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  As she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror she had to admit, without the least bit of bravado, that she was a very, very good-looking woman. She had always known that she would go far, and she had, further than even she had imagined. Though her brother was a big part of that, and she loved him for it.

  But as she pondered her future as Patrick Kelly’s amour, she felt the blood quicken in her veins. If she played her cards right, and she was an expert card player, she was looking at a whole new life. A lucrative, easy life that could afford her a position that would guarantee her a lifetime of respect. She knew that, by most people’s standards, she was being crass. Thinking ahead, though, had always been one of Eve’s strongest points and, coming from her background, it had also been something that had kept her from falling by the wayside, and gotten her to where she was today. She understood only too well how hard life could be if you didn’t plan ahead, just look at all those poor fuckers who had never thought of their old age.

  Well, she thought about it every day of her life. As Danny had once remarked, I don’t mind getting old, I just don’t want to be old and poor. Well, she didn’t want to be poor, period. She had been there and done that. She always smiled at successful people pontificating on their humble origins. Funny, she always thought, how a few quid made poverty seem so fucking honourable and life-affirming. The truth was, poverty was shite, and anyone who disagreed with her needed serious psychiatric treatment.

  Eve walked to the door. She had no underwear on beneath the dress, and the feel of the silk against her body as she walked was sensuous, she could hear the faint rustle that told her, and anyone that cared to know, that she was wearing in the region of three grand. Three grand was cheap at half the price, because she knew that this dress made her look like a million dollars. She was confident the effort wouldn’t be wasted on Patrick, he liked the fact she had class.

  She had to pop into the club, sort out a few things, and then get over to Patrick’s house. Being a very progressive woman, she never took a swimming costume with her, preferring to swim naked knowing he was watching her, knowing he couldn’t help but watch her. She had affected men like that all her life, and she loved the power it gave her over lesser women, lesser females. If you’ve got it, don’t flaunt it until the right man comes along, then flaunt it for all it’s worth. That was a sentiment Eve felt should be on a T-shirt.

  Peter Bates looked sheepish, and Patrick felt the urge to laugh at him as he quietly came into the house. He looked like someone who wasn’t sure whether or not to take off their shoes.

  ‘Well, well, well. What brings you here? Good news, I hope?’

  Peter grinned then. ‘Fuck me, Pat, thought you was going Filth. All we need is a hello, hello, hello, and you could be Sherlock Holmes’s little brother.’

  Patrick laughed, despite himself. Peter was funny, there was no doubt about that. ‘Sherlock Holmes wasn’t a Filth, you fucking ingrate, he was a coke-headed fucking amateur detective. A bit like old Lionel from the Billery down the road. He likes a snort and he’s a fucking amateur. Now, let’s cut to the chase, have you got my fucking money?’

  Patrick watched as his old mate sighed. He knew Peter of old and he knew he was now thinking on his feet, wondering how best to deliver the news. Pat loved Peter, but he wouldn’t trust him further than he could throw him. He never had, which is why he knew far more about this skulduggery than was good for either of them.

  ‘From what I can gather, Desmond should be surfacing somewhere along the Thames any day now. He was left to be found, if you get my drift. Knowing that ponce, he got stuck under a rock, which is something he should have thought about while he could still breathe. However, I digress. His old woman is not what you could call being cooperative, as such. In fact, I would go so far as to say that she is one stroppy cunt. Well, she is now a very frightened stroppy cunt. I hear young Danny went round there earlier today and she was left, how can I put it, wondering how best to extricate herself from the serious situation she has found herself in. Needless to say, her husband’s disappearance hasn’t bothered her as much as he might have liked. In fact, I think she sees that as a bonus of sorts. Knowing what we do now, we can, of course, appreciate her sentiments. Though, on the plus side, his bird is devastated by all accounts. So at least there is someone mourning his abrupt departure. I reckon his old woman will be playing by the rules tomorrow latest.’

  ‘So what’s the bad news?’

  Peter grinned then, having expected Patrick to ask that very question.

  ‘She wants more money than we are willing to give and she has booked herself on a flight to Israel tomorrow, and thinks we don’t know about it. Fair enough. We all try it on, as you well know. However, I will point out to her that if she doesn’t toe the line, she will be lying on the Mount of Olives with a stone ten times the size of Joseph of Arimathea’s resting on her skinny corpse. As I said, we should get our poke by lunchtime tomorrow. She is a hard bird, and I quite liked that she tried it on, it shows spirit. What annoyed me was that she was mug enough to think that we would let her swan off with a serious wedge of stolen money. I mean, didn’t she learn anything from her husband over the years? His demise should have alerted her to the danger involved in trying to scam off your mates. If she had not waited around for the insurance, the silly whore would have been home and dry.’

  Patrick started to laugh, really laugh. Only Peter could stand there and take pity on someone for not getting the rip-off right.

  Peter smiled then and said seriously, ‘He’s a good kid that Danny. I have to take me hat off to him, he has placated everyone involved, recouped the money, and no one has fallen out too much. If he wasn’t such a handsome cunt I might actually start to like him. His sister ain’t bad either, but then I’m sure I’m preaching to the converted here, ain’t I?’

