A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [156]
Martin hadn’t got a toothbrush, razor or clean shirt with him, but he could go and buy those things. What really worried him was Fifi. A sinking feeling in his gut told him the boss wouldn’t bother to send anyone else out there to take the women food or water. Del insisted he would, but Martin wasn’t convinced.
When he first started working for Trueman Enterprises six years ago, it was nearly all debt collection work. As most of the people they had to make pay up were toerags and weasels he’d never felt bad about what he did. But in the last six months there had been several jobs he felt uncomfortable about. He and Del were sent to torch a warehouse out at Dalston, and the night watchman Del clobbered ended up in hospital and would never work again. Then there were the Jamaicans in a house in Westbourne Grove that they had to evict. The poor devils were just chucked out on the street with their babies and small children. That was a scam and a half; they’d all been made to pay ‘key money’ to get the place, and they thought they were secure for years. God only knows where they ended up, they hadn’t got any money, and most of the landlords in that area were every bit as unscrupulous as Trueman.
Martin put his hands under his head and lay looking at the cracks on the ceiling, wondering how he could get Fifi found without dropping himself in it. But there was no way. Trueman was smart and he played his cards close to his chest. Martin and Del were probably the only people who knew about the barn, and if the police raided it after an anonymous call, Trueman would soon realize who’d tipped them off and Martin would be dead meat.
As he lay there, his gut churning with anxiety, Martin remembered how when he was small, his gran used to make him say his prayers at night. He wondered if praying for a dog walker to go up by that barn and hear the women shouting would count as a proper prayer.
‘If you can’t do that, God,’ he murmured, ‘give me some other bright idea that won’t involve me being found dead in the river.’
Clara and Harry Brown drank the tea Dan had made them as they listened to the latest developments. They were both stiff with tension, their eyes full of anxiety.
‘After I saw Roper they came straight round here and got into Yvette’s flat,’ Dan said. ‘They came over to tell me afterwards that they agree her disappearance does look suspicious. She’d left bread and milk on her table and was halfway through washing up her supper things when she left. It turns out Frank saw her with a man on Monday evening, but as there was no sign of a struggle indoors it looks like the bloke told her something plausible to get her out the house. Frank thought the man was cuddling her outside in the street, but in the light of her disappearance, he thinks he could have been wrong and the man may have been restraining her.’
‘I can’t bear it,’ Clara burst out. ‘I feel sick with fright.’
Dan nodded, grim-faced. ‘Me too. But I keep blaming myself. If only I’d been here!’
Harry cleared his throat. ‘If someone has snatched Fifi, it would have happened whether you’d been here or not,’ he said evenly. ‘She left here quite normally for work, but didn’t arrive. So my guess is that she was abducted somewhere between here and the tube station. The people were probably lying in wait, maybe just along the main road. I’d also guess that they lured her into their car with some appropriate story.’
Dan was touched that Harry wasn’t attempting to blame him. He’d thought he was a bit of an old duffer when he met him the first time, but he’d been wrong. The man had a sharp, logical mind.
‘I can’t see Fifi getting willingly into a car with someone she didn’t know,’ Dan said.
‘Not even if they said you’d sent them to get her?’ Harry asked.
‘I suppose that might do it,