The Doll's House (31 page)

‘
L
oads?' That wasn't the answer Phil had been expecting.

Trotter allowed himself a small smile.
Gotcha
, it said.

‘Why are there so many?'

Trotter was immediately cagey again. ‘Can't say.'

‘Yes you can. Or I'll think you're making the whole thing up and charge you with the murder of Glenn McGowan.'

Trotter sat back in his chair. Puffed out his cheeks, his lips. Leaned forward again. ‘OK,' he said. ‘Here's the thing. If I tell you what you want to know, about the tattoos and that, I want something in return.'

‘And what might that be?'

‘Immunity.'

Phil frowned. ‘From what?'

‘Everything. Immunity from everything you could do to me with what I tell you. And everything
they
could do.'

Phil looked directly at him. There was no one else in the room. The interview wasn't being recorded. Someone from the team might be listening in, but he didn't think that was a problem. ‘OK,' he said. ‘Immunity. Talk to me.'

Trotter nodded in acknowledgement. ‘It's a club.'

‘I know that much,' said Phil.

Trotter looked upset. ‘How?'

‘The thing on your arm. It's the kind of stamp you'd get in a club. It must mean something special; you haven't washed it off. And you've inked over it.'

Trotter looked aggrieved. ‘But you don't know what kind of club, do you?'

‘A fetish club,' said Phil. ‘Something like that. Loads of them around.'

‘Not like this one,' said Trotter, the darkness dancing in his eyes.

‘What's so special about this one, then?'

Trotter leaned forward, arms on the table. ‘It's extreme. Extreme passions. Extreme behaviour.'

‘Right,' said Phil. ‘So it's an extreme fetish club. Big deal.'

Trotter slammed his hand down on the table, anger in his eyes. ‘You think you're so clever, don't you? Think you know it all? You know nothing.'

Phil leaned in to him, eyes unflinching. ‘Then make me understand.'

Trotter nodded. ‘There's loads of clubs around. Fetish, BDSM, whatever. Some of them call themselves extreme. But they're not. None of them. It's just dressing up. They're safe places with safe words in safe environments. Mutual respect. What's extreme about that?'

‘So how is this place different?'

Trotter gave a sickly smile. ‘It's the opposite. No safe words. And it's definitely not a safe place. You go there, you take the consequences. If you've got passions that you can't control, that need an outlet,
crave
an outlet, that's where you go.'

‘Passions?'

‘Kinks. Desires. Dreams. Whatever. Not your run-of-the-mill shit. You like being beaten up, enjoy inflicting pain, dress up as a woman or a baby, there's places for you. But this is if your thing's further on than that.'

‘And what happens there? What d'you do?'

‘Anything to anyone. And fuck the consequences. Because there aren't any. Might not even be consensual. Might not even be with adults.'

‘What, rape? Murder?'

‘Anything.'

‘Then you'd be arrested.'

Trotter shook his head slowly. When he spoke, it was as if he was explaining something to a very simple child. ‘You're not listening. There are no consequences. Nothing will happen to you. You're perfectly safe. The law doesn't apply.'

‘I find that hard to believe,' said Phil.

Trotter shrugged. ‘Believe what you like. I'm telling you the truth.'

‘So where is this club?'

‘Digbeth. In an old factory. The place looks derelict from the outside. But it's not. Got a big red door. Can't miss it.'

‘Street?' asked Phil.

Trotter shrugged. ‘Dunno. I'll draw you a map.'

Phil kept going. ‘How do people find out about it?'

‘All over the place. Fetish events, word of mouth, internet forums, wherever. Some are invited along, some enquire. They all know the score. But the club's very choosy. They don't take just anyone.'

‘When's it open?'

‘Whenever. There's always something going on there. Like I said, it's not like a nightclub. It's where people go when they want something. And somebody always wants something.'

‘Who runs it? Who owns it?'

‘He's called Ben, bloke in charge,' said Trotter. ‘All I know.'

Phil felt a jolt of electricity jump through him at the name. He opened his manila folder once more. Took out a couple of photos, slid them across. Screen grabs of Glenn McGowan as Amanda having sex with the person who called himself Ben. ‘Is this Ben?'

Trotter looked at the photos. Phil watched Trotter. ‘Might be.'

‘This tattoo,' said Phil, pointing to a blown-up photo. ‘Like yours. But real.'

The words made Trotter angry, as Phil had intended. ‘I'll get one soon enough.'

I doubt that
, thought Phil. He continued. ‘What's behind the tattoos, then? You get a stamp like yours if you're… what? A newbie, or something?'

‘Yeah,' said Trotter. ‘Then you work your way up.'

‘Why a tattoo?' asked Phil. ‘What does it mean?'

‘Like I said. People go there to do things they can't do anywhere else. You've got to have insurance. The tattoo's a reminder. Of what you've done, what you owe the club. The deal you made. You keep quiet, the club keeps quiet. Loyalty. Then there's the next level,' said Trotter.

‘Next level?'

