Текст книги "The Trophy Taker"
Автор книги: Lee Weeks
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 26 страниц) [доступный отрывок для чтения: 10 страниц]
41
Mann finally made it back to his apartment. David White had said he looked like shit, and that he needed a shave and a shower and a few hours in a proper bed. Mann had argued, then given in. He didn’t much like going home. It wasn’t a home. Since Helen left he’d felt more and more uncomfortable there. It was where he kept his stuff, crashed, showered and watched too many DVDs. It would be better to sell it, but he couldn’t be bothered. It was a good investment, after all, even if he didn’t like living there.
He switched on the air-con, washed his face, tore off his shirt and fell onto his bed. Within seconds he was asleep.
He woke up feeling worse. He sat on the edge of his bed, reeling from tiredness, unable to focus for a few seconds. Then he checked his watch. He’d been asleep for three hours. That would have to do. He rang in to work, and Li answered.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to ring in, boss,’ he said, unable to curb the high-pitched excitement that had crept into his voice.
He’d never make a poker player.
‘What is it?’
‘We’ve got some results back from the lab. It’s been confirmed that there were traces of heroin in Roxanne Berger’s blood. She’d had sexual intercourse several times in the last few hours before she died, and after. The traces of animal on her turned out to be calf skin. So, this is what I think …’ Li paused to draw breath. ‘I think someone dressed her up as a cave girl, raped her, branded her and then hanged her. Then they came back later, dragged her off somewhere and had sex with her again after she was dead.’
‘Yeah, well, hang on to that theory, but keep working on it, Li. Get on to the pathologist. I want to know if Roxanne Berger’s tongue had been bitten.’
‘Why? Do you think the Butcher did it?’
‘No, I think she did it herself.’
‘Why? How?’
‘Just do it, Shrimp. If I’m right I’ll tell you why, and if I’m wrong I’ll tell you anyway. Also, I want a biopsy done of the tissue around the nipples on victims three and five. Run more tests on all victims. I want to know if any of the others had heroin in them. He must be giving it to them for a reason. Research it, Li. Any fingerprints from the bag itself? And find out for me how many stages of fly larvae we have on each of the victims. If there’s more than one, can the pathologist identify if one set was laid before they were frozen and if it had developed past the first stage? We want to be clear about how long the bodies are being held somewhere before being frozen. And Shrimp …’
‘Yes, boss?’
‘You’re doing a good job.’
‘Awesome.’
42
Lucy was slumped on a stool in front of the Dressing Room mirrors. She had no idea what she was going to do, the problem just kept getting worse. She had been pulling in every punter she could – too many. Mamasan said the clients were beginning to notice Lucy looking over their shoulders and had told her off for being greedy. And now Georgina had left Club Mercedes and was about to start work in the English pub! Chan would not be happy about that.
Lucy had no more money to give him. She had already parted with her entire savings. But none of that would matter to Chan, Lucy knew that much. He would want his money in some form or another. It remained now to find out what ‘another’ would turn out to be. Georgina had given her a few hundred Hong Kong out of her wages towards her keep, but that wasn’t going to go far. It was as much as Lucy could expect to get now that Georgina was working at the pub and earning a lot less than she was at the club. And Ka Lei was still a student. What was Lucy going to do?
She held her head in her hands and groaned.
A hand on her shoulder made her jump.
‘Come, Lucy! Big American look for you!’ Mamasan Linda interrupted her thoughts.
There! thought Lucy. Just when things seem darkest, Big Frank comes in! There’s always hope.
He could be her chance to solve all her problems. She tried a smile into the mirror, turning her head to view it from all angles. She stood and smoothed the creases from her dress …
Perfect.
That evening Georgina started her new job. Ka Lei wrote ‘The Albert’ in Chinese on a piece of paper for her before she left for her shift at the hospital. Georgina couldn’t risk being late, or getting into a cab with a driver who wasn’t about to risk ‘loss of face’ and admit that he couldn’t understand where she wanted to go, so would take her somewhere completely different. That happened a lot in Hong Kong.
