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  Kate had always liked the fact that the working girls stood together, they might fight and argue, but the bottom line was always the same. They stood by each other and they protected one another because they would want someone to protect them if the need arose. Sandy Compton had been alive, but unable to move at all. She would have been aware of what was happening to her, and aware that her friend had left her to die alone. It was that which was bothering Kate so much. Even if she had thought the girl was already dead, it made no difference to Kate. She should have wanted that girl to have some kind of help.

  Flora O’Brien, or whatever her name was, would be on her shit-list for as long as it took to track the bastard down. Though she had a feeling that if Jennifer got to her first, there wouldn’t be much left for her to put away. Jennifer was as angry as she was and also assailed by guilt.

  Mariska Compton was staring at Kate and Annie as if they had just both grown new heads before her very eyes. She was visibly shaking, the denial of their words was not something she believed with all her heart, but it was also because she felt they were tainting her daughter’s memory. Her beautiful daughter who she had known, deep inside, was not as successful in her interior design business as she had liked everyone to believe. Mariska’s real fear was the neighbours finding out, her friends knowing that her daughter had been murdered by a serial killer. Not just any serial killer, but one who targeted whores. She was already wondering how her husband would react to the news, she was already relishing his humiliation.

  ‘This is outrageous. It’s a mistake, my daughter would never do something so heinous. It’s a case of mistaken identity.’

  Kate’s heart went out to this woman, she understood how hard it must be to hear something like that about your child.

  ‘Please, Mrs Compton, we wouldn’t be here if we weren’t a hundred per cent sure that this was your daughter.’

  Mariska looked at the two women. She would normally have just started on her daily drinking. She should have been nice and numb by now, but she had needed to drive to the bank, and her biggest fear was to be pulled over for drunk driving. So every Friday she made a conscious effort to stay off the drink until she had done her chores. But if ever she needed an alcoholic drink, today was that day. She knew that this would never be something they could live down.

  How could Sandy have done this to her? How could that girl have left this mess for her to clear up? She had never interfered in her daughter’s life, she had never wanted to. The girl had no real meaning to her as such. She had tolerated her all her life, just as she had tolerated Sandy’s father. She remembered all the times she had bragged about her daughter’s career, and now it seemed her career had been just like everything else about her, a bloody lie.

  ‘Could you leave, please? If that is my daughter, I would ask you to make sure that it’s known that we had turned our back on her. Disowned her. I had a feeling she was lying to us, and you have proved my point. Now, if you don’t mind . . .’ She waved her arm in a gesture of dismissal.

  ‘Your daughter has been murdered. You do understand that, Mrs Compton?’

  ‘I said, would you please leave? Don’t make me throw you out because I am quite capable of doing just that.’

  Kate was nonplussed at the woman’s vehemence, she realised there and then that Mariska Compton was not so much bothered by her daughter’s murder, but more interested in how it might affect her. What kind of mother would feel like that? She had guessed the woman had a drink problem from the moment they had entered the house. All the signs were there, and Kate knew how to read them. The empty vodka bottle beside the bin. The nervousness of a woman who has not yet had a few drinks that morning to take off the edge. The shaking of the hands as she lit her cigarettes, but the real decider had been the smell of her breath. Drunks could never really disguise the smell of their own destruction. It was an odour so toxic it could be noticed from three feet away. It was an acrid, disgusting aroma that all the toothpaste and mints in the world were eventually unable to mask.

  Kate knew it well, as did Annie. It was something you became familiar with from early on in your career in the police force. Drinkers came from all sections of society, it wasn’t just the poor, the underclass who turned to alcohol to relieve their problems. It was something that cut a swathe through all sections of society. It was legal, and that was its allure. No one took a second look at someone buying alcohol, it was socially acceptable. Everyone liked a drink and no one would look askance at anyone purchasing it in a supermarket or off-licence. Yet it was the cause of more deaths, and more criminal offences, than drugs.

  Looking at this woman, smelling her addiction and seeing her looking down on her own child made Kate want to slap her face. She hated that drink was the reason this woman had no interest in her child. The pubs were now open all day, the supermarkets sold drink so cheaply it was available to school children in their lunch hour. They bought drinks that were flavoured by oranges, cranberries and melons. They were brightly coloured bottles of alcohol that were like drinking lemonade. Oh, Kate hated drugs, but she hated excessive use of alcohol more. There were so many young men doing life because of strong lager and a brief argument resulting in a violent fight. Young men who, without the drink, would have walked away from the argument in the first place. But who bothered to take the makers of the alcohol to task? No one. The government came up with more and more taxes so that publicans were unable to give their customers a reasonably priced pint. Pubs that had once been the centre of a community were now outpriced by the Chancellor. And for what? Just so the supermarkets could corner the cheap booze market. Could make sure that people drank at home instead of being with friends, with people who would have looked out for them.

  Now, looking at this sad excuse for a woman, for a mother, Kate knew that, as drunk as this bitch might be in her daily life, she would never be drunk enough to accept her daughter’s lifestyle. Even though she was now dead as a fucking doornail.

