Lethal Instincts (6 page)

“Have the police spoken to you?”

“The police don’t speak to us. No one cares there’s one less pro on the streets. More demand for the rest of them. The police turn a blind eye to the activities around here. They turn a blind eye until they want something,” he said, lighting up another cigarette.
 

“What would the police want?” Lexi asked.
 

A tip off? An informant? A hand job down a dark alley?

“You’d have to ask them that. But I’ll give you two words of advice; these parts aren’t for a lady like you and you should be careful about who you trust.”

He finished and flicked the second cigarette which landed next to the first one. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and turned to walk away.

“I’m looking for someone,” Lexi said, shoving the picture in front of him. “Have you seen her?”
 

“They all look the same to me,” he said. “But the dead girl might have. The coppers might have too.”
 

Chapter 10

They say a picture can speak a thousand words, and the one being painted was becoming even more puzzling. Her brain pumped information and while she should have been sleeping she couldn’t help but wonder if they were missing a piece, and then once they had it, the mystery would be solved. But this wasn’t Sherlock Holmes. She hadn’t stayed at the scene long. After speaking with the odd guy with the cigarettes who hadn’t offered his name, she tried one of the officers but the only thing she got was a ‘buzz off’ glare, so she gave up and returned to her flat.
 

Another day passed. The good news, at least in Tatiana’s case, was that the body found in Soho, in a back alley often frequented by johns hiding from their wives, or pimps counting their night’s profits, was not Tatiana’s. The bad news was that another girl lost her life for no reason at all. It was the risk they all took but it didn’t justify the crime. The police had no ID but the face did not match Tatiana’s passport. Lexi felt both relieved and saddened at the same time.
 

She couldn’t stop thinking about what the man underneath the Windmill had told her. The coppers might have too. What could they have known? Seen? Done?
 

The questions arose and she felt no closer to figuring out the answers. She thought back to the previous night. The telephone conversation with the detective. The police officers at her door. Visiting the crime scene. The man grabbing her. Then the police disappearing before she could get a chance to talk with Cara, the detective. She wondered if Cara had seen her at the scene. No, it wasn’t possible. By the time she had gotten there, there was only a few officers cleaning up, the detective and the body were gone. Then there was the man. Watching, observing. Creepy, standing from afar never shifting his gaze. He knew something. He had told her something but she still couldn’t figure it out.
 

Lexi glanced out the window. Hadn’t that grey car parked across the street been there yesterday? Did her neighbours even drive? She recalled a young couple with a child, an older lady who was sometimes visited by people that looked to be her children and grandchildren, and the odd tenant that changed on a regular basis. She didn’t recall anyone driving. No, she was being paranoid. This was ridiculous. She shut the curtain and grabbed the cleaning products. Disinfecting the flat might clear her mind and help her think through everything she knew, everything she still needed to know. Lexi wondered if the detective had a clue. It seemed she’d get a chance to find out.
 

By the evening the house was spotless, and just as she was planning to sit back and enjoy the fruits of her labour she was surprised to get a phone call from Cara asking her to meet for a quick drink. The pub was a Tube ride and a short walk away. Lexi dressed in a wool sweater and grabbed a jacket and a scarf, and made her way towards the bar. She crossed the road and took the stairs down to the Tube station, swiping her Oyster card to get onto the platform. The Tube ran every few minutes and she didn’t have to wait long for one to arrive. It was still fairly busy for the time of evening and she stood by the door observing the passengers. There were a few spare seats but she was only going a couple of stops. She got off at Oxford Street and walked the rest of the way, not noticing the person keeping an eye on her.
 

Lexi walked into the pub, three people sat at the bar clinking glasses, the tables were occupied with small groups. Detective Cara Simmons sat at a table towards the middle end of the pub. She had a beer in front of her and another was waiting for Lexi.
 

“I don’t like journalists,” she said as Lexi slid into the booth.

“Is that your way of inviting someone for a drink?”

“No, I just want to make things clear. I’ll make an exception for you, though. There’s something that I see in you, it’s not just about the story, is it? I don’t know if it’s the Aussie blood in you or something from you past. Whatever it is, it’s making me soft.”
 

Lexi laughed. “Well, let’s drink to that,” she said and they clinked glasses. Two years and she hadn’t made an effort to make too many friends, it was nice to have a drink with someone, even if it was related to a story.
 

“That’s not permission to just rock up at our crime scene and start asking questions.”
 

“You saw me.”
 

“Everyone saw you.”
 

“Not even the sleazy pimp turned you off.”

“You saw him grab me?”

“I did, I also saw you take care of yourself. There were police officers on standby, nothing would have happened to you.” She dismissed it all.
 

“Why did you disappear so quickly?”

“The red-light district is not my favourite hangout spot.”

“So the girl wasn’t Tatiana?”

“No, just another girl who chose a dangerous path. Most of these girls choose the lifestyle, they know what they get themselves into. Sure there are a few who’ve been sold into the business believing they’re going to make a fortune and retire early. Maybe one in a hundred does. The others get caught up in the drugs, the violence, the pimps. There’s no way out but out cold.”

Lexi couldn’t imagine anyone choosing that life.
 

“Do you think Tatiana made that choice?” Lexi asked.

Cara’s gaze shifted. It was just a flicker but Lexi had observed people enough to know when they were hiding something. And it was clear to her that Cara hadn’t been completely upfront.
 

“What haven’t you told me?” Lexi said sensing there was more to this meeting than just a friendly catch up over beer.

“This is off the record,” Cara said. “I mean completely off the record. We’ve never had this conversation.”
 

