Face in the Frame

by Heather Atkinson

  “I thought you had my back, until today when you put me and Lucas at risk. I wouldn’t have minded so much if you’d been working on a legitimate case but you weren’t. Lucas isn’t a killer, he’s one of the best men I’ve ever known. I love him and we’re going to live together in London where your thoughtlessness can’t hurt us.”

  With that she stormed out, slamming the door shut, leaving Brodie to stand there staring in mute shock while Christian and Ross shuffled awkwardly, like two children who had walked in on their parents arguing.

  “She doesn’t mean it,” Christian eventually said.

  “Yes she does and it’s my fault. I fucked up,” said Brodie sadly.

  When he didn’t speak again Christian and Ross took this as their cue to leave, the latter closing the door behind them.

  Brodie slumped into his chair, feeling wretched. He couldn’t let Cass leave. The prospect of never seeing her again was too much to bear. He had a month to convince her to change her mind and by God he was determined he would succeed. Even if he couldn’t be with her he was buggered if he was going to allow her to go all the way down south with a loony.

  When his mobile phone rang he ignored it. When it rang again then again he wrenched it out of his jacket in a fury. “What?” he bellowed into it.

  “Christ, my bloody ears,” said Pete.

  “What do you want?” said Brodie. “I’ve got a lot on my plate here.”

  “I just thought you might want to know, the mad harpy has turned up.”

  “The mad harpy?” he exclaimed, shooting to his feet. “How do you know? I didn’t even get her name.”

  “She’s a known transient and was taken into hospital when she took a fall after too much swallie and knocked herself out. She was found on the pavement unconscious right where Fred used to hang around. When she woke up she started to scream the place down. As I’m a detective I put two and two together. Good thing she has a record, it meant we could ID her. She’s been sectioned, turns out she’s schizophrenic.”

  “Well, at least she’ll be warm and will get fed regularly,” muttered Brodie.

  “So, no devil came to take her face. Maybe they didn’t take Fred or Robbie either?”

  “Then where are they?”

  “I don’t know but they’ll probably turn up.”

  “You’re a silly bastard,” he said before hanging up.

  When his phone rang immediately he snatched it up and hissed into it, “what load of fucking bollocks have you got to tell me now?”

  “That’s not a very nice greeting,” purred a voice with a southern accent.

  Brodie grimaced. “Shelley? I don’t remember giving you my number.”

  “You didn’t. I found one of your business cards in your jacket pocket when you were sleeping.”

  “You did?” he cringed. “Well…what can I do for you hen?”

  “I miss you Brodie.”

  “Oh. That’s…nice.”

  “Why don’t I come to Glasgow for a little visit?”

  “Err,” he said, frantically thinking. “It’s not a good time, I’ve got a lot on at the moment.”

  “Surely you could make time for me? After all, I made time for you.”

  “I’m sorry, I just don’t have any free time and there’s someone at the door. Sorry, got to go,” he said before hanging up.

  When his phone rang again he ignored it, knowing it would only be Shelley. Cass’s words about her came back to haunt him. If she was indeed the bunny boiler Lucas had said she was that threw into doubt everything she’d told him. First that, now the mad harpy turning up alive. Was Lucas Thorne actually innocent?

  Brodie glared at his desktop before jumping up, striding out of his office and heading downstairs, ignoring Roger when he hurried down the stairs after him.

  “Honestly, I don’t know how often I have to complain about the noise,” twittered Roger, struggling to keep up. “My clients can’t get into deep meditative states when someone keeps shouting bastard.”

  “They’ll get over it,” replied Brodie, not breaking stride or even bothering to turn around.

  “Is Lucas Thorne here?”

  “So that’s the real reason you’re bothering me?” said Brodie, shaking his head.

  “I’m just curious.”

  To Roger’s surprise Brodie stopped and turned to face him, for once his expression not furious. “You know wee man, you should find someone else to idolise. That prick isn’t worthy.”

