Buried Dreams, page 14
‘Good?’ James asked as he finished off his last chip and returned from popping the empty takeaway tray into a bin.
‘Yep,’ Billie agreed. ‘Hey.’ She slapped James’s hand as he leaned over and stole one of her remaining chips. ‘Hands off. What’s wrong, does this seem like some exotic food to you? Fed up with the caviar and white truffle that you usually nosh down on?’
James laughed. ‘Don’t come that game with me, Billie Wilde. I’ve done my investigations, remember. You come from a privileged background too.’ Billie reflected that he hadn’t dug too deeply in that case, but she wasn’t about to open a closed part of her life and start unloading the truth for this stranger, no matter that they had become convivial takeaway companions.
‘My family didn’t run massive multinationals taking huge profits whilst exploiting workers and wrecking the environment. I’m guessing your big family biz has outposts in various Third World countries?’ Billie asked.
James shrugged. ‘A damning pronouncement indeed,’ he answered. ‘It’s true that we have centres for our various endeavours in a number of countries, but we offer employment, a fair wage and try to give back with large donations to good causes, such as the one to this charity we’ve been celebrating tonight. Many of our business concerns are in Europe too.’
‘Not tinned tomatoes, I hope.’ Billie was referring to the widely reported abuse of agricultural labourers in areas of southern Italy, tomato pickers, living in squalid conditions for little or no pay.
‘Nope. But are you telling me that you’ve never gone for the cheapest tin of tomatoes in the supermarket? Ever thought that might be due to someone along the line not getting paid very much? Customer demand for cheap food pushes businesses into sourcing cheap labour.’
‘Good argument, but I’m guessing that the owners of the mega tinned tomato brands aren’t taking less profits.’
‘Tell you what, I’ll start a chip company in good old Blighty if that would please you? Pay a king’s ransom to potato pickers? Not that I know the first thing about the production workings from beginning to end. Most of our business is related to logistics and recruitment and I leave all the hands-on stuff to my brother. I deal more with finance and our charitable foundation.’
Billie made a mental note to stop making sweeping judgements on people. Her own donation had been huge due to her feeling the need not to keep what she saw as tainted money. She hoped that the unexpected inheritance would do good. She was reminded that the other big money donation via James had been even more substantial.
‘I’m not saying that you’re not right, Billie, maybe in the past when my father ran things, the little people were unfairly trampled down. But then we can’t be forever responsible for the sins of our forefathers. I’m guessing that you, like me, have gained huge benefits from our ancestors’ endeavours, whether those advantages have been due to malpractice or not. What are we to do? Go around in sackcloth and ashes forever more? We can only do our best going forward. At least I’m trying to do that…’
Billie was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. She was still struggling with mixed feelings about her own family past – guilt, anger, sorrow. James was right, it was time to look forward not back. She gazed thoughtfully along the river into the darkness below a high stone arch, just making out the shapes of the two homeless men tucking into their unexpected feast.
‘That was a really kind thing to do, sending our dinner over there,’ she said, offering James her last chip. He didn’t take it. ‘Just out of interest, what was the pudding?’
‘Sticky toffee,’ he answered.
‘Damn, my favourite.’ Billie pretended to be less than pleased.
‘I could always go and offer to buy it back,’ James joked, taking her tray and heading towards the bin again.
Suddenly a movement further along the river caught Billie’s eye, the glint of silver caught by a car headlight crossing the bridge in the distance and then the outline of a shape leaning over the low railings, where the water was as dark as treacle. A sixth sense, probably honed during her time in the police force, had Billie up off the bench and moving fast towards the figure. As she neared the shape, she could see that it was Abi, hunched over the railings, in danger of toppling forward. Was that what she was trying to achieve? Billie picked up pace, the girl’s harrowing sobs filling the night air as she approached her.
