Mrs. Lamont dropped the phone immediately and howled out with the most excruciating agony.
Estelle then grabbed a pillow from the nearby couch and shoved it hard into her face just to keep her quiet. Next, she casually switched on the close at hand TV using the remote on the table beside her. Estelle swiftly cycled through the channels until she found one dedicated to loud rock music before pumping the volume up, way, way up, as loud as it would go. Still holding the cushion with her other hand firmly against Mrs. Lamont’s face, Estelle lowered it gently so she could see the new fear in the older woman’s tearful gaze. Now she had that look in the white of her eyes, the look that Estelle had been searching for all along, the one that told her how deadly fucking serious the situation actually was.
“Next time you try that shit again; this knife goes straight into your fat belly. Do you understand?”
Mrs. Lamont nodded profusely. Estelle took a deep breath.
“Now. Are you going to behave yourself and do what I ask?”
Mrs. Lamont nodded furiously again while biting her bloodied tongue hard, still wincing and suffering in silence with the pain from both her broken nose and her slashed-up hand.
“Good. Because your other hand will be next if you make another fucking sound without me telling you to do so. Or perhaps, I’ll start by slicing your fingers off, one by one.”
Mrs. Lamont tried to breathe slow and steady. Desperately trying to regain her long-lost composure. Estelle walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a fancy looking tea towel from the work top. It was lying on top of five others that appeared as if they had never been used before. She wanted to give the annoying woman something to stem the bleeding around her hand and nose as a kind of peace offering. To show the woman that she had some morality in her ice-cold veins, but she didn’t expect the woman’s response when she swiped the nearest fancy hand towel.
“Please. Not that one.” Mrs. Lamont cried out from behind her. “It’s one of my good ones. The old ones are in the bottom draw.”
Estelle couldn’t believe the audacity of this fucking woman. Or just the stupidity and ignorance. Estelle ignored her request.
“Tough shit.” Estelle replied and threw the fancy tea towel straight at her.
“Now, why the hell did you give some horse shit statement about seeing my sister drown in the River Clyde while you were out walking your annoying little dog? You don’t even live near the fucking south side Mosque for Christ’s sake. It’s on the opposite side of the river from here. So, there’s not even any plausible reason for you to be there.”
The woman began sobbing out again. It was an unexpected response that threw Estelle.
“How do you know about that?” Mrs. Lamont finally blurted out right after she blew some more blood from her broken nose onto the not-so-fancy-anymore tea towel. “Nobody was supposed to know about that. They said no one would ever know.”
“They said? Who the fuck are they?”
The woman began sobbing hard again. Estelle leaned in a little closer towards her. Intimidatingly close. Mrs. Lamont kept on crying though. She couldn’t even swallow the blood still forming in her mouth.
“I said, who the fuck are THEY?” Estelle roared, becoming more and more agitated and impatient by the second.
“I can’t say. They’ll kill me.” Mrs. Lamont blurted out in between more frantic sobs.
“They’ll kill you?” Estelle roared, finally losing her patience with the stupid annoying woman. Estelle turned back to the kitchen and approached the washing machine. She turned it on and pressed the button for a quick spin and cycle. Water began rapidly filling up inside the machine before starting to spin around with the little dog still barking frantically away inside. Mrs. Lamont began screaming out hysterically as her only friend in the world started to suffer.
“No, please! NO. You’ll drown him. You’ll drown him! My Regi. My poor little Regi.”
“Just like my sister drowned?” Estelle snapped right back at her. “Tell me everything you know and I’ll let him out. It’s that simple.”
Mrs. Lamont continued to sob uncontrollably hard as she watched her little dog Regi spinning around and around inside the washing machine.
“All right!” she cried. “All right. They paid me to say what I saw. Okay? They paid me.”
“Who paid you?”
“Detective Jonas. And some other brute thug of a man that I’ve never seen before. I’ve done this kind of thing for Detective Jonas before but not the other man. False statements for good cash. To help put bad people away who might get off when they don’t have a witness.”