  She got up to leave with Annie in tow; they were both shocked by the woman’s complete disregard for her daughter’s death. At the front door, Kate turned to the woman and said sadly, ‘Do you know something, Mrs Compton? Whatever your daughter might have been, she had one thing going for her. She wasn’t you. Like all drunks, nothing really means anything to you, all you think about is yourself. I have a feeling that was probably what sent her on the game in the first place. I bet she lived her life around your drinking, knew you had no interest in her at all unless it suited you, unless it was something you could brag about to people who meant fuck-all. I bet she helped you into bed, cleaned up after you, pretended that everything was normal to her friends, and lived the lie you have forced on her. Now she is dead, so you go and have another drink, I’m sure you need one now even more than usual.’

  Kate could still hear the woman cursing them as they walked down the well-kept drive, but she didn’t care. She saw all sorts in her job, but the hypocrites were always the ones that made her see red. The worst thing of all was that Mariska Compton had not even asked about her daughter’s demise, if she had been in pain. She had not even cared enough to wonder, or even think to ask in passing, exactly how her daughter had wound up dead. That told Kate this was a woman who was so well versed in the drink that she had forgotten how to care for anyone else but herself.

  As they drove away from the large, prosperous house, Kate was tempted to see that Mrs Compton was followed and watched until she was done for drink driving, dangerous driving or driving without due care and attention. Anything that could make her life a misery. It was the least she could do for the girl who had died so slowly, so horribly, and who had died without anyone to really mourn her passing. It was that, more than anything that got to Kate. Whatever that poor girl was, whatever she had become, she was still that woman’s own flesh and blood. She deserved so much better from the woman who had given birth to her. She had at least warranted a few tears.

  It never ceased to amaze Kate how people treat
ed other people, how selfish and greedy so many turned out to be. Well, God paid back debts without money, and she knew that was true. God always saw a way to make people understand their mistakes, and she relied on that knowledge to keep her sane. Her old mum had said that scum floated to the surface, but that it eventually sunk without trace. Kate had always laughed at her mum’s Irish wisdom, her old Irish sayings. Now though, years later, she felt that there was an element of truth in them. She hoped that she was right, because after today she wanted Sandy Compton’s mother to one day realise just what she had turned her back on.

  ‘You OK, Kate?’

  She laughed loudly then. She realised that she needed a laugh, needed to express her anger, her disappointment at the human condition. She needed to vent her own feelings of abandonment, feelings that were even worse now she knew the poor girl who had died alone and unwanted had felt as unimportant as she, in turn, now felt.

  ‘Of course I’m not, Annie. Are you? As much of a bitch as that woman was, we’re still no nearer to finding out anything about the girl’s last few hours, are we? We know she was terrified but unable to even move a muscle. She was aware of what was happening to her, and she could see her killer, until her eyes were dissolved inside her head of course. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, her mate left her dying without a second fucking thought. So no, Annie, I’m not OK. If that’s all right with you, of course? I mean, unless you think I’m taking over again, you know, pushing you out. I would hate for you to think that I’m only here to take all the glory. Perhaps you think I’m not really interested in finding the actual murderer, that I’m only interested in making a name for myself. A name that I have already earned, darling. A name that has kept you on board for a long time. Long before all this.’

  Annie was not just shocked at the way Kate had gone at her, but more by the words she had used to knock her down. She made Annie feel useless, as if she had no real talent for what they were doing. She heard the contempt in Kate’s words, in the timbre of her voice. She heard the scorn and the disrespect that was aimed at her, and she pulled the car over into a lay-by.

  Kate was still fuming. She could feel the anger coming off her in invisible waves and knew that one wrong move and she would, once again, demolish this woman with a few more well-chosen words.

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that? How dare you. I have never given you anything but the utmost respect. I expected you to treat me in the same way.’

  Kate shook her head sadly and, sighing loudly, she said honestly, ‘Oh will you fuck off, Annie. You expected me to give you the benefit of my experience, and I have done that, darling. Without me, you haven’t got a fucking case. The arsehole has given me carte blanche, and do you know why? Because he doesn’t want anyone else sniffing round, and I have the creds to stop them forcing the issue. You think you can do without me? Well, I’m here to tell you that you can’t, love. And I’m not in the mood any more to mollycoddle you. You live in my house, very cheaply I might add, and you’re aspiring to do my job. A job that I did very well, very, very successfully. You asked me to help you out, give you the benefit of my expertise and believe me, darling, I have more experience than that fucking lot at Grantley put together. You included. And I was willing to do that for you, but you’ve turned on me a couple of times now and, as Patrick would have said, you are giving me the ache. Because without me, you are basically nothing. Do you get that? Nothing. I have tried my hardest to help you along. I know better than anyone how difficult it is to be a woman and a Filth. But if you don’t fucking change your attitude, I will personally bury you, my darling, professionally and personally, and don’t think I won’t. I have had enough, Annie. You need to sort out who your friends are, and my advice is, sort that out sooner rather than later. I have swallowed your petty grievances, and your fucking imbecilic jealousy. But that’s it for me now, and I’m not in any way inclined to let this murder inquiry become muddied because of your fucking ego. So get off my back, and work with me on this, or leave me be. If the arsehole has to choose between us, darling, we both know who he will pick.’

