‘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 goodbye 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 whilst averting her eyes from his disbelieving gaze. Mark let her go – his better judgement 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 arse, 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 which if it yielded anything might start the process of defrosting Helen. Suddenly Mark was back in the game.
‘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 on to 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 investigating three murders?’
‘As I’ve said before, Ben Holland’s death was an accid-’
‘Sam Fisher, Ben Holland, Martina Robins. All murdered. 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.