by Helen Forbes
Kat wasn’t going to relax, and that was just the way he liked it.
‘Why you tell me hide here?’
‘Because the police are onto you.’
‘I do nothing.’
‘You’ve been running a brothel. That’s illegal and you could go to prison, thanks to that stupid little cow, Danielle.’
‘Where is Danni?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Last time I saw her, she was with Ryan MacRae. They were getting to know each other.’ He winked. ‘Know what I mean?’
She didn’t. ‘Why she not phone me? Why she not ask for her things? Why we have to leave the flat?’
He leaned towards her and she shrank back into the sofa. ‘Enough with the questions, all right? I’m looking out for you. I’ve always looked out for you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be in that skanky whorehouse in London, making videos and God knows what else. You should show more gratitude, more respect.’
‘Okay. You want fuck?’
‘I take it you mean, do I want to fuck?’
‘Two fucks? Okay. Here?’
He laughed and shook his head. ‘Nah. You’re all right.’ Tart. As if he was going to shag her after Mikey Morrison and God knows how many others.
She glared at him. ‘What you want?’
‘I’m trying to help you.’
‘I go home.’
‘You said. A million times. And I told you, I’ll take you to Edinburgh or Glasgow in a day or two.’
‘I fly Glasgow to Vilnius, Monday.’ She leaned towards him, her dressing gown gaping at the neck. ‘You take me tomorrow. I need phone or laptop. I must book flight.’
‘I’ll do it. Give me your passport.’
He could see how torn she was. Give him her passport and get home, maybe. Or refuse to give it to him, and have no chance whatsoever of ever getting home. Mmm. Not much of a choice. He smiled as she took her passport from the pocket of her dressing gown and handed it to him.
*
No, Mikey Morrison was not a suspect. Yes, DI Black was certain of it. You’d have to have been there to understand, he told Jackson. Fat chance of that happening, Jackson thought; as if Brian Black would let him in on the real action in a major enquiry. That pleasure was always reserved for Galbraith. Not that Jackson usually cared. Staying in the background suited him fine. Only another three years and he’d be out of here, with a good pension and freedom to do the things that really mattered to him. But Danielle had really mattered to him, and he’d do anything to bring her killer to justice. Mikey Morrison was a skanky low-life. Jackson had almost got him over those DVDs, but he’d wriggled out of it, as he always did, leaving Jackson looking stupid. The bugger had been in the flat shortly before Danielle was killed. Just ‘cos he said he wasn’t with her, didn’t mean anything. He was a liar; always had been. Galbraith didn’t know Morrison the way Jackson did. He and Black could be mistaken.
‘I’m telling you, Jackson, we’re not mistaken.’ DI Black looked down at a document on his desk. ‘Shut the door on your way out.’
‘There’s something else…Sir.’
Brian Black always looked at Jackson as if he was simple, but when he heard what Jackson had to say, he looked as if he might be about to have a heart attack. Veins were bulging in his neck, as he leaned across the desk. ‘Don’t be such a fucking twat, Jackson.’
Jackson shrugged and leaned back in the chair. ‘Whatever. I’ve heard it from a few sources.’
‘Galbraith and Sharon MacRae? Having it off? What a load of shit. Have you seen Carla MacKenzie?’
Seen her? He’d tried his hand before she started going with Galbraith. She’d been amused but not unkind. Next thing he knew, she was going with Golden Balls. The perfect couple. They’d no doubt marry and have 2.4 children, a nice house, and a good social life. All the things he’d never have.
He nodded. ‘So what? They don’t even live together. What’s to stop him playing around?’
‘With Sharon MacRae? Do one, Jackson. You’re talking shite.’
Jackson did one, smirking as he pulled the door shut. Even though Black knew it was a load of crap, he’d still have to investigate.
*
The house was surrounded by trees on three sides, the front close to the single-track road. It looked like a fine house, but it gave Sharon the creeps. Was it because it was isolated, with no other houses in sight? She wasn’t sure. They’d been to Culloden and Nairn, then several properties in Inverness. They were all tenanted, so Sharon had waited in the car. When she wasn’t worrying about Ryan, she was considering asking Christopher if she could rent a property from him. Maybe she’d still get Housing Benefit, if she didn’t let on she was in a relationship with her landlord. But this house outside Evanton was the only empty property he had, and there was no way she would live in it.
