Girl Changed

by Mark Bailey

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I’ve still got them, and they are packed away in their original plastic Ziploc bags in a safe place, in as much an oxygen-free and dark environment as I could make it.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘So Sim’s fingerprints wouldn’t be disturbed.’ Milly thought for a bit and looked at him.

  ‘Fair dinkum?’

  ‘Yeah, mate, fair dinkum,’ replied Gus in as much an Aussie accent as he could muster.

  ‘That’s brilliant. It’s been a while, though.’

  ‘Nearly ten years. Niall was killed in February of 2008,’ he answered.

  They continued talking until she was ready to leave and meet with Joe.

  ‘Alright, Gus, you’ve told me a lot; you obviously trust me. Leave it with me. I’ll be in touch.’

  As she walked away, she felt good about their meeting; it had achieved more than she’d hoped. Things were slowly coming together. She was glad she had driven straight to Glasgow and talked with Gus. Then she thought about the drugs in the Ziploc bags and doubted they would be any good as evidence. It didn’t matter, though. She drove to Barlinnie Prison; it was 2:15 p.m.

  Chapter 30.

  As she parked her car in the prison car park, Milly turned her phone back on. There was a message on WhatsApp from Danni.

  ‘Matt has kicked Simone out. Didn’t last two weeks.’

  Milly messaged Dannii back; ‘Busy will call you later, XXX’

  Who has caused the problems in that relationship, she wondered, as she walked from the car park into the prison. Simone was normally easy-going, while Matt Boyd, like any spoilt little rich boy with a big ego, was a using bastard.

  She walked through the main door of the prison surrendering to the same routine as her previous visit. At the allotted time, she was led upstairs and sat at a table and chairs next to the spot she sat with Joe in May. It felt different this time, like she was walking to an execution. She half-expected to see a gurney with straps and a machine with a plunger and a needle, not a table and three empty chairs and others in the room. She sat and waited for Joe.

  Joe was led in and sat opposite Milly. They kissed, and there was the usual murmur from her friend downstairs. She had virtually forgotten that part of her anatomy; the medication was working a treat. Joe looked his normal ravishing self with his prison crew cut and his prison smell. Milly guessed he would be irresistible if he shared his male pheromones with an expensive after-shave, dressed in fashion clobber with longer hair. He did look like Gus, she thought.

  ‘Hello, Milly.’

  ‘Hi, Joe.’ He suddenly looked drawn and tired when he spoke. He wasn’t as happy and bubbly as he had been on her last visit — or was that just an act, she wondered.

  ‘How much time have we got?’

  ‘Still two and a half years,’ he answered with a wink and a twinkle in his eye. Maybe he was just warming up, thought Milly.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Twenty minutes at the most. We only get two hours all up each month, and my month doesn’t turn over until the twentieth, so I’ve still got a couple of weeks to go. Have you got any news?’

  ‘I have, Joe. There has been a lot happening, not directly involving Sibby but moving indirectly and discreetly in that direction. The only thing I can tell you is there was another murder in Croydon that may be linked to the South Croydon Inn where Sibby was murdered.’

  ‘And Sim?’

  ‘There’s nothing, no evidence or even insinuation that your brother has anything to do with any of … well, anything at all. Having said that, I’ve dropped back to a part-time role at work, so I’ve got a bit of time now to devote to the case.’ There was a short silence as they stared at each other. ‘What would you do to get out of here, Joe?’

  ‘Anything Milly, anything.’

  ‘So, what’s Sim doing now?’

  ‘He’s taken on a business development role is what he told me. He’s paid very well, some £75,000 per year. An Australian company has taken him on, and he has twelve months or until May next year to find a business or businesses for them to buy.’

  £75,000 would be pin money to the Boyds, thought Milly.

  ‘It sounds like he’s fallen on his feet then.’

  ‘Aye, fallen on his feet’s right; it’s a joke. He’s a bloody welder who, as far as I know, has never had a full-time job. As well as that, he’s dyslexic with no job references; he’s got nothing going for him in the employment field at all. But, as usual, he comes up trumps, while I’m rotting away in here.’

  ‘What sort of business are they looking for?’

  ‘Funny business, Milly. What do you think?’

