Pop Goes the Weasel

64

Helen had only just returned to Southampton Central when she got the call from Tony Bridges. She and Charlie had been running over the latest leads on the other forum users – BlackArrow had scaled down his posting, but the obsessive PussyKing was still giving them plenty to work with – but Helen abandoned the search now without a second thought. Half an hour later, she was alongside Tony in the interview room – Melissa sat opposite, cradling a mug of tea.

‘Tell me about Lyra Campbell.’

‘Money first.’

Helen slid the fat envelope across the table. Melissa counted the notes quickly then stuffed the cash into her bag.

‘She’s from London, I think. Not sure where exactly, but she talks like a Londoner. Like you.’

Despite Helen’s many years in Southampton, her South London accent had never entirely deserted her.

‘Did a bit of streetwalking up there, then came down to Portsmouth with a boyfriend. When that didn’t work out, she moved to Southampton.’

‘When?’

‘’Bout a year ago. Ended up working in the same gang as me.’

Melissa sniffed and took a swig of her tea. She hadn’t once looked up. It was as if mumbling at the floor might prevent Lyra hearing her betrayal.

‘Which gang?’ Tony queried.

‘Anton Gardiner.’

Tony looked at Helen. The name was familiar to both of them. Anton Gardiner was a violent drug dealer and pimp who ran girls in the south of the city. He worked alone and lived in the shadows, occasionally attracting the attention of the police by acts of incredible violence against his girls or his rivals. He was rumoured to be wealthy but as he didn’t believe in banks, this was hard to confirm. What was undoubtedly true was that he was sadistic, unpredictable and unbalanced. He often picked up girls from care homes and shelters – which meant that Helen had a particular hatred of him.

‘Why did she choose Anton?’

‘She wanted drugs, he could get them.’

‘And how did they get on?’ Tony continued. Melissa just smiled and shook her head – no one ‘got on’ with Anton.

‘Where is Lyra now?’ Helen asked.

‘Don’t know. Haven’t seen her in over a month.’

‘Why?’

‘She took off. Had a row with Anton and then…’

‘What about?’

‘About why he was such a sadistic fuck.’

For the first time, Melissa looked up. Her eyes flashed with anger.

‘Go on,’ Helen continued.

‘Do you know what he does to his new girls?’

Helen shook her head. She had to ask, but didn’t really want to know.

‘He gets them to strip, then bend over and hold their ankles. He tells them they have to stay like that the whole day. He leaves you alone for the first few hours. Leaves you until your legs are cramping, your back is in agony and just when you can’t take it any longer, he does you. An hour later, he does you again. Over and over. That’s how he breaks you.’

It was clear that Melissa was talking from personal experience, her voice trembling as she spoke.

‘And if you ever step out of line or don’t bring in enough cash, he does the same again. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone. He just wants the money.’

‘So what did he do when Lyra left?’

‘No idea. Ain’t seen him.’

‘You’ve not seen him since?’ Helen said, suddenly alert.

‘No.’

‘I need you to be clear on this one, Melissa. Did you see Anton during or after his confrontation with Lyra?’

‘No. She told me about it, not him.’

‘Did you look for him?’

‘Not at first. You don’t go looking for someone like that. But after a few days, I asked a few questions. I needed a fix. But he wasn’t at any of his usual places.’

‘Do you know where Lyra might be hiding out?’

‘Probably somewhere near Portswood. She always lived round there. Never told me where she was sleeping.’

‘And when she was working, did she call herself Lyra?’

‘No, that was just between us. When she was on the job, she was always Angel. An Angel sent from heaven, she used to tell the punters. They loved that.’

Helen called time on the interview shortly afterwards. It was very late and Melissa was completely drained. There would be time for more later and, besides, the priority now was to get an e-fit that they could release to the public. She sent Tony and Melissa to a custody suite with a police artist, then returned to her office. She wouldn’t sleep tonight, so there was no point going home.

Had they just made the breakthrough that would bring this awful killing spree to an end? All this time they had been trying to get a handle on what had triggered this explosion of violence. Had Anton been the unwitting trigger? Had he precipitated this savage rage? If so, chances were he was lying dead in a fleapit somewhere. Helen wouldn’t mourn him, but she needed to find him if the pieces of this jigsaw were to fit together.

Her phone rang, making her jump. Jake again. He’d left a number of messages, wondering why she hadn’t been to see him, checking if she was ok. Were his enquiries genuine or the product of a guilty conscience? Helen surprised herself by not wanting to know. Normally she would tackle everything head on, but not this time. This time she didn’t want to in case the answer upset her. Her mind shifted to thoughts of Emilia. What was she up to right now? Was she contemplating pardoning Helen or busy planning her execution? If she printed her story, Helen would be off the case. She couldn’t allow that to happen, not now they were finally making progress, but nevertheless she hadn’t backed down. She’d seen other officers make a deal with the devil and within months they’d become irredeemably compromised, often corrupt. There was nothing to do in these circumstances but tough it out and see who was still standing at the end.

Helen grabbed a coffee and headed back to the incident room. There was no time for fear or introspection now – there was work to be done. Somewhere out there was an avenging Angel with a taste for blood.