The Business Of Dying

12

'What do you think's happened to her, then?' I asked quietly.

'I don't know,' she said, looking away.

'Well, you must have a reason for thinking that way'

'Look, stop hassling me with all these fucking questions.'

I paused for a long moment, thinking that I was glad I didn't work with kids. Especially teenagers.

'I just don't reckon she's gone anywhere, that's all. In fact, I'm fucking positive.' This time I didn't say a word, but I was intrigued. 'She wouldn't have left Mark. I know that.'

'Mark Wells?'

'Yeah. She loved him, you know? She'd have done anything for him, even though he didn't give a fuck about her. He's already got a couple of girls so he didn't need Molly. I mean, he fucked her, but that was it. She was just an earner to him.'

I thought of the smiling face in the photo-me images. She was too young for those sorts of complications. 'You don't reckon she may have just got pissed off with Wells and decided to sling her hook? From what we've heard, she's walked out and disappeared before.'

'No, I don't reckon that. The last time she left it was with her old boyfriend, but she hasn't been with him for ages. She wouldn't have gone away on her own. Not without Mark. She was well into him. Talked about him all the time.'

'Were you and her close?' I'd asked Anne this yesterday and got a negative response, but this time I thought she might tell me the truth.

'Sort of. She talked to me a fair bit. You know, about this and that. But mainly Mark. She was always talking about Mark.'

'What did Miriam think about Mark? Do you know?'

She shrugged. 'She used to fuck him, but that was it. She weren't in love with him. Not like Molly.'

'And when you saw Molly last… when was that? About three weeks ago?'

She shrugged again. 'Something like that, yeah.'

'Was that about the time she disappeared?'

'I saw her one day in the home and then she went out that night and no-one ever saw her again.'

'How did she seem when you saw her? Was she in good spirits or was she pissed off about things?'

'She was normal, you know. Just like she always is.'

'She didn't say anything about leaving, or anything?'

'No. Nothing.'

So where did that leave us? I wasn't even investigating Molly Hagger's disappearance and yet here was a girl who knew her, and who knew Miriam Fox, telling me that there was something very suspicious about the whole thing. Once again, I was reminded of my dream. It was as vivid now as it had been when I'd woken up in the darkness, sweating and fearful, but it had lost its power as a premonition. Was there something in what Anne was saying, or was it the imagination of a teenager at work? Molly could easily have taken off somewhere without telling Anne, who admitted she wasn't that close to her. It was also quite feasible that Molly hadn't been as obsessed with Mark Wells as Anne was making out. After all, she was only thirteen years old, and even I knew that thirteen-year-old girls are pretty fickle when it comes to love.

'You don't believe me, do you?'

'Yeah, I believe you, but if she hasn't gone anywhere, then where is she?'

'I don't know.' She shrugged her shoulders and looked at me with eyes that didn't belong to a kid. 'Maybe she's dead.'

'Do you think that? That she's dead?'

She nodded slowly and with worrying confidence. 'Yeah. I think so.'

I cleared my throat, not liking the feeling I was getting. 'Do you think the person who killed Miriam might have killed her too?'

'Could be.'

'The man who attacked you tonight… what happened?'

'I was standing in my normal spot when he pulls up in this car. I should have been with Charlene, but she didn't turn up tonight so I was on my own. He just beckons me over like a lot of them do, then when I get over there, I take a look and I don't like the look of him.'

'What was wrong with him?'

'He just didn't look right, you know? He had this horrible smile and there was something about him. He gave me the creeps.'

'Go on.'

'Well, he opens the passenger door and pats the seat, and he's sort of leering at me like some sort of fucking perv, and telling me to get in. But I reckon he's kinky; he looks the type. The type who'll take you out somewhere quiet and really give you a going over, so I say no thanks and start to go. But he just grabs me and starts pulling me in, telling me it'll be all right, that he's not going to hurt me, but he's fucking rough and he's pulling me by the hair as hard as he can, the bastard…' She paused. 'And then you turned up.'

'What did he look like?'

'Biggish guy. Fat. Bald. Fat face.'

'What sort of age?'

'I don't know. About fifty or something.' Which probably meant thirty.

'And you've never seen him before?'

She shook her head. 'There was just something about him, you know? I don't normally feel that way about punters. I mean, they're all fucking old and ugly, most of them anyway. But this one was different. I just knew he was dodgy.'

I tried to remember the make of car he was driving. It was a Mercedes saloon, not particularly new, and I think the colour was light brown or beige. Not dark-coloured like the one that had picked up Miriam. Other than that I had nothing.