  Joe’s attitude to his brother had changed from her trip to Barlinnie three weeks ago.

  ‘How’s your dad then?’ she asked getting away from discussion of Sim. She needed Joe on side with Sim for the moment.

  ‘We’re getting on well. He’s moved down here to be close, so I need to be careful how I allocate my two hours each month. He’d come and see me every day if I let him. He’s given the grog up; he looks really well.’

  ‘I didn’t know he was a drinker.’

  ‘He’s always been a drinker, but he drank a lot more when he split up with Mom.’

  ‘Okay, Joe,’ said Milly looking up at the clock. ‘I’m wondering about Cailin Stewart.’

  ‘What do you want to know … that he’s a dog and he murdered the love of my life and your sister?’

  ‘I understand how you feel, Joe. As you said, she was my sister. Let’s please forget personal animosities, mate; we haven’t got time. How did you and Sim get on with him?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Joe as he adjusted himself in his seat. ‘That’s a good question. I’ve been thinking about him lately, and it’s all a bit strange. He was a friend of Niall’s, but he was older than Niall.’

  ‘Why is that strange?’

  ‘You remember what it was like when you went to school, Milly? I remember Sim. We’d leave home together and meet up at home after school. From home, on the bus to school and back home until we got off the bus, he didn’t want to know me. The only time he acknowledged me was when he clipped me around the ears. Sim is two years older than me.’

  Milly nodded her head in agreement and smiled. ‘I see it in kids all the time in my job. If you look at school groups, sixteen-year-olds don’t knock around with fourteen-year-olds, and eighteen-year-olds don’t knock about with sixteen-year-olds … not least of all because they’re not in the same grade at school.’

  ‘Cailin Stewart was a good two years older than Niall. He was Sibby’s age, but he and Niall got on well. Sometimes he would come home with him; early on, they didn’t live far from us. Then he got wrapped up in his deer shooting and fishing and girls I suppose, so he lost interest.’

  ‘How did you get on with him, Joe?’

  ‘Not very well after I took Sibby from him.’

  ‘Before that?’

  ‘Even though he used to come around home I hardly even acknowledged him.’

  ‘Because he was two years younger?’

  ‘Aye, yes, exactly. Cailin was a bully, Milly, and he could fight. Now I can’t remember anyone picking on Niall at school … not really. Later, Sim left to do his apprenticeship, and I left school to go to university. When I left school, Niall would only have been fourteen and Stewart would have been sixteen. So, all I can think of is that Cailin looked after Niall. He was a bit of a sook; he was soft like Mom, and he whinged and whined a bit … not that Mom whinges and whines. I remember bullies at school always had a few kids they looked after.’

  ‘Back to Gus then. Have you got his number?’ asked Milly looking at the clock, worrying she might run out of time. Joe called one of the attendants over with a pen and paper, and she wrote the number down as Joe recalled it. ‘What do you think are the chances of your folks getting back together?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s not the first time they’ve split
up, but Dad never discusses it. Mom kicked him out once; I was only young … around 1988 or 1989 and took him back again. I don’t remember anything really. Sim said he was having an affair with some bird. She took him back then, so hopefully, she’ll take him back now. He’s too old to play up anymore. I would like to see them grow old together.’

  ‘Does she know about Niall and the drugs?’ Milly knew the answer, but there were only a few minutes left when she looked at the clock. She realized then that Gus was looking for as much to go his way with Deonaid as he could — so she had to take him back.

  ‘No, Milly, I …’

  ‘A couple of minutes, Joe,’ said the attendant. Milly felt she could talk for ages.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He’s saving it up, I think. If I could get out of here, it would help. Presently, apart from me, there’s only Sim coming between the two of them … apart from his past, that is.’

  ‘Good,’ answered Milly, thinking he would easily explain Sim away. ‘I think I need to get going.’

  ‘Thanks for coming all this way. It means a lot to me,’ said Joe as they hugged and kissed. It’s a lot of expense and trouble to go to for twenty minutes. We can go another ten if you like.’

  ‘No, Joe, all good, spend the time with your dad. It’s a good chance for me to get out of Watford.’

  ‘I won’t forget it, Milly.’

