Damian Darrow appeared on screen. Dressed in a heavy knit cream silk shirt and faded jeans, sporting a gold linked bracelet, gold Rolex and sovereign rings, he looked affluent and unconcerned. Or in Peter’s terms, ‘bloody smug and arrogant’. He was sitting in a chair that had been bolted to the floor of a standard interview room but if he was intimidated by his surroundings, or the two officers who faced him with their backs to the camera, he showed no sign of it. A table stood between him and the officers. On it was a solitary cup and saucer. Damian’s solicitor, a middle-aged woman, sat next to Damian, notepad and pen in hand.

‘Baby Darrow knows where the camera is and he’s playing full-on to the gallery.’ Peter wiped the top of his beer bottle and drank.

Damian began to speak in mid-conversation and Trevor recalled Dan mentioning ‘edited highlights’.

‘I work hard and play hard and the party was both. I’m launching a new band. They’re …’

The interviewer interrupted.
‘You invited Jake Phillips and Alec Hodges to this party?’

‘I’m a close friend of Jake and Alec, as well as their landlord.’

‘Were they both in your flat when the party started?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t clock them in or out of my
penthouse
.
’
He emphasised the last word
.

‘Likes to show off, like Daddy.’ Peter sipped his beer.

‘You didn’t spend the day with Jake or Alec?’

‘I spent the day with
my
band, advising them on technique and performance. Jake and Alec are adults, they have keys. Where they go and what they do is entirely their own business.’

‘Jake Phillips is in a coma, Mr Darrow. The doctors don’t expect him to recover.’

‘You can’t blame me for what happened to Jake. I wasn’t there.’

‘Where is “there”, Mr Darrow?’

Damian gave a theatrical sigh and spoke to the officers as though they were two-year-olds.
‘“There” is Jake’s bedroom. And if you want my opinion, I think Jake fell off his balcony when he was drunk.’

‘You saw Jake Phillips drink alcohol?’

‘Of course I saw Jake drink bloody alcohol. It was a party. I don’t know what kind of parties you go to but …’

The interviewer cut in sharply again
. ‘What time did you last see Jake at your party?’

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t watching the clock.’

‘Who was he with when you last saw him?’

‘A crowd of people.’

‘Men? Women?’

‘Both.’

‘Do you remember anyone in particular?’

‘I invited over a hundred people to that party …’

‘You have a list of guests?’

‘A list of music professionals and people who own clubs. I was looking for bookings for the band.’

‘So the only people present were music professionals?’
The interviewer’s voice remained bland and professional. If he was sceptical, there was no trace of it.

‘Everyone in film school knows they’re welcome when I throw a party. It’s open house.’

‘So film school students were present as well as professionals from the music and entertainment industry.’

‘And casual friends, acquaintances and neighbours. It’s easier to invite them than deal with complaints about the noise.’

‘Girls?’

‘Obviously girls. They make up around fifty percent of the population.’

‘Including prostitutes?’

Damian sighed theatrically
. ‘I booked and paid for strippers.’

‘How many strippers?’

‘Eight.’

‘That must have been expensive.’

‘Expense isn’t a consideration when I entertain friends or host a business event.’

‘You booked the girls just to strip?’

‘I wouldn’t have stopped them from indulging in extra-mural activities, if they’d wanted to.’

‘You knew they were prostitutes?’

‘I knew they were strippers.’

‘Cool bugger.’ Peter drank from the bottle.

‘Too cool,’ Trevor observed.

‘Do you or any of your flat-mates have girlfriends?’

‘Dozens.’

‘Jake and Alec?’

‘We’re not gay if that’s what you’re suggesting.’

For the first time Trevor detected a note of exasperation in Damian’s voice.

‘Do Jake and Alec have any particular girlfriends?’

‘Not that I’ve noticed.’

‘Prostitutes?’

‘We’re studying at film school. Actresses and drama students queue at our door in the hope we’ll use them in our projects. We don’t need to use or pay prostitutes.’

‘Answer’s too detailed. Baby Darrow’s getting irritable.’ Peter finished one bottle and reached for another.

‘Sound interviewer,’ Trevor remarked. ‘Calm and collected. Not the sort to lose it.’

‘If that’s a snipe …’

‘It’s a nothing. Listen.’ Trevor flicked back the disk to the point where Peter had begun talking.

‘Were there any drug dealers at the party?’

‘None I invited.’

‘You know drug dealers?’
The interviewer’s voice remained even.

‘Not personally. I’ve seen them around. It’s difficult not to. I don’t go looking for them. That’s a police job, not that you seem to be doing it.’

‘Do you use drugs?’

‘Never.’
There was no unusual emphasis in Damian’s reply.

‘Did Jake or Alec use drugs?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘Did you call the emergency services?’

‘No.’

‘Did anyone call them from your flat?’

‘You logged the calls. You’d know the answer to that better than me.’

‘Although Alec Hodges was ill and Jake had been thrown from the window you didn’t call the emergency services?’

‘I didn’t know Jake had gone out of the window, and the last time I saw Alec at the party he just seemed a bit hyper.’

‘What do you mean by hyper, Mr Darrow?’

‘Antsy, jumpy, like he’d had too much excitement or alcohol – which he probably had.’

‘Or taken drugs?’

‘If he had, I didn’t see him doing it. And, as I keep telling you, I don’t police my friends.’

‘Even if it involves using illegal substances in your home.’
The interviewer paused before continuing.
‘Someone did call the police.’