She arrived with thirty minutes to spare. Mandy looked up from cleaning tables as Georgina walked in.
‘Ah, you must be Georgina. Welcome to the Albert. Have you ever worked in a pub before?’
‘No, I worked in a bookshop back in England.’
‘Don’t worry. Just keep smiling and you’ll be perfect for this job. But there are a few rules: don’t drink too much, be polite at all times, don’t rip the customers off, and don’t charge for sex. Give it away by all means – the place’ll be packed – but don’t charge. Okay?’
Mandy laughed as Georgina blushed crimson and shook her head vigorously. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t mean it. I know you’re a decent girl. Mann says so and Mann should know, he’s had enough of them. Okay, sorry. What I mean is that Mann’s a good judge of character. Still, it’s good to see him taking an interest in someone again. You’re a lucky woman. Johnny’s one of the good ones.’
‘He seems nice, but I don’t really know him very well. And we’re not together.’ Georgina looked uncomfortable.
‘Not yet, anyway.’ Mandy laughed. ‘Believe me, he never used to be so slow off the mark. It’s a case of “once bitten” with Johnny. He let the last one slip away. Dumb bastard should have put a ring on her finger – commitment-phobe like the rest of them.’
‘What happened?’
‘She was great, Helen – funny, bright. Everyone liked her. She was a hostess when he met her, gave it up when she got serious with Johnny. Then she worked as a PA for a local firm. They seemed very happy. They were together for five years, but they didn’t progress on to the next step. Helen got tired of waiting for him to commit. He carries a lot of baggage, does Johnny. Anyway, she was going to try leaving him to see if he came after her to beg her to come back. See if he would finally realise that she was the one. So, she left, and by the time he realised that the one was exactly what she was, she’d gone for good. He’s been moping ever since. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the inmates.’
Georgina followed Mandy and met the other workers. They were a mixed bunch: a Scottish chef, an Irish barman, a barmaid from New Zealand and two big surfer types from Oz who worked as a double act behind the main bar, and several more kitchen staff. They were an interesting mix, very energetic and friendly.
The first night flew by and Georgina found herself enjoying it immensely. Mandy told her what she would be doing. She would be working shifts, six days a week. She would start by bringing the food orders out and progress to serving behind the bar when she was ready. The pay was pretty appalling but the job was fun. She had forgotten how nice it was to be with people whose sole aim in life was to have a good time. It reminded her of her late teens, a time of boyfriends and parties and no worries, before her mother got ill. She hadn’t realised how wonderful that time had been until now. Two weeks went by so fast. The Albert opened up a whole new world, not just for Georgina but also for Ka Lei. Whenever her shifts allowed, Ka Lei came to meet Georgina from work and joined in with the socialising that went on after hours. They were invited to parties and picnics and endless barbecues. Life was beginning to feel like fun. But not for Lucy.
43
Lucy was glad to see that Frank was waiting for her one evening. She was working long hours every night and coming back to an empty house. She slid in beside him.
‘Good evening, Flank,’ she simpered. ‘Why you no come see me long time? What matter, Flank? You no love your little Hong Kong girl no more?’ She looked at him curiously. He was a mess. ‘You okay, big man?’ He didn’t smell so good either and his left eye was twitching uncontrollably. ‘Wha matter, Flank? You sick?’
‘Just lovesick, honey.’ He patted a bag next to him on the seat. ‘Got some toys for us to play with.’
‘Oh learly? Got sometin nice for your goo little Hong Kong girl?’
‘Got something really nice for my naughty one.’ The twitching moved to the other eye.
They wasted no time in finding themselves a love motel, where Big Frank unzipped his bag and pulled out an assortment of whips, leather apparatus and ponytail attachments. Lucy laughed out loud at the peephole leather, but Big Frank was too excited to be in the mood for laughing. He had some serious fun in mind.
