Chris Simms - Shifting Skin

‘What about side doors? Emergency exits? Is there one at the other end of this corridor?’ He pointed through the double doors at the corridor beyond.

‘Yes.’

‘If someone left by that route would it set off an alarm?’

‘No, it doesn’t work on that door. But why would they? It leads straight out to the bin area. They’d have to walk right round the building to get back to the car park.’

‘My informant believes the commotion was coming from room nine. How about I take a look in it?’

Dawn handed him a key. ‘Be my guest.’

Jon could tell searching the room was going to be a waste of time. His eyes shifted to the clock in the back office. Quarter past ten and he was dog tired. He knew she was holding something back. Probably just afraid of him finding out that she was putting the night’s takings straight into her pocket.

He weighed up the two women’s stories. Given the third victim’s time of death, Fiona’s emotional state and the hefty amount of booze it appeared she’d got through, he decided her claim was a waste of time. He gave the key back. ‘OK, Dawn, take care.’

Her mouth opened with surprise. ‘That’s it?’

Out in the car park he glanced towards the rear of the building. It was plunged in shadow and he’d have to get a torch if he was to look around properly. Bollocks to that, he thought.

In his car, he called Fiona’s mobile. ‘It’s Jon Spicer.’

‘Have you been to the motel?’

‘I’m in the car park right now. I’ve spoken to the night manager, Dawn Poole.’

‘That’s her. What did she say?’ The words were slurred and

Jon wondered how much she’d been drinking.

‘She didn’t notice anything suspicious last night.’

‘Well, did you check the room?’

‘It was spotless, like you said. And there was nothing round the back of the building, either.’

‘What about Cheshire Consorts? Did you call them?’

‘Yes. The owner told me there’s no Alexia on her books.’

‘She could be lying.’

‘There’s a web site. Have a look yourself. All the girls are listed there.’

‘So what now? I really think I heard someone being killed.’ Her voice was rising.

‘Fiona, there’s nothing more I can do. I’ll keep an eye on the police computer. If an unidentified female body shows up, I’ll look into it.’

‘That’s it? You’re not doing anything else?’

A wave of irritation washed across him and he ran a hand through his cropped brown hair. ‘What do you suggest I do?’

‘I don’t know. You’re the policeman. If this was an angelic little girl or a copper’s wife, things would be different, wouldn’t they?’ Jon felt his jaw clench. ‘You think you heard something. You were traumatised and pissed.’ He paused to let the comment sink in. ‘You could contact the Missing Persons Bureau, I suppose, but without a surname I doubt they can help. I can’t think of anything else.’

‘So you’re washing your hands of it?’

‘For fuck’s sake, Fiona, I’m working on a big murder case. You can probably guess which one. I don’t have time for this.’ Her voice was twisted with sarcasm. ‘No, I suppose not. After all, it’s only another whore who’s disappeared.’ Jon hung up.

*

Ten minutes later he pushed his front door open. Claws scrabbled in the kitchen and Punch peered eagerly through the doorway. The dog gave a delighted hrrmph! through its squashed nose and bounded down the hall.

Jon scooped the animal up and began rocking it in his arms like a baby. Punch craned forwards, trying to lick Jon’s face.

‘Who’s my stupid boy?’ Jon said, lifting his chin and allowing a wet tongue to lap at his throat.

‘I don’t know how you can stand that.’ Alice had come out of the TV room. She was wearing a dressing gown and clutching a mug in both hands.

Jon put Punch down. ‘What a day. How are you, babe?’

‘Good,’ she smiled. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘Only some crap pizza, unfortunately.’ He hung his jacket on the banister post and walked over to her. Careful not to put any pressure on her swollen stomach, he hugged her lightly. ‘How’s the bump?’

‘Fine. I could feel some kicking earlier. Here.’ She took his hand and placed it on her stomach, inside her dressing gown.

‘On the right there, that’s where the legs are.’

They stood motionless, Punch staring up at them with a bemused look on his face. Jon was careful to maintain an inquisitive smile, although privately he felt freaked out every time something began moving independently inside Alice’s body. He kept his hand there for a few seconds longer. ‘No. The little thing must be asleep.’ With a twinge of guilty relief, he slid his hand out of her dressing gown, went into the kitchen and cracked open a beer.

As soon as he took a seat, Punch lay down on the lino floor and rested his head on Jon’s foot.

‘Did you ring Fiona?’

Jon sighed. ‘Rang her, met her and went to that motel. She’s got quite a temper, hasn’t she?’

Alice grinned. ‘Fiona? Yes, she’s got a strong sense of right and wrong.’

‘So why has she stuck by a husband who knocks her around for so long?’

Alice gave a sad frown. ‘We’ve tried to work that out in the salon many times. You should hear her with customers who don’t keep their appointments. She’s straight on the phone asking where they are, demanding to know why they haven’t shown up. But then she goes home and seems to adopt this submissive personality with her husband.’

‘What the hell does she see in him?’

Alice ran her hands through her long hair. ‘I don’t think it was that bad to begin with. She’s always reluctant to talk about it — pride I suppose — but I think they were happy for a while. God knows, something happened to turn it sour.’

He ran a finger down his beer can. ‘Has she got a problem with the booze?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘The night manager at the motel she stayed in said she’d downed a load of brandy, and she was slurring her words on the phone tonight as well.’

Alice nodded. ‘She turns up for work late sometimes. There’s always a legitimate excuse, but you can smell it on her some mornings. If it was a big chain salon she’d have probably lost her job by now. Lucky for her Melvyn’s happy to turn a blind eye.’

‘Well, she certainly believes she heard something the other night. And she certainly wasn’t happy when I said I couldn’t do much.’

‘Can’t you?’

He took a long gulp, almost shuddering as the ice-cold beer went down his throat and hit his stomach. ‘I’m not convinced she heard anything more than a bit of energetic shagging.’

‘Why not?’

He hooked a nail under the tab of the can, lifted it up and then let it snap back with a ping. ‘She only heard something. There’s no evidence of anything else. The night manager says she didn’t see anything, and I believe her. Didn’t believe everything she told me, but I believed her on that count. All Fiona has is this.’ He flicked the card from Cheshire Consorts on to the table. ‘It could have been lying in the room for weeks, if not months, judging by the state of the place. A name that’s probably made up, and a disconnected mobile phone number that isn’t registered to anyone.’

Alice bit her lip. ‘Oh, well. She’s got her own life to sort out. She’ll let it drop soon, I expect.’

Jon took another gulp of beer. ‘The other big news is that I can’t decide whether my new partner’s reporting everything I do straight back to McCloughlin.’

Alice rolled her eyes. ‘You mean he’s still sulking about. .’ She stopped, unwilling to refer directly to the case that had almost cost them so much last summer.