by Helen Forbes
Jackson tried to ignore the wee voice that whispered in his head, telling him he could have done something. He could have contacted Danielle as soon as he saw that photo, told her the police were coming to see her. He could have gone for her himself, taken her to his house until this blew over.
But he didn’t know, he told the wee voice; he didn’t know what was going to happen. And then the wee voice reminded him that Galbraith didn’t know either. Fuck that voice. Galbraith was an arrogant shit-head. Didn’t give a damn about Danielle or anyone but himself.
She was a wee sweetheart. So young and beautiful. He’d almost been scared to touch her. She was far too good for a sad loser like him. But she seemed to enjoy herself all right. Happy enough to take his money, sit on his knee, and all the rest.
And Katya? Where was that bitch now? A born whore if ever there was one, she’d have taken off without a thought for Danielle, left her to whatever sick bastard had done this. Was it Ryan MacRae? He’d love some time alone with the boy to beat it out of him. And that bald guy, the one mentioned by Katya’s neighbour and Sharon MacRae, was he their pimp? Was he the Todd that Danielle had spoken of? Who the hell was he?
Jackson had tried to find out who was working Danielle and Katya. Best to know his enemy. It wouldn’t take much for their pimp to find out he was a cop and use it against him. He’d tried to coax it out of Danielle, but she was giving nothing away. She’d met Katya online; that was all she would say. He’d persisted, but she had ways of distracting him.
*
Enfolded in Councillor Alice McGarvie’s embrace, Roz Sutherland wanted to throw up. That smell. A mix of cheap rose scent, hair spray and halitosis. Roz pulled away. ‘Come through. Mairi and Philip are upstairs. They’re sick of visitors.’
Alice’s eyes narrowed. She took a pristine white cotton hankie from her sleeve and dabbed until the annoyance was gone. Roz didn’t care that Alice had taken her words as a rebuke. She didn’t ever have to be nice to her again. No more council ceremonies or lunches or dinner parties. No more watching Alice fawning over her husband, laughing and preening herself.
Gordon hadn’t seen it. He couldn’t believe Roz thought Alice fancied him. She was just a colleague. A good councillor. She wasn’t like that. And anyway, even if she was, he wasn’t like that, so Roz had nothing to worry about.
She hadn’t worried about it. She might not have looked after herself as well as she could have, but she was certain her husband wouldn’t be attracted to Alice McGarvie. The thought made her shiver. But was he attracted to the two girls in the photo? Who were they? And who had put that envelope through her door?
‘Roz, dear, how have you been?’ Alice held her hands up. ‘I know. I know. Stupid question. Forgive me. It’s so very difficult to know what to say. I just wanted you to know I’m here for you. Anything you want, any time of day or night, you know where to find me.’
That’d be right. Roz nodded, smiled, and thanked Alice. ‘I’ll make tea.’ The thought of another cup of tea made her nauseous, but that was what people expected. As she went into the kitchen, the front doorbell rang. It was DS Galbraith.
Roz showed him into the kitchen and closed the door. She shouted up the stairs for Mairi. When her daughter came down, Roz saw she’d been crying again. She hugged her, then asked her to go into the living room and talk to Alice.
Mairi grimaced. ‘McGarvie?’
‘Yes. Sorry. There’s a detective here to speak to me. I won’t be long.’
*
Joe looked around the kitchen. About a dozen cups waiting to be washed, and another dozen on the draining board. It was a homely kitchen. Warm. Lived-in. Lots of family pictures on the wall. Roz Sutherland came in and closed the door.
‘Detective Galbraith, what can I do for you today? Have a seat.’ She gestured to the chairs round the dining table. The table was covered with boxes of cakes and biscuits, and at least three bunches of flowers. There were cards too, lying on top of their envelopes. Joe sat at one side of the table, Roz at the other. She looked worn out. Sounded it too. ‘I wish people would stop bringing stuff. I should put the flowers in water, but I can’t even face that.’
‘Are the family home now?’
She nodded. ‘Mairi and Philip and their partners came yesterday. I’m expecting Gordon’s brother and his wife later. I’m hoping they’ve got an appetite.’ She tried to smile.
