Wages of Sin by J. M. Gregson Page A

missing were right.
    She was from Lancashire, but not from Brunton. She came from a village on the other side of Bolton: about twenty miles away. The next of kin seemed to be the parents. There had been no report of a missing person from them. If this was their daughter, someone would have to break the news to them that she was dead.
    Joe Johnson’s third call was on a nineteen-year-old.
    Toyah Burgess was more nervous than either of the others. Or perhaps, having seen so much less of life, she was merely less skilled in concealing her feelings. She was only nineteen, but already an experienced prostitute.
    She had the money ready in an envelope on the window sill by the door for him. A hundred and fifty pounds. It was a lot for what he offered her. But she was in no position to resist; it had taken a couple of sharp warnings from Johnson’s heavies to make that situation clear to her.
    The glint of a knife blade near her face beneath the street light; a huge fist raised for a moment above her small head with its golden hair. No blow struck: they were under strict instructions not to damage the goods which were on sale. And once they started, they didn’t always know where to stop, these men: they were not employed for their restraint.
    Joe Johnson counted the money slowly. He knew it would be right; these women had more sense than to try to cheat him. But he enjoyed watching the tension build in the young face beside him. She hadn’t invited him into her living room, so he looked round the hall. ‘Nice carpet. New, isn’t it? I must be paying you too much!’ He laughed at his witticism.
    He didn’t pay her at all, she thought. He took money from her: took much more than his due of what she earned by lying on her back for men. And lying in other positions and doing other things too. He didn’t know the half of it, this man, with his smooth suits and his scars and his blank, frightening eyes. She said, ‘The carpet didn’t cost much in the sale. And we shared the cost.’
    â€˜Very nice, that, being able to share. Nicer still, if you could up your takings a little. As I’m sure you could, an attractive young beauty like you!’ He smiled into the wide, frightened blue eyes, ran his gaze approvingly over the bleached blonde hair, dropping his scrutiny first to her breasts and then to the triangle where her legs met her stomach beneath the cheap cotton dress.
    â€˜I’m taking all I can, Mr Johnson. I can’t charge them any more.’
    â€˜You could get more customers, though, with a little effort. Make a killing while you can, girl, is my advice. Looks don’t last for ever. Been talking to one old slag this morning that I’ll have to put out to grass before long. So don’t you keep sitting on a fortune – get it out and use it, I say!’ He laughed out loud at the coarseness of the thought, keeping his eyes still on the triangle of her assets.
    Toyah Burgess was young, despite her experience on the game. She was still green enough to think she could ask for concessions from Joe Johnson. She took a deep breath and embarked on the words she had planned before he came. ‘As a matter of fact, I was going to ask you if you would consider cutting the rate I have to pay you, Mr Johnson. The percentage of what I take seems an awful lot to pay, for what I get out of it.’
    Johnson’s smile died very slowly, as if he could scarcely believe what he was hearing. It was replaced by something very different; when Toyah recalled his face in the small hours of the night, as she did several times in the days which followed this meeting, it seemed to have the terrifying savagery of an ogre.
    He transferred his eyes back up to the young, fearful, heart-shaped face. ‘Think you’re not getting value for money, do you, my dear? Pity, that. I keep the competition away from your patch, young Toyah. Even a youngster like you would have to work a