Grace picked up the photograph and put it back in her bag. ‘I want to know who did that to her. Who is she, and where did she come from?’
Lynette still had her eyes closed. She shook her head.
‘I’ve never seen her before.’
‘Yes, you have. Don’t think anyone believes you when you say that. And don’t think this is going to go away. We’re going to keep coming back and we’re going to keep asking questions. You’re going to be asked to come in for questioning and that questioning is going to go on for hours. We’re going to talk to all your workers. Some of them will have seen something. Besides that,’ Grace said, ‘you saw Coco in that picture. Think about the people who did that. How do you know they won’t see you as a weak link? And if they do, what are they going to do about it? Do you want to trust them? Or do you want us to offer you some protection?’
‘I can’t talk to you here,’ Lynette said, barely audibly.
‘But she was here.’
The woman had folded her arms close about herself and was staring down into her lap. Very faintly, she nodded.
‘If you want to talk to me in complete privacy, with a promise of complete confidentiality, you can ring that number any time you like. No one has to know you’ve called me. Just ask for me by my first name. If you’re a witness, we may be able to get you immunity. If you need protection, we’ll arrange it.’
The woman looked up, shaking her head, her mouth slightly open. Her make-up seemed old and her eyes were moist as if she might cry. At that moment, Kidd walked into the reception area and came up to the desk.
‘What are you two talking about?’
‘I want to know if Lynette has a book with her workers’ photographs,’ Grace replied. ‘So far she’s been telling me to mind my own business.’
Lynette placed a leather-bound photograph album on the desk.
‘Everyone in there is legal,’ she said. ‘Have a look.’
Grace flicked through, finding the workers Doug had described. A number of Asian women and one African, all very lovely, none of whom had been at work tonight.
‘Satisfied?’ Lynette asked.
‘You have some very attractive workers. I’m sure they bring in the clients.’
‘That’s what we do here-bring in clients.’
‘But not tonight. You had customers waiting.’
‘I was expecting a quiet night. I care about my ladies’ welfare and I make sure they have adequate time off.’
‘Then I’ll say good night,’ Grace said.
She walked out, giving Kidd and Lynette one last backward glance. Lynette was staring into the distance. It was impossible to say if she knew Kidd or not. He was looking after Grace, angry, suspicious. Go on, follow me. Prove you’re what I think you are.
In the courtyard, only one car remained of the workers’ vehicles, an old yellow Toyota Corolla. It didn’t look like the kind of car Grace would have expected Marie Li to drive and she guessed it to be Lynette’s. She took a quick note of the registration number and went to her own car, which was parked at a distance from the building. She didn’t start the engine but looked back, waiting. This side of the building was in darkness; all the house lights looked out onto the front street. There was only the white gleam of the fluorescent tube over the back door. Suddenly Kidd stepped out. He looked around but didn’t seem able to see her in the dark. Then his phone rang. He answered it, turned and walked back inside. The door closed and she could no longer see him. She waited a few minutes longer to see if he would come back. She was about to ring in for a registration check on the Corolla when Lynette, wearing a leather jacket over her dress and with her bag in hand, came running out and went to the car, yanking the door open. Grace watched her start it and then drive away at speed.
She gave a quick glance at the back door to see if Kidd was following, then drove after her. Out on the road, she called in to the Orion control centre with the details of Lynette’s car’s make and registration.
‘Owned by a Jacqueline Ryan,’ the operative said. ‘Her address is the Royal Hotel on Victoria Road, West Ryde. She must be a long-term resident. Do you need backup?’
Grace felt the pressure of her firearm against her ribcage, just under her arm.
‘Not yet. I think we need to pick this woman up. Can you log that as an urgent request, please?’
‘Just a minute. There’s a call coming through to you. Do you want to take it?’
‘Yes. Log the number and put it through, thanks.’
‘Is that Grace?’ the caller said.
‘Yes. Go ahead, Lynette.’
‘I will talk to you but only if it’s tonight. Like now. As soon as you can.’
‘Where do you want to do that?’
‘Do you know the Royal Hotel? It’s on Victoria Road. Can you meet me in the bistro?’
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. Does that suit you?’
‘I’ll be waiting. I want this over and done with.’
Grace didn’t doubt it. The woman’s voice was shaking with fear. As soon as she’d cut the connection, Grace was back at the control centre.
‘Did you get that?’ she asked.
‘We did.’
‘I’ll report in when I’ve seen her. I think we’ll still need to pick her up but I’ll confirm that after I’ve talked to her.’
‘We’ll be waiting.’
Grace hadn’t been to the Royal Hotel before but it was easy enough to find. A renovated brick building, it had the look of a popular local watering hole with several bars, gaming and a restaurant. The sign said it offered long-stay budget accommodation. Was this all Lynette could afford? Or was she saving her money for a rainy day?
She was in the bistro, drinking a glass of white wine. This late on a week night, there were few diners at the tables. Grace bought a mineral water and went to join her. Lynette looked tired, and the jacket robbed her of whatever glamour she’d had in the brothel.
‘I know it’s not that warm but do you want to go outside?’ she said. ‘That way I can smoke.’
‘Sure.’
‘Don’t you drink?’
‘Not when I’m working,’ Grace replied, this being the easiest explanation.
‘What about a cigarette?’
A former smoker, Grace mentally gritted her teeth. ‘No, I don’t smoke,’ she said.
‘You’re healthy.’
Lynette bought a half-carafe of house white and they went outside. The beer garden was empty. Lynette lit her cigarette with relief. Grace smelled the smoke and was glad she’d said no.
‘How did you get away tonight?’ she asked.
‘I rang what’s-her-features upstairs and told her she could close up, I was going home. She screamed at me! Said she had the police there and she couldn’t do it. I said she’d just have to cope. I won’t have a job as of now but it doesn’t matter. I’ve had enough. As soon as I can book one, I’m getting on a flight to Perth.’
‘Why Perth?’
‘My son’s in Western Australia, working up north with Woodside Petroleum. He’s been asking me to come out and see him for a while. I will now. With a bit of luck, I might be able to get some work over there. There’s a lot of single men working up there besides him. Someone must need a receptionist somewhere.’
‘Some details, Lynette. What’s your real name?’
‘Jacqueline Ryan. Before you ask, yes, I live here. It’s cheap. I’ve got money but I don’t spend it if I can help it. When I quit the business, I’ll buy my dream home.’
‘Who owns the brothel?’ Grace asked.
‘Don’t have a clue and I don’t care. I deal with the accountants. Stamfords. They’re in Parramatta. They do everything. If you want to know more, go talk to them.’
‘Marie’s new, isn’t she? Where did she come from?’
‘Stamfords.’ Lynette blew out smoke. ‘They rang one day and said she was on her way. She was the boss and I had to do what she said. Fine. Why should I give a shit? Look, I don’t ask anybody any questions. In this business, you don’t.’
No, you just did what you were told by a hysterical girl half your age without a murmur, Grace thought. The same way you took on an illegal and unwilling sex worker without batting an eyelid. Whatever’s in the pay packet must be good.