‘Mrs Sutherland, something else has come up. Did you hear about the murder yesterday?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Another one? I haven’t listened to the news or looked at the papers; I can’t bear it.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we think the murders are connected.’ He took the photo from his pocket, and he saw her recoil.
‘It was this girl.’
*
Roz knew the girls’ faces. They were imprinted on her brain. The slightly hard-looking older one, with her arm round Gordon. And the other one – so young and pretty, leaning towards Gordon as if she was about to kiss him. It was all so improbable, and Gordon looked so uncomfortable. And now one of them was dead. She was just a child. ‘Who was she?’
‘Danielle Smith. She was from Shetland. She was a – ’
‘A prostitute.’
DS Galbraith nodded. ‘It might help you to know both girls told me Gordon wasn’t remotely interested in what they were offering.’
Roz thought she was going to laugh, but it was tears that came. As DS Galbraith passed her a hankie, she wished she hadn’t let herself cry. It seemed so important to hold herself together for everyone else. But the relief. Gordon wasn’t interested in them. She wanted to shout it out for everyone to hear. Instead she sniffed and apologised.
‘Don’t apologise, Mrs Sutherland. You said you hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Gordon recently. Are you sure? We think someone might have been trying to set him up. These girls were told to target him.’
Everything was all jumbled in her head. It had been a difficult and strange time recently. The independence referendum result had been such a blow for Gordon, for all his colleagues. Then the surge in support for the Scottish National Party lifted their spirits, and soon it was all go for the general election, and then the euphoria of the party’s success nationally. Just when everything was looking up, it all went wrong in the Council, and the Independents had seized power from the SNP. He’d been annoyed about that, but he was philosophical. It might not do the party any harm to be out of the spotlight for a while. He took it all in his stride. It was all part of the ups and downs of political life. Things would settle down.
She tried to explain it all, and it sounded stupid. What did the referendum and the election have to do with anything? Yet she couldn’t separate her husband from these events. The party, the cause, those were his very reasons for being. Always had been. She and the family had taken second place for as long as she could remember. And she didn’t mind. They’d met at an SNP conference when they were both students. She’d never met anyone as solid and dependable as him. And nothing had ever changed that.
Galbraith nodded. ‘I know I’ve asked you this already, but please think again. Is there anyone that would have it in for your husband?’
‘I’ve gone over and over that in my head. I just can’t think of anyone that might have wanted to harm him.’
‘Was he interested in standing for election to Holyrood?’
‘Not at all. Alice McGarvie liked to think so, but he was winding down, feeling too old for a challenge like that.’
There was a knock on the kitchen door. Alice popped her head round the door. ‘Roz, I’ll have to…oh, I am sorry, Detective Sergeant Galbraith. I had no idea it was you. I have to go to a meeting. I’ll come again, soon.’
Roz nodded, and said nothing. Alice raised a hand and backed away.
‘You don’t like her much, do you?’
Roz felt herself blushing. ‘Is it that obvious?’
Galbraith smiled. ‘The curse of bein
g a detective. I can’t switch it off. Even in the queue at Tesco, I’m sensing all the tensions and traumas in the lives of those around me. Not that I’m always right, but I noticed it the first time you mentioned her. Anything I should know?’
‘I guess it’s not a crime to fancy someone else’s husband, but most people manage to keep it hidden. She didn’t bother. Not that Gordon could see it. He thought I was paranoid, imagining it. I wasn’t. Ach, it wasn’t really that; I trusted Gordon. There’s just something about her. I can’t explain it.’
Joe shrugged. ‘It’s important to go with your instinct. Listen, we’ve gone through all the paperwork you gave us and there’s nothing that helps us with the investigation. Might he have kept paperwork anywhere else?’
Roz shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, but I’ll have a look. You really think someone was targeting him?’
‘It looks like it. Let me know if you find anything.’
***
Chapter 19
The afternoon briefing was a dismal affair. DI Black put it in a nutshell for the troops. ‘We’ve got two bodies, a runaway whore, a missing school boy whose thumb print is on the murder victim’s zip, a bald man, and a slightly dodgy and unattractive SNP councillor. Have I forgotten anything?’ No one answered. ‘Oh, aye – we have a sock.’
