DI Ian Carragher was standing outside the Honey Club, he was wearing his new suit, freshly polished shoes, his best shirt and tie and on reflection far too much Hugo Boss aftershave. It was 9:50 p.m. on a Sunday night and he was early, nervous and needed a drink. He took a deep breath, walked up to the front door and pressed the buzzer. A small house answered the door…not in the surreal sense, but in the sense that the bouncer was so huge if you could hollow him out a family of four could live quite comfortably, or alternatively fifteen illegal migrant odd job men. The bald head, hands like shovels and a nose which had been broken that many times the outline was like the map of the United Kingdom
‘Ello’ boomed the bouncer looking down at Ian
‘Err, hello, and yes I am here to see Mr Hurry, I am DI Carragher, here is my badge’
The look of disgust on the bouncers face as he stepped aside only made Ian even more nervous. As he moved into the club he heard the jangle of the two inch thick gold bracelet slide down the bouncers’ tree like arm as the huge gold sovereign ring caught Ian’s eye.
‘Follow me guv’
As the inner doors were opened and he entered the club, the scantily clad women milling around waiting and chatting stopped and looked over. Ian tried to focus and look professional but there was far too much ass and cleavage on display for that. He felt embarrassed and actually thought he was dribbling, a casual swipe of the mouth discounted that theory and he managed to mumble ‘evening ladies’ as he walked past them and did his best to look at their faces. As he walked past the bevy of beauties he felt a resounding slap on his backside and as he turned around feeling as if he could give a beetroot a run for its money in the colour department the girls fell about laughing, patting each other on the shoulder as boobs wobbled and faces were contorted with frivolity. The club was just opening and so the girls were in their ‘pre-match’ high spirits, as well as alcoholic spirits for that matter judging by the rainbow of colours in their drinks as well as on their matching umbrellas, stirrers and straws. Ian noted that the straws and tops of the glasses were heavily coated in lipstick where the excessive application of said lipstick had departed from its host onto anything it touched. ‘Oh to be that straw’ thought Ian mischievously as he looked up to the heavens for both forgiveness and remembrance.
The bouncer smirked before shouting ‘This way Detective Inspector Carragher, Mr Hurry is waiting for you’. Ian thought time itself had been frozen as all nine women stopped dead in their tracks, mouths open and shock etched all over their faces.
The bouncer knocked once on the door and opened it immediately. Jake Hurry stood up from behind his desk in the office at the back of the club, hand extended affably; from someone who clearly realised he had landed the dream job. Mr Hurry was tall, confident and had a good natured manner which must have gone down well with customers, lap dancers and bouncers alike.
‘Would you like a drink DI Carragher?’ queried Jake
‘Ideally a bucket of vodka and ladle after what I have just seen out there, but seeing as I am on duty can I just have a coffee please, two sugars, no milk’
‘Of course, of course, err Darren, please would you ask Abby to bring in a coffee and my usual please’
‘Of course Mr Hurry’ said the bouncer as he made his exit and closed the door behind him, dipping his head to avoid a nasty collision, although the door frame would probably have come off worst
‘Now what can I do for you inspector?’
‘Unfortunately I have some bad news. James Benjamin Langan is dead. He was murdered this morning in his office at the Honey Club. I have been told you were there and so wanted to ask you a few questions’
‘DEAD….Jesus, I only saw him last night and he was in fine form, how can he be dead’ Jake Hurry just sat there dumb-founded; it had clearly been shocking news.
And with that there was a moment of silence as Jake Hurry took in the news that his boss and good friend was dead. He knew JB was into some bad stuff, had some enemies and on many occasions Jake had met people who simply scared him just by smiling.
The dichotomy he found himself in was that he wanted JBs killers brought to justice but did not want to implicate himself or his former employer and friend in any serious wrongdoing. Indeed Jake Hurry owed a debt of gratitude to JB as he had been barman in the Honey Club six years ago when taking a break out the back of the club in the adjacent alleyway. He had seen some people attacking JB. JB had parked his BMW Z3 convertible round the back when he was checking on club matters so when he saw him being attacked Jake had rushed over and flew into JBs two assailants. They had both been carrying knives and he and JB had been quite badly cut, but compared to the severe beating they had dished out on the two teenage black hooded assailants, who had then been bundled into the back of a van which turned up thirty minutes later and were never seen of again they had got off quite lightly. Since then JB had always looked out for Jake. He had paid for him to go on a business & finance course at college and then put him in charge of the Honey club paying him a nice salary, giving him good birthday and Christmas presents, always inviting him to the messy drink, drug fuelled parties where scantily clad women were in abundance and their morals were checked in with their coats at the door.