‘Was these, Flank?’ Lucy pulled out some leather chaps.
‘Those are what I wear when I’m out herdin’ up steer.’
‘Steer?’
‘Cattle. Cows. Moo Moos.’ He pulled her to him, crushing her with a bear hug. ‘I’m gonna herd you. But first …’ he reached into the bag ‘… I’ve gotta catch you …’
And he brought out his lasso.
44
Johnny Mann walked through the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel. It was prime cocktail time. He was looking for James Dudley-Smythe. Mamasan Rose had remembered that he had bought Bernadette out a few days before she disappeared.
People watched him walk through. Mann was used to getting stared at. He didn’t slot neatly into any pigeon hole – which suited him. Being a Eurasian he was at ease in both worlds but belonged to neither.
The pianist was playing Sinatra songs. Mann headed for the corner of the lobby bar where he knew James liked to hold court. James still had enough clout and enough money to call in a few friends to drink with most nights. They were the same sorts – lonely old drunks that had made their money and were now spending it on drinking themselves to death.
James saw Mann coming from some distance. His stare was fixed on the Inspector. He was more alert than Mann had given him credit for. But then a pretty young blonde passed in front of Mann and he saw James’s eyes refocus on her. The two other red-faced, white-haired paunch bellies looked up as Mann reached them. They stared at him as if he were a bad smell.
James smiled: thin, wet-lipped. ‘Johnny, dear boy. Come, come. What is it now? Need my help again?’
The other two tittered nervously.
‘How did you guess? Want to talk to you about some Irish connections, some business transaction you might have made. Do you mind?’ Mann pulled up a chair and sat between James and his friends. ‘Won’t keep him long, gentlemen.’
They lumbered out of their seats, grumbling disdainfully, and went to find someone else to buy them drinks. James looked like he was just getting into the evening.
‘You bought out a girl the other night … Irish … from Club Mercedes … Ring a bell?’
James was shaking his head before Mann had even finished asking. Then he looked at Mann’s face and his head switched to nodding. ‘Actually, dear boy, now that you mention it – I think I did. Big girl – broad accent. Lovely hair – that the one? Bernadette?’
‘That’s the one. She’s gone missing. You were the last client she went out with.’
‘She left in the morning,’ he said, a little too hastily. ‘I paid her and she left. You know how it is, dear boy – my memory is not so good these days. As far as I remember we had a lovely evening –’
‘Okay, James.’ He’d probably passed out early, Mann thought. He seemed to be better at remembering the morning more than anything else. ‘If anything comes back to you, let me know.’
‘Count on it, dear boy. I will search the innermost crevices of my pickled old brain and see if I can remember anything to help you.’
Mann left him to it. On his way back to Headquarters he had the urge to call in at the Albert. Georgina had been working there for nearly three weeks now.
She was chatting to some regulars at the end of the bar as he walked in. She didn’t see him. He stood watching her, smiling to himself. She seemed so settled. It looked as if she had always been there. She was a changed woman – confident and sexy in her T-shirt and jeans – and she looked happy. He was glad. She must be safer in here than in Club Mercedes. Plus, now that he saw her in different surroundings he knew there was definitely something about her that he liked. Strong, cocky women usually did it for him. At first he thought that Georgina might be the exception, but now that he was watching the way she talked to the customers, joked with the other members of staff. The way she moved – strong and confident, maybe that’s exactly what she was; she just didn’t realise it yet.
She still hadn’t seen him and she disappeared behind the bar to pour some drinks. As he watched her he realised, God knows why, that he was proud of her. Maybe it was because she had thrown herself in the deep end by coming to Hong Kong. She had shown guts and determination. He admired her for that.
Mandy came through from the other bar and caught sight of him. She followed his eyes to Georgina and was about to alert her to his presence when Georgina disappeared into the other bar.