They went upstairs first. The three large bedrooms were clean and tidy. There was a fourth door on the landing. ‘Is that the loo? Can I use it?’
‘Of course you can.’
As she heard his footsteps go down the stairs, she looked around the bathroom. Manky or what? She wasn’t sitting on that. And the sink was no better. She’d wait.
In the kitchen, Christopher was frowning. ‘I think I’m going senile. The house has been empty for two months. I did the exit check when the last tenant left, and it was spotless. I’m sure of it, but the kitchen’s a mess now. There’s rubbish in the bins and dirty dishes in the sink. I’ve got someone coming to see it next week. I’ll have to have it cleaned.’
‘Bathroom’s manky too. You’ve just got too many properties. You’re probably mixing them up.’
‘I’ve got the paperwork at home. I’ll check later.’
Sharon shivered again as Christopher locked the door. He held the car door open for her. ‘Do you like it? I considered living here myself, before I viewed the house at Ness Castle.’
Sharon hesitated. ‘It’s nice, but…you made the right choice.’
‘Have we got time for a walk? I want to show you something.’
She checked her phone. ‘Aye, an hour until I have to pick Liam up.’
‘This won’t take long.’
Christopher turned right, and Sharon saw a sign for Black Rock Gorge – 500m. ‘Is that where we’re going? Sounds creepy.’
‘Dead creepy. The ideal place to dispose of a nagging wife.’
‘Anything you want to tell me?’
It was just a wee wooden bridge, the kind that might cross a stream or a narrow river. There was no warning of what lay below, other than the distant sound of gushing water. Sharon looked over the side and felt her stomach rising. The narrow gorge was dark and deep, the rugged walls sloping inwards towards the bottom, so that only a fast-flowing sliver of water could be seen forcing its way through the broken cleft. The gorge was surrounded by trees and branches of all shapes and sizes. They stretched from side to side, branches meeting and mingling in the middle. The walls were coated in mosses and ferns, but the greenery did nothing to soften the impact. It was terrifying and fascinating. Sharon shivered and turned to the other side. It was much the same. As she gazed downwards, there was a whisper from behind. ‘Can you hear her?’
She thumped Christopher’s arm. ‘I thought you’d gone for a pee.’
‘I did. You’ve been standing there for ages. I was certain you could hear her.’
‘Who?’
‘A noblewoman, the Lady of Balconie. Lured into the gorge by the devil, she’s held in a cave at the bottom, guarded by two hounds. Her cries are still heard to this day.’
‘You’ll be crying in a minute, creeping up on me. I don’t think I like this.’ She peered downwards again. ‘But I can’t stop looking. Imagine falling in there.’ She shuddered.
‘They filmed part of a Harry Potter movie here. There’s another bridge, just along a bit. You get an even better view from there.’
Sharon shivered. ‘I’ll give it a miss.’
‘I’ll keep you safe.’ He put his
arms round her and kissed her. They were standing in the centre of the bridge, in a shaft of sunlight, yet Sharon didn’t know when she had last felt so cold.
He was holding the car door open for her when his phone rang. He looked at the screen. ‘Sorry, love; I’d better take this.’
He closed her door before he answered, and she felt that familiar dread. Must be another woman. She saw him smile, and a wee shard of envy stabbed her in the heart. No matter how good he was to her, he was still a bloke. And then she watched the smile disappear. He put his hand up to his head, frowning as the colour drained from his face. He didn’t speak for long. When he got into the car, Sharon asked him what was wrong. He stared ahead as if she hadn’t spoken. Eventually, he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was a little shaky. ‘That was my sister, Isobel. Mother’s had a heart attack.’
‘Is she – ?’
‘She’s in hospital. I’ll have to see if I can get a flight to London in the morning.’
‘Of course.’
He took her hand. ‘Sharon, will you come with me?’
***
Chapter 21
Sharon and Gillian eyed each other like two cats in an alley. ‘Where does someone like you meet someone like him?’ Gillian nodded at Christopher’s car. ‘You on the game?’
