Free Jack in the Box by Hania Allen Page B

though they’d had a wild night. She, on the other hand, had spent her time catching up on paperwork. It gave her the moral authority to be bitchy. ‘So, who’s first?’ she barked.
    Steve glanced up from his papers. ‘We’ve been in touch with Boodle’s, boss. The Chief Super was there throughout the evening of September 12th. He arrived just before 7.00pm and left at 11.30.’
    And they’ll tell him I checked . ‘So, he has an alibi,’ she said.
    ‘Also, we’ve got Quincey’s phone records now,’ he continued. He waited till everyone looked at him. ‘Max got a call on his mobile the night he was killed. It was made from the Garrimont, the theatre manager’s office, to be precise.’
    ‘What time was this?’ Von said.
    ‘Shortly after 6.00pm.’
    ‘Do we know the manager’s name?’
    ‘Christine Horowitz.’
    A phone call taken by the victim on the night he was killed might not be significant, but, as with everything, it would have to be chased up.
    ‘And we’ve been back to the boarding houses,’ said Zoë. She threw Steve a smile as if to apologise for trumping him. ‘The landlady at number seventeen told me Max came to Londonoften. He was back earlier this year.’
    ‘Was he now?’ Von said, narrowing her eyes. ‘I bet I know where he was staying. Okay, get over to Mrs Deacon’s. I want the precise dates Max was in London.’
    ‘Do we pull her in for obstruction, ma’am?’
    ‘Nah, if every copper did that, the nicks would be bursting.’
    Zoë scanned her notes. ‘Mrs Deacon’s other tenants saw nothing suspicious on the night he was killed, but few have alibis. They say they only knew Max to talk to.’
    ‘He must have had friends somewhere. We need to find them.’ She ran her hands through her hair. ‘So, any leads on Manny Newman’s whereabouts?’
    ‘His last known was his mother’s address, but she couldn’t tell us where he is now,’ said Zoë.
    ‘Couldn’t or wouldn’t?’
    ‘She’s off her face most of the time, ma’am. She’s a user. We’ve drawn a blank.’
    ‘Not quite. Manny’s blind. That means he’s probably supported by the state. Try social services. And what did you come up with on the other rent boys?’ She caught the look that passed across the room. ‘Okay, let’s have it.’
    ‘Zoë and I went to the Duke, ma’am,’ said a detective. He glanced at Zoë for confirmation. ‘But it’s like we were lepers. Everyone clammed up the moment we began asking questions. Some of the regulars are old enough to remember the murders but they had sudden cases of amnesia. As soon as the photos of the boys came out, we got the cold shoulder.’
    ‘Did you ask them about Max?’
    ‘Same story. No-one recognised him.’
    ‘The landlord knows more than he’s letting on,’ said Zoë. ‘Dickie Womack. He’s been there for years.’
    ‘As far back as 1985?’
    ‘Even further.’
    ‘And is there any CCTV?’
    ‘Zoë and I did a thorough recce,’ said the detective. ‘There’s nothing within several streets of the Duke.’
    ‘With the sex trade in that area?’ She stared at him till he looked away. Something wasn’t right. Every square inch of Soho was bristling with cameras, so why wasn’t the Duke? ‘Okay, keep digging. Try the other places frequented by the boys, but don’t turn up anywhere mob-handed. It’s softly, softly.’ She nodded at Larry. ‘You’ve not been to the Duke. Get yourself down there, but don’t let them know you’re a copper.’
    He smirked. ‘Sure thing, ma’am.’
    ‘Right, it’s high time we talked to Quincey’s work mates, starting with the theatre manager. Someone get hold of a list of the cast and crew for the current production of Jack in the Box.’
    Larry held up a yellow leaflet. ‘No need. I’ve got a programme.’
    She looked at him enquiringly. ‘Going to see it?’
    ‘The whole nick has bought tickets, ma’am.’

    The Garrimont was on Shaftesbury Avenue, the heart of London’s West End theatre