Silent Fear (31 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

T
he evening sky was dusty pink and blue and the air as steamy as ever when they drew into position around the semi-industrial area in Marrickville. Kaitlyn’s friend had told them that Joylin’s Massage occupied the right-hand end of a long building containing a row of businesses. Ella and Murray had driven slowly past earlier to see a small sign on the green-painted door indicating that it was still there, and saw that the neighbouring businesses, including a mower repairer, a welder and something called Canton Best Imports, were all closed. Now Murray was parked up the street with a view of the green door, and Ella was in the back of a surveillance van painted up like a plumber’s vehicle in a car park fifty metres in the other direction. Squeezed in beside her were Dennis and a technician, and surrounding them were devices tuned to the minuscule transmitter fitted inside Holly’s bra.

Holly drove past the van in a beaten-up Datsun, borrowed from a constable and bearing false plates, and pulled into the parking area in front of the building. Three other cars were parked nose in to the building; Ella had checked their numberplates with VKG but the owners were all male and none had records.

Violet, you scrag, just you wait.

She tried to swallow her racing heart back down into her chest as she watched Holly get out of the car and sashay towards Joylin’s. She wore a short tight black skirt, a tight white singlet through which her red lace bra showed, and black stiletto heels. She’d styled and teased her hair and done her make-up in such a way that Ella hadn’t recognised her when she first emerged from the bathroom at the Homicide office.

‘Here we go,’ Holly whispered, her voice filling the van.

Ella wiped sweat from her forehead. This was her idea, and while Dennis had taken some persuading, Holly had jumped at the chance to act.

‘I can do it,’ she’d said the second Ella started explaining on the phone.

‘You’re just going in and scoping it out,’ Ella had said. ‘You’re not to put yourself in danger.’

‘I won’t.’

At the office she’d studied the mug shots of Trent Bligh and Luiz Paz then the photos and Comfits of the suspected shooter and the male and female bystanders. She’d nodded at the last two. ‘That looks like them to me.’

Ella tapped the woman’s picture. ‘We think she might be running the brothel, and using the name Violet. There’s a slim chance she could recognise you. If you think she does, get out as soon as you can.’

Holly had pointed to herself. ‘In this get-up?’

‘It’s still a chance,’ Ella had said. ‘Keep safe.’

Now she watched the green door close behind Holly with a measured action matched by the slide of her own stomach.

‘Evening.’ Holly’s voice came through the speaker again. ‘Any work?’

*

Holly sat on the cane lounge in the air-conditioned waiting area, crossed her legs, clasped her hands over her knee and swung her foot. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs and hoped the transmitter wasn’t picking it up. Her hair was piled up on her head and she felt it sway when she looked around the room. It had the standard fit-out of a place pretending to be all about massage: pale pink walls, TV playing an endless loop of rainforest scenes with soft pan-pipes over the top, diagrams of the human body stripped back to the muscle in various poses, and a high desk over which a young woman in a white coat had looked her up and down, then told her to wait before disappearing through a door.

Ah, the memories.

A tinted plastic bubble screwed to the ceiling gave the impression of a security camera, though Holly knew they didn’t always contain one, and an air conditioner hummed on the wall. The slim shape of the transmitter tucked in her bra felt enormous. A trickle of nervous sweat ran down her spine and her grief washed around inside her like a sea, but she thought of Norris, and kept her back straight, and raised her chin a little higher.

The door opened and the young woman beckoned.

Holly stepped into a corridor lit by yellow-tinted bulbs. A door stood open to her immediate right, and further down she could see two more doors on the right and three on the left, all closed. At the end of the corridor a bolted door presumably led outside. The sound of grunting came from the closest room on the left, then was joined by a woman’s murmuring voice.

She turned into the open doorway and came face to face with the woman who’d been doing mouth-to-mouth on Paul Fowler.

‘So,’ the woman said, ‘you’re looking for work.’

‘Yes,’ Holly managed to say.

The woman went behind a wide timber desk, sat down and folded her hands on the top. Her eyes crawled over Holly, lingering on her breasts, her legs, her face. ‘Have a seat.’

