Double Jeopardy, page 4
‘I’m not interested,’ Julie started to turn away.
‘Not an option.’ The pimp’s smile widened. ‘Come with us and we’ll give you some on the job training.’ He nodded at the driver.
Julie hesitated. She knew that she could probably disable both men, but it would involve moves that few street girls would be able to use and the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. At least, no more than she had already.
As mountain man reached out to grab her arm, Julie pulled from her coat pocket the bottle of cheap perfume she had used to add scent to her role. She squirted the enforcer full in the face. He bellowed and slapped his hands to his eyes.
Julie dodged a lunge from the pimp, dropping the bottle in the process, pushed past the hooker, who was gaping at her open-mouthed, and ran back the way she had come. She couldn’t move as fast as she would have liked. High heels were not the most ideal footwear in a chase and twisting her ankle was not a desirable option. She had an idea that once the big man’s eyes had stopped smarting he would be keen to get his own back.
It was vital that she got to her car with a sufficient head start to be able to drive away before the pimp caught up with her, and that was becoming increasingly unlikely. She could hear his pumping breath as he gained on her and risked a quick glance back over her shoulder. Panic nearly set in. Another few yards and he would have her.
Julie grabbed the handle of the nearest wheelie bin and turned in a half circle, pulling it round behind her. It was heavy and the effort felt like it was forcing her arms from her shoulders, but the bin swung round and toppled over into her pursuer’s path.
The pimp tried desperately to jump over the sudden obstruction but the edge of the bin caught him on the shins and he hit the pavement with a thudding slap and a loud curse. Julie darted across the road and down the street where she had parked her car.
She pulled her keys from her shoulder bag, unlocked the door and pulled it open. She slid into the seat, jammed the key into the ignition, started the engine, put the car into gear and slammed and locked the door in one continual fluid motion. Fortunately she was parked far enough away from the car in front to pull out without manoeuvring and her last sight of the pimp was his glaring face in her rear-view mirror as she roared away.
Julie turned left at the first opportunity, then right and left again, pulling into the side of the road only when she was sure that not even the fastest sprinter could catch up with her. She sat clutching the steering wheel tightly, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as reaction set in and tears started to trickle down her cheeks.
What an abysmal cock up. She shook her head in frustration and self-anger. She was a mess. It had been a mad idea in the first place and she’d gone at it with no real preparation, driven by the need to do something, the need to overcome a feeling of being surrounded by high brick walls, isolated and powerless. All she had achieved was to make herself feel even worse. At least the pimp and his minder weren’t likely to spread the story about being defeated by a woman – it wouldn’t do a lot for their street cred.
Julie took some deep breaths and dabbed at her eyes. Had she subconsciously put herself into danger as some sort of self punishment for the deep responsibility that she felt for her aunt’s death? She wasn’t usually given to such psychological self-analysis. Maybe she was just uncaring about her own safety?
Getting herself beaten up, or worse, wasn’t going to achieve anything. Julie put the car into gear again and moved off. She was as determined as ever to get to the bottom of the shooting, but that night’s fiasco had made her equally determined about something else as well.
She couldn’t do it alone. She needed help.
THREE
ALEC TANNER HAD no way of knowing on that bright, chilly Monday morning in March that his life was about to change forever. He sat at his desk, an expression of calm contemplation on his craggy face with its thoughtful, humorous brown eyes beneath a thatch of shaggy brown hair. He ran a pencil meditatively along the edge of his broken nose and shifted his slightly under six-foot body into a more comfortable position.
Tanner was the owner of a detective agency, the staffing compliment of which consisted of Ella Lang, who ran the office and did some office-based enquiry work when required, the extremely capable Ted Manning, who shared the main investigatory work with Tanner, and Danny Worenski, who claimed, accurately, that he knew more about computers than the people who made them and could hack into anything anywhere. Danny did a lot of the agency bread and butter work as he had an accounting background and undertook financial and other credit checks on both individuals and organizations. They made, Tanner reflected, a good team. A fourth member of the firm had left just after Christmas having got homesick for his London roots. For the moment, they were managing without taking on anyone else.
The agency was based in a converted Victorian terrace in West Coven Road on the edge of the financial district of Havenchester. All the three-storey former houses along the road had been converted into offices. His building held a secretarial agency on the ground floor, the detective agency on the first floor, a firm of architects above that and the top floor had been divided in two housing an importing business and a photographer. It was an eclectic mix that seemed to work and none of the businesses interfered with or had much to do with each other.
Tanner had arrived in the office later than usual that morning following a late night that had concluded satisfactorily for a client who wanted proof that one of his employees was selling information to a rival company. Tanner had obtained the necessary photographic evidence, but had not got home until the small hours.
Ella Lang came into the office with a mug of coffee and the post. She had a round, pretty, cheerful face surrounded by a mass of curly chestnut hair. Big golden hooped ear-rings swung rhythmically as she moved. As usual, her tight skirt was more north than south and there was a three-inch gap between her belt and tight, curving top that displayed an interesting view of firm, light-coffee coloured flesh. She grinned at her boss.