  With that Brodie jogged down the last few steps and out the door. He walked around the corner to Fred’s patch, which had become Robbie’s and then the mad harpy’s. It was still vacant. Passers-by gave him curious looks as he stared at that spot, thinking of Fred and the things he’d said. He then turned and scanned the surrounding area, carefully examining the street for anything that would indicate to him if he was really right or if he was actually losing the plot.

  A poster was lifted slightly from the wall it was pasted to by the breeze, as though it was waving at him.

  “Oh bollocks,” he sighed.

  From his spot Fred would have had a prime view of that poster. It was advertising Lucas Thorne’s exhibition at the museum complete with a full length photograph of Lucas, looking all brooding, long black coat flowing, holding his cane, head bowed, face half hidden in shadow. Brodie could just imagine Fred staring at that dramatic image, his mind ticking over, coming up with lots of ridiculous theories. But how did that explain the fact that Fred had completely vanished, that something closely resembling his face was up on a museum wall and that his gut was telling him Lucas Thorne was a murderer? Could it be possible that for the first time in his life he was wrong?

  This shook Brodie to the core. Everything he’d thought about himself was being challenged. Throughout his entire police career all his hunches had been right. He and his gut were a team, the only thing he’d been able to rely on. Now his gut may have caused him to make a huge error. Was it possible that he’d made up this stupid theory just to stop Cass from seeing Thorne? Was he really that sad and pathetic?

  Maybe Pete was right and he should forget all about her. The sooner he started the easier it would be to see her go because it seemed she was set on going to London.

  Maybe, for the first time in his life, he should admit defeat?

  “No,” he growled, jaw clenched. Something wasn’t right here. He might have been wrong about Thorne but something strange was going on and he was determined to find out what it was. He needed to speak to that dodgy wee bastard Oliver Fender.

  Oliver was just leaving the museum, fumbling for his keys in his trouser pocket. Something was making him edgy but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. He got the feeling someone was watching him but he couldn’t see anyone…

  “Hello there wee man.”

  Oliver released a cry of surprise and dropped his car keys, to his dismay sending them clattering underneath the car.

  “You made me jump,” Oliver told Brodie.

  “That was the point you divvy. I want to talk to you.”

  “If you’ve anything to say you can go through my lawyer. I’m having nothing to do with you, you bully.”

  “I hate lawyers. I put up with the slimy bastards for years picking apart all my hard work and getting scumbags set free. So I don’t talk to them. I go straight to the source, which, in this case, is you.”

  “I’m not speaking to you.”

  “Shut your hole and listen,” barked Brodie, causing him to go silent. “Do you really produce those heids?”

  Oliver blinked up at him. “What?”

  Brodie sighed. “I’m running out of patience with you. Are you the one who actually makes the heids?”

  “No, Lucas does.”

  Brodie thrust his face into his. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care what you believe. Lucas is the artist.”

  “You see, what I think is you’re the real artist and Lucas is the pretty face and charm who sel
ls them. Let’s face it wee man, you’re annoying. You get people’s backs up because you’re a prick, you’re ugly and you have really bad dress sense.”

  “Pot calling the kettle I think,” he retorted.

  “You’re stupid too,” glowered Brodie. “If you had a brain you’d shut up and listen to me.”

  “Then get on with it, I am a busy man,” sighed Oliver.

  “I think you’re the real talent behind this exhibition and Lucas is just a front because everyone likes him better than you.”

  “That’s not true,” he yelled.

  “Aye it is and you can’t stand it. You’re the one who’s been kidnapping them, aren’t you?”

  “Kidnapping who?”

  “The homeless people.”

  “What homeless people?”

  “You know what homeless people. Where are they?”

  “Who?” exclaimed Oliver.

  “Fred. His face is in your crap exhibition, so I know where part of him is. Where’s the rest of him? And there’s Robbie too, what have you done with him?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about you lunatic.”

