‘The report is straightforward. According to her mother, Lucinda had a volatile relationship with her boyfriend. They’d been arguing a lot recently, so the mother says. She was supposed to babysit but when she got to the house the child was alone. She called Lucinda’s work, but she hadn’t turned up.’ Kelly talked as she drove, and Dan stared out of the window. They were on their way to Ambleside to visit the Scrag End pub. It was a lead on the Dorinne Callaghan case, but it had been picked up by HOLMES that Lucinda Dockie frequented the same joint, according to Dorinne’s room-mate. Kelly had left Kate in charge and she tapped the steering wheel lightly, eager to gauge the world graced by Dorinne when she was alive, and perhaps that of other women in the same line of work, including Lisa Lau. Kelly had given a long brief at Eden House and trusted Kate to chase the paper today. It was frankly a dull job, and not the work of a senior investigating officer, but Kate was good at it, and didn’t mind being the one left behind in the office. She was a grafter and would flag up any anomalies to Kelly immediately.
‘Was she the type of mother to leave her three-year-old child alone in the house?’ Dan asked.
‘Lucinda’s mother said she adored the girl and spent every last penny on her. Quote: “she’s the reason she breathed”.’
‘I wonder if the boyfriend has a key to the house?’ Dan said. They drove through Glenridding, where Lucinda Dockie lived with her daughter, but their priority today was tracing Dorinne’s last movements. Kelly had made arrangements for Lucinda Dockie’s house to be searched this week. After all, despite the stench created by three women going missing from the same area in as many months, the murder took priority. The common denominator was their chosen line of work. If the three women had been of different ages, socio-economic status, demographic, employment and location, then Kelly wouldn’t be letting it play on her mind so much. Granted, Lisa Lau should be making her way back to China sometime soon, but a passport check had revealed no such activity.
‘Preliminary door to door revealed pretty frequent arguments and noises of door-slamming etc.’ Kelly was familiar with the notes and had gone over the information they had several times, looking for similarities with Dorinne.
‘Classic domestic stuff,’ Dan said.
‘Yep. We need to speak to the three-year-old but that will need setting up with the legal team and child protection. DI Lockwood was sending a car to the mother’s home in Bowness last night, is that on HOLMES?’ Kelly asked.
He held his iPad as she navigated the snowfall that was steady and unrelenting. She questioned the wisdom of driving deep into the Lakes on a day like this, but pushed it out of her mind.
‘Yes, here it is. The statement was taken last night, and is pretty much the same as the prelim questions at the time she reported her daughter missing.’ He read on. ‘She’d gone to collect the child for the evening as Lucinda was due to work in a local pub diner in Glenridding and found the child home alone. What do we know about the boyfriend?’ Dan asked himself as much as Kelly. He was in the zone as he continued reading, and it was a shame because they were travelling through some of the best scenery in the Lakes.
Kelly smiled to herself. He was using the familiar pronoun of a team already and she liked it. She was impressed with his focus. He carried on.
‘Here we go. Known to us. DI Lockwood down in Barrow has previous record for a burglary in Bowness. None involving violence but a few warnings for drunk and disorderly.’
‘Does he work?’ Kelly asked.
‘Labouring when he can get it.’
‘Did he do time?’
‘Six months,’ Dan said. ‘So we’ve got prints and DNA.’ His mind worked like hers.
Kelly drove around the lake and headed south.
‘You’ve just missed Ullswater but don’t worry, Brothers Water is coming up and it’s gorgeous. Keep looking behind as we go over the pass, if you can put your iPad down.’
Unforgiving mountains of ancient rock stood between them and their final destination. They could go across to Keswick and then down to the tiny village, or carry on south, via the narrow pass called The Struggle, which was a shortcut from Kirkstone Pass to Ambleside, then double back up to Grasmere to visit Yus Ali and Dorinne’s Auntie Maureen. The Helvellyn range was in their way and either route made no odds. Kelly chose to go over Kirkstone Pass and navigate The Struggle across to Ambleside and then on to the short journey to Grasmere.