“Bad people, you say?”
“Yes. That’s what he always tells me. Now please, let my little Regi out.”
“Did he tell you that Gayle was a bad person? That she did bad things? Is that what he told you?”
“Yes.”
“And what bad things did he tell you she did to be killed in such a way and covered up like this? What the hell did he tell you she did?”
“I don’t know. I swear. I really don’t know. He never tells me anything. Only to give statements and sign them.”
“But he tells you enough to send innocent people to their graves?”
Mrs. Lamont continued to sob hard.
“I’m so, so sorry. Please... my Regi…”
Estelle hesitated. Another furious rage was brewing up inside her ready to explode. She wanted to beat the living shit out of this stupid woman and then some. Estelle raised her fist like she was going to strike the woman hard in the face one more time. At the very last second, she changed her mind and pulled out the photo of the family from her pocket. The one she’d found hidden away inside her sister’s apartment. She shoved the photo hard into Mrs. Lamont’s face.
“Do you know who these people are?”
Mrs. Lamont calmed her sobbing and wiped her eyes dry of tears. She hesitated as she studied the picture for a long time. It seemed clear to Estelle by the woman’s darting eyes and hesitation that she did in fact know who the family was.
“You recognize them?”
Mrs. Lamont hesitated again. She looked even more confused and taken aback.
“I do… Yes… Don’t you?”
“No.”
“The man is Clark Wallace. He’s a local politician with Britain United here in Glasgow North. He’s very popular too. He’s going to give Glasgow back to the people again and put an end to all these horrible immigrants coming to live in our city… our country for that matter…”
Mrs. Lamont studied the picture once again.
“Those must be his wife and son. You must know him from the news, surely?”
“I don’t watch the fucking news.”
Mrs. Lamont turned her attention back to the washing machine.
“Please... My Regi.”
Estelle frowned hard. After a slight hesitation she turned back to the kitchen and switched off the washing machine. The dog had stopped barking while spinning around so she had no idea if it was even still alive. She waited a few seconds for the machine to drain and the safety lock to kick in. She then opened the door to let the poor soaking little dog out. The petrified thing ran immediately towards the woman and jumped straight up onto her bloodied lap. Mrs. Lamont hugged and kissed the little dog with all the love in the world while the dog took great pleasure and delight in licking all of her dried-up blood, snot and mucus from her face, nose, and lips.
“Oh, my poor, poor little Regi. What did that bad crazy woman do to you, huh?”
Estelle shook her head. This woman really was something else. But Estelle would have given anything in that moment too just to have a similar reunion with her dead little sister.
“Do you know why my sister would hide a picture of this man and his family inside her apartment?”
“I’m sorry, but I do not.”
Estelle glared hard at Mrs. Lamont like she didn’t quite believe her.
“I swear. I’ve never met him or your sister b
efore in my life. Jonas just pays me to sign his statements. That’s it. That’s all.”
Estelle remained deathly quiet. Mrs. Lamont broke the silent tension first.
“Now will you please just leave us both in peace?”
Estelle, without words, picked up the woman’s phone.
“Which number for your Detective Jonas?”
Mrs. Lamont looked up and gave Estelle a very worried expression indeed.
***
Across on the other side of the city, Detective Jonas was already awake and dressed for work. He was standing inside a small bakery outside his mother’s house buying his morning coffee and pastry. He would buy some extra pastries too. One for his mother, if she was well enough to chew up food that morning and one for her full-time carer, who looked after her throughout the day while Jonas worked his all-day shift.
Jonas had just handed his money over to the bakery assistant when his mobile phone began ringing and vibrating inside his pocket. He thought it was strange at first since it never rung so early in the morning before unless it was something very serious indeed. Perhaps something to do with his mother, who was only just across the road.
At the end of the counter he put down his coffee and morning pastries. He pulled out his phone from his trouser pocket and checked the caller ID. Mrs. Lamont’s name flashed up on his screen immediately. Jonas was reluctant to answer her call at first, but on the sixth ring he finally relented and answered.