  Annie was dumbstruck at Kate’s attack, and it was an attack, they both knew that. Kate laughed then, really laughed. ‘Have I upset you, Annie? Well, that’s too fucking bad. I’m not in the mood for your histrionics any more. We both know that you are the second fiddle, so get over it and stop trying to become the top dog because, believe me when I say this to you, you have a long way to go before you could even come close to me and what I have achieved. If I was a man, you wouldn’t have dared challenge me and you know it. And, while we’re being honest, if you don’t like living with me, get somewhere else, go and find yourself a flat. But remember, you won’t learn half as much from books or talk. I am willing to make you into the policewoman you want to be and that is something that I’ve never offered to anyone else. Only you, because I really believed you had it in you. Don’t you go and prove me wrong now. Don’t make me regret all the time we’ve spent together, just because you think you finally have a big case because, without me, you have more chance of getting a kiss off Brad Pitt.’

  Annie couldn’t believe that Kate was capable of talking to her like that. It was as if she didn’t know her, was as if she was listening to a stranger.

  Kate could see the confusion in Annie’s face, saw the hurt and the disbelief and knew that she had struck a chord with the selfish little mare. She had wanted her help, but she didn’t want to admit that it was Kate who would most likely be the one to break this case. Annie Carr had wanted the glory all for herself. Well, she had to learn something that they all had to learn at some point. It was all about team effort, even if one of the team had the most experience. If Annie used her loaf, one day that person could be her. Until that day came, she would have to do what they all did; look, learn and try to understand. It wasn’t fucking rocket science.

  ‘Oh dear, have I hurt your feelings? Well, the truth hurts, doesn’t it? And I am not, in any way, prepared to pussyfoot around you any more. I have done my best to try and help you out, from letting you rent my house to giving you all my case files and answering your questions to the best of my ability, no matter how inane they might have been, and all so that you could make a career for yourself. Well, that’s all by the by now. I am going to find this fucker and, when I do, I will see to it that he gets so much time Prince Harry will be on his third wife before he can even dream of a parole hearing.’

  Annie Carr was unable to speak, she had never seen Kate like this before. The worse thing of all was that she knew she had asked for everything that had been said to her. Kate was over the edge, they all were, and she guessed, rightly, that now was not the time to say anything. Instead she started up the car and drove them both back to the station house. She was very aware that she needed to rethink her role in Kate’s life, and find a way to make things right between them.

  Danny was on a mission. He was on his way to Patrick’s to inform him of all the skulduggery that was going on around him. He now knew that it was Des who was the alpha male involved. Peter was just after a few quid, like all gamblers he needed the poke. Jennifer was the one who had made sure it was not a piss-take. He had a lot of respect for her, she was a real diamond in that she was loyal to everyone, and yet she also had the brain capacity to see what was going on and cover her own arse. He decided he would give her a real leg up in the future. Loyalty and brains were rare, he knew that better than most people.

  But that aside, he was still nervous of telling Pat Kelly the whole nine yards. Patrick was a funny fucker, he could just as easily decide that Danny’s information was tantamount to grassing. Patrick was in a funny mood most days, this latest murder would not help his frame of mind either.

  So Danny was nervous, but that was healthy. Once you started being too sure of yourself it normally indicated that you were losing the edge. In their world you never trusted anyone, no matter who they were, or how many fucking creds they might have accumulated over the years. They
were all born villains, and that fact alone said that they were always willing to listen to another earner, even if that meant treading on someone else’s toes. It was the way of the world.

  Any big business was the same. The people who put you in a position of power were often the same people you toppled so you could then harness that same power for your own ends. Bankers paid their mentors off with big pensions and even bigger investments. But in the world of villainy that kind of offer wasn’t always an option. Most of the people involved were not liable to accept a hefty wedge and then see fit to swallow their knobs and retire gracefully. They were more inclined to want to shoot the person they saw as the instigator of their downfall, and therefore it was often a tricky and dangerous situation for all concerned. Especially for the fucker who had been the cause of the aggro in the first place. They were mostly ostracised by all and sundry, and that in itself was not something to be encouraged. It was more often than not something that caused their career to be cut short. Along with their lives, of course.

  So Danny knew he was walking into a fucking nightmare, but he was also not a bullshitter, and Patrick was aware of that much at least. Patrick was shrewd, he kept his own counsel and made up his own mind. Danny also had the added knowledge to impart that Pat had been ripped off, royally ripped off, and for longer than any of them would care to point out. Danny wasn’t looking forward to bringing fucking aggro to Pat’s door, but he had to. He knew he had to.