Trotter nodded. ‘The brand. That's for the hardcore, the real elite.'

‘So what d'you have to do to get one of them?' asked Phil.

‘Show commitment.'

Phil shook his head. ‘Right.' He pushed across the photo of Glenn McGowan and Ben having sex. ‘What's so extreme about this?'

‘Well, they're both getting what they want.'

‘Then Glenn McGowan was murdered.'

Trotter shrugged. ‘Yeah. So they both got what they wanted.'

Phil sat back, thinking. An idea coming to him. ‘Hold on. You mean…' He tried to order his thoughts coherently. ‘Whoever killed Glenn McGowan, they got what they wanted. They murdered someone. A transvestite.'

Trotter nodded.

‘And…' he frowned, ‘Glenn McGowan, as Amanda, he…'

Trotter finished the sentence for him. ‘Wanted someone to kill him.'

Phil said nothing, processing the information.

‘When I said desires,' said Trotter, ‘you just thought I mean the murderer. You didn't think I meant the victim.'

‘So people go to this club who want to be killed? Is that what you're saying?'

‘People go to do things they can't do anywhere else. And I think that's about as much as I have to say on the subject. The person in the photos may or may not be Ben. I don't know. So, if you have no further questions…'

Phil leaned forward. ‘What do you go there for, Martin? I'm curious.'

Trotter smiled. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the one question he wanted to answer. He was an actor taking the stage to deliver his grand soliloquy. ‘I'm HIV positive,' he said, and sat back, arms folded, as if that explained everything.

‘So?' said Phil.

A wistful look came over his features. ‘I like to spread the love around.'

Phil's stomach turned over. ‘You mean you go there to have sex, knowing you're going to infect people?'

Trotter pointed his thumb and finger into the shape of a gun. ‘You got it.'

‘That's a crime,' said Phil.

‘Is it?' said Trotter. ‘For one thing, you've given me immunity for what I've just said; for another, it's entirely consensual.' He smiled. It wasn't pleasant. ‘The people I meet there want to be infected, I assure you.'

Phil said nothing. He could find nothing to say.

Trotter made to rise. ‘So if you don't mind…'

Phil looked up. ‘Where are you going?'

Trotter pointed to the door. ‘Away. Off. Free.'

‘Sit down, please,' said Phil.

Trotter stared at him.

‘Sit down.'

He sat.

‘You were promised immunity from anything that arose concerning your testimony about the club,' Phil said. ‘But there's a bit more to it than that.'

Trotter was getting angry now. ‘Like?'

‘Resisting arrest. Assaulting two officers in the course of their duty. Causing affray. You were engaged in oral sex in the cinema, so we can add deliberately trying to infect another person with HIV.'

‘You can't —'

‘And also, due to the fact that you were caught willy-waggling in public, I think we can add indecent exposure to the list.' Phil stood up. ‘Have a good day.'

He left the room. But didn't get far. A uniform was running towards him.

M
arina rang the doorbell, stood back and waited. It was exactly the kind of house she had been expecting. It couldn't have said ‘students live here' any more clearly if they'd painted those words on a bed sheet and hung it from the upstairs windows.

It sat in a row of century-old terraced houses in Selly Oak. Most of the others in the street had replacement windows and doors, block-paved areas in front for cars instead of gardens, and some had even been pebble-dashed. But not this one. It had a shabby air of impermanence and transit. Just passing through.

Marina hadn't been able to wait for Anni. She had had to do something, get out of the house and do something positive towards bringing down Gwilym, feel like she was making progress. Recruit an ally. So she had left Josephina with Eileen and phoned Joy Henry. A quick trip into the university's psychology department and a riffle through the student files and she had what she needed.

The girl from the café. The one who had come to talk to Gwilym when she was there. The troubled-looking one. Marina had worked out what was happening, knew she couldn't have been the only one Gwilym had assaulted. The state the young girl was in made her think that they would have something in common. Or a common enemy at least.

She made to ring the bell again, wondered if it was actually connected. As she stretched forward, the door was opened. It was the girl from the café. The first thing Marina noticed about her was how much happier she looked since the last time she had seen her. She was wearing a thick terrycloth dressing gown and slipper socks, and no make-up. She looked at Marina quizzically, then realisation came into her eyes.

‘Madeleine Mingella?'

‘Maddy. Yes…'

‘Maddy.' Marina smiled. ‘I'm Marina Esposito. From the psychology department?'

‘Yes,' she said, ‘I know.' Fear was creeping into her voice, her posture. She held on to the door, ready to close it on hearing the wrong word.

Marina's voice dropped, confidentially. ‘I wanted to have a word with you. About Hugo Gwilym.'

The light went out in Maddy's eyes. Marina knew she had to keep talking or she would lose her. ‘I think we've had… a similar experience. I think we should talk. I think it might help. Both of us.'

Maddy looked torn. She glanced behind her, looking wary, as if expecting someone to appear. No one did.

‘Can I come in, please? It's easier to talk inside. And warmer.'