'It'd be good if you could make a statement.'

'Why? I've just told you what he looked like. Do you think he could have been the one who killed Miriam?' It looked as if the thought had only just occurred to her.

'I don't know. I really don't. Maybe.'

She shuddered. 'Fucking hell.'

'You'd do a lot better not working the streets, Anne.'

'I need the money'

I thought about sitting there trying to persuade her as to the error of her ways, but I'm almost certain it wouldn't have done any good. Change comes from within. You've got to believe that what you do is wrong and needs to stop, and I was pretty sure Anne didn't feel like that.

'Come on, let's take you back to Coleman House.'

She snorted. 'Fuck that. I'd only been out there ten minutes when you came. I haven't earned any money yet.'

'Call it a night off.'

'My man don't believe in nights off.'

'And who's your man?'

'Come on, you're a copper. I ain't telling you that.'

'Well, I hope he's an improvement on Mark Wells.' As if.

'Yeah, course he is.'

'Then he'll understand, won't he?'

She laughed, much too cynically for a thirteen-year-old. 'He won't be happy if I don't earn him some cash.'

What a gentleman. 'All right, let me do you a deal. I'll give you forty quid if you go back to the home tonight.' It was a stupid gesture. The money would end up in the hands of her pimp or the local crack dealer, who were probably one and the same. And if Anne chose to put herself in danger, it was hardly my concern. Especially as whatever happened tonight, she'd be back on the streets tomorrow anyway. But I didn't want to be responsible for leaving her out there tonight.

'Forty quid. And what do you want for that?'

'Nothing from you. All you have to do is go back home for the night and stay there.'

'That ain't a lot. Forty quid's fuck all. I could earn ten times that.'

'It's all you're going to get. And you don't have to do anything for it.'

She thought about it for a moment. 'Make it fifty, and I'll do it.'

'You're in the wrong job. You ought to be a trained negotiator.'

I insisted on going back to Coleman House with her as I didn't trust her to go alone. We got a black cab and the driver gave me a dirty look when he saw her in tow. In the end, I felt dutybound to show him my warrant card so he'd know I wasn't some perverted punter who'd forgotten his transport for the night.

We didn't say much in the cab, and when we arrived she jumped out without a word along with her fifty quid, and disappeared inside. I could have just gone back home, but while I was there I thought I'd check to see if Carla Graham was around. Malik was right, she wasn't my type, but there was not exactly a wealth of good-looking women in my life, so I liked to make the best of any opportunities I got in that department. Even if it was just talking.

I had to ring the buzzer to get in. A woman's voice came over the intercom. She couldn't say her 'r's, and I recognized her as one of the staff members we'd interviewed yesterday. I think she'd called herself Katia, or something equally bizarre beginning with a K. A youngish girl with a revolutionary's stare who'd come across as the sort who thinks all coppers are Nazi stormtroopers just itching to truncheon a few minorities. I told her who I was and asked if it was possible to speak with Ms Graham.

'I think she's with Dr Woberts,' she told me. 'I'll just see if she can be made available.'

'Tell her I'll come back first thing tomorrow morning if it's more convenient,' I said, thinking that that would probably be less preferable to seeing me now.

About thirty seconds passed, then the door opened. 'Katia' stood there, looking overweight and tired. 'She's in her office,' she said, glaring at me as if I'd just pinched one of her nipples.

I nodded and walked past her. The place was quiet, making me wonder where everyone was. Up to no good probably. Anne would surely be out again in ten minutes, making my cash gift to her an even bigger waste of time than I'd already thought.

I knocked on the door of her office but walked in without waiting for an answer. Carla Graham was standing by her desk talking to a short middle-aged man in a three-piece suit. She was wearing a light grey trouser suit with a white blouse. A simple string of pearls adorned her neck.

She smiled at me, but I thought there was a hint of effort in it which I've learned to get used to – you have to when you're a copper – but which still disappointed me, coming from her. 'Sergeant Milne. You must be working overtime tonight.'

I smiled back, stepping up to the desk. 'Unfortunately in our job it's difficult to keep to office hours. Thanks for taking the time to see me.'

'You only just caught me. This is one of my colleagues, Dr Roberts. He's a child psychologist.'

We shook hands.

'I'm not actually based here,' he said in a pleasant, almost feminine, sing-song voice. 'I do work at sites all over the borough.'

'I expect you're kept fairly busy, then.'