‘I’ve made an appointment for you at eleven – a Miss Julie Cooper. She rang about half an hour ago and asked to see you particularly. I told her Ted was a far better detective, but for some reason she insisted on seeing you.’
‘Obviously she only wants to deal with the highest echelons of the firm,’ Tanner told her, ignoring her rolling-eyed response. ‘Show her in when she arrives.’
Having indulged in their usual amicable repartee, Ella went back out to continue running the office and Tanner decided it was time to tackle his post. He reached for his letter opener in the shape of a small oriental sword, musing idly that as an aficionado of detective stories he should have been worried that he’d be found one evening sprawled across his desk with the knife in his back.
Julie arrived punctually and was shown in by Ella. She shook hands with Tanner, her handshake cool and firm, and he motioned her to one of the two client chairs in front of his desk. She had gone for a confident business look, wearing a well-cut and slightly severe dark-blue suit with a knee-length skirt under an open black leather coat.
Tanner felt an immediate attraction. It was not just physical – although he imagined he could practically see the sparks crackling between them – but as their hands touched he had an almost tangible feeling of warmth towards her. For a moment something in her eyes seemed to echo his feelings and he knew that she had felt the same reaction. Then some sort of emotional shutter swung down and the moment passed, although its after effects seemed to hang in the air between them. Tanner sat back down behind his desk and with a little effort got his professional persona into gear.
Julie sat and smoothed her skirt as she looked round the office, noting the large partners desk and the leather swivel chair behind it, the three grey filing cabinets (partly for effect as Ella had most of their records computerized), the two comfortable client chairs and the low coffee table between them. She glanced at the tall yucca plant that loomed like a triffid next to the window with its view of the offices opposite and a brief glimpse of the river beyond. The visual tour of the office gave her time to get her feelings under control and, when she looked back at Tanner, her expression was calm and controlled, all emotion firmly locked away.
Ella came in with a cup of coffee that she placed on the table. For a moment her eyes met Tanner’s and she raised one eyebrow with a questioning look of amusement before going back out again. Sometimes, Tanner thought, Ella knew him too well.
‘How can I help you, Miss Cooper?’
‘Do you recognize my name?’ Her voice was smooth and silky with a slight huskiness thrown in for good measure. Tanner considered popping outside briefly for a cold shower.
His brow crinkled briefly.
‘There was a shooting a few weeks ago …’ he began.
She nodded. ‘I was one of the victims.’ She took a deep breath and described the events of that night.
‘Jarrow claims he had nothing to do with it,’ she said at the end. ‘That is, of course, crap – but I can’t do much about him. What I can do is track down the men who did the shooting and whoever instructed them.’
‘Where do I come in?’
‘Although Jarrow operated from London, he had contacts all over the country. Whoever did the shooting knew this city; I am convinced they were local. I spoke to the city police this morning – DCI Mariner, who is in charge of the investigation into the shooting. I told him I wanted to do a bit of investigating myself and, although he wasn’t happy, he said he’d allow it provided I reported back to him immediately if I found out anything. He suggested I spoke to you when I said I wanted someone to help me. I also rang my aunt’s solicitor, Simon Kingsley, after I’d spoken to Mariner and he said he used your firm regularly and would recommend you. That was good enough for me so here I am.’
Tanner nodded. Mariner’s father and Tanner’s uncle had been close friends in the force. Tanner and Mariner had always got on well and he took care not to tread on official toes too often and to bring Mariner into those cases where he felt it appropriate. This arrangement had proven to be mutually beneficial and Mariner tended to cut the agency some slack when he could.
‘What exactly do you want me to do?’
‘I don’t know this city very well. I used to come and stay with my aunt, but I need someone who knows the underbelly, the dirty places and the nasty people.’
The recommendations had perhaps lost a little of their gloss, Tanner reflected ruefully. They seemed to suggest that he was the man with a detailed knowledge of the grimy side of life.
‘DCI Mariner admitted to me that the police investigation has run out of steam,’ she went on. ‘The shooters have disappeared into thin air and no one is talking. I want to hire you to work with me. I want you to take me round to meet some people who might have been involved and stir them up a bit, see what happens.’
‘On the basis that if you poke the wasps’ nest enough, the queen will come out?’
He had a feeling that in earlier times she might have smiled.
‘Something like that.’
‘Of course, we’re likely to be pretty severely stung before that happens.’
Any trace of amusement vanished.
‘I’m happy to risk that, if you are.’
Tanner thought for a moment. He took a large scale map of the city centre from his desk drawer, went round to the other side of the desk and spread the map out on the coffee table. He sat down in the other client chair and indicated the map.
‘Tell me exactly what happened and where, as much as you can remember it.’
Julie leaned forward to study the map, her hair swaying down in a gleaming black curtain, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she focused on difficult memories. Finally, she extended a neatly manicured finger to indicate the side of Wellington Square where the restaurant was situated.
