Читать книгу Operation Paradise - Sarah Evans - Страница 7

`Another woman was taken last night,' said Sodbury at the next day's morning briefing. His small, close-set eyes were doing their agitated flicking routine.

`How come we've a missing person report after only a few hours?' I asked. `She might just have gone off with someone for the night.'

Sodbury shuffled the papers on the desk and zeroed in on the relevant page. `She was with another girl. They'd been having a drink at the bar and then she went to the toilet. When she didn't return, her friend went to look for her. She couldn't find her, so raised the alarm.'

`You were watching the club the whole time?'

`Yeah, Rock, all the damn time.' He sounded belligerent, as if I was accusing him of incompetence. I wasn't. I just wanted facts.

`And you didn't see anyone being forced into a car or looking drugged?'

`No. Nothing suspicious happened at all. Just a usual night out on the town.' Sodbury frowned savagely, as if the world was ganging up against him. `I can't understand why we didn't see anything. We had both exits covered.'

I ignored his burst of anger.

`What do we know about this girl?'

`Roberta Fellows, known as Bobbie. She's eighteen and apparently very attractive. She's at uni studying to be a teacher, lives in student digs and her parents are well off.'

`Like the others,' murmured Fox.

`What?' said Sodbury.

`Just thinking aloud,' said Fox.

`Who was her friend?' I asked Sodbury. `I'll go and see her. You never know, I might turn up something.'

Sodbury furnished me with details. I glanced at the name: Maria Dellaporte. I'd seen that name somewhere recently but couldn't for the minute recall.

Burton and Ely went back on surveillance duty while Fox and I drove out to see Maria at her family's home in one of Perth's upwardly-mobile western suburbs. We talked for a while, but Maria gave us little to go on. But as we were leaving I suddenly remembered where I'd seen the Dellaporte name before.

It had been on the door of my daughter's room at Saint Immaculata's. Angelina Dellaporte was Chastity's roommate, and the owner of the snazzy dress.

`Hey, Maria,' I said. `Do you have a sister at Saint Immaculata's by any chance?'

`Yes, Angie,' she said. `Bobbie and I went there too.'

I showed her the list of names of the other missing women and we finally hit the jackpot.

`Hallelujah!' I said to Fox as we drove back to the station.

`So they went to the same school but not at the same time,' he said. `And some left ages ago. So where does that get us?'

`Further ahead than we were.' But I could tell he was sceptical. I ignored it. `Let's go and rattle Sister Immaculata's cage, you never know what we might turn up.'

A few minutes later we were in the Iron Nun's office. She was sitting behind her desk and we were standing. I was going for the psychological advantage. Every little bit helped in dealings with my mother.

`Sasha Lucas, Monique Dewson, Ashleigh Johnson and now Roberta Fellows. Do these names ring a bell?' I asked.

`They are former students,' said Sister Immaculata with calm deliberation.

`And?'

`What else do you want me to say?'

`Anything that might help my investigation.'

`Investigation?' She looked at me blankly.

`Hello! You do know these women are missing?'

`Are they?'

`It's been plastered over the media.'

`You know I don't read the newspapers, Eve.' Her voice held gentle reproach and made me want to gnash my teeth.

Instead, I sighed and plonked myself down on one of the hard-backed chairs next to the desk. To hell with psychological advantages. They rarely worked with the Iron Nun anyway.

`Okay,' I said. `These women have gone missing over the past couple of weeks. They were last seen at the Paradise Nightclub. There's been no trace of them since. Is there anything these girls had in common? Anything that links them together?'

Sister Immaculata's glasses glinted so that it was impossible to read any expression in her eyes. I was never sure if this was a deliberate ploy or not but it was effective all the same.

`They were all high-achieving students.' She folded her lips and her hands and gazed at me, serenely.

`That's it?'

She smiled and remained silent so I carried on fishing.

`Were they friends? In the same class?'

`No.'