  ‘See you soon, Joe. Next time we talk, I hope I’ll have more positive news. Keep your chin up mate,’ she said, as she walked through the visits area and started crying. What an absolute waste, she thought.

  When she got back to her car, she remembered Dannii’s message. She looked at the time; it was 3:30 p.m. so it would be 10:30 in the evening Perth time on Sunday. She called Dannii.

  ‘Hi, Dannii, what happened with Simone?’

  ‘Not quite two weeks lovin’ and she’s out the front door on her beautiful toosh. She ended up back here at our place in Cottesloe, so Mom and I are putting her up for a few nights until she sorts herself out, then she’s going to shift over to the house I rent with the others in Canning Vale. I’ll stay here.’

  ‘Dear oh dear, they weren’t together long.’

  ‘He’s a pig, Milly. He deserves to be in jail with his father.’

  ‘You sound upset, Dannii. I don’t know what happened, but Simone’s probably done the same thing to Cameron Chadwick in a way.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I just hate guys like him with all the power and the money … so what goes with you, mate?’

  ‘As you know I’m in Glasgow. I’ll stay in Glasgow or head to Dundee this afternoon. I fly out of Dundee Monday afternoon.’

  ‘Doing any good? How’s the beautiful Joe?’

  ‘Yes, Dannii, I’ve cleared a few things up in my mind today, and I’m going to need some more information from the police. I’ll keep you posted.’

  ‘Any hints? Please, Milly, tell me …’

  ‘Shut up, Dannii, don’t start that again,’ and they both laughed. ‘By the way, I had a meeting with Joe and Sim’s father today, Gus Charles. He’s gorgeous too, just like his boys.’

  ‘Alright, Milly, behave yourself and drive carefully. Talk with you soon.

  ’Bye, Dannii, say hello to Simone for me.’

  She looked at the time. By the time she got going to Dundee, she wouldn’t be on the road out of Glasgow until after 4:00 p.m. She wanted to stop and smell the roses this time; she wasn’t flying out of Dundee until Monday afternoon — for another two days. She would stay in Glasgow for the night. She looked at her phone on the Internet and decided on the Doubletree by Hilton Hotel in central Glasgow. She fed the address details into Maps on her phone and drove to thirty-six Cambridge Street. She thought about calling Gus. She’d enjoyed their interlude but remembered Dannii told her to behave herself. She shouted herself out to a nice meal in the ample dining area and, after a few wines, presented herself for bed at 8:30. That’s two early nights in a row, she thought. I must be getting old.

  Chapter 31.

  Milly drove out of Glasgow. It was 9:25 a.m. when she left and although her room had included breakfast she wasn’t hungry; she decided to wait. She remembered hearing the name of the town when she was young. Like Tasmania and the massacre at Port Arthur, it was renowned for the deadliest mass shooting in U.K.’s history — the Dunblane school massacre. The two events had occurred within six weeks of each other, and they stayed with her; she remembered them both. She had prayed at school for the victims in Dunblane in March 1996 and then again, after the Port Arthur massacre, the following month in April. She was an impressionable seven-year-old then, asking questions, trying to understand. Dunblane was a thirty-five-minute drive from Glasgow and Milly decided it would be a good place to stop and have breakfast.

  She turned and listened to BBC Radio Scotland as she drove out of Glasgow. She heard others discussing a terrorist attack in London while she stood waiting to finalize the bill for her night at the Hilton. It was all over the news and reported as a terrorist incident on London Bridge. There were six dead and over forty injured with reports of casualties and injuries still coming in. Why can’t people leave others to live their lives in peace, wondered Milly and the irony wasn’t lost on her as she drove to Dunblane. She thought of Rosie, of Dunblane and Port Arthur, then London Bridge and Rosie again, who was anxious for her girls and their future. I hope she doesn’t change her mind again and decide to go to Brooklyn, thought Milly.

  As she drove off the M9 just after 10:00 a.m., she turned the news off and pulled up in Dunblane at ‘Another Tilly Tearoom’ where she ordered toasted sandwiches and coffee. She had a quick walk looking at the old buildings, wandering around the Leighton Library built in the seventeenth century and the Dunblane Cathedral. The town sat on and around the banks of the Allan Water, a tributary of the River Forth. She had driven over the Firth of Forth three weeks before when she drove out of Edinburgh for Dundee on the M90. Then she drove out of Dunblane, heading northeast for Dundee.