Jake had managed to steer well clear of JBs criminal activities. He ran the Honey Club efficiently and effectively and made sure all relevant licenses and laws were followed. The girls were looked after well and the place was always full of ‘City Boys’, especially just before Christmas or in February once they had all been paid their bonuses and were throwing the cash around like nobodies business. The only blemish as to the lawfulness of the place was that the December to February period was also when JB put a lot of his drug money through the business as it provided adequate cover against curious police forces or the Inland Revenue and allowed JB to keep 100% of the take rather than have to launder the money through other means and pay 20% for the privilege.
He decided to tread carefully and not give too much away. Maybe with the help of JBs other ‘business associates’ they could find out for themselves who did it and inflict their own form of justice on the perpetrators. Jake also thought with JB out of the way that the Honey Club was his. He was down as joint owner on the deeds so even though he had lost a good friend he realised the importance of co-operation so this whole mess could be put to bed and he could inherit the other half of the club.
‘So then Jake’ began Ian ‘can you tell me your relationship with Mr Langan.
‘Of course, yes, I started here a number of years ago as a barman and have been running this club for about five years now’
‘And what was your relationship with Mr Langan’
‘Purely business. I was the manager and joint owner of one of his clubs and he was my boss. He would come over and check on the club each week and I would report to him on a monthly basis how the club was doing.’
‘And can you explain why you were with him last night and not here on your busiest night of the week’
‘Of course, the club pretty much runs itself. I keep a tight rein on the money, Darren the bouncer who showed you in is an old friend of mine and I trust him implicitly. Everyone here knows that if there is any wrongdoing or fiddling, it will be Darren they have to answer to and if there is anything left of them afterwards I will deal with it.’
‘Not in a violent way I presume’ questioned Ian
‘Of course not, the issue has never come up. Once you have seen Darren the last thing you want to do is get on his wrong side’
‘Okay then so why were you there last night’
‘Well the club has had a good month so I was in JBs good books. When this happens I get invited over for drinks.’
‘I see, and so why were Crystal and Phoenix there?’
‘Let’s just say JB liked to be entertained now and again. Crystal and Phoenix are, sorry I mean were his favourite girls here and so he liked to make sure their act was still up to scratch and their assets were in peak condition sh
all we say’
‘Was it a sexual relationship, I thought Mr Langan was married’
‘Lets just say it was sex and leave it at that. When you meet his wife and compare her to either, Crystal or Phoenix you will realise that his wife is non league Kidderminster Harriers whilst these two are definitely Barcelona Champions League quality.
‘Okay then so can you please explain the nights activities. Key times etc and then I’d like to interview the two ladies please’
Jake Hurry recounted the story with Ian making copious notes. ‘I went over to the Booty club at 10 p.m. taking Crystal and Phoenix with me. We went up to the office where JB was already quite hammered. The club was just about getting ready to open. There was a raucous crowd outside already. Inside Bacchus was there as well and it was clear the two of them had been on it for some time. There had been an Arsenal football match on at midday so they had begun then and essentially gone all the way through the day. Arsenal had won 4-1 so they were in boisterous mood, all smiles and hugs, offering us all drinks before we had barely said hello. We all continued drinking and then at about 1 a.m. the head barman joined us. We had drunkenly discussed business for a while and JB had shown me some documents from his safe relating to a new club he was opening. Admittedly we were doing cocaine, but I would like to quite categorically state that it had already been there when I got there and I did not know or ask where it had come from. I left about 4 a.m. taking Phoenix and Crystal with me and leaving Bacchus with JB as the barman also left with us at 4 a.m. as well, as the club was shutting and the bouncers were getting everybody out as the bar staff collected glasses and took out the empty bottles.’