  “Course you do and you’re the loony pal,” said Brodie, jabbing a digit in his chest. “And I’ll prove it.”

  “You know something, you’re becoming a real pest. I’m going to have you stopped.”

  “You got a steamroller then? Because short of that nothing gets in my way, especially not a murdering bastard like you.”

  “I am not a murderer.”

  Brodie frowned down at him. “Well if it’s not Thorne then it’s you.”

  “I’ve had enough of this, I’m going to make a formal complaint.”

  “Go on then,” said Brodie cheerfully. “See where it gets you, which won’t be far. What are you waiting for?” he added when Oliver just stood there.

  “My car keys…”

  Brodie laughed and shook his head. “You really are a pathetic wee shite and I will expose you for what you really are.”

  Oliver’s smile was sly. “You’re not capable, you haven’t got the intelligence.”

  “The last serial killer I brought down made the mistake of thinking that. She and her partner are now serving life behind bars and you’ll be joining them.”

  Oliver’s smile was cold. “Amusing,” he said before kneeling on all fours and attempting to reach his car keys.

  Brodie bellowed with laughter at the sight of his round backside sticking up in the air. “Get used to assuming that position Oliver. They’ll love it on the inside.”

  Abruptly Oliver straightened up holding his car keys. “We both know that won’t happen.”

  Brodie snatched the keys from him and dropped them down a grate.

  “Hey,” cried Oliver, staring at the grate in dismay. “You can’t do that.”

  “Just did.”

  “I’ll report this.”

  “Do what you like. Your word against mine.”

  “The CCTV…,” said Oliver, pointing up at the camera hanging off a wall.

  “Hasn’t worked in the last eight months,” called Brodie over his shoulder as he walked away. “We will be talking again.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Brodie’s guts twisted with rage. That had got him nowhere, except a possible restraining order on Oliver’s part. It had changed nothing, Cass was still going to London with the Elf. There was only one other thing he could think to do. He had to face Thorne directly.

  Brodie waited in his car outside Thorne’s apartment block for him to make an appearance. After almost an hour’s wait he finally emerged, wearing his traditional long black coat and carrying his cane.

  “Ponce,” Brodie said to himself before jumping out of his car and jogging across the road after him.

  He had intended to shadow him for a bit but his phone burst into life in his jacket pocket.

  “Bugger,” Brodie muttered to himself, frantically digging it out of his jacket pocket, sighing when he saw it was the same number Shelley had called him on. He rejected the call and put it on silent but it was too late. Lucas whipped round, his coat swirling about him, cat’s eyes bright.

  “You,” said Lucas.

  “You seem surprised to see me?” said Brodie, coming to a halt before him.

  “It is unexpected. I take it you’re here to talk about Cass?”

  “She’s the only thing we have in common. You got some time?”

  “I was just going for a walk but yes. I always have time for Cass’s friends.”

  His reasonableness irritated him. “I know a good pub not far from here. Fancy a swallie?”

  “If that means a drink then why not?” he smiled.

  Lucas’s amiability was irritating Brodie. “Come on then,” he snapped before walking away, Lucas not hurrying to catch up, content to lag behind, the thud of his cane on the ground causing Brodie to grind his teeth.

  The pub they entered wasn’t the usual type of place Lucas frequented. The Seven Bells was a bit of a dive, the clientele iffy and the landlord surly. Brodie had selected this place on purpose to give him the upper hand - it would only be easier to get what he wanted out of Lucas if he was on edge and eager to escape.

  The whole place stopped when Lucas made his grand entrance with his long blond hair, sweeping black coat and silver topped cane, some of the customers actually staring with their mouths hanging open, glasses halfway to their lips as Lucas made his way to the bar, apparently oblivious to the looks he was receiving.

  “Is this one with you Brodie?” demanded the landlord, who was standing behind the bar, gaping at Lucas.