'We have a lot of children with special needs, but it's very satisfying work.'

'I'm sure it is,' I said, not meaning it at all.

'I understand you're investigating a murder,' he said, looking at me with undisguised interest. He had quite a jolly face, which struck me as unusual for his line of business. Most psychologists spend their whole lives with their heads up their arses. For a profession with such a huge and constant failure rate, they take what they do remarkably seriously.

'That's right,' I said. 'A girl not much older than some of the people you deal with. Her name was Miriam Fox. She was a runaway.'

He shook his head. 'It's a tragedy, Sergeant. I always feel if we can influence them while they're young, we can help prevent them taking the path that leads to this sort of thing.'

I felt like telling him that he and his colleagues had always had ample opportunity to do just that, but had clearly failed. But I didn't. The doctor looked a sensitive sort and I didn't want to upset him. For some reason, I actually thought he seemed quite a nice bloke. He reminded me of an eccentric music teacher I'd had in school who used to wear brightly coloured bowties and who was truly enthusiastic about what he did. I'd never liked music at school, it was one of those subjects that seemed to glory in its irrelevance, but I'd always liked classes with him.

'It must be a frustrating task,' I said.

'And how is the investigation going?'

'These things take time, but we're confident of a result.'

'I understand there's been an arrest.'

I eyed him curiously. 'That's right. How did you know?'

He smiled. 'I'm addicted to the news, I'm afraid, and now I have the internet on my laptop, I'm always checking what's happening. The local news said a man surrendered himself to the police today.'

'That's correct, but I can't comment any further on it, as you can appreciate.'

'Of course, of course, I understand. Forgive my inquisitiveness, Sergeant, I just always like to know what's going on.'

'Don't we all?' I told him.

A pregnant pause followed as Roberts presumably tried to think of something else to ask, but I guess he must have realized he wasn't going to get much information out of me because he called it a day. 'Well, I mustn't hold you up. Good luck with the case.' He put out his hand and I shook it.

He said his goodbyes, excused himself, and I turned to Carla. She was looking even better than she had done yesterday and I had no choice but to try and picture her naked.

'I was just about to finish for the night, Mr Milne. It's been a very long day.'

'And I appreciate you seeing me, Ms Graham. Look, is there a pub near here? Maybe we can talk in less formal surroundings, if that would make things easier?' Christ, that came out easily.

She raised one of her eyebrows and gave me a funny look. Maybe I'd overstepped the mark, but you don't win prizes without buying tickets. 'Are you suggesting we go out for a drink?' There was enough of a hint of playfulness in her voice to tell me she wasn't offended.

I smiled. 'Well, technically, I suppose. But please don't feel it's your civic duty. We can talk here if you'd prefer.'

She sighed. 'There's a pub round the corner that's not too bad. We can talk there if you want, but I can't stay too long. I'm exhausted, and I've got another long day tomorrow.'

The pub was a two-hundred-yard walk from Coleman House, far enough away to avoid seeing any of the home's clients. It was a huge place, built on two storeys, and was clearly popular with the student crowd. Although busy, it was spacious enough to accommodate everyone amply and there were still a few tables spare.

As we walked to the bar, Carla said hello to two people she knew – both men, both younger than me – and I found myself feeling mildly jealous. I ordered a vodka orange in a superficial attempt to appear sophisticated, and a vodka tonic for her.

'I thought police officers weren't meant to drink on duty,' she said when we'd found a corner table a respectful distance from anyone else.

'Well, I'm not officially on duty.'

She raised both her eyebrows this time. 'Oh. I was under the impression you wanted to see me regarding the investigation.'

'I do. That's the reason I'm here, but what I want to talk to you about is off the record. I'm here in an unofficial capacity.'

She looked interested, and now I had a bit of a problem. If I was honest with myself, the only reason I was there was to see her; everything else was somewhat peripheral. I was concerned about what Anne had told me but I wasn't quite sure how I was going to explain that.

'Go on.'

She was watching me closely, and I found myself watching her back. She had beautiful brown eyes that seemed to swallow you up. Not for the first time I found myself wondering what the fuck she was doing managing a children's home.

'I ran into one of your clients this evening. Anne. She was in the middle of being abducted by one of her prospective customers.'

She looked genuinely concerned. 'Is she all right?'

'Yeah, she's all right. But she was lucky, Ms Graham. If I hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened. Somehow I don't think it would have been a happy ending.'

