Ellen climbed out of their car after parking outside the parade of shops in Clipstone. The day seemed like any other, with people going about their business, shopping, eating and getting their hair cut.
They’d parked close to the hairdressers that Detective Gibson had sent them to, and she could see several women inside the shop, sitting in adjustable chairs with stylists going about their work behind them.
“Here we are,” Ellen said, giving the shop an appraising look. “Let’s see what Mrs Shaw has to say for herself.”
“Aye,” Tucker replied. “Lead the way.”
Making sure she had her ID close at hand, she walked over the side road to the main entrance of the salon and stepped inside. A bell jingled as she opened the door, announcing her presence to the entire shop. People either turned to look or glanced at her in the mirrors on the walls. Nearby, the girl at the reception desk smiled.
“Hello. How can I help you?”
Ellen smiled brightly and approached. “I was wondering if Colleen Shaw was available for a quick chat?”
The girl glanced into the shop at one of the stylists, an older woman who was chatting to her customer while dying the lady's hair. If this was Colleen, she made no signs that she’d heard Ellen ask for her.
“I’m afraid she’s with a client right now. You’re welcome to wait, however?” The receptionist gestured behind Ellen to the collection of chairs beside the door, where another customer was waiting. “Also, we’re fully booked today, so you might want to make an appointment for another day?”
Ellen always enjoyed this part and relished pulling out her warrant card and showing it to the receptionist. “I’m sorry, but I really must insist that we speak to Mrs Shaw right away.”
The girl frowned, then looked down at the ID. She seemed a little confused for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure what she was looking at before it suddenly seemed to click. “Oh. I see.”
“Don’t worry, she’s not in trouble, and there’s no need to make a scene. But we will need somewhere private to chat.”
“Aaah, okay. Hold on one moment. I’ll see what I can do.”
The rush of excitement and power she felt whenever she got to pull out her ID and make people dance to her tune was intoxicating and never got old. She’d once been told not to let it go to her head, but she didn’t think that would ever be an issue for her. While that rush was a wonderful feeling, she always harboured doubt that she wasn’t worthy of the power the badge gave her.
Was it a distinctly English thing, this nagging lack of self-confidence that she felt? After all, we were usually always the first to put ourselves down in any given situation, she thought as she waited for the receptionist to sort things.
The receptionist walked over to the woman Ellen had assumed to be Colleen and had a quick and quiet whisper in her ear. As the girl spoke, Colleen looked over with a confused expression on her face.
Colleen informed her client that something urgent had come up and dashed about the salon, shuffling the stylists around to make sure someone could take over from what she’d been doing.
It took a few moments, and there were some unhappy looks from the affected customers before Colleen was finally free and waved Ellen forward.
She glanced back at Tucker, who’d been standing awkwardly in the doorway. She nodded, and he followed.
Ellen crossed the salon and followed Colleen to a door in the back, through a messy break room and out through another door into the back alley behind the shop.
“Will this do?” Colleen asked, waving at the area around them.
“This is fine, Mrs Shaw,” Ellen said with a smile. She’d have preferred a more private room where they could close the door, but this would do for now. “I’m Detective Dale, and this is Detective Stafford. I’m right in thinking you’re Colleen Shaw, right?”
“That’s right. Sorry for the chaos in there. What can I do for you?”
“That’s okay. Firstly, don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble. We just wanted to have a quick chat with you because we believe you were witness to something of interest to us.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“Two days ago, on the morning of the fifteenth, we have reason to believe that you witnessed an altercation between Emmett Wilkinson and Nigel Wild, out here on the high street. Is that right?”
“Aaah, yes. I was. I helped break it up.” She sighed. “It was Nigel. He’s nothing but trouble.”
“That’s the owner of the Clip Club? Just up the street?”
“Yeah, that’s him. It’s not the first time he’s caused trouble with Emmett, either.”
“So, this has happened before?”
“Several times.”
“Would you mind running through the events of that morning for me?” Ellen got her notebook ready.
“Sure.” Colleen pulled out a cigarette, lit it up and took a long pull while she frowned in thought. “It was a typical morning, I think. I opened the shop, let the staff in, and… No, wait. Oh yeah, that was it. Yeah. I’d just opened up, and I noticed a couple of hookers hanging around outside, over here.” Colleen walked to Ellen’s left.
Ellen had her back to the building and the high street beyond. She turned left to follow Colleen as she took a few steps to the edge of the building. There was a cut-through between the salon and the fish and chip shop next door that led back to the high street. It was wide enough for a car or van to get through, and it seemed that the shop owners used it to reach the rear of their properties.
Colleen pointed down that cut-through, towards the main road. “They were hanging out over there, beside the chip shop.”
“Were they being a nuisance?”
“They’re a pain in my arse,” Colleen spat. “They’re always hanging around, causing trouble, stealing things. Everyone knows what they are.”
“They’ve caused trouble for you, specifically?”
“Oh yeah, because I refuse to cut their hair. Ever since they started hanging around and flaunting themselves, things have got worse. There’s more crime, more trouble, and people getting hurt. It’s the gangs. They’re a nightmare. So, I refuse to cut their hair, and in return, they’ve broken my windows twice now.”