‘This morning the safe was wide open. Now without necessarily giving too much away we know Mr Langan was into illegal dealings and we need to know why there was a gun in the safe.’
Jake thought for a minute. Luckily at that moment there was a knock on the door and a barman came in with the coffee for Ian and a large brandy for Jake. Jake swilled it round the glass before smelling it and then downing it in one. He grimaced as the brandy met his taste buds and he got that unmistakable hot sensation down his throat. But it gave him time to think… Of course there was a gun in the safe. It was JBs Browning Buck Mark 5.5 handgun. He had bought it off Bacchus. It had been used at least three times that he was aware of. Best just to pass this off and move on he thought. As Jake put the glass back on the table he answered ‘Actually he kept it for safety. I have seen it but he has had it ever since I have known him, it was a browning Buck Mark 5.5 pistol. He loved messing about with it and I did hold it once so you may find my prints on there but I promise you I have never known it to be used. He said he kept it for protection. I imagine you know the issues with protection rackets, selling drugs in clubs and the territorial issues which go on in London Club life, especially in the more dubious areas like Brixton, Lambeth and Tower Hamlets’
‘Thank you for that. To be honest there was no gun in the safe this morning, but there were a number of cartridges all over the floor so it looks like someone has stolen the gun which is of course a very serious issue.’
‘More importantly Mr Hurry, did Mr Langan have any enemies, or should I re-phrase that to how many enemies did Mr Langan have’
Jake thought for a moment before answering ‘Being honest with you DI Carragher, it’s not a question of who but how many. Should I start with the new Polish gang over on Edgware Road who have been causing trouble lately, or how about Jamie’s old gang? Then of course there are the hundred other gangs dotted all over London plus then the other hundreds of people who have got annoyed with Jamie over some business deal, or fought out turf wars and settled old scores actually inside Jamie’s clubs. There is no one that particularly sticks out and no one I could point the finger at as such. I run THIS club’ stated Jake emphatically, his thumb pressing down on his desk for effect. ‘THIS is my business, THAT was his. I kept out of all of that for this very reason. I am not a criminal DI Carragher, just a manager of a club which happens to be owned by what you would describe as a killer and I would describe as a friend. He helped me a lot over the years, and I owe him everything, and the fact he is now dead fills me with both rage and sadness….am I going to do anything about it, at this point in time I would of course say yes but once I have slept on it and calmed down of course I won’t because I am not like that. I will make sure his family is fine, I will make sure the funeral arrangements are made and it doesn’t turn into a pitched battle of London’s finest gangs as he is being ceremonially delivered into the crematorium but beyond that DI Carragher I very much doubt it’
The atmosphere had turned frosty. Not hostile as such but something had definitely been set off inside Jake just then. It was obvious he knew far more than he would ever let on. The silence was only broken by Jake’s heavy breathing as he tried to control himself by breathing forcefully through his nose, making that noise like a raging bull about to charge.
Jake realised he had let his guard down. He had tried to remain calm, controlled, and vigilant. He waited for DI Carraghers next move…..
‘Well that was interesting’ pointed out Ian sarcastically as he looked Jake dead in the eyes. ‘A simple no would have sufficed I suppose but I will take that. Its interesting Mr Hurry that you casually say JB had lots of enemies which of course you know nothing about but then mention the Polish gang on Edgware Road, The Bobo Gang I believe you are referring to, any reason for that Mr Hurry?’
Jake shook his head defiantly it was pointless labouring the point. Ian knew Jake had let his guard down. It was certainly a good place to start looking anyway. Other possibilities might show up but this was good enough for now. ‘Anyway I will skate over that issue at this time and can I ask you to send in Crystal and Phoenix… oh and by the way what are their real names?’
