Episode 11 - The razzia

Saturday September 13

After a night most remarkable for lack of sleep, there was no doubt in Cleo's or Gary's minds that they were going to be together on a permanent level very soon.

Gary woke first and jumped into the shower, waking her with tuneless singing. Still singing, he dressed rapidly in what he had been wearing the previous evening. With a firm embrace and a ‘see you downstairs’ he put Cleo’s hotel room door between them and returned via the service stairs to his room. There, he ruffled up the bed for the sake of respectability and changed into clothes that were more suitable for the day ahead.

The lovers met downstairs again half an hour later. Cleo was still mesmerized from her night with Gary, and surprised that she felt no shame about what was happening between them. There had been no interim chat, little flirting, and certainly no old-fashioned courting. They had simply slipped into the intimacy that they had experienced before, but never before with the promise of it having a future. Gary was ecstatic. Robert must be a fool to let such a wonderful woman go, he decided. He had never felte so exhilerated. He was both grateful and humbled, and almost thankful that Robert ws such a dolt.

***

“I suppose it was inevitable, wasn’t it?” Cleo remarked.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Us, Sweetheart. Us!”

Cleo was amused by Gary’s antics. No sign of burnout now. She would make quite sure that he did not succumb to that sort of rubbish ever again

“Or maybe that you would inevitably forget your socks.”

“I could collect them after breakfast.”

“Be my guest,” said Cleo, “ but what am I going to tell Robert?”

“How about the truth?”

“We’ve been through that. He’ll be shocked and hurt at first, but in the end disbelieving.”

“Then you should not have let it come to this, Cleo. We’ve slept together before and each time I begged you to leave that man.”

“Would you have told him the truth, Gary? I did and I don’t think he believed me, and even if he did, that would not be a reason to break up the marriage. That’s the message he sent me. Worse still, he has a killer instinct, though it only comes to the fore in the slaughterhouse, as far as I know.”

“That was gruesome, Cleo. Maybe you should become a vegetarian.”

“What I mean is that we should not have let it come to this.”

“You let it, Cleo. I only waited because Robert is a friend, and you don’t usually cheat on friends.”

“You were not cheating. I want this,” said Cleo. “I think I always wanted you to tell Robert his marriage was over.”

“You never asked me to.”

“Because Robert would have said you were imagining things, Gary.”

“So let’s face the music together. It’s my responsibility as much as yours.”

“I agree.”

“Let’s have breakfast and then face the music.”

“Not over the phone. I’ll have to face Robert. He’ll have to accept the situation and basta,” said Cleo.

“And I’ll be on hand to back you up. I think he has known it would come to this eventually. I’m rather surprised that he put up with your having a lover at all, even if he thought you would get tired of me in time.”

Although Gary was over the moon, he wanted to know exactly what would happen when Robert realised how serious Cleo was.

“But I don’t think he’ll accept the situation, Cleo.”

“He will when he realizes that it’s irreversible. Robert is a proud man. He would not lower himself to engage in a cheap slanging match. I don’t love him. I'm in love with you, and only you.”

“Do you love me enough to sacrifice what you have, even if Robert is no longer the man in your life?”

“That sounds like a cheap novel,” said Cleo. “It’s not how I see it.”

“How do you see it?”

“I must love you a helluva lot to decide to quit the seclusion of my marriage.”

“That’s a good argument. We can have breakfast now.”

“I’m out of my depth. Men have never fought over me before.”

“I’m not fighting now, Cleo. I know I have already won and I can hardly believe that you have finally seen the light! I may be jumping the guns, but when you are free, can we make this affair legal?”

“When you are free, I probably still won’t be. But we could discuss the alternatives later,” said Cleo.

“How much later?”

“After a serving of scrambled eggs and a pint of coffee, say in half an hour?”

***

By ten thirty the lovers managed to get to the hotel carpark to retrieve Gary’s car.

“Maybe I should just tell Robert without beating about the bush and get it over with,” Cleo said. She had feelings of guilt in which Gary did not really believe since she was playing a stunningly active role in their affair of the heart.

“Don’t tell Robert today, Cleo. He might take it into his head to come here and fetch you. I’d rather that didn’t happen.”

"You know I wouldn't tell him over the phone, anyway. Let’s just enjoy Frint-on-Sea, despite the unpleasant tasks that face us.”

“We need to clear up the Dr Smith incident and then move on to Ivy’s killing. I’m afraid it will be all work and no play for a few hours.”

“As long as it’s only for hours, not days, weeks or months,” said Cleo.

