Tainted Lives Read online

  CONTENTS

  Tainted Lives

  By the same Author

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Part Two

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Part Three

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Part Four

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  TAINTED LIVES

  Mandasue Heller

  www.hodder.co.uk

  By the same author

  The Front

  Forget Me Not

  Copyright © 2004 by Mandasue Heller

  First published in Great Britain in 2004 by Hodder and Stoughton

  A Division of Hodder Headline

  The right of Mandasue Heller to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  Epub ISBN 978 1 84894 301 8

  Book ISBN 978 0 340 73505 3

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  A division of Hodder Headline

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.hodder.co.uk

  To my Nana

  EVELYN HANCOX

  (1908–2003)

  Acknowledgements

  Much gratitude to all who have helped and supported me along the way, especially JUDE DAVIES (& staff of Waterstones, Deansgate).

  Many thanks to MARK WYLIE (M.U.F.C).

  Special acknowledgement, as ever, to:

  WINGROVE WARD – for giving me time, tons of coffee, suggestions (and honesty when I’m talking rubbish). AAF.

  JEAN HELLER – I learned from the best, Mum!

  MICHAEL, ANDREW and AZZURA – my multi-talented children.

  AVAJANE, my sister, who will one day write the book I so long to read!

  Nieces and nephews, AMBER (& Kyro), MARTIN, JADE and REECE. Auntie DOREEN, PETE & ANN, LORNA, CLIFF (Chris & Glen).

  NATALIE (Aaliyah) and DANIEL (Scholes) WARD.

  NORMAN FAIRWEATHER (aka: Kaine Brown) – friend, and true technical wizard.

  CAT LEDGER, and FAYE WEBBER (Talkback). Mighty fine agents.

  NICK AUSTIN – thanks so much for your help and encouragement.

  MARTINA COLE – Love and hugs to the queen from the princess.

  Everyone at HODDER, especially:

  My lovely publicist, EMMA LONGHURST.

  BETTY-BOO SCHWARTZ – words can’t express how much you mean to me. (And Mr Irrepressible!)

  And my ace editor, WAYNE BROOKES . . . nobody does it better!

  PROLOGUE

  2003

  Ducking to avoid the jagged spears of metal jutting down from the ruined door shutter, Detective Inspector West stepped into the long-abandoned Victorian swimming baths.

  It was a bright day, but even with the shafts of light filtering in through the gaps between the boards covering the windows it was too dark to see clearly. And, brisk as it was outside, the temperature in here was off the scale. The chill air enveloped his face like a dead hand.

  Releasing a loud breath that momentarily hovered like a cloud in front of his face, he surveyed the scene before him with narrowed eyes.

  The room was empty, the fixtures and fittings scavenged or destroyed, the walls bearing the scars of where the ornate wrought-iron changing-stalls had once been securely bolted. The pool was bone dry, its pock-marked tiles stained in a ghostly reminder of where the waters had once gently lapped.

  The corpse sat in a crumpled heap directly below the high-diving board, its legs oddly twisted as if it were a marionette dropped from a great height. But this was no puppet. It was a real human being, with a slip-knotted noose still biting into its snapped neck.

  Making his way around the pool edge to the iron steps, West climbed carefully down into the pit and crossed to the corpse. Hunkering down before it, he gazed dispassionately at the bloodstained face. With its smashed nose, half an ear missing, its mouth locked open around a grey slug of tongue and the clouded eyes bulging, it was a gruesome sight.

  Shaking his head, West wondered at the error of judgement that the two young uniforms had made in cutting it down. What on Earth had possessed them? All right, it was dark in here, but any fool could see that the carcass was stiffer than a porno dick. All they had achieved was a serious contamination of a crime scene – for which they would pay dearly, starting with a severe dressing down from the pathologist, Lynne Wilde. Brilliant and generally easygoing, she didn’t suffer fools lightly and her tongue was sharper than her scalpels when faced with this brand of incompetence.

  And it wouldn’t end there, for they would then have to face the wrath of their formidable Chief Super – and West doubted they’d dare touch so much as an injured dog for fear of getting it wrong after he’d finished with them.

  If they had only thought before leaping in, they’d have known that this was no suicide – that the hanging was just the finale of a more sinister set of events. Even a couple of greenhorns like Pratman and Bobbins – the heroic duo whom West had banished to wait outside for the forensics crew – should have spotted the blood-blackened, burnt-edged holes in the denim covering the victims’ knees. Not to mention the damage to the face, and the livid bruising and strangely blood-lacking slashes on both wrists where they had been bound, then cut free post-mortem.

  ‘Found anything, Tony?’ It was Lynne Wilde.

  Smiling, West straightened up and turned around. He liked Lynne. Somewhere in her fifties, she had the forceful presence of the worldly-wise woman, and the blessing of a much younger physical appearance. Quite tasty, if he was honest – and far too astute for him to feel entirely comfortable lying to her.