  Patrick knew that a lot of Peter’s talk was because he was seeing Eve. His association with her gave added weight to Danny Boy’s position and he understood that. He would have thought exactly the same in Peter’s position. It was another reason why he had to stop this liaison now, before it all went too far. Eve was a lovely girl, and he thought the world of her, but the tea break was over and he wanted to get back to normal as soon as possible. He only hoped that Kate was feeling the same as he was.

  One thing Pat knew for sure, though. He had averted a great disaster. As much as he liked Desmond, and he had liked him, if he had got his hands on the ponce before the O’Learys, he wasn’t sure he would have been so lenient. Some people just seemed to push it all too far, some people just never seemed to know when to call it a fucking day. The bottom line here, though, was that he had taken his eye off the ball. Well, that was not something he was going to be doing again in the future.

  He had trusted Des with his life and, like Kate had always said, trust was great between couples, but in business it never hurt to take a gander at the books now and again on the QT.

  She was a shrewdie was his Kate and, as much as she had annoyed him and, make no mistake, she had fucking nearly had him demented with fury, he knew in his heart that she was the only person he had ever really been able to trust one hundred per cent. Considering she was a Filth, that in itself was no mean feat. Anger was a strange thing, once it had burned itself out, all that was left, more often than not, was the truth. And the truth of all this was, he felt like a drowning man without her stabilising influence, without her level-headed approach to life. He knew he could tell her anything and she would stand by him, just so long as he took the time to tell her, just so long as she didn’t find out before he had. Now that kind of trust was impossible to buy, and even harder to find in the world. Especially his world.

  Pat poured two large brandies and passed one to Peter Bates, who knew then and there that he was almost forgiven. But only almost, it would take a while to get back the usual camaraderie. Peter was confident though that if he kept his head down and his arse up he would be completely forgiven. He learned his lessons well
. He only hoped that he’d remember.

  Annie and Kate were finally at home, and both were aware that they had to talk properly about what had occurred earlier in the day.

  ‘I’m having a glass of wine, do you want one?’

  Kate smiled gently. ‘I think I need one, don’t you?’

  Annie’s earlier flash of euphoria was long gone and she felt the flush of shame once more as she remembered it. She also knew that it was only human nature, that the best of people were capable of bad feelings. Today, she accepted, had not been her finest hour, but she consoled herself with the fact that at least she had been big enough to understand that.

  ‘I think that Patrick will have some kind of explanation. Pat is not a fool, by anyone’s standards. As for that girl, she wasn’t exactly a fucking candidate for Mastermind, so don’t start putting two and two together and making twelve.’

  Kate gulped at her wine, grateful for Annie’s attempt to make her feel better.

  ‘You and I know that what she said is an association, and if Pat has an association between the flats and the girls, that’s something that’s worth exploring. As a policewoman you should be looking along those lines, even if I’m not.’

  It was a challenge and they both knew it.

  Annie shrugged. She saw that Kate was trying to be fair to her, was trying to tell her that she would understand if she decided to pursue those revelations further. Kate was trying to make it easier for her and she would always be grateful, she knew how hard this had to be for Kate. She also knew that, whatever happened, Kate could always be relied on to do the right thing, not necessarily the right thing for her personally, but the right thing nonetheless.

  Annie refilled their wine glasses and lit a cigarette before replying. ‘Look, mate, I think that what we heard today has no bearing on this case whatsoever, Patrick Kelly has something most men in his position don’t have, and that’s you. I know you well enough, Kate, to see that if you thought Pat knew anything worth knowing about this case we would be round his drum right now with a warrant and a serious amount of back-up. So my instincts, which you are always telling me to listen to, are telling me to forget what was said and get on with the job in hand. If anything else should arise then, of course, we’ll have no choice but to investigate him. Until then, I am quite happy to let sleeping dogs lie.’

  Kate was overcome with gratitude. She was angry with Pat, no doubt about that, but she had no desire to see him humiliated because of a young girl’s careless talk. If anything, she would personally vouch for his behaviour in this respect. Kate knew that Pat would have nothing to do with the day-to-day running of the girls. That had Peter Bates stamped all over it.

  ‘Don’t feel you have to do anything for me, Annie. I wouldn’t hold it against you in any way, shape or form. Remember that.’

  Annie smiled then. A real smile, a genuine smile.

  ‘To be honest, Kate, I think we need to put the past back where it belongs - in the past. We have enough to deal with without muddying the water with leads that will take us nowhere.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  As they toasted each other the telephone rang. Annie went to answer it, something Kate was still having trouble getting used to. Although this was technically her house she had to remind herself that, to all intents and purposes, it was Annie’s home now.

  Kate could feel the tension as it seeped from her body, her relief was almost tangible. For all Patrick’s faults, she didn’t want to be the harbinger of his downfall. As much as she sometimes felt the urge to fell him to the ground with one almighty blow, she still cared enough to want him safe from harm. Especially harm that could easily be avoided if the people involved remembered that he was a Face all right, but not a scum-bag. He might sail close to the wind, but he had always made a point of being at least three people away from any actual proof of involvement. He was a lot of things, but not an idiot.

