‘Meaning?’ prompted Paddy.

‘Meaning he was there with them a lot of the time. I saw him coming and going, he was often there in the evenings and sometimes I saw him go out in the morning having spent the night. There was all sorts going on up there, I tell you.’

‘You think the mother was his mistress?’

‘I think they both were.’

‘Sam . . .’ said Michael, shaking his head, half-smiling.

‘Well I do,’ she said, colouring up. ‘I heard him arguing with the younger one out on the pavement one night. Sounded more like a lovers’ tiff than anything, and I thought then and there, hello, he’s doing them both the dirty bastard, mother and daughter.’

‘You saw these women then.’

‘Course I did. The mother was a bit rough. Sort of used up, you know. Blonde. Blowsy-looking type, always giggling and flirty. The daughter was quiet, but she was a real beauty. Stunning to look at. It’s a damned shame.’

‘Someone said to me there were parties held at the flat. Did you hear anything?’ asked Farmer.

‘Christ, we could tell you a thing or two about that,’ said Michael. ‘Couldn’t we, Sam?’

Sam was nodding, pursing her lips. ‘Mostly it was quiet, but sometimes there was loud music, people thundering about up there, women and men going in and out. Some of the women looked like they were on the game, to be honest. Real rough types. It was damned annoying, because our kid was little then and we were trying to get him to sleep and it’s not the atmosphere you want your kid growing up in, now is it? Mike went up and banged on the door once, but he didn’t get anywhere with it. They just told him to piss off. But he came back downstairs and said it was like Sodom and fucking Gomorrah up there.’

‘Shocking, it was,’ agreed Michael. ‘And I’m not easily shocked. There were half-naked girls in there. And you could smell drugs in the air. All the men were drunk or high or both.’

Farmer stood up.

‘You’ve been very helpful,’ he said, and turned to his DS. ‘Come on, Pads.’

140

At four next morning Angel was sitting in the hospital waiting room. She’d come in the ambulance with a bloodied, ashen and unconscious Tom. They’d wheeled him away and she hadn’t heard a thing from anyone since. Before they’d left the club, she’d had the presence of mind to take his address book out of his jacket pocket, and as soon as she’d managed to get her nerves together she braced herself and phoned his mother from the hospital, told her the bad news.

‘He’s what?’ Lil gasped.

‘Someone hit him, left him on the floor of the stockroom. We found him and called the ambulance,’ said Angel.

‘But he was conscious, yes?’

‘No. He wasn’t. There’s . . . there’s a head injury.’

‘Hold on. I’m coming,’ said Lil, and put the phone down.