by Millie Gray
‘Now steady on, Jessie, calm down. The first thing we have to do is wrap Brutus up in something and then bury him. Then we have to talk.’
All Jessie could do was nod.
An hour passed before Kirsten and Jessie were in the kitchen washing their hands. Brutus, of course, had been wrapped snugly in his best blanket before being buried in the backyard.
Kirsten smiled as she dried her hands; remembering how Jessie had asked if they should say a prayer and sing a hymn. Kirsten had suggested that a silent prayer from them both would suffice.
They had just sat down to settle themselves with a cup of tea together when Jessie said, ‘Kirsten, are you sure I will be safe tonight? I still think that driver deliberately targeted Brutus so that he could come and hit me.’
‘But, Jessie, do you not keep most of your money in the bank?’
‘Bank? If I did that, they would ken how much I was making and I could end up . . . having to pay tax, and what’s worse than that?’
‘How much do you keep in the house?’
‘All I have.’
‘And how much is that?’
‘Well, the last time there wasn’t something decent on the telly I counted it and it took me three hours. Must be . . .’
‘Thousands?’ butted in Kirsten.
‘Well, aye.’ Jessie shifted uneasily. ‘And I’m no’ wanting robbed of it.’
Well, Kirsten thought, with a bit of luck you will be robbed, but by me, who will repay you every brown penny.
Kirsten smiled. ‘To be truthful, Jessie, I came today to see if you could lend me some of that money. You see, I have a business opportunity, but I need a few thousand pounds to take advantage.’
‘A few thousand! Am I hearing right?’ Jessie hollered.
‘Aye, but it’s a good venture I would be putting it into. A wee rambling old hotel in York Place.’
‘Kirsten, if you are saying you want to start up a brothel with help from me . . .’ Jessie coughed and spluttered. ‘The answer is a definite no. I have my standards, and money lending to someone who is hard up is one thing but a –’
‘Jessie, stop. You know me, so you know there is no way I would open up . . . well, anything like Stella’s business. Besides, the powers that be might turn a blind eye to Stella’s business tucked away in Pilrig, but no way would they allow such an establishment in the city centre.’
‘That so? Well, what are you going to do with this old hotel?’
‘Just as it says in the advertisement – look here.’ Kirsten showed Jessie the details from the agent. ‘I’ll turn it back into a small, upmarket, friendly hotel. It was that, before it went a wee bit ramshackle, but it still has a licence.’
‘A licence for what?’
‘To serve drinks to the guests.’
Jessie contemplated. ‘So, you are thinking you and I could go into the hotel business together?’
‘Not exactly in business together,’ she managed to stammer, wrong-footed. ‘What I thought was perhaps you could lend the money for me to get started.’
A long silence fell between the two women. Eventually Jessie said, ‘First of all, I will need to see this place you want to start up in. Second, I will put up the cash you require, but only on condition that you and I become partners.’
‘What do you mean? You have a business here.’
‘True, but I won’t feel safe here now my Brutus has been murdered.’
‘Oh, Jessie! He was hardly murdered.’
‘And what do you call someone driving their car right into him? See, if I didnae want my customers to see the police calling on me I would have reported that swine.’
‘So, because of Brutus, you’re now thinking of leaving here and going into another kind of business?’
‘Aye, Kirsten. You’ve inspired me. I can just see it!’
‘See what?’
‘You and I running oor ain wee hotel. All respectable! Mind you, I will hae to see it first before I put my life’s hard-earned cash at risk.’
A long sigh escaped Kirsten. She could see it all now. She would submit an application to take over the hotel, even although it meant going into business with Jessie. She hesitated as she considered if it would be worth paying such a high price. But before she could give the situation any more thought Jessie produced two large pillowcases.
To Kirsten’s amusement, Jessie then went around the house – into drawers, cupboards, tops of wardrobes, and even the bread bin itself, from which she pulled out bundles of money. The cash was then hurled into the pillowcases, as Kirsten held them open, as instructed.
