M. Arlidge - Pop Goes the Weasel

The sign was discreet – if you didn’t know it was there, you’d miss it.

Brookmire Health and Wellbeing. Strange that a commercial enterprise should be so bashful about announcing its presence. Charlie pressed the buzzer – it was swiftly answered.

‘Police,’ Charlie shouted, struggling to be heard above the traffic. There was a pause, longer perhaps than was necessary, then she was buzzed in. Already Charlie had the feeling she wasn’t welcome.

Charlie climbed the stairs to the top floor. The smile that greeted her was wide, but fake. A neat, attractive young woman in a crisp white uniform, hair tied neatly back in a ponytail, asked how she could be of assistance – clearly intending to be no help at all. Charlie said nothing, casing the place – it looked like an upmarket Champneys and had that perfumed smell that all spas have. Eventually Charlie’s eyes returned to the receptionist, whose name badge revealed she was called Edina. Her accent was Polish.

‘I’d like to speak to the manager,’ Charlie said, presenting her warrant card to underline her request.

‘He’s not here. May I be of assistance?’

Still the same forced smile. Irritated, Charlie walked round the desk and down the corridor that led to more rooms at the back.

‘You can’t go down there -’

But Charlie carried on. It was pleasant enough – a series of treatment rooms and off them a communal kitchen. A young mixed-race boy was sitting at the table playing with a train. He looked up, saw Charlie and grinned a huge grin. Charlie couldn’t help smiling back.

‘The manager will be back tomorrow. Perhaps you can come back then?’ Edina had caught up with Charlie.

‘Maybe. In the meantime, I’d like to ask you some questions about an employee. A woman by the name of Agneska Suriav.’

Edina looked blank, so Charlie handed her a photocopy of Agneska’s payslip.

‘Yes, yes. Agneska is one of our therapists. She is on holiday at the moment.’

‘Actually she’s dead. She was murdered two days ago.’

For the first time, Charlie saw a genuine reaction – shock. There was a long pause as Edina processed this, then she muttered:

‘How did she die?’

‘She was strangled, then mutilated.’

Charlie waited for that to land, before continuing:

‘When did you last see her?’

‘Three or four days ago.’

‘Friend of yours?’

Edina shrugged, clearly not wanting to commit either way.

‘What did she do here?’

‘She was a dietitian.’

‘Popular?’

‘Yes,’ Edina replied, though she looked bemused by the question.

‘How much did she charge?’

‘We have a price list here. I can show -’

‘Did she give the full service or did she specialize in certain areas?’

‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

‘I’ve checked out Agneska and I don’t see too many diplomas in dietary science. Her real name was Alexia Louszko and she was a prostitute – a good one by all accounts. She was also Polish. Like you.’

Edina said nothing, clearly not liking where this was going.

‘Let’s start again, shall we?’ Charlie resumed. ‘Why don’t you tell me what Alexia did here?’

There was a long, long silence. Then finally Edina said:

‘Like I said, the manager will be back tomorrow.’

Charlie laughed.

‘You’re good, Edina, I’ll give you that.’

Her eyes flitted to the corridor of treatment rooms.

‘What would happen if I walked into one of those treatment rooms right now? Room 3 is in use. If I were to kick it open right now, what would I find? Shall we go and see?’

‘Be my guest. If you have a warrant.’

Edina was no longer even pretending to be friendly. Charlie paused to reconsider her line of attack – this girl was no amateur.

‘Whose boy is that?’ Charlie said, gesturing towards the kitchen.

‘A client’s.’

‘What’s his name?’

A tiny pause, then:

‘Billy.’

‘His real name, Edina. And if you lie to me again, I’m going to arrest you.’

‘Richie.’

‘Call him.’

‘You don’t have to inv-’

‘Call him.’

She hesitated, then:

‘RICHIE.’

‘Yes, mama,’ came the call from the kitchen.

Edina’s eyes fell to the floor.

‘Who’s his father?’ Charlie continued her attack.

Suddenly there were tears in Edina’s eyes.

‘Please don’t involve him or the boy. This is nothing to do with -’

‘Do they have papers?’

Nothing in response.

‘Are they in this country illegally?’

A long pause. Then finally Edina nodded.

‘Please’ was all she could say by way of entreaty.

‘I’m not here to cause you or your boy trouble, but I need to know what Alexia did here. And what happened to her. So either you start talking or I make a phone call. Your choice, Edina.’

There was no choice of course. And Charlie wasn’t surprised by Edina’s answer.

‘Not here. Meet me in the café round the corner in five minutes.’

She hurried off to her son. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. It was strange to be doing battle once more and suddenly she felt exhausted. She hadn’t expected her first day back to be so gruelling. But she knew that worse was to come. Tonight was her welcome back drinks. Time to face Helen Grace.

For the first time in years, Helen craved a drink. She had seen what it had done to her parents and that had put her off for life, but sometimes she still craved the hit. She was wound tight tonight. The interview with Elaine Matthews had gone badly, as the disgruntled Family Liaison officer had been quick to point out. There was little Helen could have done differently – she had to ask the tough questions – but still she berated herself for upsetting someone who was blameless and distraught. They had had no choice but to leave in the end, having learned nothing of use along the way.

Helen had biked straight from Eileen’s house to the Parrot and Two Chairmen pub, Tony following behind. Situated a couple of blocks from Southampton Central it was the traditional venue for leaving dos and the like. Tonight they were wetting Charlie’s head on her return to work – another stupid tradition. Helen had steeled herself and walked in, Tony trying a bit too hard to be jaunty and relaxed beside her… only to find that Charlie wasn’t there. She was still out on the job and was expected shortly.

The team made small talk but no one knew quite how to play it. Furtive eyes were cast towards the pub entrance, then suddenly there she was. Charlie bounded over towards the group – keen to get this over with? – and as if by magic the crowds seem to part, allowing Charlie a clean run at her superior.

‘Hello, Charlie,’ Helen said. Not exactly inspired, but it would have to do.

‘Boss.’

‘How’s your first day been?’

‘Good. It’s been good.’

‘Good.’

Silence. Mercifully Tony leapt to Helen’s aid:

‘Nicked anyone yet?’

Charlie laughed and shook her head.

‘You’re losing your touch, girl,’ Tony continued. ‘Sanderson, you owe me a fiver.’

The team laughed and slowly they crowded round, patting Charlie on the back, buying her drinks, peppering her with questions. Helen did her best to join in – asking after Steve, her parents – but her heart wasn’t in it. Seizing a suitable moment, she nipped off to the toilets. She needed solitude.