For All Our Sins. T.M.E. Walsh
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It was 9:30am when Claire arrived at Boston Court the next morning. She’d overslept but it didn’t bother her too much, considering all the late nights she was beginning to notch up.
She glanced up at the twenty-odd-storey tower block in front of her. It looked depressing, with its grey brickwork and dirty-looking windows. The parking area didn’t look like somewhere Claire felt comfortable leaving her Mazda either, even if very briefly.
She saw a group of teenage boys dressed in hoods and baseball caps kicking a ball around and up against the wall of the block. They were right in front of the entrance. Claire sighed inwardly and headed towards them.
One of the teenagers looked up, staring at her as she approached. He nodded to his friend, who turned and spat on the floor in front of Claire, narrowly missing her boots. She paused and looked up at him, but the youth just stared back with a vacant expression on his face.
‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’
The youth squared up to her. ‘Mind your fucking business.’ His friends laughed.
Claire shoved past him. ‘You kiss your mother with that mouth?’ she said as she walked inside the block.
‘Only yours, love,’ came the cocky reply. Claire ignored him.
There was a main corridor leading to a stairwell but she decided to take one of the two lifts in front of her. She went into the nearest one and immediately a waft of urine hit her. She held her hand to her nose and looked at the panel listing the floors. It had some sort of clear beaded slime covering it. On closer inspection she deduced that it was spit, and fresh.
She swore when she saw the button for floor ten, flats 50-53, was covered in it. Pulling a tissue from her pocket, she wrapped it around her finger before pressing the button.
When she reached the tenth floor she noticed the smell of urine followed her to flat 52. She knocked on the door and noticed it was decorated with a red graffiti tag.
A few minutes passed before she knocked again, harder this time, but still there was no sound of movement.
Then the lift behind her opened, making her jump. A young girl, no more than sixteen, appeared pushing a pram, which was laden with shopping bags. She was struggling to get the pram out of the lift, and the doors began to close.
Claire rushed over to help and noticed that the girl was heavily pregnant. The girl looked at her and smiled.
‘Thanks. Can’t wait until I don’t need this pram any more.’
Claire gestured towards her stomach. ‘Looks like you’ll need it for a while yet.’
The girl glanced down at her stomach, pulling her top down over her. She pulled a face. ‘Yeah, worse luck.’
Claire faked a smile. She saw the girl go to open the door to flat 53 and her eyes flashed instantly. ‘You don’t happen to know the girl who lives here, do you?’ she asked, pointing over her shoulder to flat 52. ‘I’ve knocked but I’m not sure if someone’s in or not.’
The girl glanced up. ‘The Jenkins girl.’ She nodded. ‘Yeah, I know her.’ Claire waited for any further information but it was not forthcoming.
‘Well, is she in or does she work during the day?’
The girl looked Claire up and down. She was nervous. ‘Why? What you want with her?’ Claire held out her warrant card and the girl’s eyes widened. She began fishing out her keys from her bag. ‘You might’ve said you were filth.’
Claire looked her up and down but stayed silent.
‘Usually I can guess you lot straight away.’ She avoided Claire’s eyes. ‘Chloe works nights. She’s probably sleeping.’
The girl shrugged and opened her front door, manoeuvring the pram inside. Claire helped her when the wheels caught against the door frame. The girl smiled and nodded a thank you. She began to close the door but Claire caught it with her hand and pushed it back.
‘Sorry, it’s important that I speak with her. Do you know where she works?’ The girl paused and stared at Claire, unsure of her motives. ‘I asked you a question.’
The girl sighed. ‘I don’t know if I should say really.’ Claire shot her a hard look. The girl was trying her patience. The look prompted the girl to cooperate. ‘She’s one of them dancer girls.’
‘Dancer girls?’
‘She’s a stripper.’ The girl’s demeanour came over all superior. ‘She, you know, prances around in front of men who’re married and should know better.’
The girl seemed to have an afterthought.
‘It pays real good money apparently. I could do that, you know, I don’t wanna live on benefits forever.’ She glanced down at her stomach and frowned. ‘’Course, no one’s gonna pay for me to shake this thing around, not when I’m this big.’
Claire knew there was an exotic dancing club in town but had no idea what it was called or where it was exactly.
‘Do you know the name of the club she dances at?’
The girl thought for a moment. ‘It’s behind the leisure complex somewhere and I think it’s called Paradis or something like that. His father used to go there a lot,’ she said, gesturing to the toddler in the pram. ‘One of the reasons we split up.’
Claire knew she could find out more back at the station so she thanked the girl and headed for the lift. Since their conversation, someone had called the lift a few floors up.
A sly smile spread across the girl’s face. ‘I remember the way he used to look at Chloe.’
Claire glanced towards her as she pressed the button to call the lift back down. ‘I’m sorry?’
The girl’s eyes met hers, something in them this time that was different from before. ‘My ex,’ she said. ‘He used to give Chloe this look when he saw her. He still lived here with me, but that didn’t stop him flirting. He was wasting his time though.’
The lift arrived at their floor, and the doors pinged open. ‘Sounds like you’re well shot of him,’ Claire said as she entered the lift.
‘She’d never have looked twice at him,’ she said, voice smug. ‘She only shags girls.’
Claire just looked at her as the lift doors closed. She pressed the button for the ground floor, and shook her head. Chloe’s sexual preference didn’t bother her, but her choice of job did. She’d only been in a strip club once, and that was to arrest a suspect.
It hadn’t been a pretty sight.
As Claire exited the building she saw the youths had moved on, and she walked back to her car. As she approached the Mazda she noticed one of her brake lights had been smashed.
You little fuckers.
She looked around but knew the youths could be anywhere, so she climbed in her car and drove back to the station.
Claire’s office was quite large but cluttered with filing cabinets and chairs, making it appear smaller. She’d left the blind up the night before, so the early morning sun had flooded the office with intense light, leaving the room stifling.
Claire placed her coffee on the desk, opened the window wide, and then lowered the blinds. She picked at her nails, waiting for her computer to bring up the internet.
She accessed Google and typed “Paradis” in the search box. She hit enter and it brought up lots of links. She glanced