*
If Kirsten hoped there was a chance of Jessie changing her mind when she saw how much work had to be done in the hotel, she had another think coming. The minute Jessie put her foot over the threshold she too was captivated.
‘Hmm,’ she observed. ‘The folk we would be renting from, are they no’ responsible for squaring up any of the mess here?’ she asked.
‘Yes and no. According to the law the premises must be wind- and watertight . . . which they are. They also must ensure we have running water coming in and sewage going out.’
‘And that’s all?’
‘No, they also must provide electricity,’ replied Kirsten, before switching the light in the hallway on and off.
‘How many renting rooms?’
‘Ten at present, but I intend to subdivide four of the large rooms, so that would give us fourteen and the three attics.’
‘Nae guests going in the attics.’
Kirsten shook her head. ‘No, they’ll be the live-in quarters for any staff that need it.’
After that there was the tour of the hotel, with very little comment from either Jessie or Kirsten. However, when they reached the attics, Jessie started to make clucking noises.
‘Problem?’
‘Naw, naw. No’ a problem, Kirsten . . . far from it. Just thinking, I am, that the first thing we will do is get the biggest of these three attic rooms done up.’
‘Why?’
‘Because that will be my room and I need to move in right away.’
Kirsten gaped.
‘Remember, I told you it was time for me to move on from Granton. Biding here,’ she said, clutching a pillowcase in each hand, ‘will suit me just fine. And think of the bonus, Kirsten. I will be on hand during all of the renovations. Keep an eye on everything, I will.’
How Kirsten longed to backtrack, to not agree to Jessie being her partner. That boat, she reluctantly conceded, had sailed. Besides, she was so keen to take up this hotel offer and build a new life for herself and the children . . . So much so that if putting up with Jessie every day was the price, it was a price she would be prepared – in fact, happy now – to pay.
After the hotel tour, Kirsten suggested that instead of Jessie taking home the money in the pillowcases it would be wiser, in fact necessary, for them to open up a bank account. Reluctant though she was to part with her life’s earnings, Jessie agreed, so they crossed over the road to Picardy Place and entered the Bank of Scotland Greenside branch.
They dumped the pillowcases on the counter and, naturally, the manager was summoned. ‘Where did you get this money?’ he asked.
‘My mother-in-law’s life savings, that is,’ Kirsten replied, as she pushed the bundles nearer the cashier. ‘She is now afraid of being robbed so she has decided to deposit it here.’
‘That’s right,’ Jessie emphasised, before giving the bundles one last loving pat.
‘You wish the account to be in both your names?’
‘Aye, going together into the hotel business, we are, isn’t that right, Kirsten?’
‘Well, with a bit of luck we are.’
*
Anyone entering the estate agent’s office would have thought that Jessie and Kirsten were strangers to each other. Both were sitting bolt upright, immersed in their own thoughts. Both were apprehensive – very apprehensive.
Kirsten was wondering, as the estate agen
t made his necessary enquiries, if anyone had suggested that she was of questionable character. She also was sure that the bank would have said that the account, although very healthy, had been opened only two short weeks ago. Meanwhile, Jessie was feeling bereft, now that her bundles of cash were sitting in the bank in Greenside. Sleepless nights, she’d had, since she was parted from it. She was now beginning to think she had been foolhardy.
‘Mrs Armstrong, Mr Hamilton will see you now,’ the receptionist said, wakening both women from their thoughts. They followed her to an inner office.
When Mr Hamilton shook her hand, Kirsten relaxed. It seemed to her that it was a friendly handshake. Jessie, by now, was in two minds. On the one hand, she hoped that Mr Hamilton would say that they were not getting the lease of the hotel. She would then go immediately to the bank and ask for her money back. She missed the comfort it gave her when she counted the piles of worn notes and found it to be all present and correct. But, on the other hand, she would like to start up a business within that wee hotel. There she could maybe be somebody. Earn the respect she felt she deserved.
‘Right now, ladies,’ Mr Hamilton was saying, ‘all that is required is for you both to sign the lease papers, then you can take over the hotel.’
