by Anna Smith
‘Good stuff. Everything going well with the new house?’
‘Aye. It’s great. Quiet street for where it is, but so far I haven’t had any problems. I used some of that money I told you about – that she gave me – to get it decorated and things. But I’ve been watching what I’m doing with it. It’s not exactly a million pounds, but it’s a wee nest egg if I manage it well enough. I’m happy, Rosie.’
‘Good,’ Rosie said, waiting for the right moment. ‘Listen, Donna. About what you told me. About Frankie Mallon and what he said to you about being hired to bump off Alan Lewis.’
‘Aye.’
‘I totally believed what you said. I haven’t used it in the paper, because we’ve no proof, really, apart from you telling us. But although you said Frankie was out of his box on drugs that night he admitted it, you believed him, didn’t you?’
‘Aye. Definitely. He was quite clear about it all. He wouldn’t make something like that up.’
Rosie paused a second, watching her.
‘I think you should talk to the cops. There’s been a bit of a development on that front, and what you say about Frankie kind of backs up what they’ve been told.’
She looked confused. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I can’t really say too much right now, but I have some contacts, let’s say, with the cops, and I’ve been told that they have information that Frankie was hired to kill Alan Lewis. Hired by his wife.’
‘How come? Who’s said that? Was Frankie mouthing off to everyone before he got killed?’
‘No. The information didn’t come from Frankie or anyone who knew Frankie. It’s from another source. But you don’t need to concern yourself with that. The bottom line is it seems Frankie is dead because he got involved with Helen Lewis, and she’s the kind of woman who used him to get to her husband – and probably her husband’s money. She’s a proper bitch. A conwoman and a criminal. And everything right now is pointing to the fact that she killed Frankie that day.’
Donna sat processing the information, holding the drinking cup for her little girl, and stroking her face.
‘I always thought she did it. She’s a bastard. Left my wee girl without a daddy. I know Frankie was a bit of a bad lot, but he loved the wean. He provided for her and he always would have. It’s not fair.’
‘Of course it’s not. That’s why I think you should talk to the cops. If you tell them what Frankie told you, then that would back up what they’ve just found out.’
She puffed. ‘I don’t know. That might involve me in a big court case. If she gets charged with murder, I’d be a witness, and I’d have to go into court and testify. I don’t know if I’m up to that. I’m just trying to get on with my life and put a lot of things behind me. I did love Frankie, but once I knew he was running around with that Helen bitch, I just felt so bad. He really hurt me. But I’m trying to put that behind me. All the drugs, all the messed-up life. I don’t think I could face a court case. I’d be scared.’
‘I understand that. But you should definitely think about it.’
‘But what if I went to court and told everything? That would make me a grass. Okay, she’s killed the father of my child, but in the Gorbals you don’t grass people up. I could get slashed just for doing that.’
‘I don’t think Helen Lewis is exactly queen of the Gorbals, Donna. Everyone probably hates her. I don’t even know if she had many friends there, or even still has.’
She shrugged. ‘Probably not. She was always thinking she was a cut above everyone.’
‘She killed your wee girl’s daddy.’
‘She gave me money to help look after her.’
‘It doesn’t matter. To me that just confirms her guilt. Don’t you think?’
‘Aye. Definitely. But there was a scrap of decency in her for doing that.’
‘She left your wee girl without a daddy because she was greedy for money, Donna. She’s got off scot-free and has probably right now got more money than you can ever dream of. Not money she’s earned, but money she stole from her husband. She deserves all the trouble she gets.’
Donna sat for a moment. ‘And do you really think the cops have got something big on her?’
‘They have. My information is they have her just about nailed to the wall. But your information might finish it. How about talking to them anyway? What do you think?’
She pulled her little girl closer to her and stroked her blonde hair.
‘All right. I’ll talk to them.’
‘Good.’ Rosie nodded. ‘I think you’re doing the right thing.’
