But at the moment, it was still conjecture. I knew I was going to have to find out more information from Raymond, but at the same time I was going to have to be careful about how I did it. I'd never looked at him as a threat before, but suddenly I didn't want to give him a reason for wanting me out of the way as well. Maybe there'd been more truth in Danny's words than I'd initially given him credit for.
'You look very thoughtful, Sarge. Everything was all right at the doctor's yesterday, wasn't it?'
'Oh, yeah, yeah. No problem. Nothing serious anyway. I'm just not looking forward to chasing around questioning the rest of those kids at the children's home. It just seems like a hiding to nothing.'
We still had close to two thirds of the kids to take statements from, and, although I quite fancied the idea of seeing the alluring Carla Graham again, I didn't want to waste any more time talking to snotty little bastards who wouldn't help you if their lives depended on it. I'd already told Knox I didn't think we'd get anything helpful out of it, but he'd insisted. He wanted to make sure he covered every angle of the case, if for no other reason than to cover his arse from any future kicking by superiors frustrated by a perceived lack of results.
'Wasn't it you who told me when I started out that only five per cent of policework gets you anywhere, and it's always spread right across the one hundred per cent you have to do?'
I grinned. 'Did I really say that? Shit, that must have been a long time ago.'
'Two years. That's all.'
'I must have been lying.'
'So, what is the answer then? The secret of policework?'
I was about to tell him that it was not to give a fuck about it and make sure you earned an alternative income, when DC Hunsdon walked in. He looked pleased. There were only about a dozen of us scattered about the canteen and most were uniform. Since CID always like to stick together, he made his way over to us.
He stopped when he got to the table and leaned forward, smiling, hands on the top.
'I can see you're dying to tell us something,' I told him.
'We've got the pimp.' He spoke these words in the manner of someone saying, 'We've solved the case.' Somewhat optimistic, I thought.
'Oh yeah? Where was he?'
Hunsdon sat down and lit a cigarette. 'He came in here. Walked in with his brief about ten minutes ago.'
'Who's going to question him?' Malik asked.
'Knox is going to do it with Capper. They're going to lean on him hard.'
He didn't look at Malik as he spoke. Like a lot of the younger detectives, Hunsdon didn't like Malik. This was partly to do with the fact that he was a graduate, but also because he was Asian. There was a feeling that he got special treatment because of his ethnic background, a situation not helped by the way senior management tended to treat him as some sort of teacher's pet. The resentment was unjustified and stupid, but it was difficult to squash. It was a testimony to Malik that he never once acknowledged it.
'Do you think he did it?' I asked him.
Hunsdon shrugged. 'What else have we got?'
'Hardly a reason for pinning it on him,' I said.
'Yeah, but it's not just that, is it? The victim wasn't sexually assaulted but she was attacked in a way that was meant to make it look like a sexual assault, so it's probably not going to be a pervert. Plus, he was seen round the victim's flat just after the murder and attacked you when you tried to question him. And, if that isn't enough, he's got a history of violence, and he'd attacked the victim before. Put her in hospital a couple of months back with cracked ribs and concussion.'
'Yeah, but that's not the same as cutting her throat from ear to ear and hacking great holes in her genitals.'
'He fits, Sarge. Whatever way you look at it, he fits.' He said these last words firmly, and in a way that suggested there was no point continuing to argue with him.
Which there wasn't. Right or wrong, at least it meant there was less work for the rest of us.
'How are you getting on with the mobile phone records? Did Miriam have one registered in her name?'
He nodded. 'Yeah, she did. And I tell you something, it took a fuck of a lot of phoning round to find out. The company's going to send us a list of calls she made and received over the past month.'
'Maybe it'll throw up something.'
'You never know,' he said, but he didn't sound that interested. In his mind, we'd already got our man.
11
As predicted, we ended up spending several hours at the children's home that afternoon trying to track down the various 'clients' we hadn't yet spoken to. We managed to pin down a few but no-one who could help us much. To be honest, it did prove to be a bit of a waste of time. Carla wasn't there either, which disappointed me. She had a meeting out in Essex and hadn't returned by five o'clock, which was the time we'd decided that we'd had enough. I phoned through to Welland and told him that he might as well send uniforms down for the rest of the statements because it simply wasn't worth using us for it, and he agreed without much resistance.
That evening it was Malik's turn to take off early. He had to pick his kids up from his mother-in-law's as his missus, who was some high-flying accountant, was off on a seminar in Monte Carlo or some other such exotic destination. It made me think. The last seminar I'd attended had been in Swindon. 'The Role of the Police Force in 21st-century Britain ' it had been called – about as interesting and informative as watching a car rust. I was definitely in the wrong job.
We left together and I took the tube down to King's Cross. I thought about heading back to the station and seeing what needed doing but decided a drink might be better instead. Welland had told me they were still questioning the pimp, and so far there was nothing of note to report, which didn't surprise me. You only turn up with your lawyer in tow if you don't want to say too much.
I found a pub on the Euston Road near the station which didn't look too shitty and took a seat at the bar. The barman was a young Australian guy with a ponytail and a silver ring through his eyebrow. There were only a few people in the place so we had a bit of a chat about this and that. He was a friendly sort, which is often the way with Aussies. I think it must be something to do with the fact that they're brought up in a nice sunny climate. I asked him what the crime situation was like over there. He told me it was pretty bad.
'It's getting worse too, y'know,' he said. 'A lot of guns around the place, and people more willing to use them.' I told him that that was the case everywhere. 'Don't I know it,' he said. 'Especially here. I always thought London was supposed to be a safe place.'
'I think you're about fifty years too late,' I told him, and we left it at that.
When I left the pub, shortly after seven o'clock, I decided to walk home and take in some of the sights of the red light district where Miriam Fox and her young friend, Molly Hagger, had plied their trade.
King's Cross isn't a lot like people expect a red light district to be. On the main drag there are the two railway stations on one side of the road, almost next to each other – King's Cross and St Pancras – while a few dodgy-looking fast-food outlets and amusement arcades cluster together on the other. A couple of ageing sex shops with their trademark blackened windows and garish lighting are the only sign that people come to the area with sex in mind, but even they look lonely and a little out of place. King's Cross is no Amsterdam or Hamburg. There's no obvious prostitution activity on the main roads, even after dark. The prostitutes might be there, but you wouldn't particularly notice them. The area tends to be fairly busy as the Euston Road links the west and east of the city, and there are always plenty of people about, which deprives the punters of their one great desire: anonymity.