Sharon felt her temper rising. She quashed it. Wasn’t worth it. ‘Nah. Ten years of your brother was enough to put me off men and sex for a good long time.’
‘Put you off? So all those guys after Peter died, the ones that the Social deemed unfit to be around your kids, who, let me remind you, were with me more than you – what was that all about?’
‘That, Gillian, was all about the drugs, the shit your brother got me and thousands of others hooked on. It had nothing to do with sex. I was raped so often by your brother, I couldn’t let any guy touch me. Until him.’ She turned and pointed at Christopher. He wasn’t looking; he was staring ahead. ‘So don’t try and make me and him into something dirty just to suit your warped fantasies.’
A window creaked shut in the house next door.
Gillian shook her head. ‘Another floor show for the neighbours. Well done. They’ll have plenty to keep them talking. Police were at my door today, looking for Ryan. You can hang out with all the rich guys you want, but it doesn’t change what you are. See if you hadn’t been so caught up with your fancy man, you might have noticed what was going on with Ryan. Typical; whatever you want has always come first, before those boys.’
All Sharon’s fight was gone. Gillian was right.
‘Hi Mam.’ Liam darted out from behind his aunt and hugged Sharon. He smiled up at her. ‘Are you not coming in?’
‘No, son; listen, I have to go away for a couple of days. It’s Christopher’s mum. She’s not well.’ She looked at Gillian. ‘I was wondering if you could stay with Gillian for a couple of nights.’ Gillian shook her head, and Sharon couldn’t blame her. It should have been the first thing she asked, instead of rising to the bait.
Liam shrugged. ‘Okay.’ He looked up at Gillian. ‘We can go and see that film.’
‘Film?’
‘Yes, silly. The Jurassic one. You said you were going to ask Mam if I could stay with you tonight or tomorrow night and we’d go. Now we can.’
Gillian was stumped. She smiled at Liam. ‘Why don’t you run upstairs and waken Mick? Do it gently, mind. Tell him he has to get up for work.’ She watched Liam run upstairs, then she turned back to Sharon, her face like thunder.
Sharon put her hands up. ‘Gillian, I know I’m taking liberties, but his mother’s ill and he says he needs me. I’ll only be away a day or two. I can get back quickly if Ryan turns up. Gillian, please promise me you’ll let me know if he comes back, or if he phones you.’
Gillian rolled her eyes, sighed and nodded. And nearly passed out when Sharon hugged her.
*
As Joe turned into Church Street, he saw a pile of dirty bedding. It was hard to tell if there was anyone there, then he saw Ali’s dark head. The plaster cast hadn’t softened people’s hearts; there were only three pennies in the grubby Costa cup that supported a tattered cardboard sign - Hungrie and Howmless.
Ali winked a glazed eye at Joe. ‘Sergeant, what can I do for you?’
‘Maybe we could go somewhere for a cup of tea?’
‘I’d like nothing better, but really?’ He pushed the blanket away, revealing filthy jeans and a torn jumper. ‘I’m not quite dressed for the occasion.’
‘I’ll get you a coffee or tea when we’ve chatted. Something to eat?’
Ali’s face lit up. ‘Sound. You’re a gentleman. Is it about that wee toe rag with the missing fingers? I didn’t mean to hit him with the stookie, but the bugger was trying to steal my takings.’
Joe shook his head. ‘No, Ali. It is to do with the stookie, though. I’m going to ask you again; how did you get it?’
‘I don’t like talking about it, Sergeant. There’s not that many evil people about, but…’ He shivered.
Joe crouched down beside him. ‘Is his name Todd?’
Ali’s eyes were wide as he nodded.
‘We’re trying to find him before he hurts anyone else. Can you help?’
Ali looked around. ‘He could be anywhere. Watching. Waiting to get me again.’
‘I think you might be the least of his worries right now. I’m not looking for you to press charges against him, unless you want to. I’m just trying to find out his surname, where he lives and where we might find him. Before he hurts someone else.’
Ali was staring into space, frowning. ‘I don’t know any of that, but…there is something…’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, shit.’