Kirsten and Jessie exchanged worried glances before they embraced each other and chuckled.
‘Now, are you intending to change the name from York Hotel?’
‘We are,’ Jessie replied before Kirsten could say a word. ‘Armstrong we both are, and oor hotel will simply be Armstrong’s.’
Before accepting Jessie’s reply as fact, Mr Hamilton looked at Kirsten for confirmation. She could have said no, but that would have ended up with Jessie and her having their first managerial difference of opinion. She knew they would have plenty of those very soon, and that the name of the hotel was a trivial matter, so better to wait until a more serious issue arose. She nodded her head in assent and gave her mother-in-law a weak smile.
EIGHTEEN
The monthly get together of B Division, or the ‘greeting meeting’ of the senior officers, was drawing to a close. All matters, concerns and special duties of the division had been discussed. Looking around the assembly, the chief superintendent allowed his bottom lip to protrude out and cover his upper lip. All around the table knew he was about to discuss with them something of serious concern.
‘Gentlemen,’ he began, ‘before I get down to what happened at the chief constable’s meeting at Police Headquarters yesterday, I wish to go over something that is going to seriously affect us.’ He grunted before continuing. ‘As you are all aware, the tenancy of one of the York Place hotels has been granted to the two Armstrong women. One who, in my opinion, is a Shylock, a money lender who held the poor, firstly in Admiralty Street and latterly in the Granton area.’ He hesitated. ‘Now, how can I put it other than held the poor to ransom. The other . . .’ He paused again to inhale and exhale deeply. ‘The other was in the employ of Stella Wise. We have been,’ he feigned a cough, ‘persuaded to accept that this lady was not one of the prostitutes and did not realise that by being employed by Stella Wise, a ‘madam’, she was therefore guilty of living off immoral earnings. The foregoing being true, and as there was not one witness to accuse either women of any . . . let’s say, misdemeanour, when we were asked if there was any reason they should not be allowed to have the liquor licence transferred for the York Hotel to them, all we could say was that there was none.’
Eddie Carmichael’s hackles rose. Why was this man so against Kirsten Armstrong? A solicitor, even a ham one, would have had her freed, with at the most a caution. The evidence wasn’t there. Before he could stop himself, he said, ‘Sir, I think in the case of Kirsten Armstrong the only thing she is guilty of is a certain naivety.’
Finlay McKenzie, who was sitting next to Eddie, shifted his foot to nudge Eddie’s. Hoping, he was, that Eddie would take it as a warning not to interrupt the chief super when he was in full flight.
The chief super snorted before replying, ‘Naivety of what exactly, Inspector Carmichael?’
All eyes were now on Eddie. ‘In that she didn’t realise the money she was earning at . . .’
‘The brothel?’ interjected the chief super.
‘Yes, sir, the brothel – would be counted as living off immoral earnings.’
Finlay again nudged Eddie’s foot. This time Eddie took the warning and lowered his head in submission.
‘Right, gentlemen, I trust I can now continue without any further interruptions.’ He then coughed before saying, ‘So, with regard the hotel in York Place, which is now to be known as Armstrong’s, I wish you all, from time to time, to give discreet attention to what is going on in there. Not on my watch do I wish to find out that under our very noses, and a mere three-minute walk from the station here, it has turned into another . . . I think you get my meaning, gentlemen.’
Eddie wished to protest again, but as his right hand was now resting on the table Finlay covered it with his. This time the warning was a tight squeeze.
‘That is all, gentlemen,’ the super confirmed. However, before the assembly left the room he pointedly requested Eddie to stay behind, as he had matters he wished to discuss with him.
As soon as the last officer had left and the door was firmly closed the chief superintendent invited Eddie to come up to the top of the table. The super sighed. ‘You know, Carmichael, I was pleased to accept you on to my team here. You and I have known each other a long time. Indeed, we have followed each other as we have progressed. I have always considered you to be an outstanding officer.’ He paused. ‘But your judgement over the Armstrong woman has caused me to question that.’
Eddie opened his mouth, but the chief put up his hand to indicate that he should remain silent.
