It was visiting time and the cries and laughter of children rang through the air. Bailey stood in the doorway of the visit hall and scanned the crowded room. Apparently a good third of the inmates in here had children. There was a mother and baby unit in D-Wing for inmates who were admitted when pregnant, but for most of them this was the only opportunity they got to see their kids.
Bailey herself had never felt the maternal urge. At least not yet, and she figured that if it was going to happen, she probably would have done something about it by now, going by what her friends and contemporaries from school and college were up to. Most of them were now married and in the process of starting families, and she’d grown sick of going round their houses to coo over yet another new baby. That was probably why she had got on so well with Alice. They had shared much the same attitude towards relationships and kids. Birds of a feather…
She spotted Frank sitting over in the far corner of the visit hall, as far removed from the other visitors as he could manage in the busy room. She navigated her way through the tables and sat down opposite him. He smiled at her, his watery eyes cool and emotionless as usual. He was wearing casual clothes – a black leather jacket and faded jeans – and she was relieved that he didn’t look too much like a policeman. She wasn’t too worried about anyone in here recognising him from his undercover days as those were long behind him and he was now mainly office-based.
She glanced at the table next to them, concerned that they might be in earshot. It was occupied by a young couple who were barely in their twenties. On his knee the man was balancing a vacant-looking toddler that had strings of drool coming out of its mouth. Both parents were talking intently to each other, stroking hands, gazes locked, clearly still in love and very much oblivious to anything going on around them.
‘So how’s Dad?’ said Bailey in a slightly louder voice than she needed to. ‘Is his back still playing up?’
‘Yes, now and then,’ said Frank, a completely fake smile frozen onto the lower half of his face. ‘He misses you, you know.’
She nodded to herself, satisfied that the young couple weren’t paying them the slightest bit of interest. She fixed her attention on Frank and lowered her voice.
‘I’ve only been in here a week and someone’s been murdered already. A junkie by the name of Poodle.’
Frank’s fake smile dissolved away, his face reverting to its usual cold and impassive expression. ‘Poodle?’
‘I mean Sarah Prebble. Her nickname was Poodle. Because of her little blonde topknot.’
‘Oh right. Well, she doesn’t have that any more.’ He glanced around to check no one was listening. ‘Preliminary autopsy results strongly indicate that she was scalped.’
Bailey nodded slowly, a strange tingling feeling coming over her.
‘Exactly the same signature as with Alice’s murder.’ She paused. ‘Are you going to tell me Poodle was an undercover cop as well?’
‘No, she most certainly wasn’t. But I’m guessing that there must be some kind of connection between the two murders. Same perpetrator or perpetrators.’
‘How much do the press know? It’s the kind of thing they’d jump on in an instant.’
‘For the time being, we’re withholding specific details of the mutilations. Standard procedure with this kind of thing.’
‘I’m sure it’ll get out eventually. For one thing, the inmates can’t stop talking about it. It’s the kind of thing that spreads like wildfire in here. One was bad enough. But two? I think they’re getting kind of scared now.’
He shrugged and fixed her with his cold watery gaze. ‘Any leads on the drugs ring? Remember your priorities.’
At that very moment, a prison officer walked slowly past them, eyeing them vigilantly as part of his duty to make sure that no visitors were attempting to transfer illegal contraband to the inmates.
‘I hear Uncle John’s just bought a new lawnmower,’ said Bailey.
‘That’s right. It’s got a cylinder blade instead of a rotary blade, which means he can cut his lawn in these neat little light- and dark-coloured strips.’
They both tracked the movement of the prison officer who had now wandered out of hearing range, then leant in to face each other once more.
‘I found the cellmate. Melanie Clarke. But like you said, she didn’t seem all that coherent. I don’t think I’m going to get much out of her.’
Frank sighed. She could tell he was disappointed with her progress.
‘But…’ she said, ‘her mates did tell me where I could buy some drugs, so I’m going to try and get hold of some tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll lead to something specific.’
‘Time is money, and money only lasts so long. If you don’t find out something soon, the drugs squad will pull the plug on the operation.’
She paused and looked around the visit hall at all the inmates chatting to their friends and relatives.
‘You know… just because Poodle was a junkie and an inmate, she was still a human being. Try not to lose sight of that fact with your government drugs targets. I mean, surely her family must be pretty upset about it.’
‘Sadly it’s proving hard to find someone who actually gave a shit about her. She spent most of her life in care and what family she does have look to be even bigger junkies and wasters than she was. Listen, the murder investigation team are doing all they can. The prison authorities have searched this place from top to bottom twice now and come up empty.’
‘I’m not surprised. It’s like a maze in here. Too many dark corners. And security’s a shambles. Too many inmates, not enough staff.’
‘I hope you’re not trying to make excuses. You know how much I hate excuses.’