“Please, Charlie. However embarrassing it is, or bad it is, I have to know what I’ve done. This job is all I’ve got. If I lose it, I can kiss good-bye to seeing Elsie, to all the good things in my life, so if you know anything at all...”
She lied to him again, claiming ignorance while averting her eyes from his disbelieving gaze. Mark let her go—his better judgment for once mastering his rising fury. He returned to the station in a deep funk. Wherever he went now he was under a cloud, but it was safer for him in the station. Less temptation. And it was as he was sitting at his desk, mentally drafting his CV, that the call came through. It was Jim Grieves.
“Just thought you ought to know that she was a he.”
“Sorry?”
“Martina, the prostitute. She may have been well stacked and all that, but there’s no doubt she was a chap. Probably had the surgery in the last couple of years, and by the look of his ass, he may very well have been in this line of work before, albeit for a different clientele. I’d start looking there if I were you.”
So Martina was born a boy. Immediately Mark was energized—a little crumb that, if it yielded anything, might start the process of defrosting Helen. Suddenly Mark was back in the game.
62
“Twenty Marlboro Gold, please.”
Helen was smoking too much—she knew that. But she wanted to gather her thoughts before sitting opposite Mickery, and smoking had always had a calming effect on her. So she’d slipped out to the local newsagent. The owner reached back and pulled out the reassuring white-and-gold packet. He tossed them onto the counter and with a straight face told her the scandalous price.
“Let me get those.”
Emilia Garanita. Another ambush.I really must be more vigilant,Helen thought to herself.Getting caught out this often only encourages her.
“No need,” said Helen, handing a ten-pound note to the outstretched hand. The owner was staring blatantly at Emilia. Was this because he recognized her from the newspaper or because of her ravaged face? For a moment, Helen felt a modicum of sympathy for her adversary.
“How are you, Emilia? You’re looking well.”
“Just dandy. It’s you I’m worried about. How are you coping investigatingthreemurders?”
“As I’ve said before, Ben Holland’s death was an accid—”
“Sam Fisher, Ben Holland, Martina Robins. Allmurdered. This is unprecedented for Southampton. They were all remote locations; the killings were out of character. What are we dealing with here?”
The recording device was visible in Emilia’s hand. Clearly she was hoping to record Helen’s discomfort—or was it humiliation she was hoping for? Helen eyed her up, enjoying the tension, before replying.
“Speculation, Emilia. But I hope to have more for you very soon. We have someone in custody right now who is helping us with our inquiries. You can print that if you like. That’s not speculation. That’s a fact. You do still print facts, don’t you?”
And with that, she left. Heading back to the station, Helen had a spring in her step. It was nice to have the upper hand for once. She drew deeply on her cigarette, savoring the thought of what was to come.
63
Mickery was saying nothing. She and Helen had been staring at each other across the interview table for over an hour now, but still she wouldn’t reveal where she had been.
“It was all perfectly innocent,” Mickery said, just about suppressing a smile.
“So why the disguise? The chase? A police officer ordered you to stop and you didn’t. I should throw you in jail for that alone.”
“I was seeing a client,” Mickery retorted, “and I didn’t feel it was right to bring the local constabulary down on their heads. They’ve got problems enough as it is, believe me.”
“But that’s just it—I don’t.”
Mickery just shrugged—she clearly couldn’t give two figs what Helen thought. Her lawyer flanked her, looking equally smug. The clock ticked by. A minute of silence. Two minutes. Then:
“Let’s start again from the beginning. Where were you yesterday afternoon? Who were you meeting and why?” Helen barked.
“I’ve said all I’m going to say. I cannot and will not break professional confidences.”
Now Helen was really riled.
“Do you have any idea how serious this is?”