“Mrs. Lamont. What an unexpected surprise. I didn’t expect to hear from you for well, not for another few months, at least. Is everything okay?”
Back inside Mrs. Lamont’s apartment, Estelle loomed intimidatingly over her while she spoke to Detective Jonas on the phone. With one hand, Estelle pointed her first gun right into Mrs. Lamont’s bloodied face. With her other she pointed her second gun directly at her little Regi’s head.
“Actually, Detective. Everything is not okay. I need to see you, immediately.”
Jonas felt a little weirded out and taken aback by that statement. Something didn’t quite feel right. Mrs. Lamont never phoned him for anything, ever. In all the years he’d known her and had her work for him preparing false witness statements, it was always him contacting her first. Always.
“Why? What’s happened? What’s this about?”
Mrs. Lamont froze as she eyeballed Estelle who just gazed right back at her with a look of death and destruction in her dark unblinking eyes.
“There was a woman here.” Mrs. Lamont finally spoke.
“A woman?” Jonas replied, looking more uncomfortable by the second. He then scratched a new itch right at the back of his head.
“I think she might have been a reporter. She said that you sent her. She was asking all kinds of awkward questions about my statement regarding that young delinquent girl who drowned last month.”
Jonas let out a deep sigh of frustration.
“Jesus Christ. I don’t fucking believe this. Are you serious? What did you tell her?”
“I told her nothing. I closed the door in her face and asked her to kindly get lost. She said she’d be back though. What’s going on Jonas? How does she even know where to find me?”
“Shit. I don’t know. I really don’t fucking know. Jesus.”
Mrs. Lamont glanced up at Estelle again with a terrified glint in her eyes as Estelle shoved her gun even closer into her face. Only a centimeter separated her red rosy cheeks and the cold hard steel tip of the barrel.
“This woman reporter… She said—she said some other things too.”
“What other things?”
“I don’t think I can discuss them over the phone. You never know who might be listening in, Detective, you know?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. You’re quite right.”
“Can you meet me this morning?”
Jonas checked his watch. He was due at the station shortly but he was the most superior detective on duty so he could pretty much come and go as he pleased these days. Mrs. Lamont glanced up at Estelle waiting for her to agree. She gently nodded, egging her on and silently telling her it was okay to make the arrangement.
“Can you come to my place, Detective?”
Jonas sighed.
“No. No I don’t think that would be such a good idea. How about we meet at the place we met when we went over your last statement? By the river?”
Mrs. Lamont glanced up at Estelle once more, hoping this answer would satisfy her too. Estelle gently nodded her head. It indeed did seem to satisfy her.
Chapter 18
Detective Jonas drove into the quiet multi-story car park directly opposite the River Clyde. The brand-new car park sat not too far away from the national transport museum on the far west side of Glasgow city center. Jonas drove calmly up onto the second last floor and immediately saw Mrs. Lamont’s small blue Peugeot parked up at the far end row of spaces. Only a few other cars were dotted around on the rest of the level.
Jonas pulled up right beside her little car. But when he glanced over, he couldn’t quiet see anyone inside. The car was completely empty which worried him greatly and made the detective feel a little more uneasy, more so than he was used to feeling. Jonas turned his head and quickly peered around the rest of the car park. No one else seemed to be around. It was eerily quiet too. Too quiet in fact. He remembered how sensitive Mrs. Lamont’s little dog had been to anyone approaching her the last time they’d spoken there. He’d heard the thing barking for Scotland even from a few levels down.
Jonas pulled out his phone and dialed Mrs. Lamont’s mobile phone number.
“She’d better not have nipped away for a fucking walk with that bloody dog of hers.” Jonas muttered to himself.
Mrs. Lamont’s phone began ringing in his ear piece before bizarrely ringing faintly out from somewhere very nearby by the sound of it. Jonas felt a little flabbergasted at that. Why on earth was her phone ringing without her being around to answer the blasted thing?