The kid looked up, her bright blue eyes a little picture of health. So innocent and trusting, Rosie thought. The look we all had before life comes crashing in and sweeps it all away.
Chapter Forty
Time was running out for Helen Lewis. She’d already stayed here too long, and what she should have done the day she escaped the clutches of her kidnappers was to keep on running. By going to her mother because she was so scared at the time, all she had really done was find a place to hide, but on top of that she had left herself open to these bastards tracking her down. She was safe in her mother’s flat, and as long as she didn’t put her face around the area, she’d go unnoticed. Most people she’d known would have either moved out of the Gorbals, or the ones who were there would have forgotten about her long ago. And anyway, she had changed her hair and looked different from the teenage girl who’d left all those years ago. But appearing in the Post had made her more edgy. She’d blown that cover and she knew she didn’t have much time before she had to get moving. She would leave tomorrow. As soon as her mother got back in from the shops she would tell her, and they would go together. She went into her bedroom and began packing. Most of her expensive designer clothes were still folded and in the case – there wasn’t much call for them, moping about this place. She heard the door open and her mother come in. Helen stopped what she was doing and went down the hall into the kitchen, where her mother was filling the kettle with her back to her.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ Janey said to her, without looking over her shoulder.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I bumped into Nora MacDonald up at the shops and she told me that wee scumbag Gimpy Jackson was asking about you.’
‘Gimpy?’
‘Aye. Remember him from years ago? His brother threw him out of the third-floor flat when he was fourteen for stealing his drug money. Left him with a bad leg. Brother was a drug dealer. You know the Jacksons. They were all related, and all scum.’
Helen remembered the family, hard as nails, who knew everything and everyone’s business. They were moneylenders, and plenty of people in the Gorbals had been on the receiving end of a beating with baseball bats if they were late with payments. Helen had gone to London by the time they were making a real name for themselves.
‘I remember them. But I was away, Ma. A lot of that stuff went right over my head. Anyway, what’s the problem? What’s that Gimpy been saying?’
‘Nora says he told her he was working for some guys in the town now and they were in with these East European gangsters. I mean, Gimpy always talked the talk, but he’s a wee prick, so he might just have been shooting his mouth off.’
‘Christ, Ma. I don’t like the sound of that. What did he say?’
‘Nora says he told her that all that stuff in the paper was true, and that you were in with these gangsters too. But you stole all Alan’s money.’
Helen felt a chill run through her.
‘What the fuck! Where is a wee shite like him even getting any of that kind of information? He’s just bullshitting.’
‘Aye. Well maybe he’s no’. So it’s not something you can take a chance on. He says to Nora he heard you were back in the Gorbals with me. But he didn’t believe it, because that would be just plain stupid as it’s the first place they would look for you.’
‘Christ. Maybe it was plain stupid. Listen, Ma, I need to get out of here fast. I th
ought when we talked to that reporter it would come across in the paper that I was a victim in all this. But if that’s what people are saying, then maybe someone will find out where I am and I’m not safe here any more.’
‘You’re supposed to be seeing that Rosie Gilmour tomorrow. You told her you would meet her. What do you think she wants to talk about?’
‘Christ knows. It was her who phoned me. Maybe I should just patch it, and get out of here tonight.’
‘I don’t know. I think you should meet her and see what she wants to ask you. You never know. It might be some more information about what’s going on. You need to know everything before you decide to leave here.’
Helen didn’t know if it was a good idea to even hang around till tomorrow; the thought that this Gimpy character was blabbing his mouth off made her uneasy.
‘I think I should get out of here tonight. Why don’t you come with me?’
‘Me? Leave here?’
‘Yeah. Come with me. We’ll go somewhere. Spain. Start again. I’ve got plenty of money. Cash money, and I’ve got access to all these bank accounts. We won’t have any money worries, and we can be out of here forever. We can go to some wee place where nobody knows us. Maybe get a wee café going or something. I’m sick of all this shit.’
Janey stood gazing out of the kitchen window at the blocks of flats in the drizzle. Then she turned to her daughter and sighed.