DCI MacBain was more upbeat. ‘That sock might be just what we need. A combination of Gordon Sutherland’s blood and Ryan MacRae’s DNA – pretty powerful stuff. And we also have the partial fingerprint from MacRae.’
‘Aye, and for all we know, if Ryan MacRae’s not the killer, he and Katya Birze might already be victims. The sock won’t get us very far if that’s the case.’
MacBain nodded. ‘Still, got to stay positive. Chins up.’
DI Black rolled his eyes, and his three chins rolled too. ‘Fat lot of good that’ll do us.’
One of the admin assistants stood at the open door with a piece of paper in her hand. She looked from one senior detective to the other. DCI MacBain smiled as DI Black snatched the paper from her hand. ‘Tell me this is good news.’
She shrugged, blushed, and left.
DI Black studied the missive while everyone in the room held their breath. With a smirk, he passed it to MacBain. ‘What say you, Sir? One for the two of us?’
MacBain didn’t look quite so impressed. ‘My ulcer’s playing up today; I think I’ll leave him to you.’
‘Galbraith,’ Black said. ‘This one’s down to you. Come on.’
Bemused, Joe followed DI Black from the room.
*
Mikey Morrison might have been screwing up his face, but it was always hard to tell. An ugly little shrew, he’d made a fortune selling home-made porn. He leaned forward. ‘Metropolitan Derby? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’
DI Black looked under the table. ‘Trainers with a suit? A bit common even for you, Mikey Boy. You not got a decent pair of shoes to match the suit? Luis Vuitton maybe?’
A flush started to creep up Mikey’s short neck.
‘The penny’s dropping, DS Galbraith. So, Mikey, what exactly made you leave a Luis Vuitton Metropolitan Derby in a stairway in Carlton Terrace? Lucky for you, my sergeant here just happened to find it.’
Joe nodded. ‘Not every day I find such a fine specimen. You wouldn’t have had much change from £600. You’d think you’d be a bit more careful.’
‘Who says it’s mine?’ Mikey’s face was beetroot now.
‘Our database.’ Joe tapped his fingers on the table. ‘Unless there are things about your sordid little love life we don’t know. Maybe you’re in the habit of handling other men’s shoes. Is that your thing, Mikey? A foot fetish? A male foot fetish?’
It was so easy to wind him up. ‘That’s disgusting. What do you think I am?’
DI Black laughed. ‘If DS Galbraith was to answer that question, we’d be here all day. We know exactly what you are, so stop wasting our time and tell us what you were doing at that flat on Carlton Terrace yesterday.’
Mikey sighed. ‘I was just visiting some friends.’
‘Friends with benefits?’ Joe said.
‘Eh?’
‘What are your friends’ names?’
‘Eh…Kat and…do you know, I can’t remember the other one’s name.’
‘Danielle Smith?’
‘Danni – that’s her.’
‘And would these be good friends?’
He shrugged. ‘Quite good. I’ve known Kat for a while, and I just met Danni recently.’
‘And what did you do with these friends yesterday afternoon?’
‘Watched a DVD; can’t remember what it was called.’
Joe shook his head. ‘I’m not even going to ask what it was about. The last time we watched one of your DVDs, our colleague was off sick for a week.’
‘They weren’t mine.’ The anger was back. ‘The Sheriff threw that case out. DI Black, is he allowed to do that? Winding me up with lies? I was innocent.’
‘Innocent?’ DI Black nodded. ‘Mikey, you’re as slippery as an eel. You’ve got the cunning of the subnormal.’
Mikey looked quite pleased with that, until he thought about it. He narrowed his weasily eyes. ‘You saying I’m subnormal? What the fuck does that mean?’
Joe straightened up. Leaned across the table. ‘Let’s get back to Kat and Danni. You watched a DVD. What else?’
‘Nothing. Had a cup of tea, then left.’
‘Carrying your shoes?’
‘Aye. Kat won’t let anyone in with their shoes on. New carpets, I think.’