‘I wonder what drew Yus Ali to Grasmere; it’s a sleepy little place. Probably cheap accommodation in a guest house is my guess. For a young guy, it’s not exactly Ibiza. And it’s not exactly a throbbing hub of builders and labourers. Lucinda’s mother said that he’d angled to stay with his girlfriend in Glenridding, but she’d resisted the idea because of her young daughter. Another red flag.’
As Kelly navigated around Brothers Water and up to the Pass, Dan went quiet. The mist that usually accompanied heavy snow sat in the valley, between the fells, and it looked magical. She watched him as he took in the scenery. Kelly had been the same when she moved back from London three years ago. The first time she’d driven over Kirkstone Pass since returning to the Lake District had taken her breath away and brought back whole swathes of memory, almost, but not quite, erased, of herself and John Porter hiking up on the contour line. The snow drove at her windshield and made the vision appear ethereal. She drove an Audi four-by-four that could easily cope with the conditions. Besides, they were at the highest point of their journey and it wasn’t so bad. The wipers fought against the snow and the heater gave them a sense of security. They drove past an occupied Mini, which seemed to have given up and was parked at the side of the road near to the Kirkstone Inn. The inn would put them up overnight if needs be. They’d get a warm local welcome too and a hearty plate of food.
Kelly always marvelled at the moors around Kirkstone, because they were about as remote as one got in the Lakes. They went on for miles and didn’t really attract tourists, who preferred to row on Windermere or walk up Cat Bells. It was what attracted her to them. She itched to get up on the mountainside, to trudge through the snow and ice, making the first prints of the day.
She turned off on the road called The Struggle and they saw Ambleside in the distance.
‘Not long to go now,’ she said to Dan, who was still quiet.
Arriving in Ambleside, they had to wait to get through traffic that was snarled up due to the weather, as well as navigating around soaking walkers caught in the blizzards over the fells. Sodden hikers trod miserably through the town, but many of them were still jovial, stopping to swap notes with fellow pursuers of the wilderness.
‘Ambleside always reminds me of Ardmore,’ Kelly said.
‘You know the Cairngorms?’ Dan was suddenly animated.
‘Of course. I used to go up there quite a lot with my hiking club at Lancaster University. We once camped beneath Glencoe, and cleaned up about fifteen whiskies from the top row of the only bar around. It always amazes me how you can find a wee dram, without fail, in the remotest of places.’ Kelly used the Scots colloquialism affectionately.
‘It’s more precious than water,’ Dan confirmed.
‘We sat up with the mountain rescue team, who got called out around midnight to rescue another group of students without torches or whistles.’
‘Numpties,’ Dan said. She agreed.
The Scrag End pub was at the end of a lane, in the heart of Ambleside, off Market Cross, surrounded by walking and camping shops, trendy cafés and a market. It had been there, in an old coaching inn’s alley, for three hundred years.
Kelly had no idea what the place was like nowadays. She hadn’t been in there for twenty years. It used to be on the Ambleside Amble, a pub crawl of twenty-six pubs to denote the miles in a marathon. The Scrag End was last and always the rowdiest. The name apparently came from it doubling as a butcher’s shop in Victorian times. The wooden block, various hooks and ancient knives hung on its walls for decoration.
It hadn’t taken them long to find a parking space in the centre, with most shoppers being put off by the snow, and the gritters were out already, making the fresh white powder turn to brown sludge. They trod carefully through it towards the long alley. Dan looked around, taking in everything like a good detective.
‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘It’s lovely, so it is. And like Ardmore, but bigger.’ His thick accent was peppered with colloquialisms she’d heard from many Scots. His accent wasn’t as harsh as she remembered those of most Scottish people from the west coast. To her, the Edinburgh accent was softer, but Dan’s Glaswegian accent was smooth and pleasant. He had an air of quiet responsibility about him. She reckoned he kicked ass when he had to, but he was also a gentleman – and easy on the eye. Her time in the car with him had introduced to her part of his personality and she’d sized him up so far as warm, loyal and unequivocal. In fact, he reminded her of a younger Craig Lockwood.
The alley was smaller than she remembered and more bland. It had none of the bohemian charm she recalled from her nights out here with mates. Though, the snow did give it a clean blanket under which to hide. No one milled about in the few shops down there, which looked like junk shops and sewing places. There wasn’t a café and it all made for quite a let-down for Kelly.
