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of Charlie Hawes was something else.
    She watched as he pulled up the collar of his brown leather trench coat then tightened the belt. Word was that he’d used it to top some crackhead. Probably just big talk but right now
– Cassie really didn’t want to know.

 
    4
    “We need the pimp, guv.”
    Byford nodded, sat up straight and put his hands behind his head. Bev reckoned it must be the school environment; he normally had his feet on a desk and the chair tilted. She noticed
they’d made themselves at home; there was a great smell of coffee in the room and DI Powell had what looked like biscuit crumbs round his mouth. She’d mention it later, wind him up.
Maybe.
    She’d just brought them up to speed on finding the stash of cash in Michelle Lucas’s shoe, and, right now, the priority was finding out what sort of a scumbag had put a
fifteen-year-old girl on the game.
    “Any bright ideas?” Byford asked.
    Bev sighed; plenty of dark thoughts. All the way from the park, she’d been thinking about her time on vice, and the difficulties in getting to the average pimp.
    Locating the coffee maker was a cinch by comparison. She made her way over and poured, still lost in thought. Every day she’d go in and see the fixed smiles of a bunch of slimeballs who
made life hell for girls like Michelle. Grainy photographs of six suspected pimps had been pinned to a wall of the squad’s cramped quarters. It was the closest they’d come to nailing
the bastards.
    In every case, the pimp had been fingered by one of his women, and in all but one instance, those same women had subsequently withdrawn their statements and refused to give evidence. Bev could
hardly blame them. The initial desire to turn a man in quickly turned into terror of the consequences. It was one thing for a woman to be beaten, burned and buggered; it was something else when her
family, even her kids, were threatened. And prison didn’t stop the bastards. They had lackeys on the outside more than willing to lend a hand, or a boot, or a baseball bat.
    It was no wonder they were all smiling in the snatch-shots, Bev thought. They believed – unlike their girls – that they were untouchable.
    She took a sip of coffee, aware that Byford was waiting for input. She sipped again; it was good. Two shots of caffeine and she could still only come up with one thought. “If it’s
okay with you, guv, I’d like to talk to the girls. I’ll probably get the bum’s rush but it’s got to be our best chance.” It was a weak link but it was the only one
they had.
    “Go on,” Byford prompted.
    “There’s a group of them. They work a patch near the park. It’s causing a lot of grief cause it’s so close to the school. The people who live round there are well narked.
They’ve been trying to get the girls moved on for ages.”
    “Moved one on, haven’t they?” Powell held out his empty mug to Bev. “Two sugars, love.”
    “Pot’s there, sweetie,” she said automatically. “I don’t know if it was Michelle’s beat. I’ve never seen her there, but it’s got to be the first
place we try.”
    Byford nodded. “Sounds good, Bev. Get out there, soon as you like.”
    She’d have to chase a few addresses first. It was a bit early for the girls to show their faces. They’d be sleeping it off. She stifled a yawn; must be thought association.
    “Late night, Morriss?”
    “Early shout, Inspector.”
    “Come on you pair,” Byford said. “Save the energy. You’ll need it. There’s going to be plenty of late nights for everyone until we get this cleared up.”
    Bev swigged the last of her coffee and looked round for her shoulder-bag. It was a vast depository of junk with the odd essential item thrown in, and she was always promising herself she’d
sort it. “I’m off then. I’ll catch you later.”
    “I’ll walk out with you.” Byford got to his feet. “See what else you can get here then get back for the briefing,” he told Powell. “I want