  ‘Nah,’ he told her. ‘I doubt we’ll get too much. Looks pretty pro.’

  ‘More than can be said for our lot,’ she snapped, waving her crew to carry the equipment down to the site. ‘Any idea what the idiots thought they were playing at?’

  Shrugging, West crossed the floor of th
e drained pool and climbed the steps to join her.

  ‘Don’t think they stopped to think.’ He folded his arms, his expression grim. ‘They were pretty panicked when I got here. Must have freaked when they saw it and dived right in – so to speak. Think they’ve done a lot of damage?’

  ‘Damage?’ She snorted, pulling on a latex glove with a snap. ‘They might as well have committed it themselves, the bloody imbeciles! There’ll be traces of them all over it. Doubt we’ll find anything usable.’

  Shaking his head, West frowned.

  ‘Sticking around?’ Lynne asked.

  ‘Well, I was supposed to be somewhere.’ He checked his watch. ‘But if you need me . . . ?’

  ‘I think I can manage.’ She gave a half-smile, her eyes bearing the slightest hint of a twinkle now. ‘Wouldn’t want to keep you from anything important. I’ll let you know if something develops.’

  ‘I’ll be handing it over, as it happens,’ he told her. ‘But I’d appreciate it if you kept me up to date. Last case, and all that.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Lynne smiled. ‘You’re on the long run to freedom any day now, aren’t you?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’ West too was smiling now. ‘Didn’t think I’d look forward to it, but this has kind of sealed it for me.’ He nodded back towards the corpse, starkly defined now by the arc lights that the crew had set up – and all the more unreal for it. ‘Just think, I won’t have to look at another scene like this for as long as I live. Bliss.’

  ‘You’ll miss it,’ she remarked confidently. ‘You’ll be one of my regular visitors at the morgue before too long, if I know you. I’ve heard retirement doesn’t quench the thirst. Once it’s in your blood, you’re a lost cause.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ he murmured, thinking that she couldn’t be more wrong. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘It’ll take more than luck,’ Lynne said, sighing wearily. ‘I’ll need a bloody miracle.’

  Giving her a casual salute, West left her to salvage what she could from the mess.

  Making his way outside, he strolled to his car with a lightness of step – and heart. Pausing to light a cigarette, he gave the ashen-faced uniforms a sympathetic smile, then set off to relay the good news.

  PART ONE

  1985

  1

  Sarah hadn’t seen the man with the camera before, but she could tell at a glance that he was the same as all the rest. He even smelled the same – mouldy dog, stale beer, and too many fags. And his eyes were big and starey, telling a different story from the fake-nice words in his mouth.

  ‘Ooh, you’re a pretty girl, aren’t you? Bet you’re gonna break a few hearts when you’re bigger. So, how old are you, darlin’?’ He was licking his lips now, watching her greedily as he set up his special lights and pulled down the roll-down screen behind her.

  She didn’t answer. She just glared at him and folded her arms.

  ‘Didn’t you like the kitten?’ he asked, peering at her through the camera, hoping to get a smile out of her by reminding her of the tiny black and white bundle that he’d brought along as bait.

  Sarah’s lips tightened into a knot. She’d like it if she was the one playing with it in the kitchen. But she wasn’t, was she? No, her snotty little brat of a sister Karen was!

  ‘Gonna put this on for me?’ he was asking now, holding up a horrible frilly pink mess of a dress.

  Snorting softly, Sarah turned her head and fixed her gaze on the closed curtains. The sunlight filtered through the hanging folds at the top where the hooks had fallen off the rail. She could hear the kids running about outside, shouting to each other to pass the ball or get out of the way. She so wanted to be out there with them. But she wasn’t going anywhere till this was over.

  ‘Come on,’ the man wheedled. ‘It’ll look great on you, this. Don’t you like it? What’s wrong with it? It’s got a lovely bow. Look.’

  She refused to even glance at it, so he came right up to her and grinned into her face, teeth as yellow as a tea-stained cup.

  ‘You’ll have to get dressed up all the time when you’re a real model, you know?’

  ‘Don’t wanna be a moggle,’ she muttered, tensing at the nearness of him, the too-close stench of anticipatory sweat.

  Sighing, he slapped his hands down on his knees.

  ‘Look, kid, I’ve come a long way for this. Just put the dress on and stop messing me about.’

  ‘No.’

  He tried to persuade her, but when he realized she wasn’t having it, he started shouting instead. She was wasting his time, he said. Wasting his petrol getting him over here for nothing. Wasting the electric. His special lights used a lot of electric, and the longer she refused to cooperate, the more she wasted. Did she want him to tell her mammy about the waste?

  Sarah was seriously scared now, but she couldn’t back down. She didn’t see why she should do the job when Karen had wriggled her way out of it – again. If he wanted someone to wear it, he should have asked for her. She’d have put it on for a kitten. But then, why would she bother when she was already reaping the benefits without doing a thing?

