Blood Red Roses Read Free Page B

The stories they told him didn’t ring true. Especially Tracey’s.
    She sat in front of him now, her eyes bloodshot, her brow slick with sweat. She was nursing a hangover or dealing with a drug habit or she was shit scared. Bill suspected the latter.
    â€˜There’s something you’re not telling me, Tracey.’ He hated seeing the lassie in this state and it sounded in his voice.
    She didn’t look at him, her hands plucking at the denim mini skirt. But he sensed her weakening.
    â€˜We met at work... at a club called...
Eden
.’
    He’d heard of it. He waited for her to go on.
    â€˜Lap-dancing. Donna performed as Rose.’
    â€˜Performed?’
    â€˜She used a rose in the routine.’
    He didn’t ask her to explain the routine. He had a pretty good idea already.
    â€˜There was a guy. Came almost every night for weeks.’
    â€˜You saw him?’
    â€˜No. Rose... Donna told me about him though.’
    â€˜What did she tell you?
    â€˜He always brought his own rose. Made her dig the thorns into him.’
    Bill felt the surge of excitement that came with the first breakthrough. Rhona had been right. The rose was important. Maybe even a direct link with the murderer.
    â€˜Did Donna say what he looked like?’
    She shook her head. ‘He was young. Worked out. That’s all.’
    â€˜Thank you Tracey.’
    She met his eyes. Hers were tearful. He thought of his own teenage daughter, as safe as he could keep her. It made Bill want to weep too.Mr Belcher wasn’t impressed to see Rhona and DI Wilson enter his club. He was even less impressed when they said they wanted to forensically examine the private room Rose danced in.
    â€˜Rose is gone. I sacked her.’
    â€˜Rose’s real name was Donna Stevens,’ Bill told him. ‘And Donna is dead, Mr Belcher. She was murdered.’
    Belcher’s face was a mix of emotions and sympathy wasn’t one of them.
    â€˜What has that got to do with my club?’
    â€˜We think her murderer met her here.’
    Belcher gave Bill a sharp look. ‘You don’t know that...’
    â€˜We have trace material,’ Rhona interrupted. ‘If we find a match in the room...’
    â€˜I won’t have my club involved in this.’
    Bill ignored the bluster. ‘I want a list of all your regulars and their contact details.’
    Belcher was growing paler by the minute. ‘Our customers are mostly casual.’
    He was lying. It was written in big letters across his face. Rhona suspected there would be names on that list that didn’t want to see the lightof day. Bill didn’t care.
    â€˜And include a list of all credit card payments.’
    Belcher showed them to room five, then scuttled off to call his lawyer.
    â€˜I’ll manage here,’ Rhona told Bill.
    â€˜You’re sure?’
    â€˜Give me an hour.’
    The room was too warm and smelt of perfume and stale cigarette smoke. It didn’t look clean either, which suited Rhona fine. She locked the door and went on to sample every inch of the hideous green carpet.
    The roses for the performance were usually supplied by the management. But one customer brought his own. A crushed petal from that rose could be a link to Donna’s flat.

 
CHAPTER EIGHT
    She needed the money. That’s what Tracey kept reminding herself. She had told the police. She’d done all she could.
    Belcher had insisted she use Donna’s area of the dressing room as though it was a move up in the world. In the mirror her face was a mask of glossed lips and blackened eyes. Tracey rubbed the rose-scented oil into her skin and put on the red thong and bra.
    Room seven had become the Rose room for tonight, Belcher told her. He did not explain why. Her first customer was waiting.
    It was the blonde guy from the foursome. He looked sheepish, scared even. She remembered his embarrassment. His cock had shrivelled when she’d unzipped