Holly sat, her back straight, her hands in her lap, her left wrist facing down to hide the tattoo. The woman stared at her face. She couldn’t recognise her, surely. Holly’d had no make-up on then, and had a tonne on now. And there were the clothes, the hair, the setting. Holly knew she carried herself differently as well. But then this woman had changed all those things too and Holly had no trouble recognising her. She wondered if the transmitter was clear enough for Ella to recognise the woman’s voice.

‘What’s your name?’ the woman said.

‘Jade.’ The name she’d worked under all those years ago.

‘I’m Violet,’ the woman said. ‘You’ve worked before, I can tell.’

Holly nodded. ‘In Melbourne. I moved up for family reasons.’

Violet waved a hand like she didn’t care. ‘On your own or in a business?’

‘Both,’ Holly said.

‘What do you do?’

‘Massage. Back, shoulders, legs, full-body relaxation. Whatever the client prefers.’

‘Good,’ Violet said. ‘Client satisfaction is our priority.’

‘Mine too. Absolutely.’

Sweat soaked into the waistband of Holly’s skirt. She stared at Violet, who stared back.
Don’t let her recognise me.

‘We can pay our staff well because our clients are always greatly satisfied,’ Violet said. ‘Greatly.’

Holly nodded, her stomach tightening. In her experience rates and services were discussed explicitly, but that’d been a long time ago. Maybe this dancing around the subject had come in since. Maybe it was precautionary in case of stings by cops or council.
Or maybe she knows precisely who I am.

‘Do we understand each other?’ Violet said.

‘I believe so.’

The woman across the hall shrieked. The hair stood up on Holly’s arms. Violet looked past her at the doorway but didn’t get up.

‘What sort of hours were you after?’ she said.

‘I’m open.’ There was another cry and Holly had to fight not to turn her head, not to get up and go and help. ‘Evenings or daytime.’

Violet nodded and opened a ledger.

The woman in the other room was weeping now. Holly wondered if the transmitter could pick it up.

‘That bother you?’ Violet said.

‘A little.’ It was a struggle not to rush out and comfort the poor woman, see if she was okay.

‘Sometimes it’s part of the job.’

‘I understand.’

The woman wept on as Violet ran her finger down the page. ‘Let’s see.’

The door to the room across the hall opened. Holly kept her shoulders square and didn’t look around. That’s how it went in these places: you didn’t look, you didn’t notice anything or anyone, particularly not a client who was leaving.

There was a tap on the door and a man said, ‘Get someone to clean up in there, Vi.’

Violet nodded.

‘Hey,’ the man said.

Holly kept her eyes on Violet.

‘Hey,’ he said again.

Violet gave her a single nod. She looked around.

The man looked to be in his late twenties. His face and body were thin, his arms and chest bare and well muscled. He wore jeans and flexed his right fist idly by his side. His eyes and short hair were dark, and Holly recognised him from the mug shot Ella had shown her: Trent Bligh.

In the room behind him the woman cried softly.

‘You starting soon?’ He had an odd way of sniffing before he spoke.

She nodded.

‘Stand up.’

She did so. He looked her up and down, motioning with one finger for her to turn around, then raised his eyebrows and smiled. ‘Nice find, Vi.’

Violet inclined her head.

Holly stayed on her feet, her skin crawling, her back rigid with anger.
Think of Norris.
She made herself smile at Bligh and tried to put a hint of a promise into her eyes.

Keeping eye contact, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. ‘I’ll be out the back,’ he said to Violet, then made a pistol with his hand and pointed it at Holly. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘I hope so,’ she said, and meant it.
In court
.

Holly listened to his footsteps as he walked down the corridor, then heard the electronic beeps of a mobile phone being dialled before he pushed open the door and stepped outside.

‘So,’ Violet said. ‘Start tomorrow? Five pm?’

‘That’d be great,’ Holly said. ‘Thanks.’

Violet smiled. ‘When the boss likes you, all is good.’

Holly walked out, forcing herself not to look into the room where the woman wept on, nodding to the receptionist on the way through the lounge, pushing open the green door and emerging into the heat and humidity of the evening. The sky was orange and a hot wind blew down the street, flinging grit and two chip packets and an empty McDonald’s cup at her bare legs and turning her aircon-cooled skin sticky. She could almost feel the eyes on her from inside the plumber’s van down the street and the detective’s car parked in the other direction, and she walked to her loaned car with a determined stride. The transmitter had hopefully given the listening detectives a good recording of Trent’s voice, but she wanted to do more.