Lexi nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes, I understand. Everything we say here is off the record.”

“And you’re not recording this conversation?”

“Of course not.”
 

“Tatiana Petrenko was an informant for one of our departments.”

“What sort of informant?” Lexi said, not at all surprised by the revelation.

“The type that is completely off the books. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“Until she disappeared. Does that mean you know where she is?”

Cara shook her head. “No idea. She never showed for her last check-in.”

“That’s why the payments stopped.” It was more of a statement then a question. Lexi didn’t need Cara to answer. “That’s why no formal investigation was pursued. You didn’t want questions that couldn’t be answered. Tatiana was a liability to the reputation of the department.”
 

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
 

“Humour me.”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case, Lexi. I’ve already told you too much and I trust that I have your discretion. This investigation isn’t just about a missing woman.”
 

“How long has the department been looking into the crooked cops?”
 

This time it was Cara’s turn to look surprised, but she straightened up before answering.

“Long enough.”
 

“And Tatiana is, or was, the link.”

“To a degree. Now she’s gone.”
 

“What’s the red-light district got to do with it?”

“Tatiana came looking for someone. She was in the right place at the right time. We used her, she used us.”

“From where I sit it seems she got the short end of the stick.”
 

“It was a mutually beneficial relationship.”
 

Lexi had heard of those types of relationships. Rarely did both parties benefit equally. It seems Tatiana was the only one who had placed her life in danger, the only one who had put everything on the line.

They both sat silently sipping their beers.

“So why London?” Cara finally asked.

“Why not?”

“I could think of far more interesting places to settle in. London is cold and wet most of the year.”

“It’s novel for me, for the time being. I’m here now but I’m not sure what my next move will be.”

“You like to investigate, you should have become a detective.”

“You’re not the first to tell me that. But no. That would mean following rules and protocol. I prefer the grey area.”

“The grey tends to get people into trouble.”

“I’ve heard that before too,” Lexi said, thinking back to her old life. Her life back home. Trouble was her middle name. There was always something to get mixed up in when she was pursuing a story. That was just one of the reasons that had drawn her to investigative journalism.

“From someone close.”

“Yes.”

“They’re not a part of your life any more?” Cara said eyeing her carefully. Lexi wondered what she was searching for.
 

“No, no they are not.”
 

“And that makes you feel sad? Angry? Frustrated?”

“What is this? An episode of Dr. Phil?”
 

Cara laughed. “Sorry, I’m interrogating you. It comes with the territory.”
 

“I guess that’s like me searching for a story everywhere I look.”
 

Except now she looked everywhere but at her own back and she failed to notice the tail over the past few weeks.

He sat on the barstool, a mirror providing him with the perfect view of the booths across the side wall. He had followed her to the bar and was surprised to find her meeting one of the police officers for a drink. He had seen the detective constable at work before and he wondered how much trouble the woman was going to cause. He had heard she was one of the best in the Met and was headed for a promotion. She was a woman but she took no slack from any men, nor did she bother to expect special treatment due to her gender. She did the job and she got out. Which to him meant more trouble than he was getting paid for.

He ordered a whisky on the rocks and nursed the glass in his hand, pretending to watch Manchester United on the big screen but stealing glances at the two women in the booth. They appeared to be in a serious discussion, then their faces scrunched into laughter. Women, he didn’t get them either.

Someone cursed loudly in the pub. A glass jug slammed against the table. Glass shattered behind the bar. He ignored it and glanced at the booth again.

The detective was now moving. To the bar or towards him? He couldn’t be sure but the ladies room was in the opposite direction and her beer on the table was still half full. She had made him.
 

He got off his stool, left the untouched whisky on the bar and walked out of the bar as casually as he could manage, feeling the detective’s glare on his back. He knew she would follow him out. He had all of fifteen seconds to get out of view before the door opened and she’d be asking questions. He couldn’t afford questions. He had answers but now was not the time to arouse suspicion.
 

He broke out into a jog and five seconds later passed the entrance to an alley that he turned into. He slid behind the rubbish bin and noticed up ahead a door opening into what may have been a kitchen or the back room of a club or restaurant. Just as the door was shutting he slid his fingers against it and stopped it from closing completely. He counted to three and went inside. Whoever had opened it had moved on to the next activity and he was sure that the detective had not seen where he had gone.
 

He shut the door just as he heard the tap of shoes against the cobbled street. He heard a woman curse. She too had assumed that he had entered the alley. He waited. If he had to then he would have no choice but to confront her and fight. That wasn’t part of the agenda but she might leave him with no choice.
 

Another thirty seconds passed but no one came to try the door. The footsteps grew quieter until he was sure the detective had gone back to the pub. He wasn’t going to take any chances and so he looked for another way out.
 

Lexi watched as Cara got up and moved out of the booth and towards the bar. Just as she did a man got off the stool, making a quick exit out the door. Cara followed. Lexi got off her chair and moved towards the door also. Outside a gust of wind slammed the door shut behind her. Looking to the left and right she couldn’t see Cara or the man. A man and woman walked past bickering. Night-time traffic passed. A black taxi pulled up and a businessman got out cursing at the driver as he threw notes through the passenger window.
 

Then Cara came walking up towards her fast.

“Are you OK?” Lexi asked.

“I’m fine. You?”

“What was that all about?”

“I think you were being followed,” Cara said.

“By whom?”

“I don’t know. The man at the bar, I saw him enter thirty seconds after you did. He looked around the pub. Focused a little bit too long at you before taking a seat at the bar. His back was facing us but he could see you clearly through the mirror behind the bar. He had been looking at you and glancing at his watch for the past twenty minutes.”