said Hazel, who didn’t. “Does the name Karen Fox mean anything to you?”
“No.” Ruth said. “Should it?” She came back over. “Who is she?”
“No idea.” Hazel said, “But the name is vaguely familiar.”
“You could run it through the computer.” Ruth said, “Well I could.”
Hazel did know how to run a suspect’s name through the database. Unfortunately she also knew how long it took to get a result. “She’s one of Sid’s women.” She said. “That I know.”
“One of his women?”
“Sid had many.” Hazel said, “He was a popular man.” She opened the other email. That was from someone named Mishal Adams. Who also wanted to know where Sid was.
“Where the hell are you? Turn on your phone and answer your damn emails, you pig.” Ruth read from the screen. “Oh, he’s really popular.”
“He’s also in hiding.” Hazel said, “Why would he do that?”
“So he knew someone was after him? Why didn’t he do something?”
“He did do something. He went into hiding and called me.” Hazel said. “And a lot of good I turned out to be.”
“It’s not your fault.” Ruth said.
“I know it isn’t.” Hazel said, “But that doesn’t really make a lot of difference.” She turned her attention to the rest of the computer. Music. Sid had a wide taste in music, but it tended towards the older songs. Ballads. Old smoothie.
Videos. Hazel had half expected that folder to be crammed with porn. There were only four films that Sid had, presumably, downloaded. They were all Westerns. Hazel wasn’t one for westerns and had no intention of watching them.
She clicked open the pictures folder.
“Oh.” She said.
“Have you found something?” Ruth said.
“Yes, but nothing a married lady should be looking at.” Hazel said.
“Good, I’ll be right over.” Ruth said. Once again she perched herself at Hazel’s shoulder. “You did say he was a photographer.”
“I did.” Hazel scrolled through the images.
“There’s nothing really offensive here.” Ruth said. “Women are all adults. They’re nude, they look a bit vacant, but that’s normal for these kind of pictures. One or two of them border on the artistic.”
Hazel slowly turned her head.
“What?” Ruth said. “You were in the vice squad two years, I bet you’ve seen far worse than this.”
That was true. Hazel’s first ever viewing of a hardcore porn film made her throw up.
“Do you know any of the women?” Ruth said
Hazel shook her head. They were all very similar. Early 20s, aggressively blonde hair. Pumped up boobs. Hazel counted at least a dozen. She closed that sub folder and opened another.
“That’s interesting.” Ruth said.
“RamRods.” Hazel said. The RamRods were an exotic dance troupe….or male strippers if you wanted to be exact. The troupe, with many changes over the years had been going since the 1980s. These pictures didn’t go back that far, but they hardly looked very modern either. These days they worked one of the clubs in Riverside. Hazel couldn’t remember which. “What’s the name of the club they work in?”
“Medusa.” Ruth said immediately. She shrugged, “Friend of mine, her daughter got married four…five…years ago. I got an invite to the hen night.”
“I hope you didn’t take Erica.”
“Erica was nine.” Ruth said. “Scroll back.”
“Hmmm?”
“Scroll back a little.” Ruth said. “There. That picture.” She tapped the screen. “Enlarge it, please.”
Hazel sat where she was.
“Double click on the image.” Ruth said, “It’ll open a picture viewer.”
“I knew that.” Hazel said.
“No you didn’t.” Ruth said pleasantly. “I don’t know why you even own a computer.”
“I wonder that as well.” Hazel opened the picture viewer. “Well, he’s…..”
“Not Jewish?” Ruth said, “A lucky man?”
“Is there any reason why I’m looking at a naked man?” Hazel said.
“I know him.” Ruth said.
“You know him?”
“Well I don’t know him, as such. I don’t know his name or address, but he was one of the strippers at the party.”
“Five years ago?”
“Pictures from about that time.” Ruth said, “He looks the same. I remember the tattoo.”
Hazel shook her head. “Please don’t tell me anymore.”
“We had a really nice night. It was fun.” Ruth said, “Anyway he was one of the dancers. I don’t recognize any of the others. But he was there. Did your friend Sid take pictures for The RamRods?”
“He may well have done.” Hazel said. “I don’t know.” She closed down the subfolder and opened one labeled Portraits.
These were a mix, but mostly women. They at least had names.
Hazel stopped at a head and shoulders picture of a good looking black woman. She tapped the screen where the caption was. “Karen Fox.”
* *
The two women met for coffee in The Mermaid Café on Riverside. Bernadette McLaren was tall, red haired and green eyed. She wore dark, conservative styled clothes that managed to look very expensive. She also wore a clerical collar and a small gold crucifix.
Camilla Ruthven was a solicitor. A junior partner with Ruthven Varney. Her father being the senior partner. She was a lot shorter than Bernadette. Her hair was also red, but cut short and aggressively styled. She wore a business suit with a long jacket and a short skirt. High heels put her closer to Bernadette’s height when she stood.
“If you ask me,” She was saying, “And as your solicitor you should ask me, the whole thing is pointless.”
“Why is it pointless?” Bernadette said.
“Police corruption is a matter for the police. Or at least for the people who are investigating. We all know the police around here