'These girls…' She shook her head slowly. 'There's no telling them. It's as if they've got a death wish.'

'Well, it could be a wish that ends up being fulfilled.'

'I know, I know. What's so tragic about the whole thing is that Anne's got so much intelligence. She could really do something with her life if only she'd listen to people. Where is she now?'

'I took her back to your place. That's when I came in to see you.'

'You should have told me.'

'Don't worry. She's OK. She took it remarkably well. We talked for a while afterwards and she seemed concerned, particularly about Molly Hagger's disappearance. She seemed to think that Molly didn't just walk out-'

'What did she think had happened to her?'

'She wouldn't say for sure, but I think she felt something untoward had happened.' I briefly explained the reasons Anne had given me, without mentioning Mark Wells by name. When I'd finished I had to admit to myself that they sounded pretty flimsy.

Carla took a packet of Silk Cut out of her handbag and put one in her mouth, before realizing that she hadn't offered me one, and hastily pointing the pack in my direction.

I declined. 'My throat demands something stronger,' I said, taking a pack of Benson & Hedges out of my shirt pocket.

She lit my cigarette for me and I got a vague but pleasant smell of her perfume as I leaned forward.

'I thought you said you'd arrested someone for the girl's murder.'

'We have, and we're questioning him very closely, but we have to keep our options open. It might be that he's also responsible for murdering Molly Hagger. It might be that he's not responsible for anything.'

She took an elegant draw on her cigarette. 'Do you think she's dead?' she asked.

'I don't know. Anne was adamant that Molly Hagger would never have gone away of her own accord, but she could well be wrong.' I paused, then decided to jump in at the deep end. 'You can't think of any other girls who've left the home in the last few months who, perhaps, you didn't expect to lose?'

Carla gave me a reproachful look. 'Mr Milne, I understand your concerns, and I sympathize with them. If anything's happening to young girls it's essential it gets uncovered, but, with due respect, not every female client at Coleman House is a teenage prostitute. Some get involved in that sort of thing, I won't deny that, but they're in a minority, and we certainly don't keep the streets of King's Cross stocked up with underage girls. There are dozens of care homes in a three-mile radius of here who have exactly the same problems as we do. Do you really think it's likely that our clients are being picked off one by one by some unknown murderer?'

'No, no, of course not. I'm sorry if it came across like that. I'm just trying to look at every avenue.' I took a sip of my drink, noting that hers was getting dangerously near to the bottom of the glass. I didn't want her to go – not yet – but I wasn't doing too well at charming her into staying. 'Will you do me a favour, though? Just to indulge me.'

'What?'

'Will you just let me know if any of your clients absconds, or goes missing under suspicious circumstances? Please. Anything you say will be treated with the utmost confidentiality.'

She nodded. 'All right, but we get that happening a lot of the time, as I said to you and your colleague yesterday. Most of the time, it's just that. Them absconding. Looking for greener pastures. It's the same for all the homes, especially in a city the size of this one.'

'Yeah, I know. That's the problem. If you were, say, a killer, and you didn't want to get caught, they're just the type of girls you'd go for. Ones who can disappear without a trace and no-one's too worried.'

'But I do worry – we all worry – for our clients because we know the pitfalls that await them round every corner. But without resources, and without authority…'

'Yeah, I know. What can you do?'

'Exactly. But if any of the girls goes missing, I will let you know.'

'Thanks. I appreciate it.' I took a drag on my cigarette, knowing I had to do something to keep the conversation alive if I was going to keep her here. 'It seems ridiculous that these kids can just do exactly what they want when they're so, you know, unequipped for life.'

'It's a debate we have constantly within the profession,' she said. 'It goes against the grain for many of us to take authoritarian measures, but sometimes I genuinely feel there's no alternative. These children are vulnerable, they just don't know it.'

'It's funny,' I said, not wanting to lose the moment, 'but when I was a kid, my mum used to tell me what a cruel world we lived in. She always said enjoy everything while you're young, but be prepared, because when you get older you'll see that there are a lot of bad people out there. And you know what? I never believed her.'

'But you do now?'

'Yeah, I do now. If anything, she was more right than she could have known.'

'You're beginning to strike me as the sensitive type, Mr Milne.'

'I'm not quite sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not.'

She thought about that for a moment, looking at me over her glass. 'Take it as a compliment. It's how it was intended.'

'We're not all fascist bullyboys, you know. Some of us are actually quite nice people – especially when we're not at work.'

