At nine-thirty that evening Mary parked her silver mini next to the rear entrance of the 10-2-5 club in Hanley. The door swung open, the doorman alerted by the cctv camera above it. "Hi, Joe." She blew a kiss at the heavily-built man sitting at the monitor table. Banked in front of him was eight cctv monitors, four of which had fixed cameras, one displaying the front door, another the rear, and one each in the gent's and lady's toilets. Two other cameras showed images from the main lounge where the pole dancers gyrated for the pleasure of the male, and occasionally female, punters; the final two showed constantly changing images from the six dancing rooms where the girls performed privately for the punter's willing to pay the price. Joe smiled and blew a kiss back. At six foot three inches, weighing in at seventeen-something stone of solid muscle, Mary had always had difficulty coming to terms with the fact that, underneath all that mass of muscle, Joe was as queer as a nine-bob note. He was also Mary's oldest and dearest friend.

"How's Pete?" There was a slight, almost comical lisp to his voice, although no-one dared to laugh at it.

"Oh, he's fine. Worried – about money - as usual. And he doesn't like me working here. Same old thing."

"Liked you working here well enough when he used to come in."

"I know, Joe. I keep telling him that the others can only look; he's the only one who can touch." She smiled.

"How's that plant of his, the orchid?"

"We think it's dead. One of the cows trod on it – then crapped on it, of all things," her voice was warm with gentle laughter. "Peter looked devastated. It's only a plant after all." The smile on her face disappeared at the sudden, almost frightened look that passed over Joe's face.

"What's wrong, Joe?"

Joe turned his face away from her, looked back towards the monitors. Mary was almost overcome by the wave of fear that seemed to emanate from his huge frame. "Jesus Christ!" the barely audible words dripped from his mouth.
"Joe," she placed a hand on his back as he slumped over the table, "Joe, you're frightening me. What's wrong?"
"Didn't Pete tell you?"

"Tell me what? Please, Joe, what's wrong?"

"That flower, do you know how much it was worth? £50,000 to a collector, and we had one lined up. He'd already paid half the money up-front. Jesus Christ, he'll kill us!" Joe started to cry as he spoke, and he looked into Mary's pale blue eyes, his own wide and frantic. "We borrowed the money from Jimmy Peck."

Mary felt her legs weaken, felt Joe grab at her to hold her up. "Peck? You took money off that thug?" Her weakness turned to anger, her face set hard. "What did you do with the money? Give it back to him."

"We can't, Mary. It's gone. Peter was going to tell you."

Mary shrugged out of Joe's grasp, walked a few steps away, her head slumped into her hands. "I don't understand," she said, eventually. "The money's gone, but our farm is almost bankrupt. What have you done with the money? Please, Joe, give me something, some idea, anything, of what you've done."

Joe walked towards her, slowly, looking beaten. "We did it for you. We wanted to get you out of this business, Pete and me. You're better than this. A seedy lap dancer. Pete wanted to make things easier for you, so you wouldn't have to come here."

"What about you, Joe? Why did you do it?"

"The same reason. Did I ever tell you about Sally? No? Well, she was just like you; blonde, attractive. Did this job just for the money to help bring up her son. You know what happened to her? Last time I heard she was inside, caught tomming to feed her habit. The kid had been taken away from her. That's what happens in this business, if you're not careful. Pete and me, we didn't want the same to happen to you."

"So, you borrowed £25,000 to make things easier for me?" she mimicked his soft lisp, the sarcasm in her voice cut through him.

"We invested it."

"Invested? What did you invest in?"

"The farm. We paid off loans on the farm. The second payment was going to clear off the mortgage."

"Well it's simple enough, isn't it? We borrow the money back and give it to Pecks."

"No, we can't, Mary. Pecks wants that flower. If we fail to deliver it, he'll want revenge, not just his money back. The man is nuts about orchids!"

"When was he to get the plant?"

"Tonight. Pete wanted to get it sorted tonight while you were here. He wanted to surprise you when you got back." Joe glanced at his watch. "He'll be there now."

"God, Joe, what have you both done? I've got to get back there."

"I'll come with you…"

"No…"

"…you can't stop me, Mary. I'm as good as dead now. I'd rather go down fighting than wait for him to find me. Come on, we'll take my car; it's faster."

They rushed out of the club and got into Joe's car, and they sped away out of the car park as Mary pressed the speed dial on her mobile. The phone at the other end began to ring, but wasn't answered. She looked at him with panic in her eyes.
"We'll be there soon, luv."

They reached the farm house ten minutes later. The lights inside the house were lit, and the front door stood open. Joe pulled up opposite the door, climbed out as quickly as he could, but was still slower than Mary. She dashed across and entered the hallway, and screamed.

Peter lay in the hallway at the foot of the stairs, his head lying in a pool of blood; his neck twisted sickeningly to the side. His dead eyes were wide open.

She stood there, frozen with shock. Then she screamed again as the shape of Jimmy Peck started down the stairs. She stopped, tried to pull herself together as Joe entered the doorway behind her, taking in the view of the scene.

"A most unfortunate accident." Jimmy Peck paused at the foot of the stairs, carefully stepped out across the body. "Yes, most unfortunate. He was giving me a tour of the house, and somehow fell." His lips, taut with malice, gave a sneer at the body. "That's what I'll tell the police, anyway. Shame, he was such a nice person."

Mary backed away from him as he came towards her. "You still owe me £25,000, girly." He placed a finger beneath her chin, forced her to look at him. "I'll give you the night off, don't want anyone to say I'm a bad employer." He brought his face closer to hers. "But listen to me carefully, girly, you be back tomorrow or you'll suffer."

He thrust her aside, crossed over to Joe.

"And you, Joe. You be back tomorrow and you'll still be able to walk. Do I make myself clear?"