He peered more closely, scanning each briefly, deciding who to visit first. This was often based on where he’d left off the night before when he’d had to force himself away from the dramas unfolding before him and switch off and go to bed. How his mother with her addiction to television soaps would have loved his work; if only she knew, he thought. Real people living out real lives; not actors working from scripts. So much better to have the real thing.
He was sure she would have appreciated it and it might have bridged their divide and brought them closer – united in a common pleasure. But she was far too much the gossip to be trusted with something so precious. A slip of the tongue over the garden fence or when she was on the phone to her sister. It was a pity she couldn’t be trusted, for this was probably the one thing that might have made her proud of him. Might, but then again he wasn’t sure.
With his hand resting lightly on the mouse, Derek concentrated on screen one and zoomed in to The Mermaid, his first port of call tonight.
Betty, the proprietress of the ‘massage parlour’, was the only one of his clients who knew he was watching and she appreciated it. He always tried to spend time with her and her girls in the evening. He’d done a deal with her to install their CCTV after one of her girls had been badly assaulted by a client who hadn’t understood that ‘no’ meant no. Betty had wanted cameras in all the bedrooms to keep the girls safe, but his competitors had shied away from the work, saying it was probably illegal. He hadn’t had the same reserve – far from it. It was what he did, although Betty didn’t know that. So they’d done a deal. He’d installed the surveillance system at cost price on the understanding he could watch the girls with their clients whenever he wanted. Sensing she had found a kindred spirit, she’d suggested another deal and now gave Derek 30 per cent of the earnings she made from her website, where she charged clients to view the girls performing. He’d been surprised to learn how many clients were willing to pay to just watch. It made him feel less of a freak.
He felt he enjoyed a good relationship with Betty and considered her a friend. Often she’d give him a little wave or say hello to the camera if it was at a time when he was likely to be watching and she wasn’t entertaining. She’d offered him the chance to experience their service first-hand, but he’d declined. He’d seen how the girls gossiped in their spare time, sometimes laughing about their clients. He’d only had sex with a woman once and that had been disaster. Doubtless it wouldn’t be any different the next time.
This evening as he looked at the images coming from The Mermaid he could see that Betty was busy showing a new girl around. Three of the rooms were in use and he clicked on Sandra’s bedroom, his favourite girl, and enlarged the image to full screen.
She was entertaining a regular client, a guy from the city who was in banking. Derek felt he knew him, he’d been there so often, and he certainly knew his little ways. He always treated Susan well – with respect – and was very generous in tipping. In a different life he could have been like him, Derek thought, had his father not left them.
He watched, his breath and heartbeat quickening as his excitement grew, mirroring that of the client’s. Unzipping his trousers, he lowered the front of his pants and then took a tissue from the box and held it ready. Masturbating, he followed the rhythm of Susan and her client, never taking his gaze from the screen until the last moment when his eyes snapped shut in ecstasy and his body contracted into orgasm. A small cry escaped his lips and he relaxed. He needed that – the release. Much better alone than with someone. It was so much safer; they didn’t laugh.
After wiping himself dry, he threw the tissue into the wastepaper basket, then tucked himself in and zipped up his trousers. Now to business. He looked at the other sites on screen one. Methodical in surveillance as he prided himself on being in all other aspects of his life, Derek had arranged his clients in alphabetical order, using the first letter of their surname or that of the establishment if it was a business. So A to F were on screen one, G to M on screen two and so on. Bart’s Corner Shop was on screen one. There’d been no sign of the hooded thugs who had twice robbed and terrorized the shop owner and his wife at knifepoint. Satisfied all was well, Derek checked the other sites on screen one before moving to the next monitor.
His most recent clients, the Williams, were on screen four, and he clicked on their thumbnail image, which brought up the views from all their cameras. Everything appeared to be working and he clicked on the exterior cameras first, enlarging them one at a time to fill the screen. He was pleased with the clarity. Although it was pitch-black outside, the infrared was working well, as he knew it would be, so he could see almost as much as in daylight.
Satisfied that all was well outside their home, Derek now clicked on the image coming from the camera in their living room. It was a comfortable and homely room, welcoming and relaxing. He’d thought so while he’d been there earlier. He assumed the children, Jack and Phoebe, were in bed as there was no sign of them in the living room; just Russ and Julie sitting side by side on their sofa, enjoying a glass of wine on a Friday evening. A cosy scene and one he envied; the snatch of normal family life with the children in bed and the parents spending quality time together. A proper family, not like his.
He clicked on the speaker symbol to engage the microphone in the camera – a little additional touch his clients didn’t know they had. Russ and Julie – he felt he knew them well enough now to use their first names – were discussing next year’s holiday. They were thinking of taking the children to Disney World in Florida. Very nice, lucky kids. Derek smiled to himself. They were a lovely family and he was pleased he could help them. Reassured all was well in the Williams’ home, he clicked the mouse to return their image to a thumbnail, took a sip of water, and then moved the cursor to U. Now to the real business of the night – which might not be so warm and cosy.
Chapter Six
Derek watched as Kevin Brown took his place in the gloomy doorway of U-Beat nightclub. At six foot two inches tall, he was broad chested, with muscles gorged from steroids and weight training. His face was that of a fighter, his nose flattened and misshapen and his skin pockmarked with scars old and new. At twenty-three he was an arrogant bastard who considered himself in peak condition and hoped to enter the world of professional boxing. Before those dreams were realized, to get by he took work where it was offered. Jobs that required a big, bad-looking guy. He was under no illusion about his appearance, and even bragged about it, but it was an asset in the ring and in his other work. If you needed the frighteners putting on someone to warn them off or repay a debt, then it was no good sending along some little prissy. He was the man for the job. And it was surprising just how many who owed money and claimed they had nothing suddenly found a wad of cash when he turned up on their doorstep, even before he’d become ‘persuasive’.
Tonight, as with most Friday and Saturday nights, Kevin was working as a bouncer for U-Beat nightclub. There was just him on duty at present but another bouncer would join him at ten o’clock, half an hour before the club opened. They kept the queue in order, sent away those who were already pissed, high, or out to make trouble, then once the club doors opened, allowed the clubbers in one at a time, frisking them as they entered: a quick pat-down, and a search of the girls’ handbags, checking for drugs, drinks and weapons. There were already a dozen or so early birds in the queue who wanted to make sure they got in. U-Beat was the only nightclub in Coleshaw town, and there wasn’t much else going on so it was popular.