I huffed. Angels had more luck turning stones into bread than me getting information out of my nun mum. Everything with her was on a need to know basis. I'd always had to pump hard to get any pertinent facts and even then the information wasn't always forthcoming. Like, who was my father? And did he know I existed? You know, fundamental stuff.

I stood up and made to leave. `If you think of anything, let me know,' I tossed over my shoulder as we made for the door.

`You didn't give her one of your business cards,' said Fox as we strode down one of the lengthy, polished wood corridors.

`No need. She knows my number.'

`I forgot. Your kid goes to the school.'

That was one reason. I wasn't ready to share that the Mother Theresa look-alike was my mum. The knowledge might put him off his stride, and we didn't want that, now, did we?

Our next stop was the Paradise Nightclub. It was just before their noon opening time and the previous night's debris was being cleared up, bars restocked and floors mopped and polished. Where the outside was hideous purple, the inside wasn't much better, just darker and seedier. It wasn't my idea of paradise at all.

We interviewed the club owner, Stan Zefferelli, over a cheap instant coffee served in a polystyrene cup. Classy.

Zefferelli was barrel-chested, beer-bellied and wore his dirty blond hair long with Elvis Presley style sideburns. He walked like a duck on heat and had the nasty habit of scratching his crotch and juggling with the family jewels. He wore saggy black trackie pants with holes in the rear and a floppy T-shirt that once upon a time must have been white. It sported the faded legend that Paradise Sucked. I presumed he was referring to the club and I heartily agreed with him.

He seemed unconcerned about the missing girls but stroppy his club was the focus of a police op.

`It's bad for business,' he said and gave us a circus-standard juggling performance before taking a slurp of coffee. `You guys will give the place the kiss of death if you hang around for too long.'

`Aren't you worried women seem to be disappearing from your club?' I asked.

`People disappear all the time. It's no big deal. It hasn't put off the punters. But you will.'

`Forget it. We're not leaving until we discover what's going on. These girls weren't the type to simply go walkabout.'

Zefferelli's lip curled. He gave me a suggestive up and down. `You never been tempted to go off with a bloke for some hot sex?' he said. `Or are you a dyke?'

I ground my teeth and resisted the urge to dismantle his juggling act. One swift kick would have done it. Or point blank range with my Glock. But I resisted. I'm a professional.

And, anyway, he did have a point about the slinking off for some hot sex. Wasn't that how I ended up with Chastity? Four days on a boat with a blond hunk I'd picked up at a party.

In my defence, it was before I understood about safe sex, stranger danger or slip, slop, slap. So hey, I was a late developer. Who wouldn't have been with a harlot-turned-zealot nun as a mum? I met the skipper of Wild Thing and the rest was history. Your protected, naive convent girl went overboard. Literally.

Could the same sort of thing have happened here with these convent-raised girls? But three of them had been missing for a while so it didn't seem likely.

Apart from that, Fox and I learned absolutely zilch from Zefferelli. I decided we'd revisit the club that night and be part of the action. Perhaps we'd missed something vital.

I took Fox, as he'd got to know the layout pretty well. And with him looking so good in his spangles, there was the chance we might strike lucky and get a pick up by the perp.

We got there late and struggled through the Thursday night crowd. You'd think there was no place else to go in Perth on a steamy Thursday night. Heck, these people needed to get a life. I did a double-take when I thought I saw Sister Mercy, sans habit. But I must have been hallucinating. No way would a nun trip the light fantastic in a sleazy joint like the Paradise. I resolved once I'd cracked the case, I would take a long holiday. And perhaps ease up on the caffeine.

Fox and I sat at the bar and tried to look as though we were having a good time. It wasn't hard. Fox was an easy companion. Hey, isn't my job a bitch?

`Tell me about your days on the street, before you joined the force,' I said to him.

Fox shrugged. `There's nothing to tell.'

`Don't give me that.'

`I was like a lot of kids. Hung around the streets. Slept rough. Occasionally went home for a meal.'

`You have a family, then.'