  It still rankled though, the knowledge that he had replaced her so quickly. She wondered now if he had been secretly pleased she had walked out so fast. In the dark of night when sleep evaded her and the loneliness enveloped her, she wondered if she had just played right into his two-timing, double-crossing hands.

  Kate knew she was at an age when her looks, while still apparent, were no longer enough to keep a partner by her side, but she had always thought, had always believed, that she and Pat were better than that. Apparently she had been wrong. No matter how much it hurt to know that you were no longer wanted by the person you loved above all else it didn’t stop you caring about that person anyway. Deep feelings were never going to be banished overnight. Especially when those feelings were all you had known for so many years, you were frightened when you counted them up. He had been everything to her, and she had believed they were destined to spend the rest of their lives together.

  Annie came back into the kitchen then, her face showing utter disbelief and her whole body alive with enthusiasm.

  ‘You’re not going to believe this, Kate. I’m not sure I believe it myself.’

  Kate could hear the utter incredulity in Annie’s voice and she felt the adrenaline rush through her at Annie’s sudden fervour.

  ‘What, Annie? Believe what?’

  ‘Get your coat on and come with me! I think this could be just the break we are looking for. You won’t believe this, I can guarantee it!’

  As they both rushed from the house, Kate thanked God for giving her something to take her mind off her own troubles, even though she knew it might be a high price to pay for peace of mind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘This is Jemimah Dawes, I think you should listen to what she has to say.’

  Miriam’s voice wasn’t loud, but she was being what Kate would call forthright. It was as if she was proving her worth to them all, and Kate knew she had good reason to feel as she did. None of the people at the station, police or civilian, had much time for her at all, and her husband had not fared any better. Like all holy Joes, they put people’s backs up. They judged everyone by their own standards, as did most people in the world admittedly, except other people’s standards were not so high. Miriam and her husband had set themselves up from day one. Praying and talking about faith were all well and good, but when it was a constant mantra to anyone who would listen, it became wearing. It wasn’t that people didn’t believe, it was just that they felt they should worship, or not worship, privately. Alec Salter had not been as bad as his wife, but he had been hard work nonetheless. A very ugly man, with a problem with hirsuteness, he was a real holy roller and he had been brought up in a children’s home and had met Miriam there. No wonder he’d become a social worker and had run a halfway house before getting the job at Victim Support. They were a well-matched couple and, except for their determination to do good, they would have fitted in. Their holier-than-thou attitude succeeded in alienating everyone around them. Especially given that in a police station people see the worst of humanity on a daily basis.

  Kate smiled at Miriam in a show of what she hoped was solidarity, with a hint of apology and more than a smidgeon of humble pie. Whatever it took to keep them all on an even keel.

  Then Kate focused her attention on the girl as she smiled tentatively at them all. She looked what she was, and Kate saw Annie get out a notebook as they settled down on the well-upholstered sofa. In the background, Kate heard Miriam in the kitchen making them all tea.

  It was late, but the girl looked chipper. Her make-up was perfect, her clothes were well pressed.

  As Miriam walked back into the room, she said with authority, ‘Young Jemimah is giving up the life and starting afresh. I have got her a grant to help her set herself up, keep her afloat until she finds gainful employment. I ascertained that she wants to make a fresh start in Spain, and I think that’s best for her. Away from all she knows, Jemimah will hopefully find it in her heart to turn over a new leaf. I have given her a few numbers out there should she need further help. Now, young Jemimah was good friend
s with a couple of the girls who died. I have been counselling her about her grief and about the life she is currently leading, and she opened up to me about the darker side of her job. She told me about a man who attacked her one night and she felt lucky to come out of it unscathed. It turns out this same man also frightened a number of the other girls as well. I told her then that she needed to talk to you.’

  Kate looked into Miriam’s eyes, she was really trying to help them. As much as it galled her, Kate knew she had to do some serious grovelling in the near future and she was prepared for just that. She knew immediately that Annie Carr was feeling exactly the same. It was a sobering experience.

  Miriam poured them tea, and even handed round a plate of digestives, and it felt almost surreal. Settling her huge bulk on a chair by the window, Miriam said gently, ‘Go on, child, tell them what you told me.’

  Jemimah cleared her throat. She was nervous of the police, but that was natural. She was also worried that if she said too much she would be expected to give evidence or something. She wasn’t prepared to put her face or her name in the frame unless she had to.

  ‘Look, before I say a word, I think you should know that I have no interest in becoming part of your investigation. I mean, not publicly anyway. I just want to help if I can.’

  Annie smiled reassuringly. ‘That’s your prerogative, Jemimah, just tell us what you know.’

  Jemimah took a deep breath. She would tell them the truth. After all, she’d be gone in a few days and if it helped, then that was all to the good. Plus, the bastard had hurt her, and she wanted to see him pay for it. If she had reported him herself she would have been laughed out of the Bill shop, no matter what these two might think to the contrary. Girls like her were still classed as Untouchables, especially where the male Filth were concerned.