Jonas climbed out of his car and walked the short distance towards Mrs. Lamont’s Peugeot. The ringing became louder. Her driver’s side window was wound down too, just a slight touch and the ringing tone of the mobile was clearly coming from somewhere inside her car. Jonas opened the driver’s door—which had surprisingly been left unlocked. He leaned inside and had a good look around the front and back seats of the vehicle. He found nothing out of the ordinary, yet still couldn’t see the constantly ringing mobile phone for love nor money but he could hear the blasted thing though. As his ears adjusted to the ringing, he quickly realized that it was in fact coming from the rear boot compartment of the tiny little car.
“What the fuck?”
Jonas reached underneath the steering wheel and popped the boot. He walked around the outside of the car and lifted it open. When he did, he got the shock of his life - Mrs. Lamont was tied and gagged inside the boot of the car and bizarrely only dressed in her night gown. She groaned and mumbled out from behind her taped mouth. But Jonas couldn’t understand a single word she was moaning.
“What the fuck are you doing in the back of your car? And where’s your fucking dog?” was all a confused Jonas could think to say in the moment.
Before he could process another single thought, Estelle quietly appeared behind him and cracked him over the back of his skull with a tire iron, knocking him out in a heartbeat. Jonas immediately collapsed down onto the concrete floor but not before smashing his chin against the bumper, knocking two of his front teeth out in the fall. Estelle closed the boot without even glancing at Mrs. Lamont inside. She then dragged Jonas around to the other side of the car, lifting him from underneath his armpits as she pulled him towards the passenger side door.
Suddenly a young business woman appeared, returning to her car on the same level through a nearby stairwell. She looked utterly horrified, baffled, and aghast to see Estelle dragging the unconscious larger man up and into the passenger seat of the small blue Peugeot. Once Estelle had Jonas’s entire bulky body ins
ide the vehicle, she turned innocently to face the young business woman who was still standing, speechless and in total shock at the whole bizarre scene.
“My husband has a little drinking problem.” Estelle casually remarked, trying her best to reassure the woman yet not really giving a shit at the same time.
“Oh my,” were the only words the young woman could utter from her stunned lips as Estelle casually made her way around to the driver’s side now.
“Can’t take the drunk fucker anywhere,” Estelle added with a wry grin before jumping inside, slamming the car door shut, starting the engine and driving away.
***
Estelle drove a few miles further west along the River Clyde, just at the point where it forged from river into firth before the water sprawled out even further into the distant sea. Estelle knew the old dockyard warehouses well along those parts, especially the ones that had been left abandoned to rot over the years, still awaiting reconstruction or full dismantlement. She’d broken into enough of them in her youth to loot the stored containers for anything she could get her hands on.
Estelle pulled up beside two crumbling, roofless warehouses just opposite the vast grey river. Jonas sat hunched up in the passenger seat beside her, bound at his wrists now and still unconscious and bleeding from his severe head injury and jaw and mouth wounds. Estelle turned the engine off. She pulled out her almost empty packet of cigarettes and lit one up. She took a long hard draw before turning back to face Jonas. She studied him long and hard for a few seconds before attempting her next move. She could hear the sound of his shallow breathing. He was slowly coming around or else he should be in the next few minutes. But Estelle didn’t have time to sit and wait. She decided to hurry up the process by firmly slapping him around the side of his face and cheeks.
Jonas roused a little but still wouldn’t fully emerge from his deep unconscious state. With time very much of the essence, Estelle took out one of her smaller knives from her hoody pocket and swiftly stabbed the short sharp blade deep into Jonas’s right thigh. That should wake the fucker up. And she was right. In a rapid jolt Jonas fully awoke from his slumber. He opened his eyes wide with fear and terror, sitting upright and roaring with the newfound pain rip roaring through his lower body. Estelle left the knife where it was though, deeply embedded into his thigh. Before Jonas could even figure out where the hell he was, what the hell had happened, or who the hell was even with him, Estelle was already attacking him with a barrage of questions.
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