  She was undecided on today and tomorrow. She remembered Ella Russell was quite miffed when she drove up from Edinburgh without telling them she was coming. Some people were like that. Whenever you visited in their territory, you must spend all your time with them, reporting in on your comings and goings, lodging your coordinates on their G.P.S. If Ella found out she had stayed with Deonaid for a night and caught a plane the next day, it would start World War Three. Of course, if she visited them and not Deonaid, it wouldn’t matter. Controlling cow, thought Milly, and she started mooing as she dialed Deonaid’s number.

  ‘Where are you?’ asked Deonaid excitedly.

  ‘The western side of Perth, around forty minutes from Dundee.’

  ‘What a surprise, Milly! Can we catch up?

  ‘Of course, Deonaid, that’s why I’ve called you.’ She gave Milly her address; it was a two-bedroom unit in Eden Street. ‘I’ll pick you up if you like …’

  ‘Do you like brewed coffee made with a plunger?’ interrupted Deonaid.

  ‘I love it; I’ll see you soon.’ Milly was about to suggest they go out for coffee. She didn’t arrive in Dundee for another hour; she took her time, she wasn’t in a hurry. She sent Gus a text and told him she was meeting with Deonaid and they should keep their meeting yesterday between themselves. He sent an ‘Aye, Milly’ back in reply.

  They hugged when she arrived, and Deonaid started crying. Milly realized she wasn’t far from the Russells.

  ‘I loved, Sibby, and you are so alike. What a mess some of us make of our lives.’

  ‘Yes, Deonaid. I think we need to roll with the punches, pick up the pieces and get on with it. We’re not here for a long time, you know.’ Milly hoped she thought of Gus as she made the comments.

  ‘Aye, Milly, I agree.’

  They talked for a bit — mostly small talk as Deonaid discussed her boys. They were comfortable in each other’s company, and although Milly was looking forward to catching up with the Russells — well, sort of — she wasn’t break
ing her neck to get there. They settled in, and Deonaid made coffee as Milly looked through the family photos on Deonaid’s computer. Then she explained why they sold their family home.

  ‘My home held good memories, but bad ones too, Milly.’ Milly sensed her chance while discussing domestic matters to turn the conversation gently to Gus.

  ‘Forget the bad times, Deonaid, just take their lessons. There must have been good times with Gus and your boys.’

  ‘Aye, Milly, Gus provided well for us, and my memories are mostly good.’

  ‘What did he do for a job?’ she asked, firmly inserting Gus as their subject of choice.

  ‘Welding, the same as Sim … he got Sim his apprenticeship in Aberdeen. Both could turn their hand to anything, but had trouble writing and reading clearly.’ Milly thought of something and seized her chance. She would use the same fib she had used on Joe in May when she visited him in Barlinnie.

  ‘It’s funny you know, Deonaid. I flew into Edinburgh three weeks ago. I was flying back from Australia from seeing my mom and thought I’d drop in and catch up with the Russells on my way home. I couldn’t get a flight to Dundee, they were all taken, so it gave me the opportunity to go and see Joe.’

  ‘Joe raved about it, Milly. He was so happy you took the time to call and visit him.’

  ‘When you mentioned Aberdeen, I’m reminded what a small world we live in. A man by the name of Donald Kerford sat next to me on the flight from London to Edinburgh, and he knows Gus and your boys.’

  ‘Oh, it is a small world. Daggy Kerford, that’s what they call him. He was one of Sim’s workmates at Aberdeen Steel Fabricators; Gus was their supervisor. He is a real character. Do you know how he got the name Daggy?’

  ‘No,’ Milly lied, but I’ve got a feeling I’m about to find out, she thought. He would hardly tell a total stranger on a plane why he was called Daggy — that he’d dumped on his overalls while out deer shooting with his father as a kid.

  ‘He’s a legend around these parts,’ continued Deonaid as she related the story and it broke with their more serious subject matter. It was fanciful, embellished as it ensured the legend of Daggy Kerford was further entrenched in Scottish shooting folklore. It bore little resemblance to the tale John Russell had told.