‘Hello, Johnny. Come to check up on her?’ said Mandy, walking over.
‘Just checking on all foreign staff, that’s all.’
‘Especially Georgina?’ She laughed. Mann started to leave. ‘Won’t you stop and say hello, now that you’re here?’
‘I wish I could, but I’m up to my eyes at work at the moment. You say hello from me, okay?’ He was backing out of the door.
Mandy wouldn’t let him go. She followed him as far as the door.
‘She’s a really nice girl, lots of men have been asking her for a date, so you’d better watch you’re not neglecting her.’
‘I wish I had the time to come in, but I’ve been working on this case. Anyway, I told you, Mandy – I’m not looking for romance at the moment.’
‘Yes, well, sometimes it comes looking for you, Mann. Remember that. Love is not a sign of weakness, Johnny.’
‘You’re just an old romantic at heart, Mandy. I never knew that.’ He laughed at her.
‘Less of the “old”, and I never knew you were a quitter.’
‘Sorry, Mandy. Can’t hear you. Bye.’ Mann was already out of the door.
‘Catch you soon, okay?’ Mandy stood, hands on hips, with a ‘don’t mess it up again’ look on her face that women seemed to be born with.
As Mann stepped out onto the street he caught sight of Max pulling away in his cab.
45
Max had only just got up from his daytime sleep and was running a few errands for his father before starting work, when Mann shouted to him to stop. Mann could see that, just for a second, Max contemplated ignoring him and driving off. Mann shouted again and stepped into Max’s line of vision; he wasn’t going to let Max get away twice – he’d have to run him over or stop. Max stopped. Mann walked around to the driver’s side and leaned into the cab.
‘I’ve been looking for you, Max.’
‘Huh?’
‘You’re a regular taxi driver for the hostesses at Club Mercedes, aren’t you? I need to talk to you about one of the girls – Roxanne Berger. You knew her, I understand?’
‘I gave her a lift to work, that’s all.’
‘Where do you live, Max?’
‘In Sheung Wan.’
‘Alone?’
‘No. I live with my father and brother.’
‘What does he do – your brother?’
‘He’s a meat delivery man.’
‘For whom?’
‘The Ho Young Dim Sum Manufacturers.’
‘They’re closing down, aren’t they? Selling up?’
‘Yes. Yes.’ Max was sweating. He fiddled with his keys and looked nervously into the mirror as if their conversation was causing a massive traffic jam, which it was. He started the engine and prepared to drive away.
Mann leaned further in and placed a hand on the steering wheel. He had seen something on Max’s arm. ‘Looks nasty.’ He pointed to a bite mark, the edge of which was just visible beneath the cuff of Max’s shirtsleeve. The skin, angry and inflamed, bulged around the puncture marks. Max hastily covered it up.
‘You should get that looked at. Human bites carry a big risk of infection.’
‘It’s nothing, nothing. It’s not human – it was a dog.’ He put the car into gear.
‘What time do you finish your shift?’
‘About eight a. m., sometimes earlier, sometimes later. I never know.’
Mann released his hold on the steering wheel. ‘See you at Headquarters at five past eight. Don’t be late. Ask for Detective Sergeant Ng.’
As Mann stepped back from the taxi and watched Max speed away, he realised that something was bothering him. Somewhere in his memory bank a series of images were searching for each other and trying to find their match. Among those images was Max. Just as Mann thought he was about to get it, it was gone.
His phone rang. It was Li.
‘Are you ready, boss?’ Li’s breathless voice screeched into the phone.
‘For what?’
‘Ever been to Poland, boss?’
‘No.’
‘They have this awesome legend about two mermaid chicks. There’s a statue of one of them, with a sword and shield and stuff, defending Warsaw.’
‘And …’
‘There is one tattooist in Warsaw who specialises in drawing this mermaid. I emailed a photo of the tattoo to him and …’
‘Go on.’