‘Abi?’ Billie called, catching her around the waist as she slumped precariously close to tipping point. The trophy slid out of her hands into the river and out of sight. Billie pulled Abi away from the railings, holding her close, feeling her thin body heaving with wracking sobs. Seeing a taxi about to pass, Billie waved it down and pulled Abi alongside her. She had no intention of leaving the heartbroken girl to find her own way back to the charity hostel, not when so many of the staff were currently distracted by the celebrations inside of the Grand Hotel.
‘You can stay at my place tonight.’ Billie gently pushed the girl into the back of the taxi and joined her, giving the driver directions. It was only as she sat back in the seat, running her fingers through her hair, that she realised that the taxi had just swept past James Checkley having returned to the bench, now looking around bewildered.
‘He looks like a man who’s had his chips,’ the taxi driver quipped, nodding to James as they passed.
‘You’re right,’ Billie agreed, with a glance of regret. ‘Looks like he has.’
Chapter 20
Slabs of Meat
Maya awoke, after a fitful sleep full of nightmare scenarios of Otilia’s last moments as described in whispers by the other girls, during the journey. The large frozen slabs of animal carcasses all around them had been swinging from their hooks built into the roof of the lorry, often ricocheting into the bodies of the girls as the vehicle took a route that was obviously off-road. It was clear to Maya that the frozen animal corpses were simply different slabs of meat to the living souls on board, as far as their captors were concerned.
Maya was amazed that she had even been able to sleep in fits and starts, despite the ongoing feelings of nausea she kept experiencing, possibly due to revulsion and utter shock at the thought of what had happened to Otilia. She was thankful that the drugs she had been given seemed to have induced amnesia as to the horrors she herself had been subjected to, though the pain in various parts of her body made it clear that she had been exposed to violence and abuse of the most intimate and horrific kind.
The lorry suddenly came to a halt. Most of the girls were immediately on high alert, though a few seemed to remain in a catatonic stupor. Whether this had been due to the freezing temperature Maya didn’t know. She remembered a lesson in school in which they had learned that refrigerator lorries reached temperatures as low as minus fifteen degrees. Strange how such random facts stayed somewhere lodged in one’s brain, springing forth at the most ridiculous moments. But she also recalled that the refrigerated air meant that oxygen was present. The alternative, when the units were lifted from lorry to ship, was that only the air already inside was circulating. It would mean a slow and harrowing death to anyone trapped inside.
‘Are we at a port?’ she whispered, not able to avoid the note of terror impacting her words as men could be heard talking outside.
‘We’re in Germany. Quiet. They are about to unlock the door.’ The big girl who had silenced Maya earlier, held her finger to her lips. The others pulled their ragged blankets around them, some reaching out to grip their neighbours’ hands, despite most having been strangers only a day or two ago.
There was a jangling of keys, more voices and then the back of the lorry door swung open. At first Maya could see nothing, then the rails of frozen animal cadavers were pushed aside. Torchlight swept across them from the darkness outside, at first blinding Maya’s eyes and the others, who held their arms over their faces or stared down hard at the floor. A gust of warm air blew inside the interior and the smell of sweat and garlic as Ubi entered. He was holding a gun. Behind him, other men stood. One was holding a baseball bat. Another grinned straight towards Maya, smiling and rubbing his crotch slowly as he looked her up and down.
‘Eat.’ Ubi flicked his head to someone behind him. A bucket was tipped onto the lorry floor. Stale-looking chunks of bread rolled out. A giant bottle of water was heaved in alongside it. The girls nearest pounced on the offering like starving hyenas. ‘The clients want the merchandise smiling, not crying out for food.’
‘I made sure that they stayed quiet.’ Bluey wiggled her toes and smiled in a childishly provocative manner at Ubi. ‘I kept an eye on this one as I promised.’ She flicked her head in Maya’s direction. Ubi already had his eye on her.
‘You, come with me,’ he said to Maya, ignoring Bluey completely. Maya shook her head, huddling back against the interior of the truck she had been so desperate to escape from until only seconds ago.
‘Go with him. Do as you’re told,’ Bluey announced loudly, kicking Maya’s leg, whilst looking back to Ubi for approval.
