‘Are you now?’ Vernon said calmly. ‘Well let me tell you something, Mr Bloody Miller. I knew a girl called Joanna Craig just like I know a hell of a lot of other girls. She painted some murals in the main casino downstairs. You or anyone else can see them whenever you like. Anything else is pure fantasy. You try bringing it out in an open court and I’ll knock you down so hard you’ll never get up again. Now I’m giving you one minute to get out of here or I’m calling my lawyer and you know what that means.’

‘Perfectly,’ Miller said. ‘It means you’re frightened to death.’ He smiled coldly. ‘See you in court, Vernon.’

He turned and nodded to Brady who opened the door and they went out. For a while Vernon sat there staring into space and then he lifted the ’phone and pushed a button.

‘Is that you, Ben?’ he said. ‘Send Stratton up right away. I’ve got a little job for him.’

Monica Grey came out of the bathroom listlessly. She’d hoped a good hot tub would make her feel better. Instead, she felt depressed, drained of all energy. How she was going to get through the long night at the Flamingo, she didn’t know.

The knock, when it came, was so faint that at first she thought she’d imagined it. She hesitated, fastening the belt of her robe quickly, and it sounded again.

When she opened the door, she had a vague impression of someone standing there, of an arm sweeping up and then liquid splashed across her face. She staggered back, a scream rising in her throat, her hands covering her eyes as they began to burn. She was aware of the door closing and then a hand slammed against her shoulder, spinning her round so that she fell across the bed.

Someone laughed coldly and fingers fastened in her hair, jerking her head back painfully. ‘Come on now, dearie, open up for Uncle Billy.’

She opened her eyes, aware that the smarting had somehow eased, and looked into Billy Stratton’s white, bloodless face. Only his lips had any colour and he smiled showing a row of sharp, even teeth.

‘Water, dearie, mixed with a little disinfectant to make your eyes sting. Just imagine what it could have been – vitriol, for instance.’ He chuckled mirthlessly. ‘You’d have been blind now.’

She was absolutely terrified and lay there staring up at him in horror as he patted her on the cheek. ‘You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you? You’ve been talking to the wrong people. Mr Vernon doesn’t like that – he doesn’t like that at all. Now get your clothes on. You’re coming with me.’