‘He recognised it straight away. It’s a one-off. He said he only ever drew it once, for one person – his sister. After that he changed it, made some modifications, gave it a boob job, so that the mermaid looked less like a fish and more like Pamela Anderson. Victim three – the torso – has to be the tattooist’s sister.’
‘Well done, Li. What else could he tell us about her?’
‘Not much. They fell out years ago. He said that, the last he heard, she’d been working her way round the Far East. She could have been in Hong Kong. He didn’t know. Basically, he couldn’t give a shit.’
‘Did she have any other family?’
‘Nope.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Gosia Sikorska. I looked in the file. She lived in Lucy’s flat in Wanchai two years ago. She was one of the women Lucy mentioned in her statement – the one with the strong accent – but she never said anything about a tattoo. She worked in Club Mercedes for six months.’
Mann hung up and checked the time before calling Lucy’s mobile. It was six thirty, she wouldn’t be going to work for a couple of hours yet; she’d have time to see him first.
He caught the Star ferry across to Kowloon side. This part of Hong Kong didn’t have the charm of the cobbled ladder streets on the Island, or the colonial mansions, or the Peak, but Kowloon had Tsim Sha Tsui, second only to Central for business, and bird markets, jade markets and night markets. Best of all it had the the New Territories. A precious wilderness with fantastic beaches and glorious picnic spots. Where it was possible to find space and freedom and, in the last month, bags of bodies.
The evening was cool and the ferry was quiet. It had deposited its business-suited customers on to the next stage in their journeys home, and it had taken the tourists back to change for dinner. Now it glided across the water, serene and unhurried, making the most of the respite.
Mann walked briskly up the gangplank and off in the direction of Nathan Road; a road that ran vertical from the harbour, long and straight – the Golden Mile. It was the place to buy watches, perfumes and electricals. It was awash with Indians selling fake anything. Every square inch of Nathan Road screamed something: try me – buy me – you can’t live without me …
The neon made Mann sweat and the thumping bass made him deaf. At every doorway a different song was spat out then batted away and replaced by another at the next step. Every doorway multiplied to five and the pavement disappeared as people fought for every inch of retail territory. He gave up trying to walk down it and took off on a side road, cutting across until he came to the Excalibur Hotel, halfway up Nathan Road, eight hundred metres down a side street. The Excalibur was an ‘old school’ type of hotel whose rooms were slightly shabby but well soundproofed. It had a small pool on the roof and its coffee shop was renowned for the fine pastry chef. It was a hotel that most foreigners were familiar with because it specialised in offering not-too-cheap package holidays to Brits and was always full. Helen had loved going there for a late breakfast. It was nice to walk to it along the harbour.
He was thinking about Helen again. Maybe the thing with Georgina had got him thinking What if? What if he’d tried harder? What if he’d been prepared to give it a chance? What if he’d wanted the things she’d wanted? What fucking if?
ENOUGH!
Mann walked through the lobby and past the lounge bar, where a pianist was tinkling away forgettable tunes for the cocktail lounge clientele of post-shoppers and pre-diners to chat over. He walked down a short flight of stairs to Oliver’s Bar in the basement.
Oliver’s Bar was overdone in ‘Old English Stylee’. It was dark red, oak-panelled and tartan-infested. Straight ahead of the entrance was a hexagonal bar. Tables and chairs fanned out from it on two levels, all in regimented restaurant fashion. Further to the right of the entrance was a lounge area, with a brick fireplace and a living-flame gas fire that gave out no warmth. Above the fire was a decorative arch and an oak bookshelf dotted with mock-leather faux Dickens first editions.
Mann gave an involuntary shiver as he hit the wall of air-conditioning that sat waiting for him just inside the entrance. He scanned the bar. There were just a few customers. It was happy hour, but the lure of cheap drinks had proven easy to resist. It wasn’t the most atmospheric of bars, but the good thing about it was there was usually space to sit and chat and at least you didn’t have to compete with a piano.