‘Get her,’ he announced to the baseball bat holder. He marched onto the lorry, followed by his grotesque companion who started kicking the carcasses of meat, as well as the girls, out of their path as Maya scuttled to the other side of the interior, in terror. But there was nowhere to go. She was hauled up, pedalling her legs, by the man holding the baseball bat. The other man made a grab for her ankles, running one hand along her legs and under her dress as he assisted in dragging Maya off. She heard the lorry door slam shut again behind her as she was carried into a building, trying to grab hold of the door frame, demanding to be set free.
A shot of pain suddenly ran through her as the leering man forced his hand higher between her legs, aggressively assaulting her as she was swept along a short corridor and then dumped hard on a bare floor. The door was banged shut behind her. Maya gasped for breath, looking up to see a small woman with an East Asian appearance waiting by a wooden chair. In front of her on a table, she had various make-up brushes and a mirror.
‘You sit here.’ The woman patted the chair. ‘I make you look good.’
Maya shook her head as she pulled herself up onto shaky legs. ‘No way am I staying here,’ she argued, despite looking all around and seeing no means of escape. The woman kicked the chair leg.
‘You stay. You sit here. You going to be in film. You play game, or–’ The woman made a slashing movement with her forefinger across her throat. Maya took a deep breath. Was she just about to meet the same fate as Otilia?
Chapter 21
Red Rag to a Bull
In the end Abi had stayed for two nights with Billie who had been keen to ensure that the young woman’s mental health had improved a little. Ash, Boo, Perry and Ellis who, until today, had still not been able to gain access to the interior of his own home, had joined forces to offer a protective circle around her. Their combined knowledge had ensured that Jemal Zerezghi’s hazy photo and details were now listed on every missing persons register and website that they could find worldwide.
Perry had even taken the girl out the night before to meet her own teenage daughters, trying to forge new friendship bonds. Billie desperately hoped that it had worked, though Abi still appeared very subdued and had gone straight up to bed on her return. Billie guessed that it would take time. It was possible that Perry’s tight-knit unit had even highlighted Abi’s lack of family ties. Billie could get that. She had worked through issues of lacking any blood family herself. Perry had admitted that even using her best investigative reporter techniques, Abi had remained resolutely tight-lipped about her journey to the UK with her brother, Jemal.
That morning, reassured that Boo had put extra protection measures in place at the hostel, Billie had dropped Abi off outside of her nursing college. It was on the way to Silver Darlings, where Billie had finally persuaded Ellis to have one last chat with Smokey Boy Patel.
‘Poor girl, what a bummer.’ Ellis sighed as Billie drove off. ‘I feel bad enough about Maya having gone AWOL and she’s left me two messages, well sort of. Abi’s brother could be anywhere, maybe not aware or even caring about the heartbreak he’s causing.’
‘Have you managed to speak to Maya properly yet?’ Billie asked.
‘Nah, I keep leaving her messages, pointing out that as she’s on a degree apprenticeship with the police, she can’t just go swanning off whenever the urge takes her. She’ll lose her job as well as her uni place and I’ve got enough aggro with the ex-wife and cleaning up the house without any more heading my way.’
‘At least they didn’t find any more dead bodies in there. Ash is certain that every nook and cranny has been explored.’
‘Yep, only two stiffs. That’s okay then,’ Ellis grumbled. ‘I hate to admit it, but Storm’s right. It won’t look good when I’m fighting to bring Connie over to stay.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’ve got to see my new solicitor in an hour, so we’d better make this gadabout snappy.’
‘Well, we’re a bit out of jobs at the moment,’ Billie replied, trying not to pile more misery onto Ellis. At the moment, her friend, the happy-go-lucky crack undercover expert, seemed to have lost his mojo. ‘So I think it’s a chance to ensure that we’ve left no stone unturned for Ozzie’s mum and dad.’ She put her foot down, reflecting that when she had been head of the local police MIT she hadn’t needed to negotiate with anyone before taking action.