***

Angie had been brought to Morlin Bay police station and was waiting for the identity parade to begin. Sergeant Llewellyn had not shown up that morning. A short, fat member of Headquarters staff and an obliging pub owner who often took part in identity parades and had even been picked out as a suspect once or twice, lined up for Angie to look at. It was no surprise that she could identify Dr Smith without hesitation. Angie was then escorted into an office. Dr Smith would be questioned again once Angie had answered relevant questions.

Gary thought it wise to leave the questioning to Cleo.

“What really happened, Angie?” she started.

The young woman was fidgety and hesitant.

“He said he had a nice place where we could talk.”

“Did you go to the Conference Centre?”

“No. I met him in the pub nearby. That’s the one run by that fat man at the identity parade.”

Oops, thought Gary.

“Did the hostess agency arrange that?”

“Yes. They said it looked better if the client entered the conference centre with a woman on his arm. More natural like. And he was carrying a rose. Men don’t usually go into pubs carrying a red rose.”

“Did you wait long?”

“No. I only had time for some lemonade and crisps. I was dressed up smart like the agency had told me to.”

“What did the agency tell you to wear, Angie?” Cleo asked.

“Short skirt, a blouse to show off my curves, high heels, lots of make-up, oh and net stockings. I had to buy them specially.”

Gary and Cleo exchanged glances. Was Angie really so naïve?

“I felt funny in those clothes,” she said. “The men at the pub kept looking at my chest. I didn’t feel private at all.”

Gary thought that ‘chest’ was hardly a description of what she had to offer, but made no comment to that effect.

“Did you tell Dr Smith that?”

“Yes.”

“And did he tell you then that he had rented the beachhut and no one would make you feel uncomfortable there?”

“Not rented. He said the beachhut was being lent to him as a special favour by a friend.”

“Weren’t you puzzled that he did not take you straight to the conference centre?”

“No. He said the dinner was not until eight thirty so we would have time to look at the sea first.”

“And did you?”

“No. Dr Smith opened the beachhut and said he would sit down for a moment before we looked at the sea.”

“And you followed him in?”

“I didn’t think there was harm in it. But then he grabbed me, ripped the buttons of my blouse and pinned me down on the floor.”

“A nasty moment,” said Cleo.

“I trapped him in a half-Nelson,” Angie said. “Then I threw him over my shoulder, pinned him down, kicked him in the groin and ran for it. My brother taught me how to do that in case I ever needed to defend myself.-Later I took up Yoga on his advice. It’s more ladylike.. I’m quite good at wrestling, though.”

“You obviously are, Angie.”

Gary thought Angie must be a very gullible person to fall for the agency’s dress code, but she had had the presence of mind to do what her brother had taught her and get away from the lecherous little doctor. On the other hand, the description of her outfit left a less admiring impression on him. Was she a hooker acting innocent? She would not be the first.

“I hate to ask this, Angie, but I have to,” said Cleo. “Did Dr Smith know you are not a prostitute?”

“I don’t know what the agency told him.”

“So he could have been under the impression he had hired you for sex, seeing that you were wearing such sexy clothes.”

Angie blushed.

“I suppose he could have, but the agency would not do that, would they? I’m employed as a hostess.”

“I don’t know. It’s possible,” said Cleo.

“I’m not working for them again, whatever they offer.”

“What did they offer, Angie?” Cleo asked.

“They told me the fee would be higher if I was especially nice to the clients. But I’m always nice to everyone, Miss Hartley.”

“Was it really your first job for the agency?” Gary asked, deciding that the girl probably had not uunderstood what the agency meant by ‘nice’.

“Yes and the last.”

Cleo and Gary exchanged glances again. There was no doubt in their minds that Dr Smith had thought he was hiring a hooker. They would bear that in mind when he was questioned. It did not excuse his forcing himself on Angie, but if he thought she was a hooker he might have thought it was OK to use a little force. Her provocative outfit might have triggered the scene for Dr Smith.

“I think that’s all we need to know for now, Miss….”

“Ealing.”

“Ah yes. You gave your full name and address to the police last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Goodbye Miss Ealing. Thank you for your cooperation,” said Gary, escorting Angie to the door.

“She is either dumb or naïve,” Cleo commented when Angie was out of hearing range.

“Or cute,” said Gary. “Unless she is an excellent actress and is all three. Let’s find out what our promiscuous medic has to say.”

***

Dr Smith was belligerent.

“Do you realise that you are ruining my career?” he shouted.

“You may have ruined it yourself by consorting with that young lady outside the Conference Centre,” said Gary.

“You don’t take…”

“…hookers into the centre, Dr Smith?” said Cleo, jumping into Dr Smith’s statement.

“Did you hire her as a prostitute?” Gary asked.

“Not in so many words, but I thought she was one. She was dressed like one and the agency did not say she wasn’t one.”

