Hit and Run - страница 15

‘Mr Harper,’ she said, ‘I’m going to have a look around, talk to people. Please give DI Mayne all the details you have about Rosa. Last time you saw her, the names of any regulars she danced for, friends she had.’ Janine paused in the doorway. ‘Death seems to be following you around. I’d try to think of anything that might help us.’ No harm in shaking his cage a little, letting him know that she didn’t buy the little-white-hen-who-never-laid-an-egg routine.

Andrea, the girl who had rung in, agreed to talk to Janine but in spite of her cooperation there was a distrustful edge to her manner. A lot of people acted like that with the police. Sometimes they had reason to.

Andrea had creamy brown skin, short curly hair. Young again, and wary. She toyed with the ashtray, played with cigarettes and the bangles on her wrist, avoiding eye contact for much of their conversation.

‘Did Rosa have any distinguishing features?’ Janine began.

‘A tattoo, on her leg, a rose. Her right leg – that’s why I rang. It all seemed to fit. Is it her?’ She glanced at Janine.

‘We think so.’

Andrea compressed her lips, looked back at the table. ‘Who do you think did it?’ she said fiercely. ‘Who’d do a thing like that? Why?’

Janine shook her head.

Andrea tilted her head back, blinked hard at the spotlights on the ceiling.

‘What was she like?’ Janine asked.

‘Pretty quiet, really. Not shy, didn’t let people push her around or anything. Just never said much about herself.’

‘Any problems with the clients? Or anyone else?’

Andrea shook her head.

‘You were both here Sunday?’

‘Yes.’

‘Finish at the same time?’

She nodded. She rooted in her handbag, pulled out a packet of baby wipes and Janine glimpsed the snapshot of a toddler. Andrea found the cigarettes she was looking for. She slid one from the packet.

‘Who left first?’

‘I did.’

‘And you didn’t see her again? Was there a boyfriend?’

Andrea shook her head, lit her cigarette.

‘Do you know where she lived?’

‘No.’

Was the denial a little too fast? Janine looked steadily at the girl.

‘Look, we worked together, that’s all.’ Andrea said defensively. ‘She was a nice kid but I don’t socialise with people from here. None of us do. It’s just a job. She had a room somewhere, that’s all I remember her saying.’

‘Is there anything else you can think of that might help us?’

‘No.’ She took a drag on her cigarette.

Was the girl keeping something back? Or were her guarded replies her natural reaction to police questioning? ‘We might need to talk to you again.’

Andrea nodded, blew out smoke and rose. Janine watched her walk across the club to leave her cigarettes at the bar. Moving away, already back on the job, smiling at clients, laughing at a remark one of them made, taking her place on a low podium.

Janine wondered what Andrea thought about working here. Did she regard it as good money, a better living than working in a call-centre or waitressing somewhere? How did she feel about the customers who came to ogle her? Was one of the customers, perhaps one of the men here tonight, Rosa’s killer? Wouldn’t he stay well away though? Unless he was a regular, whose absence might be remarked upon?

She could see Shap chatting to a group of men at the bar. A raucous burst of laughter. All lads together. Shap was obviously on good form. But she knew that alongside the bonhomie and the wit the detective sergeant would be mopping up every last morsel of intelligence. On the case in his own inimitable style.

Chris hadn’t trusted himself to go into Ann-Marie’s bedroom. Fearful that he would do something obscene: trash the place, tear down the drawings and her City scarf, the mobiles and the posters. But now he took a breath and pushed the door open. Why was it shut anyway? She never shut her door; she liked to be able to see the landing light, to be able to hear them moving about the house and call out to them. The door swung open and he took in a scattering of felt pens and bits of plastic, some cards and puddles of clothes. He’d expected it to look neater, more organised. He thought Debbie would have already tidied up. Creating a shrine.