She unlocked the car, sat in the driver’s seat, popped the bonnet and propped it open, then picked up the empty McDonald’s cup and walked around the end of the building.

*

‘What the fuck is she doing?’ Dennis said.

‘How should I know?’ Ella stared out the window as if doing so could make Holly reappear. ‘I told her to get in and out, to do nothing stupid.’ They had heard Trent Bligh’s voice, they knew he was in there.
If she’s putting herself in danger . . .

They listened to the sound of Holly’s heels on the asphalt, then a faint male voice became audible and Holly’s steps slowed, then stopped.

‘– stupid assholes, the lot of them.’

‘It’s him,’ Ella breathed.
Oh, Holly.

‘I told Carl that was it, and he said it was done,’ Bligh said. ‘Okay. Go on past tonight, see what’s jumping, do something about it if it is.’

There was the snap of a phone being closed, then a sound like a door being opened. She could hear Holly’s breathing. She sounded nervous.

Then she sneezed.

The door closed and footsteps approached. Holly’s footsteps started up again too.

‘Is there a tap here somewhere?’ Ella heard her say.

‘What the fuck?’ Bligh said.

Ella went for the door but Dennis grabbed her arm. ‘Give her a second.’

‘My car overheats in this weather,’ Holly said. ‘I need to top it up before I go.’

‘You often lurk around corners listening to people talk?’

‘I just came from the front, looking for water,’ Holly said. ‘Stupid car.’ She sounded confident.

Ella fixed her eyes on the empty corner of the building and tried to breathe.

‘Have you seen a tap around this place?’ Holly went on. ‘I usually carry a bottle in the car but with it being so hot lately I used it all up.’

‘Work for me for a while, we’ll get you a decent set of wheels.’ Bligh’s voice grew louder and Ella knew he’d moved closer. ‘Work with me, we could find you something real nice.’

‘That sounds good,’ Holly said. ‘I’m sick of driving shitboxes that break down every –’

Her voice stopped. Ella could hear nothing and rounded on the technician. ‘What happened? Did he find the transmitter?’

He shook his head, fingers on the dials. ‘Signal’s good. Shh. Listen.’ He turned up the volume and Ella caught a wet sound and a small moan.

‘He’s kissing her,’ Dennis whispered.

Ella’s scalp tightened.

‘Not bad,’ Bligh said after a moment. ‘Not bad at all.’

‘Same goes for you,’ Holly said, and Ella closed her eyes at the strength in her voice.

‘Lemme get that for you there.’

The sound of running water filled the van and the tech turned the volume back down. They listened to footsteps and Ella watched the corner and next moment they appeared, Trent Bligh shirtless and carrying a McDonald’s cup, Holly walking next to him, smiling into his face like he was the best thing she’d ever seen.

Dennis fired off a string of photos.

‘Thanks so much,’ Holly said.

‘Always a pleasure to help out a lady.’

Ella put her face to the glass as they went to the open bonnet of the Datsun.

Trent Bligh touched the top of the radiator with the back of his hand, then unscrewed the cap. ‘Not too bad.’

‘Some days it’s good, sometimes it’s way off,’ Holly said. ‘This is why the garage can’t fix it.’

Bligh poured the water in. ‘There you go.’

Ella watched Holly press herself against his arm. ‘Thank you again.’
My God, this woman.

‘She could do undercover for us full-time,’ the tech murmured.

Dennis took more photos.

Bligh released the bonnet catch and let it fall with a clang. He tested the latch while grinning into Holly’s face, then went to the driver’s side and opened the door, but stood so she couldn’t get in.

‘Maybe I can see you again?’ he said.

Holly laid her palm against his bare chest. ‘I’ll be back here tomorrow at five.’

He kissed her again, then bowed elaborately and stepped back. Holly got in the car and started the engine, gave him a smile, then backed out of the parking space. Bligh watched her drive onto the street and away, and Dennis pressed the shutter again and again and again.

‘Oh God,’ Holly gasped into the transmitter as she drove out of sight of the van. ‘I need to brush my teeth and shower in bleach.’