Maddy opened the door, let her in. Closed it quickly behind her. ‘Come into the kitchen,' she said.

Marina followed her down the hall. Posters for bands and clubs were Blu-Tacked over the plain wallpaper. A poster of Justin Bieber Marina presumed was there ironically. It was covered in graffiti that, while not complimentary, was to her mind not actually inaccurate.

The kitchen was at the back of the house. An old wooden table that bore the scars of decades of student living stood in the centre of the room. Maddy indicated for Marina to sit down at it. She did so. Maddy put the kettle on.

‘Sorry about the mess,' she said.

The kitchen wasn't as bad as Marina had been expecting. ‘It's fine,' she said. ‘Looks just like mine when I was a student.'

They both smiled politely. Maddy made tea for Marina, served it in the least brown mug she could find, sat down opposite her. She looked apprehensive, like she was steeling herself for a blow.

‘Your housemates around?' asked Marina.

‘No, they're… I don't know. Not here.'

‘Partied out. Didn't get home.' Marina smiled once more. ‘Look. It's about Hugo Gwilym. After I'd seen you in the café the other day, the state you were in, I guessed what had happened. I knew he was responsible.'

‘How did you know?'

‘The way you looked and acted.' Marina's eyes went to Maddy's bandaged wrist. She said nothing. Maddy covered the bandage with her dressing gown sleeve. ‘The thing is, Maddy, he did something similar to me. Drugged me. And then…' She couldn't bring herself to say the next few words. She closed her mouth, not trusting herself. She could feel tears beginning to well. She fought them back. She took a deep breath, another. Wiped the corners of her eyes, aimed for a smile. ‘Well, you know the rest, I'm sure. The thing is, we can't let him get away with it. We've got to stop him.'

Maddy glanced at the door once more, but there was no one there. She looked back at Marina. ‘I know. That's exactly what…' Another look round. ‘Exactly what I've been thinking.'

‘Good,' said Marina. ‘We're not the first that he's done this to.'

‘I know,' said Maddy, excitedly. ‘I heard about what he did to another girl before me. It was… horrible.' It was her turn to hold back the tears now.

‘Look, my husband's a detective in the police.' Maddy's eyes widened at the statement. ‘And I've got another friend, she's a police officer too. She's coming to meet me. They'll help. But I can't do it on my own.'

‘What… what d'you want me to do?'

‘I need you to give a statement to my friend. I know it'll be difficult, but she'll help. She'll make it the best it can be for you. We can stop him. But only if you help me. Will you do that?'

Maddy thought about it, glanced at the doorway again and nodded.

Marina smiled. ‘That's brilliant, thank you, Maddy.'

Maddy smiled shyly. ‘We were already going to do something,' she said.

‘We? Who's we?'

‘My boyfriend and I. We were going to —'

‘She doesn't need to hear all that.'

The two women looked up. Marina saw a tall, dark-haired young man standing in the doorway. Handsome, well-dressed. He was smiling, but Marina didn't get a friendly vibe from him.

‘Oh,' said Maddy, as if she had been interrupted doing something she shouldn't have been. ‘This is Marina Esposito. She's a lecturer at the university.'

Marina stood, extended her hand. He took it. His smile flicked at the corners of his mouth like blades catching the light. ‘And you are?'

‘My name's Ben,' he said.

‘Marina's going to help us,' said Maddy. ‘With Hugo. Her husband's a police officer. He's going to stop him.' She smiled. ‘So we can all work together.'

Ben kept him smile pinned in place. ‘Well thank you,' he said, ‘but we don't need any help.'

Maddy looked upset. ‘But Ben, he did the same to her. She can help…'

Ben looked straight at Marina, ignoring Maddy. His voice was soft, low, like the slithering of a snake through a jungle. ‘I said we don't need any help. The matter is in hand.'

Marina looked at Maddy. Saw pain, disappointment and confusion vying for space behind her eyes.
Poor kid
, she thought.
Has she just got away from one manipulative
man to go straight into the arms of another?

‘I see,' she said. She turned away from Ben, faced Maddy directly. Tried to stop her looking at him before answering her. ‘Look, Maddy, it would help if you came with me. Please.' She glanced at Ben, aware of his presence; back to Maddy, her voice low once more. Co-conspirators. ‘Please, Maddy. What I'm proposing is for your own good.'

‘She's not interested,' said Ben, moving round, blocking Maddy from her.

‘I'd like to hear Maddy say that herself,' said Marina.

Ben turned to Maddy. Stared at her. Maddy looked between the two of them, genuinely torn. Eventually she wilted. ‘I'd better do what Ben says,' she said.

Marina shook her head. Handed her a card. ‘Here. My number. If you ever change your mind. If you find you want to talk to me.'

She took it. Ben stared at her.

‘I'll see myself out.'

Marina walked out of the house into the street and away. The sky was dark and oppressive. Even that felt lighter than the atmosphere between Ben and Maddy, she thought.