Extract:
There was substantial delay, so I rang again. I was just about to give up when she answered the door and peered out. According to Nobby she was thirty-three. The way she looked this morning she could have been fifty, middle height, skinny, and dressed in a fawn-coloured housecoat. Lank strands of dark hair hung down over her face. She wore no make-up, and her eye-sockets were yellow from recently healed bruises. Presumably she made more effort with her appearance in an evening.
‘Wha’?’ she enquired suspiciously, opening the door a few inches.
‘Miss Mcfarlane?’ I decided on the formal mode of address as further confirmation that I wasn’t interested in her professional services. ‘I’m Jim Danzig, enquiry agent. This is my associate, Judith Hare.’
‘Hello,’ said Judy with a smile.
There was a pause while the woman took this in. I’d reckoned I’d done right to bring Judy along. If I’d been on my own she’d have slammed the door. In the circumstances I couldn’t blame her. ‘What d’you want?’
‘I’m helping the police with their enquiry into that attack on you the other day. I wonder if you could give me a few more details.’
‘I told them everything. Not that they took any notice. Not till I get killed. Then they’ll want to know all of a sudden.‘
This was uncomfortably close to my own opinion of police methods. ‘Well, let’s have a word about it,’ I said in a friendly tone. ‘And I promise you we will take notice. May we come in?’
Again there was a suspicious pause. Eventually she said: ‘I know you, don’t I? Jim Danzig. Rings a bell.’
‘That’s me,’ I confirmed.
She nodded. ‘You warned me a couple of times for soliciting. I’d just moved here from Rushworth.’ A hideous new town twenty-odd miles to the west. I vaguely remembered her now, but it was a few years ago. ‘Half the cops there were on the take, or wanted freebies.’
‘Not me,’ I said truthfully.
‘No, you were one of the straight ones. Not like those bastards in Rushworth.’
‘I’m not with the police any more. Private. But they want me to help them over this.’
‘All right,’ she said, opened the door fully and conducted us into the front room. I always think Victorian terraced places look terrible when sparsely furnished in modern style. We sat on some Ikea chairs around a sad sort of dining table.
‘My information is that one of your clients became violent. Is that right?’
‘Right.’
‘Can you give us a bit more detail?’
‘How much do you want?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Just enough to see if you can identify him,’ Judy intervened. ‘We’re not interested in what you were doing together.’
‘All right. He wanted … well, he wanted stuff I don’t do. When I said no, he went ballistic.’
‘Go on.’
‘Called me a dirty old slapper, no good for nothing. Added a bit more detail. You can imagine. Punched me in the face and tits. Tried to grab me round the neck. I went for his eyes with my nails, and he flinched. Then I got my foot up into his chest and pushed him off. Screamed for help.’
‘Does anyone else live here with you?’
‘No, but I reckoned he wouldn’t know that. I screamed something like: “Kate! Mickey! Help! Help! Come quick!’
‘What happened then?’
‘He said: “You bitch,” punched me in the mouth again, and made a sharp exit.’
‘Was he dressed?’ asked Judy practically.
‘He’d taken his shoes and trousers off, that’s all. Grabbed them and did a runner. I carried on screaming till I heard the front door slam, then went downstairs and bolted it. After that I rang for an ambulance.’
‘Hadn’t he realized there was nobody else here by the time he left?’
She shrugged. ‘Dunno. Maybe. Perhaps he just wasn’t taking any chances. As he was going I hit him on the back of the head with a chair. I let him have some language too. I reckoned the more noise and damage I did the better. Not that the bastards round here would want to know.’ Again she shrugged. ‘He bottled it, anyway. Good job, an’all.’
I nodded slowly. ‘Can you describe him?’
‘Mid-thirties perhaps, well-built, dark hair. Not a bad-looking fellow till he turned nasty. Occurred to me to wonder why he needed to pay for it. But that’s not unusual. They’re not all middle-aged saddos.’
‘Did you think your life was in danger?’ asked Judy.
‘You’re not kidding. I’ve had punters turn nasty before, got slapped around once or twice, but this one was different. I had the feeling this was it somehow. Perhaps it was the police warning about the serial killer. But it wasn’t only that. Maybe he was on something, I dunno. There was something in his face. It wasn’t normal. I was shit-scared, I don’t mind telling you.’
‘Would you recognize him again?’
‘Not sure. Like I say, I was bloody scared. But I think I might.’
‘Did you tell the police all this?’ Judy asked.
‘What do you think? Of course I told them. Didn’t want to know. Couple of fucking stupid women came to see me in the A & E. Maybe I’d have done better with a man.’
‘Maybe you would,’ I agreed. ‘Of course, the police reckon you’re covering for Muffin Gomez.’
‘Yeah, the policewomen kept banging on about that. Black guy who runs one or two of the girls in Appleton Street. No, I know him. Complete shit-head, but it wasn’t him.’
‘Nor Tom Warren?’
‘Tom …? Oh, Tom, no. He’s all right. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘What about the man who was killed the other day? Simon Underhill? Did you know him?’
‘No, but I saw his picture in the paper. It wasn’t him either.’
‘No, that’s what I thought from your description.’
‘How are you feeling now?’ asked Judy.
‘Couple of cracked ribs.’ The woman grinned. ‘Won’t be able to work for a few days yet. It won’t be easy starting again, anyway. Not after what happened.’
‘You say you hit him on the head with a chair,’ said Judy. ‘Would it have caused any injury?’
‘Hope so, the bastard. But if it did it wasn’t much. Should have healed by now.’
‘Anything else you can tell us?’
She frowned. ‘Not that I can think of.’
‘I stood. ‘Well, thanks a lot for your help. I’ll speak to the police and ask them to interview you again. Maybe they’ll do a better job this time.’
‘Some hope.’
‘You never know,’ I said vaguely. ‘For what it’s worth I’ll tell them I’m satisfied you’re telling me the truth.’
‘Thanks,’ she said wryly.
‘Another thing,’ I said as we left. ‘If it is our man, he sure as hell picked on the wrong one with you, love.’