‘You know what? I might just do that. When it comes right down to it, there’s bugger all for me here. Hasn’t been for years, and that’s the truth.’
*
Rosie sat at the table while DI James Morton was at the counter being served. They’d come to the café round the corner from the police HQ as Rosie didn’t want to go to his office to chat. They’d spent the last hour with Donna while she gave the police a detailed statement on her conversation with Helen Lewis. Donna had only agreed to making the statement and talking to the police if Rosie was going to be with her. The detective agreed to it reluctantly and she’d been with him as they sat in Donna’s neat little flat up in Springburn. She was glad she’d done well enough and was taking care of herself, but Rosie was niggled by her conscience that she had talked her into speaking to the cops, in case anything went wrong. She noticed during her statement that Donna told the police about the money Helen gave her, but said she had spent it all. She was obviously worried they were going to hold it for evidence. Rosie had driven back to the city centre behind the DI’s car.
She had to do her best here if she had any chance of a word with Alan Lewis, who was still with the police. Not under arrest, they’d told her, but helping with enquiries. Technically he was free to go at any time, but he was cooperating with them as they investigated the charity. Rosie felt she’d done plenty so far by giving Donna to them, but she had also spoken to the Albanians, who were now in Spain. Big Tony had phoned her this morning to say that he’d driven from Calais to Barcelona in twelve hours. He’d dropped them at a small hotel on the outskirts of the city, and the rest was up to them. He was off to the Costa del Sol to pick up some cargo. Rosie had spoken to Viktor and told him the cops wanted to interview them. He was totally against it at first, but Rosie reassured them that if anyone spoke to them it would be while they were abroad, and they would not have to be brought back here. She had to be given assurances by the DI that this was the case. And anyway, she knew that if they were under any threat, barring the cops turning up with handcuffs, the boys had the wits to make themselves scarce. She was determined not to compromise them, even though the DI had told her that, strictly speaking, she’d been part of an illegal smuggling operation by arranging for them to get out of the country.
The DI placed Rosie’s black tea on the table and sat opposite her with a mug of coffee.
‘That went well, with that kid Donna. She seemed all right.’
‘Do you get the impression she is telling the truth?’
‘Well, I think she’s being honest enough about what Frankie told her. But at the end of the day that’s evidence we cannot call on from a dead man. It’s circumstantial, but on top of what Alan Lewis is telling us, then it’s good.’ He raised his mug in a cheers gesture. ‘So thanks for that. But bear in mind, I could still have you arrested for people-smuggling.’
Rosie smiled. ‘Yeah. Only if you can prove it, Inspector.’
He sat back and was quiet for a moment, studying Rosie’s face.
‘You love all this stuff, don’t you, Rosie? It’s what you live for. I kind of admire that.’
Rosie smiled. ‘It’s my life in so many ways. I think I’ve spent so much time in other people’s misery or shitstorms here and abroad, that it’s hard to get a sense of what actually matters outside of what I’m doing at any particular time. I live in a world of deadlines, pressure, fear sometimes.’
‘The fear of failure?’ he interrupted, looking her in the eye.
Rosie sat back. ‘Christ. Is it obvious? No. I’m only joking. I’m not afraid of failing. Sometimes I do.’ She recalled some of the people she’d let down. ‘I don’t fail on the stories as such. Or I seldom do. But sometimes I feel I failed the people I worked with. People I use on stories. Like Donna, for example. I’ve brought her to you because it’s the right thing to do, but also because it’s almost like a bargaining tool for more information. I don’t feel good about that.’
‘But you’re doing the right thing.’
‘Of course. I know that. But I was also doing the right thing a couple of years ago when I gave the cops a Kosovan refugee called Emir . . . he got shot under police protection. I’ll never forgive myself for that. Others too . . .’ Rosie’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to go there right now.