“How did you know about the agency?”

“I had a tip off that the hostesses were cooperative,” said Dr Smith. By now he was feeling extremely awkward.

“What do you mean by cooperative, Dr Smith,” Gary asked.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

“Don’t shout, Dr Smith. We are only doing our job,” said Cleo. “Are you married?”

“For God’s sake don’t tell my wife.”

“That depends on you, Dr Smith,” said Gary. “Who gave you the key to the beachhut?”

“Another tip-off, but I’m not saying who that was. The key was hidden round the side under a brick and my informant was sure that the beachhut was not already booked.”

“Awesome! What a great set-up!” said Cleo. “Made to measure.”

“You realise that if you keep any information to yourself it will weaken your case, don’t you?” said Gary.

“I can’t tell on people who thought they were doing me a favour.”

“You might have to,” said Gary. “It really depends on the role played by the agency in your deal.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dr Smith was sweating badly and in a panic.

Cleo explained.

“Supposing the agency hired that beachhut especially so that clients had somewhere to go, Dr Smith. You got a tip-off because that’s where the agency wanted the hostess’s job to take her for intimate relations.”

“Do you mean to say that it was all cooked up?”

“If you won’t say who gave you the idea of going to the beachhut, we’ll have to assume that’s what happened,” said Cleo.

“Do you know who tipped you off, Dr Smith?” said Gary.

“No. I really don’t know. I got a phone call.”

“But you might be able to identify the voice. Was it a woman?” Cleo asked.

“Yes.”

“Someone who sounded like an actress?”

“Yes.”

Cleo and Gary turned to one another and mouthed ‘Ivy’.

“Can I go now? It’s the last day of the congress. I should be there, and I’m going straight to another big conference in the North of England.”

“Unfortunately, you will have to stay in custody until we know more about the role the agency played in your date, Dr Smith.”

“But I’ve told you everything.”

“But we don’t know if what you have told us is the truth.”

”Look. I’ll be honest with you. I did assume the girl was a prostitute. She was dressed like one; low neckline and fancy stuff. I hired her as a hostess, but I thought I was paying her for sex till she attacked me and ran off. Prostitutes don't usually mind if their clients take the initiative.”

“You sound experienced, Dr Smith,” said Cleo, who could not resist commenting.

“I get lonely sometimes. I’m on the road a lot,” said Dr Smith.

“We’ll check everything you’ve told us,” said Gary. “I hope it’s the truth, because attempted rape is a serious offence. The only mitigating circumstances are that you thought you had hired a prostitute.”

“You only have the girl’s statement to go on. She could be lying,” said the doctor.

“We’ll see about that, Dr Smith,” said Gary, nodding to the police officer guarding the door. Dr Smith was escorted back to his arrest cell.

***

“Were you thinking what I was, Gary?”

“That Ivy had a controlling interest in the hostess agency?”

“It’s possible, isn’t it? Morlin Bay is only round the corner from Frint-on-Sea. That way she would catch the custom from the conference centre without advertising the brothel.”

“And now she’s dead”, said Gary.

The plot thickens,” said Cleo.

First stop is that agency, Cleo. I’m looking forward to hearing their version.”

***

Gary went in alone first. The hostess agency was a small, grubby office on the first floor of an old building, above an oldfashioned ironware shop with a large outside display of plastic homeware. After first offering their services (Gary could choose from them or look at some nice photos of other obliging ladies), the two women who also seemed to be the reception committee at the agency turned non-communicative. Gary wondered if they knew a representative of the law when they saw one. He decided to order an official investigation, but gave the women no indication of that intention, or even that he was not there as a customer. He told the women he would have to return to his car for his diary.

Once there, he notified the local police, instructing them to come as soon as possible and be ready to search the office. He had not expected the constabulary to be cooperative, but decided they were probably glad to have something to do.

A woman they assumed to be the manageress passed Gary on the stairs and went into the office. Was it someone representing Ivy Frobisher, he wondered? Did someone already know that she was dead? Gary decided to get back to the agency office without delay. On the stairs he could already hear a shouting match. The manageress was presumably engaged in an argument with the two women.

Gary went into the office clutching an agenda.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

The manageress looked Gary up and down.

“That’s him,” screamed one of the receptionists.

“He’s a copper! I know a copper when I see one,” the manageress shouted. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“Stop screaming and I’ll tell you,” said Gary.

The women quietened down. Gary went to the office door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.

“I’m Chief Inspector Gary Hurley of the Middlethumpton Constabular,” he told the manageress. “I’m harmless if you tell the truth.”

“Coppers are not harmless.”

“They are if you are running a legal business.”

“Did my assistants say we aren’t?”

“We being Ivy, I suppose.”