`Mum and Dad split up before I was born. Mum married some corporate climber on the second time round. I was always the step-kid with the attitude. His kids could do no wrong. Then Mum and this bloke had a couple of their own.'

`A big blended family. Nice.'

Fox gave me one of his bland, dreamy blue looks. `You could say that. It had its moments.'

I empathised. I might not have had stepsiblings but I'd had an entire school full of companions. The fact I hadn't kept in touch with any of them showed what a loner I was. Maybe Fox was a loner too.

`So what about your dad?'

`When he was in town we would get together.'

`Nice.'

`He wasn't in town much.'

`Oh.'

`But it was good when he was.' A glimmer of a smile played around his painted lips. His luscious painted lips. I resisted the urge to fan myself. Surely I was too young to have hot flashes so it must be something else.

Not wanting to go down that road, I changed the subject: `So how come you joined the police?'

`Well-defined sense of right and wrong. I was witness to it all the time growing up. I thought I could make a difference.'

`Noble.'

`Stupid. I don't feel as though I've achieved much.'

`But you've done a heap of undercover stuff. You must be good.'

`A few lucky breaks. Good contacts. I don't feel quite so confident running around in this gear.'

`You look gorgeous.' I chuckled and he grimaced.

It's an unwritten rule of mine never to sleep with anyone on my team. This rule has been easy to abide by over the years because, when surrounded with men like Sodbury, Burton and Ely, one can resist without trouble.

But now here was Fox. In a league of his own, he was totally another matter. It was going to be hard resisting such a ripe peach.

And I hadn't been joking. He was gorgeous, either dressed in jeans and leathers or in slinks and sequins. It was enough to send my taste buds roaring. There was a definite zing in the air when he was around, and it wasn't just due to the apple-scented shampoo he favoured. But I didn't think I'd be wise to react to it. Best wait until we were both off the case and I could relax my self-imposed rule. I had standards.

We sat there for an hour or so, downing orange juices and tonic waters until our bellies were squealing in protest at the acid overload.

`I'm off to the john,' said Fox, sashaying off in his hot pink number. He was one mean sister. And I must say, I didn't think I scrubbed up half bad in my little black shift. If we didn't get a nibble tonight I'd have to do a serious rethink of our wardrobes. Maybe our cup sizes were too small to make much impact.

Actually, no. Mine was insignificant, but Foxy's D-cups were absolutely priceless.

I fiddled with the purple and white Paradise beer mat, flicking it over and over and catching it mid-air as I watched Fox wiggle away. I'd have to tell him his trip to the bathroom was causing all the men to drool. I admit I was doing a little drooling myself which caused me to bungle a catch.

As I retrieved the fallen beer mat from the floor, I glanced at its Paradise logo. It had been defaced. What a surprise. But then I looked harder. On the flipside was drawn a double `V' in biro. It was an imitation of the design I'd seen in Chastity's room. Hmm. So some of the Immaculata girls hung out here. I should have a word with the Iron Nun. It wasn't a place I wanted my Chastity frequenting.

I nursed my drink and scanned the heaving mob of hyped-up young things gyrating on the dance floor. And then I saw it. A sparkly black-sequinned frock. Now, there were probably hundreds of these dresses sold around the city, but I'd seen this one hanging on the back of my daughter's bedroom door.

The woman wearing it was young and slim with gelled hair a mass of ringlets. Red ringlets. Red ringlets like my daughter's red ringlets.

Chastity!

Maternal ire raised its ugly head, swift and sharp. What the heck was Chastity doing in a dump like this? I jumped off the bar stool and elbowed my way through the throng of sweaty bodies to find out. Progress was slow, mainly because I'm better off wearing sneakers than stilettos, but also because the dancers were too engrossed to notice me and get out my way. By the time I'd shoved into the middle of the dancers, there was no sign of her.