  It wasn’t fair, and the injustice made Sarah all the more determined. Anyway, she knew exactly what would happen if she did put the dress on. He’d take his pictures, then he’d . . .

  And she hated that even more than she hated the man and his stupid dress.

  Giving up, he called her mother in to sort her out.

  ‘What you playing at, you little bitch?’ Maggie Mullen screeched, gripping Sarah by the arm and shaking her roughly. ‘You know I need the bleedin’ money!’

  She raised her fist but the man stopped her just in time.

  ‘Don’t! Not her face! The bloke wants her looking sweet, not battered. Another time, maybe, but not today, eh?’

  So Maggie started pinching instead, and pulling Sarah’s long black hair, threatening her with what she’d get if she carried on playing funny buggers. They’d all starve if she didn’t get on with it, and her mammy would die! Was that what she wanted? . . . Was it? . . .

  Hours later, when the man had got what he wanted and gone, Sarah crept out of the bedroom. She’d stopped crying now, and she was curious to see the kitten she’d earned.

  Creeping downstairs, she saw that her mother was gouched out on the couch. At least she was happy – now that she’d fed her veins. It remained to be seen if she’d get it together and feed her kids as well.

  Tiptoeing past her, Sarah went out into the backyard.

  Karen was sitting on a heap of bricks by the wall, clutching the kitten possessively. ‘I’ve called him Joey,’ she announced. ‘And he really likes it.’

  This really annoyed Sarah, but to save an argument she let it go. She just wanted to hold the little cat, to feel his silky fur, kiss his tiny nose and listen to his purrs.

  ‘Let me have him,’ she said, holding out her hands, smiling.

  ‘No!’ Scowling, Karen clutched Joey tighter to her chest and turned her back. ‘He doesn’t want you. He loveses me.’

  Sarah gritted her teeth. ‘All right, but you’ve had him long enough. It’s my turn now.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes!’ Sarah was getting angry now, she made a grab for him. ‘He’s mine, Karen! The man gave him to me!’

  ‘Mammy says we’ve got to share!’ Karen squealed, ignoring the kitten’s pitiful mewing as she squashed it. ‘Get off, Sarah. You’re hurting him!’

  ‘No, I’m not – you are! You’re just jealous ’cos you know he’ll love me best!’

  ‘No, he won’t, you big fat liar! Let go!’

  ‘You let go, you little bitch!’

  ‘No! He hates you, so there! Everyone hates you, Sarah Mullen. Everyone! ’Specially Joey!’

  ‘No, he doesn’t!’ Sarah was close to tears now.

  ‘Does so!’ Karen hissed spitefully. ’Cos you’re horrible. And I’m gonna tell!’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

  ‘MAM . . . Sarah’s hurting Joey! MAAAAM . . .’

/>   Maggie woke with a start. It was Karen screaming, she’d have known that piercing tone anywhere. It was her least favourite thing about her otherwise favourite daughter. Not that she’d admit to having a favourite because you weren’t meant to, but of the two, it was definitely Karen she liked most – for the most part. Except when she was screaming. With the glass-shattering shriek rattling the teeth in her gums, she could cheerfully throttle the little cow.

  Hauling herself up, Maggie rubbed her gritty eyes and lumbered to the door. The screams grew louder with each step and she felt her blood pressure rising to dangerous levels. The little bitches knew that she needed to rest after a fix. Why could they never give her a minute’s peace?

  She hurtled out of the back door, ready to bellow the hair off their scalps, but what she saw in the yard stopped her dead in her tracks.

  Gape-mouthed, she looked from Karen, still screaming fit to bust, to Sarah, standing against the wall with a thick shard of glass in her hand, to the bloody mess on the concrete at Sarah’s feet, its tiny paws flexing weakly as the blood leaked from its scrawny neck.

  Time stood still. Then reality slammed home with a vengeance.

  ‘Shut up, you!’ Lurching off the step, she raced across the yard to give Karen a rough shake. ‘You’ll have the pigs round!’

  ‘She stabbed him . . . she stabbed him!’ Karen screamed.

  Clapping a hand over her mouth, Maggie gaped at Sarah in disbelief. ‘What you done, Sarah? What you bloody done?’

  ‘Weren’t me,’ Sarah muttered, her mouth a bloodless knot. ‘It was her.’

  ‘She’s nowhere near it!’ Maggie yelled. ‘And you’re the one with the flaming glass in your hand, so don’t think you’re talking your way out of this one!’

  Sarah knew exactly what would happen next, and that nothing she said would make any difference, but she had to at least try.

  ‘If you don’t believe me, ask her,’ she said.

  Maggie saw red – literally. A crimson curtain slipped down over her eyes and made the top of her head feel like a geyser about to blow. Hurling Karen in through the half-open back door, she rushed towards Sarah with her fists clenched.