‘What is it, Ali?’
‘I’m worried he did for that wee lassie.’
‘Sally? The one you’ve been asking about?’
‘Aye. I think it was him she was with that night, the last time I saw her. Him and another man; a bloke with a walking stick. They didn’t see me, but I heard her make them an offer. Todd shouted at her. All the names under the sun. Slut. Skank. Tramp. She was just a wee lassie.’ There were tears in his eyes. He wiped them away and sniffed. ‘Worthless shit. That’s what he called her. Worthless shit? How could he call anyone that?’
‘Ali, we need to find him. What about the guy with the stick? Had you seen him before?’
Ali shook his head. ‘I didn’t see his face. If I tell you someone who might know where Todd lives, and a bit more about that girl, you won’t say you heard it from me, will you?’
The deal was struck, and sealed with two bacon rolls, a large coffee and a tenner.
*
Davie Dobbs was a local lowlife with a lucky streak and a permanent smirk that Joe ached to wipe off, with steel wool. There was no way he was going to see Dobbs on his own, so he went back to the station for Roberts.
‘Sound, Sarge.’ Roberts caressed the muscles of his lower back and stretched his legs. ‘This is mind-numbing stuff, going through these boxes. There’s not a thing of interest here. Not even a letter of complaint from a constituent. Hundreds of letters of thanks. The man’s a saint. Will we take the e-fit?’
Roberts was trained to use the computer programme to produce an impression of a suspect. He’d worked with Mikey Morrison on the picture of Todd, but he didn’t have a lot to go on. The essence of Morrison’s description had been ‘he’s a great big bald fucker in his thirties’. There were strict guidelines to ensure that the programme operator did not influence the witness in any way. Roberts had done his best, but it wasn’t great. Joe shrugged. ‘Might as well. It’s all we’ve got.’
In the drive of Dobbs’s semi in Scorguie, there was a blue convertible Audi with a personalised number plate. Roberts whistled. ‘We’re in the wrong job.’
Davie Dobbs didn’t disappoint Joe. The arrogant grin, the tossing of his long hair, the contempt in his cunning eyes. He knew lots of people. Didn’t think he knew a Todd, though. When he saw the e-fit, he almost doubled up with l
aughter. ‘Saw someone like that on TV. Shrek, I think his name was. No, officers, I definitely don’t know him.’
Joe bristled. ‘Heard you have a lock-up, Davie. Bruce Gardens, isn’t it?’
Dobbs’s smile was gone. ‘That’s shite.’
Joe smiled. ‘I guess we better get off. Where to next, DC Roberts?’
‘Eh…Bruce Gardens, I think, Sarge.’
‘Excellent. Call in back up, will you?’
Roberts took his phone out of his pocket.
Dobbs reached for the picture. ‘Can I see that again?’ He scratched his head and played for time. ‘Mmm. Todd, you say?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘He might live down Millburn Road way.’
Joe nodded. ‘Carlton Terrace?’
Dobbs smiled and pushed his hair back from his face. ‘Aye, that’s the place. The terraced flats. Don’t know the number.’
‘You’re behind the times; he moved from there months ago. We’ll be off then.’
‘Moved from there? Is that right? I didn’t know that.’ There was sweat on Davie Dobbs’s brow. ‘Eh…there’s another guy; a Londoner. James something? They call him Jimmy Spaz. Big scar down his face. Stays in the luxury flats with the balconies up at Castle Heather. I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard.’ He wiped his brow with his sleeve. ‘You won’t mention my name, will you?’
‘That depends. What’s Todd’s surname?’
‘I have no idea. Never heard him called anything other than Todd.’
‘What can you tell us about a homeless girl called Sally? She went missing from the town after offering Todd some services.’
Joe could almost feel the nausea radiating from Dobbs. ‘Oh, fuck.’ He shook his head. ‘I swear I don’t know anything for certain. There was talk. He was boasting she wouldn’t be offering herself to anyone again. No one’s seen her since.’
‘Talk? Who was talking?’
He shrugged. ‘Just people in the pub. I can’t even remember now. He’s not someone you want to be caught talking about.’