‘Obviously, as they walked in uninvited.’
Damian leaned as far back in his chair from the interviewer as space would allow.

‘Did you see either Jake Phillips or Alec Hodges take a girl into their bedrooms?’

‘No.’

‘A witness stated that he saw Alec Hodges enter his bedroom, with …’
There was a rustle of paper as the officer conducting the interview consulted his notes.
‘A prostitute known as Ally.’

‘The only Ally I know and hired for the evening is a stripper.’

‘You didn’t see her with Alec?’

‘No’.
Damian yawned.

‘Did you see Jake go into his bedroom with a girl called Kelly?’

‘No.’

‘Did you know that Alec Hodges had taken drugs?’

‘We’re not back to that are we? I told you I don’t know anything about illegal substances.’

‘Did you hear noises coming from any of the bedrooms?’

‘Not that I recall.’

‘Some of your guests reported that they heard the sound of moaning and screaming coming from that area of your flat.’

‘It was a party. There was a lot of noise in my
penthouse
– music, laughter; if I heard a scream I would have assumed it was one of delight.’

The interviewer wasn’t to be so easily fobbed off.
‘Did you, or did you not hear a scream, Mr Darrow?’

‘I repeat, not that I can recall.’

‘When did you realise that something had happened to Jake Phillips and Alec Hodges?’

‘When the police told me Jake was lying on an awning on one of the balconies below mine.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘Your boys and girls were there so why fucking ask me these useless fucking …’

The solicitor whispered something to Damian.

‘No! I want to get this over and done with so I can get out of here.’

‘Not one word of sympathy or regret for Jake who’s lying in a coma, or Alec Hodges who’s in a secure psychiatric ward.’ Trevor stretched his legs and carried on watching.

‘You read the report, who did call the police?’ Peter asked.

Trevor pressed pause. ‘A passer-by who saw Jake being dropped out of that window.’

‘He’s positive about the dropping?’

‘He said he saw two pairs of hands lift Jake over the balcony.’

‘You think whoever it was would have checked for an awning if they wanted to do away with him. Could it have been down to drunken antics?’

‘Drunken antics on the eleventh floor?’ Trevor pressed play again.

‘What did you do when the police told you that Jake Phillips had been thrown from one of the balconies of your penthouse, Mr Darrow?’

‘They asked to see his room. I showed them the corridor outside the bedrooms. We found Alec Hodges lying on the floor and the police called the paramedics. But you know all this …’

‘He’s losing it again,’ Peter remarked.

‘No one thought to call the paramedics before for Alec?’

‘Anyone who saw him would have assumed he was drunk.’

‘So he often got drunk. Is that what you’re saying?’

Damian’s temper rose to the surface again.
‘Don’t put bloody words into my mouth. Alec got drunk now and again but no more than the rest of us. We’re students …’

‘We were talking about what happened after the police arrived.’

‘They rounded us up, bagged our hands, drove us down here and treated us like common criminals. Strip searched us. And didn’t your officers just enjoy humiliating us? They took our fingerprints, photographs, DNA samples, and you didn’t find anything on me …’

‘May I remind you, Mr Darrow, that one of your flat-mates, Jake Phillips, is in a coma, and another in a psychiatric ward?’

‘And instead of being allowed to visit them I’ve been dragged down here …’

The interviewer proved relentless.

‘Are you aware that some of your friends and acquaintances are drug users?’

‘You can’t go to film school without picking up the odd conversation about this or that person smoking a joint, or sniffing a line of Charlie.’

‘You know the street names for drugs?’

‘Given the amount of coverage the media gives drug abuse, you’d have to be fucking blind and deaf not to know.’

‘Have you ever personally bought or sold drugs?

‘How many times do I have to tell you I don’t take, buy, or sell banned substances of any description?’

‘Have you ever seen Alec Hodges take a banned substance?’

‘No.’

‘He’s lying.’ Peter set his half-full beer bottle on the floor beside him.

‘You have lived with Alec Hodges for nearly two years?’

‘Somewhere around that.’

‘And you never saw him take any banned substance?’

‘No.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Because all I’ve ever seen Alec do is drink. We’re students. Do you know what that means? We work. We spend all our time writing, directing and producing films. We study techniques and, after a hard day at the college or working on our individual projects, about all we’re up for is a couple of beers.’
Damian turned to his solicitor. ‘
How long do I have to sit here and put up with this shit?’

The solicitor didn’t answer but the officer interviewing Damian did.

‘Until you have answered all our questions, Mr Darrow.

Peter held up his empty bottle. ‘Another beer?’ he asked Trevor.

‘Just one. We have to have our wits about us tonight.’ Trevor pressed pause on the remote control.

‘After what we’ve eaten, two beers aren’t going to tip us over the limit.’ Peter opened the other two bottles he’d brought in. Trevor pressed ‘play’ on the remote. Damian faded. A few seconds later the camera zoomed in on Lloyd Jones who was sitting in the chair Damian Darrow had occupied, in the same interview room.

He was a very different character to his friend and landlord. Damian Darrow was blond, suntanned, good-looking and knew it. Lloyd was the male equivalent of female mousy. He could have played the dream Hollywood hero’s ugly ‘best friend’. And that was just his looks. Obviously nervous and uneasy, cringing, obsequious, he reminded Trevor of a beaten dog, anxious to please even though its spirit was broken.

Peter looked up at the screen. ‘Ah-hah.’

Irritated, Trevor paused the disk – again. ‘What?’

‘Remember the gym. When I was asking your bouncer friend Jude about a bar or restaurant on the premises.’