  “Yeah, I need to talk to him,” he said meaningfully.

  Understanding dawned in the landlord’s eyes. “Thank God for that, I thought you’d gone light on your feet.”

  “Never me pal.”

  “You can have the booth. Give me a minute.”

  The landlord lifted the bar hatch, strode across the room and grabbed the two scruffy-looking men who had been chatting over a pint in the booth. “Boost yourselves, Brodie needs this spot.”

  “It seems you’re very influential around here,” smiled Lucas, leaning against the bar, looking as though he’d been frequenting the pub for years.

  “This is like my second office and I’ve done a lot of favours for a lot of people,” he said casually.

  “And a lot of them owe you?”

  Brodie shrugged, although inwardly he preened with pride.

  The landlord returned to his position behind the bar. “Usual Brodie?”

  “Aye, please Del. Lucas?”

  “Pint of lager please,” he politely replied.

  “Now that’s a turn up for the books,” smirked Del as he placed Brodie’s glass of red wine on the bartop before him.

  Lucas smiled as he picked up his pint of lager and took a manly swig.

  “Come on,” muttered Brodie, snatching up his wine glass and striding to the now-vacant booth.

  “So,” said Lucas, taking the seat opposite. “You want to discuss Cass?”

  “What else?”

  “If you’re worried about how I’ll treat her then please don’t. I love her and I will always treat her well.”

  “You really want to take her away from her home and friends? You think that’ll make her happy?”

  “I do because we are meant to be together. She’s a very special lady.”

  Brodie laughed into his glass. “Cass is special but a lady she is not.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “You’ve never seen her break someone’s nose.”

  Lucas cocked a smile. “I’m sure she’s more than capable but don’t you think taking her away from this dangerous lifestyle of hers is the best thing for her?”

  “The danger is the appeal to Cass. If you think she’s the type to settle down as a housewife then you’re in for a shock. She needs excitement in her life.”

  “I understand that, which is why I’ve arranged for a friend of mine to give her a job
in his security firm.”

  “Oh,” he said, the last of his hope dying.

  “It’s a very reputable agency with some very high profile clients - royalty, film stars, sports stars.”

  “Really?” he replied flatly, unimpressed.

  “Cass will be working for the best. No offence to you of course, I hear you’re very good at what you do but this way Cass won’t be involved in any illegal activity.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” frowned Brodie.

  “Oliver did a lot of digging. Apparently not all your cases are strictly legal.”

  “Just what the hell are you saying?”

  “Please Brodie, you know what I’m saying. Don’t get me wrong, I actually think you do excellent work, getting justice for those denied it. But one day you could get yourself into some serious trouble and you’d drag Cass down with you. Is that what you want?”

  “Course not,” he exclaimed.

  “Then the best thing for her is to come to London with me. She’ll be perfectly happy, I assure you.”

  “Got a crystal ball, have you?”

  “I know because I’ve been waiting for her my entire life. She’s my soul mate, the one I’m meant to be with.”

  “Don’t give me that sentimental shite.”

  “Don’t believe in true love, do you?”

  Brodie glared at him across the table. Yes he did and Lucas had no idea he was taking his from him. He pondered his reply before deciding to throw the smug git completely off track. “You got family in London then?”

  Lucas’s smile dropped. “No.”

  Brodie smiled inwardly. It seemed he’d finally touched a nerve. “So you’re all on your own then?”

  “No,” he said, eyes narrowing. “I have Oliver and a small circle of friends. I don’t like to socialise much.”

  He noted how he classed Oliver and his friends separately, not that he could blame him for that, the fud was a complete dick. “Cass does. She loves going out with her friends and having a laugh.”

  “I’m not going to stop her if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

  “I know you won’t. Cass lets nothing and no one stop her from doing what she wants. You going to introduce her to your family then?”

  Lucas’s upper lip curled with disdain. “Why do you keep talking about my family?”