‘A tattoo, on her leg, a rose. Her right leg – that’s why I rang. It all seemed to fit. Is it her?’ She glanced at Janine.
‘We think so.’
Andrea compressed her lips, looked back at the table. ‘Who do you think did it?’ she said fiercely. ‘Who’d do a thing like that? Why?’
Janine shook her head.
Andrea tilted her head back, blinked hard at the spotlights on the ceiling.
‘What was she like?’ Janine asked.
‘Pretty quiet, really. Not shy, didn’t let people push her around or anything. Just never said much about herself.’
‘Any problems with the clients? Or anyone else?’
Andrea shook her head.
‘You were both here Sunday?’
‘Yes.’
‘Finish at the same time?’
She nodded. She rooted in her handbag, pulled out a packet of baby wipes and Janine glimpsed the snapshot of a toddler. Andrea found the cigarettes she was looking for. She slid one from the packet.
‘Who left first?’
‘I did.’
‘And you didn’t see her again? Was there a boyfriend?’
Andrea shook her head, lit her cigarette.
‘Do you know where she lived?’
‘No.’
Was the denial a little too fast? Janine looked steadily at the girl.
‘Look, we worked together, that’s all.’ Andrea said defensively. ‘She was a nice kid but I don’t socialise with people from here. None of us do. It’s just a job. She had a room somewhere, that’s all I remember her saying.’
‘Is there anything else you can think of that might help us?’
‘No.’ She took a drag on her cigarette.
Was the girl keeping something back? Or were her guarded replies her natural reaction to police questioning? ‘We might need to talk to you again.’
Andrea nodded, blew out smoke and rose. Janine watched her walk across the club to leave her cigarettes at the bar. Moving away, already back on the job, smiling at clients, laughing at a remark one of them made, taking her place on a low podium.
Janine wondered what Andrea thought about working here. Did she regard it as good money, a better living than working in a call-centre or waitressing somewhere? How did she feel about the customers who came to ogle her? Was one of the customers, perhaps one of the men here tonight, Rosa’s killer? Wouldn’t he stay well away though? Unless he was a regular, whose absence might be remarked upon?
She could see Shap chatting to a group of men at the bar. A raucous burst of laughter. All lads together. Shap was obviously on good form. But she knew that alongside the bonhomie and the wit the detective sergeant would be mopping up every last morsel of intelligence. On the case in his own inimitable style.
