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“What do you mean?” The DI asked.
“Is that The Desperado logo in the corner?”
Josh stopped chewing his pen and flashed her a look. “It’s a modern thing.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That in your day—”
“My day?” Ally’s eyebrows shot up. “In my day? I’m not that old.”
“You’re significantly older than the guy in the photographs. When you were a hip teenager, you probably had to stand there while the photograph developed.”
Ally threw a pad of Post-it notes at Josh. He squawked and dived for cover.
“This is serious,” the DI snapped. “Within twenty-four hours he’d gone missing, and been found dead. This case is already getting a lot of attention because of the respirators being used. We need to find out what happened to him, and fast.”
“The women in the photographs?” Chad asked.
“Met him that night.” The DI shook his head. “Justin went clubbing alone. According to his flat mate, that wasn’t unusual. He had a habit of bringing women back to the flat for sex.”
“CCTV?” Ally asked.
“We’ve got footage from the front door of The Desperado. It captured both Justin’s arrival and his departure. When he walked out, he turned left. That’s as much as the camera saw.”
“What’s left?”
“A few shops that would’ve been closed, and the taxi waiting area.”
“Any other CCTV?” Chad asked.
The DI shook his head. “The neighboring shop did have cameras, but the work trucks using the road knocked them down. It’s narrow, and busy during the day with construction workers. It’s the most direct route to the new nightclub being built.”
Josh whistled. “From what I heard Jamerson is furious the new club got permission to be built.”
“Who is Jamerson?” Chad asked.
“Pete Jamerson,” the DI mumbled. “He owns The Desperado. He’s been protesting against the new club being built for years, stirring up the locals, but finally, it got the go-ahead. A rival club less than a hundred yards from his front door.”
The DI frowned at Josh. “You go to The Desperado?”
Josh shrugged. “I’ve been there a few times … maybe more than a few.”
“Ever seen Justin there?”
“I don’t know, I can’t consciously remember ever seeing him. The place has a good vibe.”
Ally stared at him blankly. “Good vibe?”
“Big crowd, big dancefloor, good music—vibe.”
“Good music? The kind of repetitive rubbish that makes the walls vibrate.”
“I’m sorry it can’t all be ancient record players, but the world’s moved on.”
Ally snatched up another pad of Post-it notes, but before she could throw it the DI sidestepped in front of her. He lowered his voice, “Sergeant.”
Ally dropped the pad.