‘Now, I am instructing you to do as your fellow inspectors will do. I wish you all to keep an eye on the Armstrong ladies, and in particular that Kirsten one. However, in your case I am asking you – no, instructing you – not to call on their premises late on the backshift and never, do you hear me, never ever on the nightshift.’
Eddie was about to protest. But he knew any protest would fall on deaf ears, and so he just shrugged before nodding his agreement.
On arrival in the inspectors’ room Eddie was surprised that only Finlay McKenzie was still there.
‘How did it go?’ Finlay asked.
‘Why on earth is he holding such a grudge against Kirsten?’ Eddie expounded.
‘Kirsten, is it?’ Finlay bristled. ‘Look, I know old Nicholson can go on and on about things . . . especially if they are at variance with his strict religious beliefs. But, on the plus side, he is an outstanding officer. Never does he stray from the rulebook. Being asked – and before you say a word, we all know that he was asked – to lose the Kirsten Armstrong papers, that really must have rankled him. Believe me, his conscience must have been sorely tried when he binned that report.’
Eddie nodded. ‘I know all that, but he is wrong about Kirsten Armstrong.’
‘That right?’
‘Aye. There is something about her.’
Finlay inhaled. He shook his head. He pondered. ‘Look, Eddie, you and I have known each other since our football days on the force. So you know I am speaking as a friend. Ten years you have been mourning Anna and it is great that at last you’re thinking about getting another woman into your life . . . but Kirsten Armstrong?’
‘I am not saying I am thinking of Kirsten in those terms,’ Eddie protested. ‘But if I was, what would be so wrong with that?’
Throwing his arms out in despair, Finlay replied, ‘Man, you don’t need to ask me that, you already know what is wrong. Things where she is concerned don’t add up. Even if you give her the benefit of the doubt where working for Stella Wise is concerned, who on earth is bank-rolling the upgrade of the hotel?’
‘Her mother-in-law is bound to have built up a fair bank balance with the money lending.’
Finlay shook his head. He
conceded to himself that trying to get Eddie to see sense at this moment in time was more than useless. He was smitten with Kirsten Armstrong. Wish to goodness, he thought, that there was a Divisional Dance coming up where Eddie could be paired off again with Sylvia Sanderson. The sweet-natured Sylvia, who had been following Eddie around like a lovesick puppy these last ten years. Everybody could see she was throwing her cap at him – everybody, that was, except Eddie.
‘By the way,’ Eddie said, keen to change tack, ‘before we go our separate ways home, I wanted to let you know that, as I’ve been playing for the police football team for over a decade now, I’ve decided to hang up my boots.’
‘Surely you’re joking?’ Finlay replied. ‘Football has been the only outside interest you’ve had since, well, since Anna died. To give it up – is that not foolhardy?’
‘No, you’ve got the wrong handle. I am not giving it up, just moving on and making way for the young lads to charge up and down the field.’
‘What do you mean?’
Eddie grinned. ‘I’ve joined the Football Committee as manager. My first outing will be to accompany the team when they go to Northern Ireland in three weeks.’
‘You are going to Belfast with the team?’
‘Yeah. And I can’t wait for them to play the Belfast City team.’
‘Does the chief know?’
Eddie rolled his eyes. ‘Knowing how he feels about football, I’ve requested annual leave for the four days I will be absent. By the way, as you are treasurer, surely you will be going too?’
‘Yeah, and I’m a coward like you. I’ve taken leave to cover the trip. The things you do when you hang up your boots, eh.’
NINETEEN
As soon as Aileen found out that Kirsten and Jessie were going to go into the hotel business she was on the next ferry out of Shetland. The ferry, bound for Aberdeen, arrived on time, which meant that Aileen was quickly on board the train for Edinburgh. She was in such a rush to see that Kirsten was at last turning respectable that she nearly hailed a taxi in Princes Street. But then she remembered that money to do up the hotel may be short so there was no sense in wasting any. Besides, York Place was only a hop, skip and jump down Leith Street.