‘Well, that was nice. So what have got next, then?’ DC Nadish Khan laughed as he took the DVD out of the tray, replaced it with another one. It didn’t disguise his shaking hands.
The woman sitting next to him didn’t respond. Her features were blank as she made notes in her pad.
‘Dunno about you,’ said Khan, ‘but this isn’t how I normally spend Friday evenings.’
She put her pen down, looked directly at him. Lips curled into a smile. ‘You sure about that?’
Bitch, he thought, grabbing the remote and stabbing Play. He sat back to watch the next DVD, angry. Not just with himself but with his new boss. Brennan had given him this job deliberately. And that pissed him off big time.
Yes, it was deliberate. No doubt about it. He had seen the look on Brennan’s face the previous night when he had made a couple of comments about gays. Nothing nasty, just the usual stuff. Banter. Sperring had laughed, but then he was a good bloke. Brennan, however, had made it clear that he didn’t appreciate what he’d said or think it was funny. Still, thought Khan, he could have been going door-to-door down the gay bars on Hurst Street. Something else Brennan had threatened him with. So considering the alternative, sitting here watching filth might be getting off lightly. At least he wasn’t out in the cold.
He looked at his fellow officer sitting on the chair next to him. Cold enough in here with her, he thought. Detective Constable Imani Oliver put down her pen, watched the screen.
Khan didn’t like her. If he was honest, he didn’t like black girls at all. Just a personal preference, he always said; their skins were too dark for him to fancy them. And their features not pretty enough. He liked something a bit lighter and finer. But even he had to admit Oliver had a well fit body. Cracking tits and a great arse. Face wasn’t all that much, though, the usual wide nose and big lips, but he might forgive that, if he had to. I mean, who looked at the mantelpiece when you were stoking the fire?
Not that he thought he would ever get to shag her. Her arse and tits might be great; it was her personality that turned him off. Typical black girl. Uppity. Always plenty to say for herself. Not all of it complimentary. Certainly not to him. He used to answer her back when she started giving it lip but stopped after a while. He was sure she was the type to cry racial harassment. He knew, from experience, that her sort always did.
This was the third DVD and Khan was starting to get used to them. He checked himself – get used to them? Jesus. He hoped he would never find the kind of thing he was watching normal. Guys dressed as girls, behaving as girls, while other guys treated them as girls. It turned his stomach. And not only that, but some of them looked really convincing. Would make him think twice before picking someone up in Gatecrasher, that was sure. Well, maybe.
They were all of Glenn McGowan, dressed up, calling himself Amanda. And the first two were home-made. Or rather amateur, not professional. They had been filmed with a static camera, pointed at the end of a bed. The victim himself had come into shot, walking round after switching the camera on, then lain down on the bed waiting for another transvestite to join him.
‘Make-up looks a little inexpert,’ Oliver had said. ‘Same with the clothes. I reckon this is an early one, before he got the hang of it. What d’you think?’
Khan had agreed with her. Not just because he thought she was right – which he did – but because it saved him looking at the screen too much.
The sex had been perfunctory. Ordinary, even. Just two blokes getting it on, if you took away the clothes.
He had caught Oliver looking at him out of the corner of her eye, smiling.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘Why you looking at me?’
‘Just wondering,’ she said, as if giving the matter some serious thought.
‘Wondering what?’
‘Well, you know how men like to watch two women together?’
Khan sensed a trap but knew he had to agree. ‘Yeah…’
‘I don’t think this is much different.’
He sensed himself reddening. Suddenly the room felt hot. ‘What d’you mean? This isn’t… isn’t like that. This is…’ He looked at the screen. ‘God…’
She shrugged. ‘They’re dressed up, stockings, suspenders, the lot. Wigs, make-up. Some of them make more convincing women than some women.’
‘So?’
‘I think that’s what men go for. The dressing up. It doesn’t matter who’s inside, as long as they’ve got the right kit on.’ She turned to him, smiling. ‘Don’t you think?’
He didn’t know how to answer.
‘Bet you’ve looked at this kind of stuff before,’ she said.
‘No I haven’t. It’s… fucking perverse.’
‘Really? Come on, you’re a man. You can’t tell me you haven’t been trawling through the internet looking for something to get yourself off to and fancied something a little different. Bet you have.’
Again he said nothing. Just went back to looking at the screen. With another added layer of discomfort.
The second DVD had been similar to the first. The only difference being in the severity of some of the sexual acts. An unmistakable tone of sadomasochism had crept in, with Amanda on the receiving end of some increasingly brutal punishment.
That’s not sex, thought Khan. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not sex.
Amanda’s partner was male, hooded and wearing leather. No help at all.
This new DVD was different to the others. He spotted that straight away. Perhaps not up to professional standards, but certainly not amateur. There was more than one camera, for a start, one for long shots, one for close-ups. And Amanda – he was referring to her like that now – was much more professionally made up.
He leaned forward. ‘Hold on…’
Oliver caught his serious tone. ‘What? What is it?’
‘Look,’ he said.
She did so. The screen showed Amanda dressed exactly the same as she had been on the night of her death. But there was more to it than that. The room on screen was the living room they had discovered Glenn McGowan’s body in. Amanda was going to the door, letting someone in.
‘Ben,’ he heard her say in a parody of a woman’s voice, ‘what a surprise. Come in.’
A man stepped into shot. Only visible from the shoulders down.
‘Fuck,’ said Khan. ‘Can’t we, I dunno, can the techies let us see his face?’
‘We might see it later,’ said Oliver. ‘Keep watching.’
They did. The newcomer was ushered in, Amanda talking all the while about what a thrill it was to have him for dinner. The camera followed as they went to sit on the sofa. Ben’s head was in full view.
‘No we’ve… Oh.’
He had a thick head of jet-black hair, obviously a wig. He also wore heavy facial hair and sunglasses.
‘He looks like a seventies porn star,’ said Oliver. ‘I bet that’s deliberate.’
‘Shit,’ said Khan. ‘Thought we had him there.’
They kept watching.
‘So what d’you think?’ asked Oliver. ‘Is this it? Are we watching Glenn McGowan’s last night on earth?’
‘I… don’t know…’
He didn’t. But he had that copper’s tingle he always got when he was on to something. He knew this would be one film he would watch all the way to the end.