Bad Moon Rising (#1 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) (5 page)

Drawing back his fist, he punched her full in the face, then reached down and lifted her tenderly onto the bed.

***

Paolo sat at his desk, stunned. The identity of the latest victim had taken his breath away. He’d not recognised his missing witness from the bloody mess on Barbara’s autopsy table, so when Dave said the prints were a match for Lisa Boxer, Paolo felt as though he’d failed her all over again. Damn Frank Azzopardi, what was his connection?

He looked out of his office into the open plan area and stared across at the Perspex board on which the photographs of the two victims were displayed, disgust gagging in his throat.

His team were waiting for him. Apart from Dave Johnson, he’d known most of them for years. He finished the last of his coffee and went out.

“Right, everyone, listen up. As Dave has no doubt told you, the victim was Lisë Bojaxhiu, an Albanian working the streets as Lisa Boxer. None other than the missing witness from the Azzopardi fiasco two weeks back.”

“Still, at least that explains why she didn’t turn up to give evidence,” Dave said before adding something Paolo couldn’t quite catch.

“Judging by the grin, you must have told yourself one hell of a joke, DS Johnson. You want to share it with the rest of us?”

Dave flushed. “I don’t think so, sir,” he said, looking around, glancing over at the only female team member. “It wouldn’t be appreciated by everyone here.”

Detective Sergeant Cathy Connor, Irish temper flaring as usual whenever Dave made one of his comments, glared at him, but before she could speak Paolo stepped in.

“CC, whatever it is you were going to say, don’t.”

Cathy’s eyes flashed, but she nodded.

He turned to Dave. “I have no idea what you said, but you seem to find this girl’s death amusing and that’s something I won’t allow in my office. Any more inappropriate humour and you’ll find yourself walking a beat. Understood?”

He turned back to his team.

“CC, I want a second questioning of all those with a view of the car park from their windows. I know uniform has already asked, but her body didn’t arrive there by magic. Maybe one or two of the residents will have remembered seeing something. Even if we can’t find out what type of vehicle we’re looking for, one of them might have spotted what they thought was rubbish being dumped. George, you go too.”

“Right you are, sir,” Cathy said, waiting while Detective George Stone gathered his belongings.

Paolo held his temper in check until he and Dave were alone. “You really shouldn’t rile CC, you know. She’d make mincemeat of you.”

“She’s a dyke, that doesn’t make her superwoman,” Dave said with a shrug.

“Jesus, Dave, are you stupid, or just pushing me to see how far you can go? Don’t ever use that word in front of me again or I’ll make sure you end up in front of a disciplinary panel. Cathy’s preferences are nothing to do with you or anyone else. She’s a bloody good copper and you’d do well to remember that. As for her not being superwoman, she comes damn close. She’s a judo black belt. The last time I saw her in action, the idiot who tried to molest her ended up with a broken wrist.”

He wondered if Dave would have a comeback on that, but it seemed he’d given the younger man something to think about.

“Right, you and I are going to pay a visit to my old friend Frank Azzopardi. It’s too convenient for him that Lisa disappeared when she did. Let’s find out what he was up to the night she died, shall we?”

***

As Dave started the car and pulled away Paolo opened the window and lit a Camel. Everything pointed to Azzopardi. Could it be that simple? And if it were, would he be able to prove it?

“You still pissed off with me, sir?”

“Why?”

“You’re quiet. I wondered if you were still mad at me, that’s all.”

Paolo shrugged. “No, just thinking about this case. I can see Frank going after Lisa, but what reason would he have for killing the first girl?”

“Enjoyment? From what you’ve said, he seems to like slapping women. Maybe it’s the way he spends his leisure hours.”

Paolo thought he could hear a note of approval in Dave’s voice. He hoped he was wrong, but now seemed as good a time as any to try to find out what was going on in his head.

“So, what is it with you, Dave? What have you got against women?”

“Me? Nothing. I love them.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Paolo said. “The way you’ve been talking about our vics, it sounds like you despise them.”