The manageress pursed her lips.

“Your assistants did not say anything. That is usually a sign that someone is hiding something.”

“They are not hiding anything.”

“I gather from their sales patter that they were anxious to supply me with the hostess of my choice,” said Gary.

Fortunately, the local police had not wasted any time. A knock on the office door announced the arrival of four police officers who on  Gary’s orders, after he had shown them his I.D. badge,  had soon confiscated laptops, all the ring-binders and other documents in a spectacular action accompanied by the manageress’s screamingthat what the agency did was legal.

“We checked first,” said the policeman who was obviously in charge. “Your identity is genuine, Sir.”

“Of course it is,” said Gary.

“That’s not a matter of course, Sir. We have some weirdos round here.”

“I can see three of them now,” said Gary, looking at the women.

The two assistants cowered in a corner. The manageress was trying to protect the office equipment, to no avail.

The reaction in the office was clearly too strong for there to no reason for it, so the razzia was as justified as Gary had expected it to be. He was astaounded that four police officers had turned up.

The agency was instructed to stay closed for business until further notice. The manageress threatened to sue the police since she could not conduct it anyway without her documentation and laptop.

After the police had left, Gary stayed just long enough to remind the manageress that the next step would be her arrest on charges of soliciting. Although prostitution is not itself an offence, soliciting is.

“I have never solicited,” she said.

“You were officially providing hostesses to academics, but actually you were  hiring out prostitutes. It’s your business, so you are responsible.”

“You can’t prove anything and anyway, it’s not my business.”

“Whose is it then?” Gary asked. “Ivy Frobisher’s, of course.”

The manageress bit her lip.

“I can’t say,” she said.

“I can. We have witnesses and your documents to tell us the whole story, Mrs…”

“Miss Power,” the manageress completed.

“In this case nomen will not be not omen,” said Gary. “You should have used your power to stay out of trouble.”

“Fuckin’ cheek,” was the woman’s parting expletive. “I’ll tell…”

“Ivy?” said Gary. “I wouldn’t bother, Miss Power. She can’t help you now. She would not want have wanted to be mixed up in this mess….”

***

With that ambiguous comment, Gary went back ton the car, where Cleo was still waiting.

“I can see you did not need me with half a battalion of cops going in,” she said.

“I’m glad you decided not to go in,” said Gary. “The three witches could not have played it better than those three employees of the deeased Mrs Frobisher.”

The drive back to Brass’s police station was short just long enough for Gary to describe what had happened at the hostess agency.

“At least a brothel is what it says it is,” said Gary. “We’d better go to Ivy’s place now and see what’s going on there. The manageress of that agency, a Miss Power, did not seem to know that Ivy has been murdered.”

“It will be chaos at the brothel, I should think. How can they manage without Ivy? She was the life and soul of the party.”

“Life and death, it seems. Someone silenced her, after all,” said Gary. “What about that security guy? He may have had some kind of hold over her.”

“I can’t imagine her putting up with that,” said Cleo.

“She might have had to.”

“Maybe someone will talk if I go in alone.”

“If you think that’s a good way forward, do it. I’ll follow you after a few minutes.”

“I’ll say Ivy offered me a job and see where that lands me,” said Cleo.

Gary looked at her in horror.

“Is that a good idea?” he said. “Knowing what has just happened to her…”

“Can you think of a better one? I won’t let on that I know she’s dead.”

“I have the feeling I should not allow you to take that line, but I can’t think of better one.”

“That’s why I’m here, Gary. It’s my job, and that’s why I realise now that I was never really mad at you when you tried to interfere with what I was doing. You were trying to protect me and I was just frustrated…and jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“This is not the time for private gripes, but you’ve had an assortment of girlfriends since we met.”

“That’s an exaggeration, and anyway, if we’d been together it would not have happened. I lived like a monk when we were not together. I would not have done that for anyone else and those women were purely for appearances’ sake. Do you have any idea how I grieved for you, thinking you would hold on to Robert despite our relationship?”

“One problem for me was that I could never have competed with those young women you courted.”

“I was not courting and there was no competition. Remember that you had not entered the ring. In fact, you were often very abrasive with me in the early days.”

“I had no right to judge your actions, Gary, but I did, and that made me furious with both of us.”

“You did not seem to want to change your life. Now I know your jealousy was really a form of love, Cleo. You could have changed all the mess in my life long ago.”

“I wish I had, Gary.”

“And now I’m jealous of Robert because you still seem to be having difficulty letting go of him.”

“I have let go. It’s only the logistics that have defeated me, but now Charlie is part of my family, it won’t be long before you are, too, Gary.”

“Is that a hunch or a prediction?”

“Both.”