A few locals were ensconced around the far end of the bar, obviously hailing from the ‘snifter’ brigade where one drink always turned into seven. There was a young couple at one of the tables, as far away from the bar as they could get, gazing intently into each other’s eyes. And then there was Lucy, sitting sidesaddle on a stool at the bar and wearing her trademark leather trousers, black-ribbed polo neck and gold chain. She was snacking on peanuts and drinking Coke through a straw.
When she saw Mann she slid off her stool, picked up her drink, and followed him over to a table near the fire. Mann signalled to the barman that he would have his usual. As he did so, one of the snifter brigade looked up and held his gaze. Mann stared back. The man was white, early fifties, silver-haired, well-groomed. He looked like he had money and looked after himself. As Lucy left the bar, she nodded to the man.
‘Good evening, Inspector,’ she said, setting her drink down and positioning herself in the armchair oppos ite. Then, as she smiled at him, Mann saw the only similarity between her and Georgina – a mouth that formed an almost perfect circle, topped with a cupid’s bow. Hers was painted deep red to match her nails.
‘Do you know that man?’ He nodded in the direction of the bar.
‘I met him once. He’s a surgeon.’ She giggled softly, looking Mann over. ‘Lives in a nice apartment. Loves his clothes. Smart dresser, like you.’
Mann looked over. The surgeon was once again talking to his colleagues.
‘Do you always wear Armani? You look very handsome.’ She tipped her head to one side, picked up her Coke, searched for the straw with her tongue, and flicked it into her mouth.
The barman arrived and set down his drink. Mann looked hard at Lucy. She was full of games. She certainly had balls.
‘No, I don’t always wear Armani.’
‘Always wear designer, though? Not fake, made in Hong Kong. You wear genuine Paris, Milan. Am I right? Last time I saw you, you were in Valentino – very expensive – very nice.’
Mann smiled. She was definitely bold. This woman could handle herself and just about anybody else. She was one of Hong Kong’s survivors. You never got to see the ones who didn’t make it. There was no place for them in Hong Kong.
He picked up his attaché case and unzipped it. ‘You have a good memory, Lucy – impressive. Strange you didn’t remember this then …’ He threw the blow-up photo of Gosia’s tattoo in front of her. ‘Do you recognise it?’
Lucy glanced at the photo casually. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘You never saw Gosia Sikorska’s tattoo?’
‘This is Gosia?’ Lucy’s jaw dropped.
‘What’s left of her … yes. And you never saw the tattoo before?’
‘I knew she had a tattoo but I never saw it. She was very modest.’
Yeah, right …
‘… And you gave descriptions of other girls who lived in your apartment. Thanks for that. But they weren’t terribly detailed, were they, Lucy? I expected you to remember something about the women you lived with. You could be describing any foreign women, any place, anywhere. You lived with these women. You must have known them better than this?’ He rattled her statement.
Lucy shrugged. ‘You know how it is. When I first started to take in the Gwaipohs, I got to know them, made friends. But, after the first few, when they came and went so fast, I couldn’t be bothered any more. Mostly they kept themselves to themselves. They preferred it. I didn’t like to pry.’
You have to be kidding – you’re a woman – you never get tired of finding out about other people’s lives. That’s what made the female detectives so good at their job.
‘Well, if any more tattoos, birthmarks, glass eyes or wooden legs come to mind, you’ll let me know?’
‘Of course, Inspector. Immediately.’
‘And Lucy …’ Mann leaned forward and tilted Lucy’s chin upwards. ‘If you are hiding something, protecting someone, in the hope of getting something out of it, I should warn you, you may get more than you bargained for.’
Lucy called his bluff and raised him some.
‘I completely understand, Inspector.’ She pursed her lips around the straw and sucked.
Mann looked back at the bar – the surgeon had gone.
