any involvement whatsoever. One, I might add, tried to top herself. And on top of all that we’re no nearer a solution than we were when we started. Psychologists are trying to talk to the kids but it’s basically a waste of time. Both are too young and any good brief would argue that anything we got was put in the child’s mouth to further our own agenda.’
Ratchette nodded, but Kate was amazed to see he wasn’t really listening.
‘Look - I have to talk to you about something else - something personal,’ he announced awkwardly.
She raised one eyebrow and then frowned. ‘What is it?’
Ratchette twiddled with some pencils before saying carefully, ‘Can I get you a coffee, dear?’
Patrick was in Old Compton Street. He slipped straight through a sex shop and out into a back office, his face plainly registering disgust. A small woman in her sixties was sitting behind a wide mahogany desk there and she grinned at his obvious discomfiture.
Her thick guttural accent grated on his ears but he liked Maya, she was OK. A grafter, she always made sure that whatever job she undertook earned her and her partners money. She was trustworthy, honest by the laws of villainy, and hard. The three main attributes Patrick looked for in his business associates.
Today, though, he had the hump and Maya knew this. It was not hard to understand why either so she made allowances.
‘Sit down,’ she told him. ‘Relax and we’ll talk.’
He sat opposite her, and his dark countenance and steely eyes warned her that he was still a force to be reckoned with, and for only the second time in her life she felt real fear.
Maya Baker had come up the hard way. From turning tricks in her early teens she had gradually established a network of porn outlets and gentlemen’s clubs. These exclusive little enclaves catered mainly for S&M and spanking, a pastime she found many rich older men rather liked. She made a fortune, adhered to strict rules and was feared by colleagues and workers alike. Maya’s Achilles heel was her love of money. Real money. It was this that had led Patrick Kelly to come looking for her.
‘You’ve heard about Leroy, I take it?’ she began.
Patrick nodded.
‘I take the blame,’ Maya admitted. ‘I had to remove him, he was getting to be a pain in the arse. I didn’t know you wanted to talk to him or I would have left it a few days. Now, can I help in any way?’
Patrick was impressed despite himself. She had held her hand up, apologised and offered friendship, all in three sentences. Most men he knew would have spent ages beating round the bush before getting to the point. He also admired the way she didn’t try to apologise for what she had done, only for the timing. It had happened, was over, and now they must try to repair the damage.
‘Do you know anything about Duggan?’
‘Enough. Women - Eastern European mainly - plus a few local brasses.’ She grinned. ‘He was third-rate, Patrick, you knew that deep down.’
‘Have you any idea why he was topped and whether Leroy had anything to do with it?’
Maya clasped her heavily jewelled hands tightly together.
‘Of course I know. I know everything that happens in Soho. Leroy was planning to branch out. He was putting new girls out and about. Not the usual brasses, Pat, more the Awayday type. You know what I mean: come up from the suburbs for the evening, do a bit of collar then go home again. None of them wanted to embrace the life full-time. Leroy was doing quite well by all accounts but he trod on a few toes. Yours and Duggan’s for a start. A couple of the lap dancers were moonlighting for him. Duggan got annoyed, they fell out. That really is the crux of it. But the little black shit wouldn’t have had the guts to kill Duggan.’
‘So what made you remove Leroy then?’
Maya shrugged and lit a small cigar. ‘That’s private business, but I will tell you anyway. He was selling skag to a few of my girls. I warned him on more than one
Ratchette nodded, but Kate was amazed to see he wasn’t really listening.
‘Look - I have to talk to you about something else - something personal,’ he announced awkwardly.
She raised one eyebrow and then frowned. ‘What is it?’
Ratchette twiddled with some pencils before saying carefully, ‘Can I get you a coffee, dear?’
Patrick was in Old Compton Street. He slipped straight through a sex shop and out into a back office, his face plainly registering disgust. A small woman in her sixties was sitting behind a wide mahogany desk there and she grinned at his obvious discomfiture.
Her thick guttural accent grated on his ears but he liked Maya, she was OK. A grafter, she always made sure that whatever job she undertook earned her and her partners money. She was trustworthy, honest by the laws of villainy, and hard. The three main attributes Patrick looked for in his business associates.
Today, though, he had the hump and Maya knew this. It was not hard to understand why either so she made allowances.
‘Sit down,’ she told him. ‘Relax and we’ll talk.’
He sat opposite her, and his dark countenance and steely eyes warned her that he was still a force to be reckoned with, and for only the second time in her life she felt real fear.
Maya Baker had come up the hard way. From turning tricks in her early teens she had gradually established a network of porn outlets and gentlemen’s clubs. These exclusive little enclaves catered mainly for S&M and spanking, a pastime she found many rich older men rather liked. She made a fortune, adhered to strict rules and was feared by colleagues and workers alike. Maya’s Achilles heel was her love of money. Real money. It was this that had led Patrick Kelly to come looking for her.
‘You’ve heard about Leroy, I take it?’ she began.
Patrick nodded.
‘I take the blame,’ Maya admitted. ‘I had to remove him, he was getting to be a pain in the arse. I didn’t know you wanted to talk to him or I would have left it a few days. Now, can I help in any way?’
Patrick was impressed despite himself. She had held her hand up, apologised and offered friendship, all in three sentences. Most men he knew would have spent ages beating round the bush before getting to the point. He also admired the way she didn’t try to apologise for what she had done, only for the timing. It had happened, was over, and now they must try to repair the damage.
‘Do you know anything about Duggan?’
‘Enough. Women - Eastern European mainly - plus a few local brasses.’ She grinned. ‘He was third-rate, Patrick, you knew that deep down.’
‘Have you any idea why he was topped and whether Leroy had anything to do with it?’
Maya clasped her heavily jewelled hands tightly together.
‘Of course I know. I know everything that happens in Soho. Leroy was planning to branch out. He was putting new girls out and about. Not the usual brasses, Pat, more the Awayday type. You know what I mean: come up from the suburbs for the evening, do a bit of collar then go home again. None of them wanted to embrace the life full-time. Leroy was doing quite well by all accounts but he trod on a few toes. Yours and Duggan’s for a start. A couple of the lap dancers were moonlighting for him. Duggan got annoyed, they fell out. That really is the crux of it. But the little black shit wouldn’t have had the guts to kill Duggan.’
‘So what made you remove Leroy then?’
Maya shrugged and lit a small cigar. ‘That’s private business, but I will tell you anyway. He was selling skag to a few of my girls. I warned him on more than one
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