Richard took a small side street, then another in the area behind Victoria Train Station and parked in front of the Topcat Club.
‘You been here before?’ he asked Shap as they approached the entrance.
Shap frowned. ‘Not sure.’
Richard looked at him.
‘Well,’ Shap defended himself, ‘they all look the same after a few bevvies.’
There were photographs of the girls in the entranceway, scantily clad but nothing that you wouldn’t find in the tabloids.
Richard and Shap made their way up to the bar – more photos of girls lined the bar area. There was a sprinkling of customers and two girls pole dancing in a central area. Tables and chairs were laid out informally and around the perimeter were some seating booths affording a little more privacy. Shap surveyed the place in appreciation. Richard gestured to the barmaid.
‘What can I get you?’ she asked.
‘Mr Sulikov here?’
‘No.’
‘This is his place.’
‘Yeah. But he’s not here. You want the manager?’
Richard nodded.
A couple of minutes later she returned with the manager. The bloke did a double take when he saw Shap.
‘You know each other?’ Richard asked.
‘Detective Inspector Mayne,’ Shap said introducing them. ‘James Harper, owner of the stolen vehicle involved in this morning’s accident.’
Richard’s nostrils widened and he raised his eyebrows, staring hard at Mr Harper. ‘Small world,’ he said, his voice sharp with suspicion. Janine would want to hear about this.
*****
Feeling wretched, Janine was halfway home from the hospital when her mobile rang summoning her to the nightclub. It took her ten minutes to reach the city centre location. It was dark already, a single star, Venus if she remembered rightly, the only thing bright enough to cut through the light pollution that hung over the city. Janine looked at the pink neon Topcat sign flashing on and off and braced herself.
The music was loud and the decor shiny. Glittery pink stripes ran through the wallpaper, glossy brown fake leather covered the booths and seats. The platforms where the girls danced were lit from above and below by pink spotlights. The girls looked very young and wholesome in spite of all the flesh on display. There wasn’t much of an erotic charge to the dancing as far as she could see; repetitious and detached, curiously passionless.
She could see Richard and Shap at tall stools near the bar. Apparently enjoying the floor show. Neither of them saw her approaching.
‘Interview concluded already, then?’