She went into the pub first, followed by Dan, and the entrance split into two: right and left, both leading to bars. She took the right one first. The bar was empty and no one seemed to be serving, so they made their way back and went into the left side. In here, there were a few people sitting alone, and one group of three men. A man in his twenties or early thirties stood drying a glass behind the bar. Everybody in the place stopped what they were doing and looked at them. Kelly ignored them and strode to the bartender, who stopped wiping.
Kelly lifted her neck tag and showed her ID to the man. ‘Can I ask you a couple of questions about a woman who used to drink in here?’
Immediately, people stood up and began to leave.
‘Hold on, folks, we’re not that scary,’ she said. Her voice was firm. Some carried on packing up bags and putting on coats; others stopped. ‘I’m just asking for information. Maybe some of you can help if you’re regulars.’
Three, four, and then all six people got up to leave. Dan squared his shoulders but Kelly got in first.
‘Now, hang on just a minute. This is a police investigation and I need your cooperation. I’ll only take a minute of your time, so sit yourselves down. Now. Please.’
Dan gave a sideways glance to his new boss. The punters did as they were told.
‘You take them, I’ll take these,’ Kelly said. ‘No need to be so nervous around us coppers, if you’ve got nothing to hide.’
The bartender shrugged. ‘People don’t like to get involved in trouble, it’s quite normal isn’t it?’ He was a Scot and Dan held out his hand to shake and introduced them both. The man lost some of his edge and took the offered hand.
‘What makes you think there’s trouble?’ Dan asked him.
‘I don’t think you’ve come in here to blather.’
Dan began with him and Kelly turned her attention to the group of three men sitting together. She produced a photo of Dorinne Callaghan, receiving blank stares in return. Next she held up a photo of Lisa Lau. More blank stares. A photo of Lucinda Dockie got a different response. One of the men recognised her.
‘She drinks in here,’ he said. ‘I know her fella.’
‘Yus Ali?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Piece of shit, don’t know what she’s doing with him.’
‘When did you last see her in here?’
‘Can’t remember. Last week maybe. Good-looking woman.’
Kelly took their details and said they could leave. She overheard the bartender confirm that he recognised all three of the women, and she cocked her ear.
‘It’s a small space, you get to know regular faces,’ he said.
‘How regular?’
‘Maybe once a week.’
Kelly turned to a young woman sitting on her own. It was an unusual sight; pubs were normally the domain of single men. Women usually ventured in groups into places like this for a laugh.
She showed her the photos.
‘I knew Lisa. So, she never went to Preston then?’
‘You followed the story?’
The woman nodded.
‘How did you know her? She’s still missing, sadly,’ Kelly said.
‘Yeah, we hung out here and there. She paid for everything because she was sent money by her family. Apparently they’re loaded but she hates them.’
‘Why?’
‘They want her to do as she’s told, and Lisa’s not like that. She breaks all the rules.’
‘Yes, I see that in her too, and I only know her from her profile,’ Kelly said gently. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Mandy Williams.’
‘Mandy, if she had so much money from her family, why was she working?’
‘To annoy them.’
‘I’m just going to ask you directly, was she working as a prostitute?’ Kelly asked.
Mandy looked at Kelly and her eyes showed fear and indecision. Kelly saw that she didn’t want to get her friend into trouble.
‘I’m not really interested in if she was or she wasn’t, but it could help find her,’ Kelly added.
The girl relaxed.
‘I think she did. I mean, I know she did. She bragged about what men bought her if she did stuff with them.’
‘Where did she go? Hotels? Cars? Flats?’
‘She said they took her to nice houses. They were always clean and tidy. She felt safe.’
‘Maybe they weren’t safe?’
Mandy looked at her hands and didn’t answer.
‘Why are you in here on your own?’
Panic flashed across Mandy’s face again as she stumbled over her reply. ‘I’m not, I’m erm, waiting for someone.’
‘Who?’
‘A friend.’
‘Name?’
The young woman’s eyes darted about. ‘Can I go now?’ she said, looking desperate.
‘What about your friend?’