“The prostitutes have?” Ellen asked.
“Yeah! Who else would do it? The first time it happened was the night after I threw them out of my shop. I told them to sling their hook, and the next day, I come in, and I’ve got a smashed window. They did it again later too. They smashed the same window after I fixed it, broke in, and nicked stuff. Fucking cockroaches, I hope they all die.”
Ellen grimaced quietly at her words. They were unfortunate, given the circumstances, but she understood her frustration. Colleen was a salt of the earth kind of woman, and far more relatable than she’d expected. She kind of liked her no-nonsense approach.
Ellen summarised what Colleen had told her. “So, these girls, they’ve broken into your shop at least twice and caused criminal damage?”
“That’s right. They’ve cost me a small fortune in repairs, and not only that, they hang around scaring off my customers, so I’m getting less business. They’re scum, and I fucking hate them.”
Ellen nodded in understanding, but wasn’t sure she agreed with Colleen’s point of view. Most of these girls and young women were victims either of circumstance or predators. They’d been dealt a shitty hand in life and were making money with the last thing of value that they had: their bodies. And yet, they were demonised for it, categorised as immoral, dirty and the lowest of the low. “And on the fifteenth, you saw these prostitutes outside your shop, along there.” Ellen pointed up the cut-through.
“That’s right. So, I went out and told them to piss off, then I hung around the front of my shop to make sure they didn’t cause any more trouble or scare anyone away.”
Tucker was making notes as Colleen spoke. Ellen could hear his pencil scribbling on the paper.
“I see,” Ellen answered. “When did you see Emmett or Nigel?”
“I saw Nigel first. He was going to the news agent’s or something, I don’t know. But he walked over and started talking to the girls.”
Ellen frowned, wondering if she’d understood what Colleen was telling her. “You mean the prostitutes? He was speaking to them?”
“Oh yeah. He’s really friendly with them. He’s always serving them at the club and talking to them. He’s a bloody idiot ‘cos he encourages them to keep coming back here. If he’d stop being such a letch, then maybe we could get rid of them.”
“So, he’s friendly with them?”
“Very. I dread to think how they’re paying him for the drinks. Blow jobs under the bar, probably.” She looked disgusted. “Why else would a man like him be friendly to a bunch of young women selling their bodies for money?”
Ellen dismissed that last comment, but her observation that Nigel was friendly with the working girls was an interesting one. “Okay, so what happened next?”
“I was watching him talk to them when these two guys come over, little and large, they were. They walked up to him and told Nigel to piss off and leave the girls alone. I bet they were their pimps. You know?”
“I know,” Ellen assured her. “So, he left?”
“Yeah. They talked. I didn’t hear all of it, but I think they threatened him. Nigel looked angry when he walked off.”
“He walked away,” Ellen asked.
“That’s right. Then the two men walked the girls back to their car and drove off. I wasn’t watching Nigel at that moment because I was more interested in the hookers leaving. Anyway, the next thing I know, I look up, and Nigel’s about to thump someone. So, I ran over and pulled them apart just after the vicar jumped in.”
“Do you know who he was attacking?”
“Of course. It was Emmett Wilkinson. He’s a piece of shit, too. One of these wealthy, corrupt politicians.”
“Corrupt?” Ellen asked, curious.
“Well, they all are, aren’t they?” Colleen asked.
“I wouldn’t like to say.”
“I should have guessed it would be him, though. Those two have been at loggerheads for ages now. Nigel’s always swearing at him, calling him a scab.”
“So, you helped break up the fight?” Ellen pressed.
“Yeah. If I’d realised who it was, I would have let them fight it out, but I didn’t recognise Emmett until I was pulling them apart. Anyway, we separated them, and they went on their way. That was it.”
“Nothing else?” Ellen asked.
“No, nothing. That was it. Then, of course, I heard about the girl yesterday. The one that died. She was a hooker, right? Well, serves her right, don’t it? Hopefully, they’ll all piss off now that one of them’s been killed.”
“I can’t comment about the identity of the victim, but you think it was one of the prostitutes?”
“That’s what I hear. Maybe someone’s more fed up with them being around here than I am and has taken it in hand. I mean, Councillor Wilkinson has been doing fuck all about it, and neither have you, either, have you? People can only take so much. They can only deal with so much crap before they snap. I know I’m at the end of my tether with ‘em. They can all piss off and die, as far as I’m concerned. Good riddance to ‘em.”
Ellen gritted her teeth at the words of the hairdresser. She was clearly frustrated and annoyed both by the presence of these sex workers, and by the inaction of the police and the council, and rightly so, given the effect on her business. Ellen didn’t blame her for trying to protect her investment.
But it made her wonder if they’d been looking at this all wrong. A pissed-off shop owner, like Colleen, has ample motive to hate and potentially kill one of these prostitutes and then dump the head in the bin of the councillor who was doing nothing to help get rid of them. It made a scary amount of sense, but was it Colleen or someone else?
They’d need to do a lot more investigation to find out, including talking to Nigel again, as it seemed like he was friendly towards these girls.
Ellen proceeded to get a description of the girls and their pimps before finishing up and walking back to their car. They needed to report back.