‘No carpets in that flat, Mikey.’
Mikey shrugged. ‘Germs, then; she’s fussy like that.’
‘Cut the crap, Mikey. We know what you were there for. We know your afternoon of pleasure was interrupted, and you had to leave suddenly. I expect you hid in the back garden for a while until one of your low-life friends could come and rescue you, with a spare pair of shoes.’
‘But – ’
‘Don’t even think of denying it. You’ve wasted enough of our time. It wasn’t just the shoe that was covered in your prints. They were on the bedroom door and the headboard in one of the bedrooms. This is a murder enquiry. You were one of the last people to see the victim alive.’
Mikey’s face paled. ‘A murder enquiry? That body that was found in the Crown? I need my brief.’
‘Why do you think you need a solicitor?’
‘I’ll hold my hands up. I was with Kat yesterday. I had sex with her, but I didn’t kill her.’
‘Are you working those girls?’
‘Me? Hardly. That’s not my game.’
‘Then who is?’
Mikey was silent.
The DI stood up. ‘You’ll be wanting that brief then?’
‘Wait…I…you’ve no idea. Oh fuck. He’s nuts. He’ll kill me if he knows. I bet he killed Kat. Bastard.’
‘Who is he, Mikey?’
A phone rang. Mikey patted his pockets, took out his phone. He stared at the screen, then at the detectives. ‘But…she’s not dead…what are youse on?’
‘Answer it,’ DI Black said. ‘And put it on loudspeaker.’
Katya’s voice spat from the phone. ‘Mikey? Listen you. You don’t tell police you with me yesterday. You don’t tell them you ever with me, or you be fucking dead. Todd say he cut your balls off and feed you to them. Understand?’
Mikey stared at the phone.
‘Mikey? You fucking understand?’
Joe gestured to Mikey to speak.
‘Eh…em…yes, Kat.’
‘This is good.’ The line went dead.
Mikey slumped in his chair. ‘I don’t know what you guys are trying to do to me. Why did you say she was dead?’
‘We didn’t. Who’s Todd?’
‘Some Londoner. Moved here last year with Kat. I don’t know his surname, but he’s mental. You think I’ve got a temper? He broke Ali the Bampot’s arm last week with his bare hands. Poor bastard hadn’t even
done anything. That was just to show him in advance what would happen if he didn’t pay for his gear.’
‘So this Todd’s pimping and dealing? What else?’
Mikey shrugged. ‘Money lending, maybe. I don’t know. Honest; I don’t want to know.’
‘Where can we find him?’
‘Haven’t a clue. Drives a big dark motor sometimes. Often has a boy with him. No idea who that is – his son, maybe.’
‘Were you with Danielle Smith yesterday?’
He shook his head. ‘I thought about it. She’s gorgeous, but she doesn’t have Kat’s experience, and the two of them together – well, you’d need a bank loan. She was there. I didn’t see her, but I heard her in the bathroom; I think she was having a shower when the buzzer went, so Kat had to answer the door. Pissed off, Kat was too. Threw me out before I could get all my clothes on.’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘Mental bitch. And she’s not dead.’ He frowned. ‘But I will be, if Todd finds out I’m here. Fuck’s sake. What are you lot on? Who was killed?’
Joe and DI Black stared at him until he got it.
‘Man, youse are kidding me? That wee girl? What sick fucker would do that?’
***
Chapter 20
Light streamed in the big window, illuminating Kat as she huddled in the corner of the sofa in a towelling dressing-gown. Her hair was damp and she looked haggard without make-up. She was clutching her phone. When Todd reached for it, she looked as if she might be thinking of saying no. Cheeky whore. He held his hand out. ‘I’ll have that, love. Cheers. You did well. I like the idea of feeding Mikey Morrison to his balls.’ He was laughing as he took the phone from her. He switched it off and took out the sim card. ‘Your hands are shaking. What’s up?’
Kat shook her head and pulled her dressing gown tight. ‘I cold.’
‘You cold? I put heating on. You soon warm up.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You take piss?’
He laughed. It was loud and it made her jump. ‘Relax, honey. I not take piss.’