“They’re prostitutes, not women. Well, yeah, they’re women, but ... oh shit. I can’t explain it.”

“Try.”

Dave flicked the indicator and turned into Connaught Way. “They’ve decided to sell their bodies. You know? Put a price on it.”

“You think they’re doing it from choice? Most of them have been forced into it one way or another. I don’t suppose there are many women who go on the game because they want to.” Feeling he’d said enough for now, Paolo changed the subject. “Anyway, how did it go with Rebecca?”

“Rebecca? Who’s Rebecca?”

“The WPC you made a date with on Gallows Heath. Remember?”

Dave laughed. “I’m not likely to forget her, she was quite something.”

“But you couldn’t remember her name?”

Dave didn’t answer and Paolo gave up. He had enough on his mind without trying to solve Dave’s problems.

The car pulled to a halt outside the gates of Azzopardi’s mansion. Dave let down his window and pressed the intercom.

Through the ornamental ironwork, a wide tarmac drive curved away from the gates and disappeared into trees and shrubs. Nothing could be seen of the house.

A scratchy static voice sounded from the intercom. “Who is it?”

“Police.”

“What do you want?”

“We’re here to chat to Mr Azzopardi. Open up,” Dave said.

“You got a warrant?”

Paolo leant across and called out through Dave’s open window. “Now why would we need one? You just run off and tell Frank we only want to have a nice friendly chat. Ask him if we need to come back with a warrant.”

“Wait,” the voice ordered.

The intercom fell silent. Just as Paolo was about to tell Dave to press the buzzer again, the gates slowly opened. They moved through and followed the drive as it zigzagged upwards through a tunnel of greenery.

“This is like driving through Bradchester Park,” Dave said, clearly impressed.

As they rounded the final bend, Azzopardi’s house came into view.

“Bloody hell! I thought crime didn’t pay?” Dave breathed.

Paolo had been to the mansion before, but even so, he could see why Dave was knocked out by it. The house had all the class Azzopardi lacked. A Georgian three-storey building covered in ivy stood in isolated splendour at the top of the driveway. Two men, who Paolo knew carried their brains in their muscles, came towards the car as it stopped.

Paolo and Dave got out and walked towards the men.

“We’re here to see your boss,” Paolo said.

Without a word, they both nodded and turned back to the house.

“Not great on dialogue, those two, are they?” Dave said.

“They don’t need a large vocabulary for what they do.”

They followed the two men up the broad steps leading into the entrance hall and along a wide corridor to the back of the house. It didn’t matter how many times Paolo saw the mansion, he was stunned by its beauty. Dave had it wrong; crime definitely paid; there was no legal way Azzopardi could afford to live as he did. Paolo wondered how Frank slept at night, knowing that misery paid for all this luxury. They reached the end of the long passage and entered a massive conservatory. Palm trees in gigantic planters fringed an indoor pool where Azzopardi was swimming laps. Maria Vassallo, costume partially covered by a multicoloured wrap, stood to one side of the pool, clutching a towel. She glanced over at Paolo and Dave before switching her gaze back to the swimmer.

“It’s like a sauna in here,” Dave said. “You’d think it was the middle of summer instead of the beginning of a miserable March.”

Paolo kept quiet and waited for Azzopardi to reach their end of the pool and hoist himself on to the side. As he stood up, water cascading from his torso, Maria Vassallo rushed forward to wrap the towel around him. He didn’t so much as acknowledge her presence, simply stared at Paolo and Dave.

“What’s this, Paolo, police harassment? You plods too thick to know when to give up? Maria, get me a drink.”

“Campari?”

“What else?” Azzopardi said, turning away from Paolo to watch Maria as she walked over to the bar.