‘Fair point, but you’ve organised the second autopsy. Josta has confirmed that it wasn’t suicide. Job done. That’s what his dad wanted to know. That’s what was written in the contract. We deliver that info, he pays.’
‘But it’s pointing to murder–’
‘Yeah, from a big ship somewhere out at sea, probably in international waters. How does Wilde & Darque even begin to investigate that one? Job for PC Plod and possibly from more than one country. You would have argued the same yourself when you were head of MIT, if some PI had come along and told you they were taking on a suspicious death.’ Billie overtook a car, giving the irate driver the finger when he beeped his horn in protest. Ellis was right, technically speaking, but Ash had made it clear Slug was either incapable or unwilling to follow it up anytime soon.
‘Well, as we aren’t doing anything else–’
‘We should be looking for more clients. Look, I don’t want to be awkward, Billie, but unlike you, I’m a bit strapped for cash. I can see this access business with Connie is going to cost a bomb and with everything else – I just haven’t got a big money pot to dip into like you, allowing playtime off the job. Not unless I sell the gaff and who’s going to want to buy the House of Horrors?’ Ellis’s comments had hit a still not totally healed scab within Billie’s emotional protective shield.
‘Playtime? Let me remind you that a young man has died here.’ Billie heard herself using the sort of voice that she had reserved in the past for interrogating suspects. She damned herself, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. To her mortification, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. ‘As for my big money pot as you call it, I’d rather have my family back than the inheritance…’ Billie trailed off, overtaking another car. Ellis rubbed his head.
‘I know, I know. Christ, I’m so sorry, that didn’t come out the way that I meant it.’ He sounded genuinely pained.
‘I offered to put more money in when we started the agency.’ Billie tipped her chin defiantly, shaking off the sudden self-pity moment. She’d long ago learned that such feelings were a waste of space. They weren’t going to change anything.
‘I don’t want that. I want us to be equal partners, Billie. Things always go pear-shaped when one person has coughed up more dosh than the other and I’ve got enough partnership aggro with the ex.’
Billie bridled at the comment. ‘Well, let’s call this a probationary period, okay? If Wilde & Darque isn’t working out the way we both want, we can always cut our losses. I’ll stay wild, you can stay dark.’ Billie slammed the brakes on outside of Silver Darlings. ‘As you mentioned before, I’m maybe more interested in the dead than the living.’
‘I didn’t mean–’ Ellis started to say, looking aghast, but Billie was already out of the car, heading towards Teddy Cook who she had spotted loading a van with kippers. Billie thought sadly for a brief moment that maybe instead of making a throwaway comment, she had hit the nail right on the head, that Ellis had been right. She was obsessed with murder.
‘Hi!’ Teddy rocked the same cheeky smiley demeanour that Ellis had when they had first met at work. Genes were a funny thing, she mused, hoping that Ellis would be back to normal soon. His usually mischievous twinkle was one of the things she loved, no, that she liked about him, she quickly corrected herself. Billie wondered if his recent fit of melancholy was her fault. She shook the thought away, aware of the many women she had met in the past who always blamed themselves for relationship issues.
Surely someone had to care for the people who no longer had a voice, she reasoned. In her mind Ozzie Kingsnorth wouldn’t be properly laid to rest until his true story could be told and if she felt that, she could only imagine how his distraught family would feel if they were simply told, ‘No, it wasn’t suicide, nor did he die in a river. Go figure.’
‘Here he comes, the bad boy of the family,’ Teddy shouted cheerfully as Ellis, with a sheepish look on his face, hands deep in pockets, mooched towards them. He didn’t look Billie in the eye.
‘We won’t keep you long.’ Billie looked out across the harbour. Far out to sea on the horizon, a large ship was sailing past. Billie shivered, wondering if Ozzie had met his end falling or being pushed from a ship just like that. She shook the harrowing autopsy images from her mind.
‘A couple of new facts have come up from the second autopsy on Ozzie,’ Billie explained. Teddy frowned.
