‘ I’ve seen Gilbert in action. He was disgusting.’ Myrna shuddered.
‘ And there are possibilities of more stuff from her once she gets talking, I suppose. There’s the American angle, for example. When we get back, Karl Donaldson will be coming up to interview her about what she knows about Bussola — but that’s for the future. My priority now is to get her home in one piece, get a statement from her on the way, and get Gilbert charged with another murder before he walks free. If I’m late returning and he’s out on bail, there’s a good chance we won’t see him again. I don’t want that to happen.’
Myrna looked towards the house.
A bare-footed Tracey plodded out of the French windows towards them.
Danny’s eyes narrowed as she immediately recognised her.
Twenty minutes after discovering Felicity making an illicit phone call, Gus dragged her back to the Miami Beach mansion and paraded her in front of Bussola.
‘ Who were you calling?’ Bussola demanded. ‘Tell me now, or I bust you up again.’
‘ Just a friend, that’s all. A girlfriend — someone to talk to. Women’s things. I’ve been like a prisoner in here. I need to get out, I need some company. Honestly, that’s all. I wouldn’t do anything stupid. Not again, not ever. I’ve learned.’
Bussola was unsure. He looked at Felicity with a deadly glint as he considered what she had said. He spoke to Gus, the bodyguard. ‘You did well, very well. Now fuck off and have the rest of the day off.’
‘ Thanks, boss.’
‘ And as for you, I’ll think about what to do with you.’
He hovered and hesitated before eventually leaving Felicity on her bed.
She held her breath and could not believe how fortunate she had been.
She had another chance.
Better not blow it this time.
Maurice Stanway’s body had to be scraped off the roof with shovels and put into a plastic bag. He had landed head first and his skull was no more, other than a pulp of brain, skin, bone and blood. His shoulders and the upper part of his body had also been crushed to a mush; only his lower abdomen and legs remained intact.
Henry thought it was a good job he had seen Stanway’s face just before he jumped, otherwise there was a good possibility that identification would have been a problem.
What the hell drives a man to this? Henry pondered, as he watched the gruesome task of body recovery take place. Fortunately it wasn’t a job for CID. Suicides were dealt with by uniform. Henry was happy to hand it over to the patrol Sergeant.
Was it anything to do with Charlie Gilbert? Henry thought, then dismissed the idea. Enquiries would probably reveal money troubles, a complex personal life and a myriad of other things, none of which were Charlie Gilbert-related. Henry imagined that working for Gilbert would have been quite lucrative and not something for which you’d chuck yourself off Blackpool Tower.
‘ If you don’t mind,’ Danny said to Myrna, ‘I think it might be worthwhile getting a few things down on paper now. The return flight isn’t until later this evening and I might as well make use of these hours, even though I’d rather be shopping in the city.’
‘ Tell you what, then. You spend, say, a couple of hours doing this. In the meantime, I’ll arrange for another member of my staff to stand in for me and look after Tracey and later this afternoon I’ll drive you into Miami, maybe do some shops, hit a restaurant and then pick Tracey up on the way to the airport. How’s that sound? Tight, I know — but possible.’
‘ Sounds great. It would be a sin not to get a feel of the place, wouldn’t it?’
‘ It certainly would.’
They had been chatting by the French windows whilst Tracey lounged on a chair by the pool.
Danny went over and sat next to her. She had decided not to mince her words. ‘Your name is not Tracey Greenwood, is it?’
Danny knew she was right. The girl in front of her was not called Tracey Greenwood, but Tracey Higgins. She had been a resident at Mowbreak Children’s Home in Blackpool some five years earlier. Danny had reported her Missing from Home on several occasions and she had always returned, until the last time when she reported her missing and she never came back. On that occasion she had gone missing with her best friend, Annie Reece, whose remains had been recently discovered by two frolicking lovers.
Things began to slot slowly into place for Danny.
‘ No, you’re right,’ the girl admitted. ‘My last name isn’t Greenwood, but I am called Tracey.’
‘ Tracey Higgins,’ Danny interjected. ‘I remember. But why the name change?’
She shrugged. ‘Because Charlie Gilbert said it was the only way to get me out of the country. I didn’t have a passport in my real name and Charlie gave me a new one. I was only thirteen at the time, but the date of birth on the passport said I was eighteen. And I looked it. I could get away with that easy if I was dolled up.’
‘ So Charlie obtained a forged passport for you?’ Danny asked, wanting this confirmed in her own mind.
Tracey nodded. ‘And a US work permit, visa, all the immigration crap you need to get into this country. Everything to start a new life.’
Danny almost permitted herself a smile. So it hadn’t been too far-fetched to claim in court that Gilbert could obtain forged travel documents after all. She was relieved.
‘ A new life at the age of thirteen?’
‘ The old one was shit anyway and Charlie promised me loads of things.’
‘ Why?’
‘ Why?’ Tracey snorted. ‘Because I saw him kill Annie and he panicked and this was his way of shutting me up, I reckon.’
The Bussola household was unusually quiet.
Felicity paused on the stairs and looked out across the pool. Her husband was at the poolside, working away at his computer. One bodyguard lounged in the shade, reading a thriller.
Felicity trod quietly downstairs and wandered from room to room, finding no one else around, not even Begin, which was odd. He was usually creeping around somewhere. She went outside and hobbled around the gardens, looking for more bodyguards. All she found was one lonely soul in the gatehouse, playing patience.
Like a bolt of lightning, it suddenly struck her why they were all missing.
They had gone to get the girl, kill her and anyone else who got in their way.
It took time and not a little coaching and coaxing, a lot of patience and a good deal of skill to get Tracey talking. Her story was not much different to the one Danny had heard from Grace and it did not shock Danny to hear it. Nevertheless it expanded the picture of Charlie Gilbert and his lifestyle.
Tracey was a girl local to Blackpool and had ended up in care through the usual series of mishaps, bad parenting and abuse so very common with children in her social sphere. She was put in a home, from which she frequently absconded. Most of her time was spent around the arcades where she met Ollie Spencer and subsequently Charlie Gilbert. She was lured by money, food and drugs and enjoyed every minute of it.
She had only just begun her story properly when the chimes of the front doorbell echoed through the house, interrupting the conversation. Tracey stopped talking and sat back. Myrna, seated at the far end of the pool, out of earshot, pulled a face, but got up and walked through the house to the front door.
She froze when she saw who was standing there. It was Ira Begin, Mario Bussola’s right-hand man. She recognised him immediately.