Paolo could see ownership in the man’s stance. Maria belonged to Azzopardi, body and soul. Paolo wondered if she knew it, or if she even cared. She returned, handed Azzopardi his drink and sat down on a wicker couch, never once taking her eyes off his face, as if trying to gauge his mood. Azzopardi took a sip of his Campari and soda, then looked at Paolo and grinned, completely relaxed.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here this time, or are you going to stand there playing statues? Don’t think I don’t appreciate your company, but I’ve worked up an appetite with my swim and right now you aren’t what I fancy.”

He winked and then looked over at Maria as he spoke. Paolo saw a flush deepen under her olive skin. Maybe she was embarrassed about the way Azzopardi treated her after all. She kept her eyes down, but began to fidget, crossing and uncrossing her arms. Her nervous mood must have been pleasing to Azzopardi because he laughed.

“I’d say she’s about ready for me. You’ve got five minutes to say your piece, then you can fuck off.”

Paolo handed over a photo of the dead woman. “You might not recognise her from this, but that’s Lisa Boxer. She didn’t turn up to give evidence against you because she was already dead. Bit convenient for you, don’t you think?”

Azzopardi took a cursory look and passed the photo back. “Very convenient. Tell whoever did that to her I said thanks.”

Paolo forced himself not to rise to the bait. “So you didn’t do it yourself, Frank? What happened, did you get one of your boys to work her over? Can’t you do a man’s job anymore?”

“You keep on and on about this Albanian whore. I didn’t beat her up and I didn’t kill her. I want the fucking Albanians wiped off the face of the earth. I’d like them all to disappear, not just one of their cunts, that don’t mean you can pin her murder on me. Whatever happened to that cow she had it coming, but I didn’t do it. Why don’t you ask her pimp? Slags like her need a smack now and again. Keeps their mouths shut and their legs open. Not that I’d fuck her, she’s Albanian.”

He ran his hand under his chin in the age-old Maltese gesture of disgust. “Scum,” he said. “They’re all scum. But at least she’s dead, so that’s one less to deal with. Besides, I’m a respectable businessman. I shouldn’t have to put up with this shit, not even from you.”

Paolo laughed. “Respectable? Are you seriously trying to tell me your business is respectable? Pull the other one, Frank. We know all about your
little dealings
. You should be careful, there’s more than one way to bring you down. Don’t forget the taxman is watching you, not just us.”

“I pay my taxes. What’s more, I bet I’m better regarded than most with all the dough I give to charity and the church. You’ve got nothing on me or my business, so fuck off. You tell me the whore is dead? So what? Is that the only reason you’re here, to bring me the good news?”

“No, we’re here to find out where you were when Lisa Boxer went missing.”

“I was with Maria. Just like I was when the stupid bitch got herself worked over before.”

Dave took a step forward. “We haven’t told you the date yet.”

“Calm down, sonny. You don’t need to,” Azzopardi said. “Whatever date you spout, I was with Maria. She’ll tell you, she never leaves my side, do you, sweetheart?”

Maria kept her gaze fixed on her hands as she answered. “Frank’s right. I’m always with him. We never spend a moment apart.”

“What about when she goes shopping for clothes and suchlike?” Dave persisted. “I can’t picture you hanging around outside the changing rooms while she tries on hundreds of dresses. Not your style at all.”

Azzopardi grinned. “Sonny, you have such a lot to learn. Maria doesn’t go out to shop. The shops who want my custom come to me. Maria wears what I like to see her in and right now I’d like to see her in nothing. If you boys have nothing else to say, it’s time for my massage. Unless you want to watch? Is that what gets you going these days, Paolo?”

C
HAPTER 
F
IVE

He peered through the car’s windscreen and smacked his fist against the steering wheel. None of the girls strolling up and down the street matched his ideal. After a while the windscreen misted over, so he wiped away the condensation with a gloved hand. As a gap cleared he saw a newcomer join the procession and his heart raced. Snapping down the sunshield, he took the photo from its hiding place and compared the features and colouring of the young woman on the other side of the road. She moved under the street light, and he realised she was perfect. She was everything the Lord demanded. He started his car, ready to edge over to her side of the road.