‘I don’t remember much,’ she said. ‘We came out of the restaurant and started walking to our left. We walked side by side, Aunt Jo nearest the road. We were talking, catching up because we hadn’t seen each other properly for eighteen months, not paying much attention to what was going on around us. I don’t remember noticing anyone else walking in the square. The bike is a vague memory, coming towards us, not speeding, with two black, helmeted figures. I barely looked up at it until Aunt Jo groaned and started to fall. My reactions were far too slow – not that I could have done much. I just felt shock then immediately fear, a blow in my chest, then pain and darkness.’
Tanner nodded.
‘They didn’t ride round the square to get to you?’
‘I’m pretty sure they didn’t – I didn’t see them when we came out of the restaurant. I think I’d have noticed them if they had ridden round from the other side of the square.’
‘So they probably came out of the road leading into the corner of the square that you were walking towards.’ As he leant further forward to study the map, Tanner was aware of her subtle perfume and had to resist the urge to reach out to her. Maybe a cold shower would be a good idea.
‘Yes. The police found no one who saw them hanging around at the corner, though, nor in the road itself.’
Tanner focused back on what she had said and thought for a moment.
‘There could have been a third person spotting for them.’ He put his finger on the map. ‘I think there’s a narrow lane here behind the cinema. If the bike was out of sight round there, they would have been out of general view but they wouldn’t have seen you come out of the restaurant. Yet they moved into action as soon as you came out. If a spotter was watching the restaurant, they could have seen you about to leave and tipped off the bikers.’
Julie nodded.
‘You could well be right – but I didn’t see anyone.’
‘What happened after the shooting?’
‘I was out of it. According to the police report, a motor bike with two people on it was seen pulling into Target Road just after the shooting. That means they went down the first road at the other end of the square. The man who found us confirms that – he was coming from a road that led into the other side of the square and saw no bike. CCTV caught what was probably them for a short while, but couldn’t trace where they went.’
‘Was there anything else useful in the police report?’
‘One bike fitting the description was stolen from a car-park the day before. That’s one reason I think it was a local job.’
‘Who was the owner?’
‘He works for the council. The bike was stolen from the Town Hall car-park. The owner reported the bike missing the same evening. He was at a council meeting on the night of the shooting – plenty of witnesses. He’s in the clear.’
‘OK.’ Tanner thought for a moment. ‘Can I suggest something a little more subtle to start with than immediately poking the wasps’ nest?’
Again, the humour showed in her eyes for the briefest flash before being snuffed out by the iron control imposed by the weight of her grief.
‘If you like.’
‘I’d like to consult with a colleague. Come with me, if you like.’
They went out into the reception area. Ella looked up from her computer screen.
‘Is Ted free?’ Tanner asked.
‘Yes, he hasn’t any appointments this morning.’
Tanner led Julie across to a door to the left of Ella’s desk, knocked and they went in.
Theodore Ambrose Manning was sitting at his desk looking through a group of photographs spread out in front of him. As well as being street wise and very useful in a rough-house, he had a very keen brain for spotting something that was out of context. A little over six feet tall and broad shouldered, he favoured sharp suits and blindingly jazzy ties. That day’s effort featured Donald Duck.
Manning was third generation British of West Indian origin and even supported the English cricket team – which Tanner felt showed a spirit of integration often above and beyond the call of duty. He was a loyal and committed friend and Tanner was always grateful that Manning was on his side.
He introduced Julie and Manning stood up and shook her hand, giving her a smile.
‘What can I do for you?’
Tanner explained the situation.
‘Two people, probably, but not definitely, male. They work together, aren’t worried about killing a cop and they possibly went to ground for a while in early February. They may or may not have resurfaced yet.’ Manning summarized. ‘Somebody must have heard or seen them before in connection with something nasty going down. That sort of person doesn’t just spring up from nowhere. They’re bound to have some sort of previous incidents to their name, even if this was their first killing.’
He thought for a moment.
‘They may not be local, of course, but that seems a reasonable assumption to start with.’
‘So what will you do?’ Julie asked.
He gave Julie his most charming grin; the one he boasted made women go weak in the knees – and elsewhere.
‘I’ll ask around.’
‘The police have been asking for weeks,’ Julie pointed out.
Ted Manning’s smile broadened.
‘People answer me,’ he said.
How long will it take you?’ Tanner asked.
Manning rubbed a finger over his chin.
‘I can leave this for now.’ His broad hand indicated the photographs on his desk. ‘I’ll do some telephoning this afternoon and fix up a few meetings for later. I’ll need to do the rounds of certain clubs and bars and some of the people I need to talk to don’t come out to play until the wee small hours. Give me until this time tomorrow.’
‘So can we be doing anything else while we’re waiting?’ Julie asked, when they returned to Tanner’s office.
It was a good question. Tanner realized that he did not want her to leave. Although they had only met for the first time an hour before, he knew he wanted to see as much of his new client as possible. Even though she would be back again the next day, he was eager to get to know her better straight away; twenty-four hours was far too long to wait. Tanner was sure that deep down she was feeling the same way. He hoped so, anyway.
