The girl was definitely nervous and Lil wondered what she had done now. Lots of the girls found themselves in outrageous situations; that was the nature of the beast. Once they left the premises and went case they were at their most vulnerable. Most girls used a short-time hotel in Shaftesbury Avenue. It was only a few minutes' walk but they cabbed it because there was no law about soliciting on private property and, as long as they didn't hit the pavement with their punter, they were safe as houses from Old Bill. Once inside the hotel though it was a different thing altogether. The man could turn nasty, refuse to pay any extras and she had even seen working girls who had been robbed at knifepoint, gang-raped or just battered for no other reason than that they were there. It was a dangerous game all right. So, as Lil steeled herself for Ivana's little speech, when the girl finally plucked up the courage to talk, she was not expecting what she actually heard her say. For a few moments she thought she had to be imagining it.
'What did you say?'
Ivana licked her lips in an anxious manner and Lil was once more reminded of just how beautiful the girl was.
'Well, talk to me then, I ain't got all bloody day.'
Ivana took a deep breath and then she repeated in a careful and controlled voice, 'There is a dead body in the basement.'
Lil sighed heavily.
Of course there was, why wasn't she surprised?
'Are you sure, Ivana?' She was convinced this one was a druggie; she knew she liked a drink.
'Of course I'm sure. I went down there to see if Patrick was about, you know.'
Lil nodded. All the girls were after him; for more reasons than his boyish good looks.
'And I saw it, a dead person. I shut the door and then came straight up here. But Lil, someone else could go down there, you know. It needs to be locked or something.'
Lil looked at the girl with new eyes. She wasn't even trying to score Brownie points, she was genuinely worried that someone might discover it and cause aggro.
Lil nodded and then she said nonchalantly, 'Did you recognise them?'
Ivana shook her head vigorously. 'No. It's some black bloke.'
She saw Lil's skin blanch and she rushed to her. Lil could hear genuine concern in her voice.
'You OK, Lil?'
She sat back in the chair and forced herself to smile gently.
'Well, Ivana, thank you for bringing that to my attention.'
Ivana looked into her eyes and Lil saw herself as a girl and she knew then that was why she irritated her.
Took, Lil, I ain't told no one and I ain't going to, but don't treat me like a mug. I came up here to stop anything happening.'
Lil nodded and Ivana saw the tiredness and the worry that was ingrained in this woman's face. She'd always wondered why Lil Brodie disliked her so much when she saw Lil Brodie as a role model.
'I know, love. I'll see you get something for this, OK?'
'I don't want anything, Lil. I just want to keep my job here. I like it. It suits me.'
Lil was still feeling faint but managed to say jovially, 'Course it does, darling. You're still brand new.'
Chapter Twenty-Five
Detective Scanlon was not a happy bunny. In fact he was fuming. When he had been summoned, and that was the only way he could describe it, he had wondered if the whole thing was a wind-up. He was not a man to be ordered around, in fact he had an allergic reaction to anyone ordering him about or trying to tell him anything.
As he sat in his car outside the club in Soho and watched the people walking by, he felt the anger again. That this little shit was in a position to dictate to him was showing him just how much the world he knew had changed.
He had been earning a crust of this kind since he had been on the beat. It had started off with him turning a blind eye. As the years had gone on, he had carried on taking money because he had got to a stage where he was dependent on it. He needed it to provide the things he now saw as his right.
It was only now that he had been summoned like a naughty schoolboy, by a child no less, that what he had been doing finally hit him. At some point he had known that he would be called on to perform some task to justify the wages he had been pulling in all this time. It stood to reason. He had a feeling that the time to pay for it was now. And he didn't want to do it. But the man inside this building owned him and, because of that, he could feel the enormity of what he had been doing for so long.
He got out of the car and, waving off his sergeant, he walked through the drizzle into the warmth of the club. The brightness inside the foyer was too much for his eyes after sitting in the dimness outside plucking up his courage, and he could feel them watering. He coughed nervously as a young lady with small breasts, a tight dress and long permed hair dyed a suspect shade of red smiled at him in a friendly manner. She was sitting behind a polished counter and, perched on a high stool, she gave the impression of being far more important than she actually was. He saw the bouncer eyeing him and knew he was as aware of his name and his occupation as he was himself. The shame set in then and he asked the young lady for Patrick Brodie. The doorman motioned towards him with his head and he followed him through the club seeing the hostesses sitting smoking, waiting for the next punters to arrive. He walked across the dance floor where a stripper was bending over naked. She had just finished her act and was picking up her discarded clothes from the floor. She wasn't even pretty close up; in fact, she had certainly seen better days. The thick make-up that looked so glamorous under the lights was flaking off but she looked Scanlon over as if he was something she had found on the bottom of her shoe. She made him feel even more like the traitor he was. The whole place seemed to reek of decay and his eyes alighted on the men already seated around the dance floor. They had the look of men who paid for female company, from their ill-fitting suits to the scuffed and well-worn briefcases that would have been presents from the wives and children who had no idea where the men in their lives actually spent their leisure time.
A heavy rock tune blasted through the speakers heralding the next stripper and, as she brushed past him, he smelt the aroma of stale sweat and Murray mints.
They walked through to the back of the club and as they descended the stairs into the basement he felt physically sick. The bile was filling his mouth, burning him and he swallowed it down as best he could. His nerves were already shattered and when he finally reached the cement floor of the basement he knew that he had finally reached rock-bottom in more ways than one.
Pat Brodie was sitting at a small table drinking a brandy and he was surprised at just how masculine the boy actually was. Scanlon nodded slightly to him in greeting and was aware that he didn't get any kind of recognition in return. Pat Brodie just stared at him and then, after what seemed an age, he pointed to a pile of what Scanlon had thought was rags in the corner of the room.
'All yours, mate.'
It was only on closer inspection that Scanlon realised it was a dead body.
'Stop being so silly, Kath. Get up and come out with me.' Eileen could hear the anger in her own voice and she tried to calm herself down even as she felt the frustration that her sister caused her.
Kathleen was the image of her, it was like looking in the mirror except she didn't seem to have any life about her. She had been bad enough before but lately she was even worse. Her whole body seemed to have collapsed in on her and her eyes were black-rimmed. It was heartbreaking to look at her.
'I don't want to go, all right.'
Eileen gritted her teeth and forced a smile on to her face, 'Oh, come on, Kath. You'll enjoy it once you get there and there's a band on as well. It's called Flanagan's Speakeasy and everyone we know is gonna be there. And it's in Barking so we won't have to worry about the boys watching over us.'