He sighed. ‘Yeah. I remember that guy. It was a terrible time. There were fireworks everywhere. I didn’t know you at the time, but Don told me about it, and how awful you felt. I kind of get a handle on that, now that I’ve met you a couple of times.’ He paused. ‘None of my business, Rosie, but maybe you take on too much. Maybe you make it too much of your life.’
Rosie smiled and shook her head. ‘I don’t know any other way.’ She changed the subject. This was getting morose. ‘Anyway, let’s not take the soul-searching too seriously. How about me talking to Alan Lewis?’
‘He’s not under arrest, so he can talk to whoever he wants.’
‘But you’ve told him not to.’
‘I haven’t, but I’m sure my boss has. I think he’ll be getting out of the police station today and we’ve put him up somewhere. I can ask him if he’ll take a phone call from you.’
‘Would you do that?’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah. But talking of bargaining, what about Helen Lewis? You still haven’t given me a contact number for her.’
‘I don’t have one,’ she lied. ‘They contact me. Her and her mother. I’m going to see them tomorrow to ask her about Alan – based on the new information I have from you. I want to put it to her. She lied to me. She’s a scheming, horrible person and she lied to me – lies which I put in my newspaper, half of me knowing she was lying. So now I want to tell her what I know, and see how she reacts. I need to see the whites of her eyes.’
‘I’d like to be there to see them too.’
‘That would make me setting her up. Something niggles me about that – giving people up.’
‘She’s a cold-blooded murderer, Rosie. What part of that can you defend? And by her husband’s own account, she sent a hitman out to murder him, while she looted his money. She’s a bad lot.’
‘Yeah. I know that.’
‘When are you seeing her?’
‘I’m still not sure on a time. I’ll let you know.’ Rosie looked at her watch. ‘I have to get moving. I’ll give you a call.’
He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her.
‘I will. When I can.’
Chapter Forty-One
Rosie was surprised and glad when the call came from Janey to ask her to meet them at the City Inn
hotel near the Broomielaw. At least it wasn’t in that bar with the blaring music again, not for what she was about to do. There was a little lash of tension in her stomach as she and Matt headed across to the hotel and parked the car.
‘Do you think she’ll go mental?’
‘It’s entirely possible. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’
‘Well . . . Bear in mind she probably shot Frankie Mallon because he was noising her up. I don’t really want to make her angry.’
Rosie smiled at the way Matt always made jokes when he was worried something bad was going to happen.
‘She’s not going to shoot us, Matt. We’re in a hotel in the middle of the city.’
‘Okay. Well if she does, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.’
‘It’ll be fine. She is a bad lot though, so we just have to see how it goes. Don’t let her see you’re edgy.’
Rosie might as well have been saying it to herself, because right now, as they went up in the lift and along the corridor, she was more edgy than Matt. She had to get this right for the plan to work. She knocked gently on the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s Rosie.’
The door opened and Janey looked from Rosie to Matt.
‘And Matt. I forgot to mention I was bringing him – in case we need more pictures.’
Janey opened the door for them to come in and Rosie saw her looking at Helen.
‘Why do you need more pictures?’ Helen said.
‘It’s always better to have them,’ Rosie said, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more questions.
She looked around the room and saw cases packed. ‘Are you going away?’
‘Yeah. We’re leaving. In fact we already left. We’re only here tonight and taking the train to London tomorrow morning. Then France. Then who knows where . . . But we’re not coming back.’
‘Really?’ Rosie asked. ‘Why the rush? Has somebody found out where you were?’
‘There was a bit of talk about it. My ma says she met someone and he told her he was working for some nutters in Glasgow. Heard my name mentioned.’ Helen looked anxious, her eyes tight under the make-up as though she hadn’t been sleeping. She crossed the room and sat on the sofa, motioning them to sit. ‘But it’s not just that. All that stuff the other day I read about in the papers – that shoot-out at the motorway place. Albanians. I just want to see the back of this place. I’m scared to stay around in case they find me. In case it’s all connected. Simple as that, really. That’s why we’re going.’