'I don't doubt it. And just because I'm in the profession I'm in, it doesn't mean I'd automatically think you were all fascist bullyboys.'

'But some of your colleagues do.'

'Some of the younger ones do, yes. When I first joined social services, I was probably a lot more black and white in my view of the forces of law and order too. But that was a long time ago.'

'Not that long, I'm sure,' I said with mock chivalry.

She smiled. 'Now that I will definitely take as a compliment.'

'It's how it was intended.'

She looked at her watch, then back at me. 'I really ought to be going, Mr Milne. Time's getting on, and I'm driving.'

'Well, have one last drink with me. It's a rule I've got that I always have to have a minimum of two drinks in every pub I go into. One drink means you're in too much of a hurry.'

'It's an interesting theory. All right, then, I'll have one more. But let me buy.' She stood up. 'Same again?'

'Please.'

I watched her as she walked across to the bar. She was wearing black high-heeled boots and she carried herself extremely well, moving with a grace I would normally associate with a model. Or maybe it was just me. I was already fully aware that I had the hots for her. I expect she knew it too, but it was only watching her then that I realized quite how much I wanted to rip her clothes off and make love to her on the spot. It had been close to six months since I'd last had sex so it wasn't going to take a lot to get me going, and the last time had been no great success either. On that occasion it had been a woman DC from the station who'd been as drunk as me, so it was never going to be a match made in heaven. She'd been engaged to a lawyer from the CPS and I'd got so worn out that I'd had to fake an orgasm. Twice. Although I must have done something right because she'd wanted to see me again afterwards.

This time, there was more than just a desire to have sex, although this came high on the list. I was attracted to Carla in a way I'm not used to. The last time I'd had a feeling like this was when I'd started going out with Danny's sister, and that had been a long time back.

She stayed for about another twenty minutes. I was desperate to go to the toilet for most of the conversation but held back, not wanting to give her an excuse to realize that she ought to be on her way home. We chatted about this and that, mainly to do with our respective jobs, and I found her an interesting and intelligent talker. She was single as well, which helped. Divorced with no kids, she said that most of the time she was married to her work. I told her I knew the feeling.

I kept looking for an opportune moment to ask her out but one never came, or maybe it's more accurate to say that my nerve let me down. I mean, she was a serious career woman with an air of authority about her more suited to a politician than to social services, and I was like a schoolboy in love for the first time with feelings that were more seventeen than thirty-seven.

When she'd finished her drink, she stood up and offered me a hand to shake. 'I really must be going, Mr Milne. It's been very pleasant, it's just a pity that the reason we've been brought together is so tragic.'

I stood up and shook, squeezing her hand tightly. 'Unfortunately, that's the way it goes sometimes. Well, it was nice to talk to you, Ms Graham.'

'You may as well call me Carla.'

'Well then, I insist you call me Dennis.' It sounded a really shite name when I said it like that. Really unsophisticated. Like Wayne, or Eric. For a moment I wondered why I'd never changed it to something better. Even Zeke would have been an improvement.

She smiled. 'Well, Dennis, I hope the investigation goes well.'

That was my opportune moment, but I bottled it. 'I'm sure it will. I'll be in touch if there's anything else we need. And obviously, as I said earlier-'

'I'll definitely let you know if any of the girls goes missing, but, as I told you, it does happen a lot, and there's usually an innocent explanation, if I can use a word like that.'

'Sure, I understand.' I finished my drink. 'Let me walk you to your car.'

'There's no need. It's only parked round the corner. I'd offer you a lift but I've got a very early start.'

'No problem, I understand.' At least my bladder would thank me.

I sat back down and she turned to go, then turned back again. 'Oh, one last thing. Tell me, how did you get Anne to go back to the hostel?'

'I bribed her.'

'With what?'

I felt a bit sheepish admitting what I'd done, but did it anyway. 'I paid her to go back. I gave her some money in lieu of any earnings she would have got by staying out there.'

I wasn't sure if this would please her or not. Probably not. But, surprisingly, she looked at me with what I thought was a measure of respect. 'You are a sensitive soul, Dennis.' She smiled. 'I'm almost certain it was a futile gesture. Girls like Anne aren't going to be redeemed suddenly, but I appreciate your concern.'

'Thanks,' I said, and watched her as she disappeared out of the door.

It was ten past nine and I was tired, a long way from home, and desperate for a piss. The evening's events had at least given me some insight into the type of world these girls inhabited, and the type of people out there preying on them. But whether it helped move the case on or not, I wasn't sure.