‘Well Phoenix is called Sandra Smith and she is from Bolton. Crystal is called Bonnie Woods and she is from Las Vegas’
Jake Hurry stood up and left the room to fulfil Ian’s request to bring in the two women in question. Ian decided to swap chairs so sat where Jake had been and pulled up another chair so there were two facing him. Just as Ian had sat down, checked his tie, took a deep breath and wiped his slightly sweating palms on his trousers in walked heaven on legs, followed by Heaven II on legs ‘The return’. Phoenix was the first in. She was about five foot ten, easily six feet in her high heels. She was white, with short very blonde hair, an all over tan (probably!!) and a superb hour glass figure. Her breasts were spilling out of her sequined wonderbra as she walked over to the desk in that demure way good looking women do and said in a friendly way ‘eh up chuck I’m Sandra. Stage name is Phoenix and this is ‘Crystal’ she stepped aside to reveal a slightly shorter and slightly darker woman who had an even better figure. ‘Hi handsome’ said Bonnie in a mischievous way. ‘Sorry about slapping you on the ass before, I thought you were someone from the drinks company who supply the booze to this place’.
At this point Ian had lost all power of speech. He was never very good with women, even in his early twenties when he should have been chasing everything in a skirt (excluding men in kilts of course) he would go out with his best mate, get very drunk and would just stand there all night whispering such immortal lines as, ‘she’s nice, did you see the norks on her, and good lord, just five minutes with her over there, that’s all I’d need, just five minutes.’
‘Andguihb’ mumbled Ian ‘err DI Ian Carragher’ stated Ian recovering from his loss of all motor neurone skills and regaining his composure’
‘Now ladies please can you let me know your relationship with Mr Langan’
‘We’re shagging him regularly’ blurted out Sharon as she and Bonnie fell about in fits of laughter. ‘And he’s got a big un, like a babies arm holding an apple’ Sharon continued in her broad Northwest of England accent. At this Bonnie let out a scream of laughter. Sharon was always making Bonnie laugh, she never took anything too seriously. It was probably her Northern outlook on l
ife. Enjoy yourself and have a laugh along the way was Sharon’s mantra.
‘Well you won’t be doing that anymore ladies as Mr Langan was found murdered this morning’ Ian stated in a matter-of-fact way as he brought his hands down on the desk with a resounding thud for emphasis.
There was a stunned silence. Sharon and Bonnie froze. It was almost like time had stood still. Hair had stopped moving, breasts had stopped wobbling and jewellery had stop jangling as the two of them took in the terrible news. Sharon started shaking and there were tears in Bonnie’s eyes. As Ian leaned forward and handed his handkerchief to Bonnie a tear ran down her face, paused at the bottom of her left cheek and then dropped silently onto the glass desk as she reached over and accepted the handkerchief. Ian accidentally looking down her cleavage. He couldn’t help it. It was definitely an evolutionary thing. She had noticed but had neither said nor intimated by gesture that she was bothered. It was probably something she had become accustomed to, and anyway they were absolutely superb so it would have been a shame not to have a quick look.
‘I am sorry to have just said it like that ladies but this is a very serious situation and we need to move quickly in order to catch the person, or persons who have done this.’
‘Of course, of course’ Sharon and Bonnie muttered sombrely. The two of them then went on to describe their relationship with JB. How he had seen them perform two years ago and nearly fallen off his seat. How he had sent them flowers, plied them with champagne and then started a highly sexual relationship with the two of them and in response he had put them up in a swanky London flat, given them both cars and paid all their bills. They knew about his wife and two kids but felt it wasn’t really any of their business. They then went on to describe how they almost always went over to the club on a Saturday with Jake, the Honey Clubs manager and it always ended in drink and drug mayhem before going back to the flat where they would ‘service’ JB with all his requirements. They talked openly about the fact he was so wasted that he had said he was just going to collapse on the sofa in his office and get some sleep and that by the time they left at about 4am with Jake and the head barman there was only Bacchus and JB left and they were both in a terrible state.
Ian checked over his notes, confirming some of the details which had been lost in his pathetically poorly structured hand writing which had been made worse by having to write quickly. There must have been baboons in Borneo who could write more tidily than Ian. Anyway once all the details had been sorted and the girls had been given a stiff one, drink that is, of Brandy just to calm the nerves Ian thanked them for their time, stood up, retrieved his handkerchief which was by now covered in eye make up and smelt of women’s perfume. He tucked it back into his breast jacket pocket, opened the door and strode out of the club, only stopping to shake hands with Jake and Darren the bouncer before exiting onto Praed Street on a slightly cold evening….it was time to catch up with this Bacchus and ask him a few questions…..
Chapter 4 - and now Bacchus was concerned