‘You’ve not heard anything?’ he asked her.
Janine shook her head. ‘Don’t know whether that’s good or bad.’ She’d rung an hour ago and been told there was no change.
Shap came over, his eyes bright, eyebrows raised. ‘Think we’ve got something on the murder, boss. Several calls coming in about a woman, Rosa, worked at the Topcat Club. Never showed up last night.’
‘You’ll take a look?’ she said to the two of them.
Richard nodded.
‘Place in town, back of Victoria Station, belongs to a Mr Sulikov,’ Shap said. ‘Couple of the callers wouldn’t leave their names but we’ve one from another dancer there.’
‘Dancer?’ Janine queried.
‘It’s a lap dancing club.’ She could see Shap fight to keep the grin from his face. ‘Someone’s got to do it, I suppose.’
Janine was halfway down the corridor that housed the intensive care wards when she spotted Debbie and Chris Chinley in the parents’ lounge.
Debbie was small, petite, fine-boned. She had large brown eyes and black, curly hair, Ann-Marie her spitting image. By contrast Chris was a stocky man, big-boned with huge hands, a thick neck and something of a boxer in the square shape of his face. He nearly always had stubble around his chin – the sort of man who had to shave twice a day. Both worked tirelessly for the PTA at school. And Debbie was one of the parents who volunteered to help read with the children who needed extra support.
Now they sat side by side. Chris had a bleak, blank look on his face while Debbie’s was hidden in her hands, though Janine could see her shoulders jerking. Janine’s stomach clenched. Bad news.
Janine knocked lightly on the door and went in. Chris gazed at her, shook his head. The man looked absolutely desolate.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Janine went to sit beside Debbie who looked up, her face smeared with tears and make-up, her nose swollen, lips cracked.
‘I’m so… so sorry.’ Janine repeated.
Debbie, tearing a soggy tissue in her fingers, turned to her. ‘They said they did everything they could but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough.’ Her voice rose and faltered. Janine put her arms round her. Could there be anything worse, she thought? She blinked hard and listened to the woman weep.
*****
Richard was driving as they made their way along Cross Street in the centre of Manchester, past the rebuilt Marks and Spencer store at the bottom of the Arndale centre, past the giant windmills and water feature of the Millennium gardens and the Triangle shopping centre and the Printworks leisure complex opposite, both plastered with giant screens relaying adverts and entertainment.