I spent the next few minutes circling the floor. My daughter, if indeed it was her, had disappeared; but I wasn't giving up. I'd head for the school, go up to her room and find out if Chastity was there or not. I didn't want my baby hanging out in nightclub dives and I certainly didn't want her at the Paradise where women were being abducted on a regular basis.

Where was Fox when you needed him? Probably still negotiating his stockings in the ladies. I headed back to my seat at the bar to wait. I was angsty, tapping my fingers impatiently on the counter when someone nudged me in the ribs and began burbling on about somebody's drink. She then slapped her hand over her mouth.

`Sorry,' she squeaked. `I thought you were a friend of mine. You look similar.'

`Do I?' I couldn't help but wonder who she'd mistaken me for, what with a Chastity clone pirouetting about on the dance floor. But before I could ask, the girl slipped off the bar stool and merged with the crowd. Fox appeared at my shoulder at last.

`Sorry, Eve, there was a queue.'

`Always is, for the ladies,' I said. `Come on, we're leaving.'

`But why? The night's young.'

`I have parental responsibilities. But you can stay if you want.'

`I'm disappointed.' Those blue eyes shimmered. `I thought we could chat some more, then dance.'

`I presume you meant us, to dance together?'

Those eyes shimmered some more and that enigmatic Madonna smile played around those kissy, kissy lips.

`Sorry, Foxy,' I said. `But I'm no dyke, regardless of what Zefferelli insinuated. See ya later.'

`What?' He frowned, confused.

`Just look at you, kid!'

He glanced down at his dress. `Damn,' he said. `I'd forgotten I was wearing this stuff. I'll come with you.'

`I'm worried about you,' I murmured as we negotiated our way through the crowd to the exit. `If wearing a dress is beginning to feel normal.'

We briefly called into the surveillance room to let the others know what was happening and for Fox to change. I told him not to bother on my account, but he did anyway.

`You splitting already?' asked Ely around a mouthful of half-chewed pepperoni pizza.

`Have to,' I said. `I've got to track down my daughter. I think she was at the nightclub.'

Burton whistled. `Doesn't she know about the abductions? Doesn't she read the papers?'

`I don't know what she knows, but I'm going to warn her off. I don't want Chastity becoming a victim.'

`Chastity. Great name. Will you tell her about the surveillance?' asked Ely.

`No. I don't believing in sharing my work with her.'

`We'll take my car if you like,' said Fox once we were back on the street.

`Twist my arm, why don't you,' I said and made a beeline for the Spitfire. If ever I had spare dosh, I'd be tempted to buy myself a cute little number like that.

Tucked cosily in the low-slung sports-car, we roared over to Saint Immaculata's along Stirling Highway. We zoomed past endless, soulless showrooms catering to yuppy renovators and acres of forecourts packed with top-of-the-range cars, effortlessly beating red lights all the way - along with half the driving population of Perth.

`Stay here,' I ordered Fox once we had pulled into the deserted parking lot and he'd killed the engine. `This is personal. I'll deal with it on my own.'

I let myself in through the kitchen and used the staff stairs at the rear of the school building. Saint Immaculata's was built as a private mansion by one of the Kalgoorlie gold barons back in the 1890s. It had survived the 80s purge on old buildings and was a grandiose white elephant, impractical but stately and perfectly suited as an old fashioned style school.

It had been the only home I'd known until I'd spread my Dodo wings and hit the ground running to escape the cloistered strictness my mother demanded. I liked the old place, sort of. Few fond memories but it had still been home.

Once inside, I took off my stilettos. I didn't want to announce my unauthorised entry by staccato-ing over the miles of polished floorboards.

When I reached Chastity's room, I hesitated. Should I knock? It had gone midnight and I didn't want to wake her if she'd been tucked up in bed all night. But then again, it had looked awfully like Chastity out there on the nightclub dance floor. I decided not to take any chances.

I stealthily began to turn the doorknob. There was a slight scuffled noise from behind me. I turned to see what it was when something arced down and cracked me on the head.

There was a violent starburst and everything went black.