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a dealer. In the grand scheme of things he was a nobody. So his sensible head was asking him repeatedly why he was waiting for the big interrogation. He knew he did not warrant this kind of treatment. He talked a big game but, in reality, he had never actually experienced one. He was a ponce, no more, and no less. Kate knew from experiencll font-style: italic
    It never occurred to Jimmy that he might be there because of his love life, his girlfriend. She was not even important enough to register on his radar, all she was to him was an earn. He supplied her drugs and relieved her of money on a regular basis. It was an arrangement that seemed to suit them both.
     
    So, when he was finally confronted about his personal life, no one was more shocked than he was when he realised that Danielle had been erased. He played the part well; he looked shocked and horrified while thanking the powers that be because he had a cast iron alibi for the time of death.
     
    Whoever had outed her had done it on the quiet. She had always favoured the evening shifts. She would. That was the real allure of her game, the hours. She worked the nights because it gave her the freedom to have the day to herself. She also liked the fact she was paid more on the night shifts. It was mental really, but men were happy to pay the extra for a late-night assignation.
    So as Jimmy explained that while Danielle was being murdered, he had been scoring in a very public venue, her actual death didn’t register with him at all.

    Jennifer James looked over the books before her with a trained eye. A tall girl, she had the most unusual eyes, a deep blue with heavy black lashes. She had inherited the best of her parentage; her mother’s English looks, and her Spanish father’s colouring. She was striking. Well built, she had a presence about her. She also had a good head for figures, and she kept the accounts for Peter Bates. She worked her shifts like all the others, but her mathematical abilities were enough to get her a second earn.
    The books were not for the tax man, they were for the sole use of the girls and Peter Bates. Most of the men concerned paid in cash and a small number by credit card - only a few of the girls accepted them. Jennifer made sure that Peter got his due from them all, and she collated the customers’ details. She noted the purchase price and, where possible, a name and address. It was laughable the amount of men who were willing to part with that kind of information. The girls were booked over the phone, and they were encouraged to not develop any interest in their dates for the obvious reasons. Peter used the information for his own ends, and that was his business.
    Jennifer’s job was to make sure that Peter got his due. The girls were on a good earn, but they were also more than capable of trying to hide some of their customers. No one minded a bit of it as long as they didn’t take the piss. They had to pay for the privilege of working the flats, as annoying as that might be, they had to do it. Peter Bates ran it like a taxi rank; they paid a percentage for the use of the premises.
    As Jennifer looked back over the last few weeks of Danielle’s appointments she tried to see if there was anything unusual, but she found nothing. She had wondered if the man who murdered Danielle was a regular. But when she looked over the list it seemed unlikely. They all seemed kosher. It was more likely that the night she died Danielle had to have taken the call herself at some point. There were often loners, as they were known, who rang on the off-chance after seeing the adverts in the local papers.
    Sighing heavily, she wondered if she had enough time to get herself a quick meal before she had to take over her own shift for the night. Danielle’s murder had thrown them off-kilter, and she knew that they would all have to be doubly careful in the future.
     
    had been everything to her, and sNke bhe had
    It grieved her that the girl’s demise was