Silence sat between them like a fat elephant.
‘Did Lisa ever mention someone called Yus Ali to you?’
Mandy shook her head.
‘Did she ever tell you any of the names of her clients? Did she have regulars?’
‘They never give real names.’ Mandy sniggered, as if the detective should already know this. She’d let her guard down.
‘How do you know that?’
The woman stood up.
‘I’ll need your personal details in case I need to speak to you again. How well did you say you knew her?’
‘Not really well.’
‘And who is the friend you’re about to stand up by walking out?’
‘Just a friend.’
‘Give me a name and you can go.’
Mandy sighed, but then answered, ‘Kian Delaney.’
Kelly had got what she needed. She moved on to an elderly man sitting on his own. Mandy Williams left.
‘Good afternoon, sir. Are you a regular customer here?’
‘I’ve been coming in here for fifty-odd years, I reckon. I see all the young girls come and go, and I remember the Chinese one because she was always laughing her head off, she was. It warmed the soul. It’s cramped in here on a weekend, but you remember the pretty faces.’
‘These pretty faces?’ She showed him the photos. He acknowledged all three and nodded. ‘The other two were more serious, and always alone.’.
‘Did you ever see them with partners?’ Kelly asked.
‘What do you mean by partners?’ he asked.
‘Somebody they drank with, and had a good time, I guess. We’re trying to establish who they came into contact with. It makes a difference.’
‘So, all three of them are missing, are they?’
‘This one’s dead.’ She pointed to Dorinne.
‘Good heavens. In my day, we took care of our ladies, nowadays they’re not treated the same. I saw them with folk all the time. I couldn’t tell you who, though.’
‘Sir, why do you drink in here if it’s full of people who frankly don’t sound that pleasant to me?’
‘I’m not going to change my local just because of a bunch of young lads looking for trouble. I like coming here.’ He looked away and sipped the end of his pint. For the first time, Kelly saw his confidence wane.
‘Are you married?’ she asked. He blushed.
He looked at her squarely. ‘Look, young lady, I might like to look and pretend I’m young again, Lord knows I’m not. There’s no crime in it.’
‘No, there isn’t.’ She took his details. He said they called him Old Bobby. She could have sworn that she had seen Mandy Williams at his table when they walked in. He gave his name and address and put on his jacket and flat cap, nodding at her as he left, shouting thank you to the bartender. Kelly turned her attention to Dan again. She overheard the bartender giving him the name of another pub.
‘The Gate Inn, in Glenridding.’
Kelly joined them. Between them, they’d spoken to everyone in the place. Last night a squad on night shift from Windermere had done the same and gathered information from several witnesses, all recognising the three women as regulars, and some of them alluding to the fact that they thought they picked men up here. It was useful information but at the same time not, because it told them everything and nothing at the same time. Yes, they were prostitutes; but ask who their clients were and they hit a brick wall.
‘Who’s your boss?’ Kelly asked the bartender.
‘The place is owned by someone called Burns. Lorna, I think. It’s a private brewery. I don’t know her personally, she never comes in here. But she pays my wages.’
‘Does she have any other pubs?’
‘I just told your colleague that she owns the Gate Inn in Glenridding.’
‘Any idea if Dorinne went there too?’
‘No idea.’ He looked her straight in the eye. She figured that to work the bar in the place like this, a poker face was pretty essential.
‘What about Yus Ali? You know him? He drinks in here, right?’
‘Yes, everyone knows Yus, he’s always looking for a fight. Lucinda doesn’t like him telling her what to do. She doesn’t come in here with him much, but he turned up recently, and she was with another fella, and he went berserk. I kicked him out, along with a few other lads looking to get involved.’
‘What happened to Lucinda and this man?’
‘They left.’
‘Can you recall what day that was?’
The bartender thought for a while. ‘It was last week sometime.’
‘Do you know the man?’
‘I’ve seen him about but I don’t know his name.’
Typical, and probably a lie. ‘Can you describe him?’
‘Sure. Middle-aged, chunky, dressed kind of smart, bald, erm, a bit weird.’
‘What do you mean a bit weird?’
The bartender laughed. ‘Like a peeping Tom.’