Songs by Dead Girls

by Lesley Kelly

  ‘And that stunt with his skanky girlfriend – it was never going to pull the wool over the eyes of a HET officer, was it?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he lied.

  ‘So, in a lot of ways it would be helpful to have the pair of them out of the way, but I’m a sentimental fool when it comes to family, and unfortunately, he’s the only family I’ve got. And I also know that five minutes in a police cell and he’d start telling you all kinds of stories that I really don’t want you to hear.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I can do what you want. The assaults are already being investigated by the police.’

  Kerr nodded. ‘I was afraid of that. So, Plan B. Here’s what we’re going to do. When the police come to take your statements, you’re going to have a very bad case of memory loss. You’re not going to remember clearly what happened, and you are going to raise some questions about whether, on reflection, the HET’s response was appropriate, given the intense vulnerability of the skanky little drug-addled ho you were dealing with.’

  If he did that Stuttle would kill him before Kerr could. ‘But there were lots of witnesses.’

  ‘You leave them to me.’

  Bernard’s stomach turned over at the thought of the old ladies of Colinton being threatened by the men he’d met today.

  ‘Anyway, you mull that over, because there’s a second little issue I need help with. Now my grandad, God rest his soul, did like to wind people up. And, unfortunately, some of his little pranks are causing me difficulties now that he’s gone. You’ve probably sussed from your investigations that we’re also in the business of helping gentlemen in need of loving to meet ladies who are eager to help?’

  ‘Prostitution?’

  ‘Yes. And some of our ladies come from overseas, and need a bit of assistance to get Green Cards. You know what the Green Card people are like, with the difficult questions about passports and visas, and that kind of shit.’

  Alessandra Barr.

  ‘So Big Og thinks it would be funny to get one of these girls a Green Card in the name of the dead daughter of one of our friends and rivals in the west . . . you know where I’m going with this, don’t you, Bernard?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Alessandra Barr, Bernard, that’s who I’m talking about, the wee lassie I know you’ve been nosing about after? Now our Glaswegian chums hear about this tart that’s wandering around Leith calling herself by the name of their dead bairn, and not surprisingly, they think the McNiven clan is taking the piss. Alessandra gets a good going over, as a wee message to me.’

  ‘So it wasn’t you that gave her the two black eyes in her Green Card photo?’

  ‘Oh no, that was me.’ Kerr stared up at him, unblinking. ‘She was a bit of a mouthy cow when she first arrived. I’d beat seven shades of shit out of any one of my girls if I needed to teach them a bit of respect. I had it in mind to beat the crap out of you, except we’re getting along so well here I changed my mind.’

  Bernard tried to swallow but found it very difficult.

  ‘Now, apologies again for all the moaning, but I’ve got a lot on my plate. I’ve got my idiot cousin to deal with, I’ve got the questionable loyalties of my men out there . . .’

  ‘They seem very loyal.’

  ‘As soon as Og died I doubled their wages to keep them sweet. I’ve paid up every month so far, but it’s not easy with the Glaswegians all over my territory. So I can do without winding up the Barrs any further. If I don’t take heed of their warning, the next time they see the lassie called Alessandra Barr she’ll end up dead. And I can do without that on my patch. So you get her found, and you deliver her to me. I’ll sort out the rest of it.’

  ‘I can’t do what you are asking of me.’ Bernard closed his eyes and waited for Kerr to hit him. To his surprise, he heard laughter.

  ‘You are very ethical, I like that. When you were round here the other day, you met my wife, didn’t you?’

  Bernard nodded.

  ‘She’s a fine-looking woman, wouldn’t you say?’

  Bernard had a feeling they were wandering into dangerous territory here. ‘She’s very pretty.’

  Kerr lowered his voice. ‘Just between you and me, her younger sister is even hotter. Don’t ever tell her I said that.’ He leapt up to his feet, and picked an envelope up off the sideboard. ‘There’s nothing that Maddison couldn’t get a fifteen-year-old boy to do. Buy her a drink, steal things for her, deal drugs . . . Do you know any fifteen-year-olds?’

  Bernard thought for a minute. He wasn’t sure that he did. After a second the penny dropped. Carole’s boy.

  Kerr held up a picture for him to look at. ‘Pretty poor quality, I’m afraid.’

  It was dark and grainy, but still good enough to clearly show Michael and another man in a doorway exchanging money and a package.

  ‘The recording that we’ve got of him is a lot better. It’s amazing how much a fifteen-year-old will boast about the drug deals he’s been involved in when there’s a woman of Maddison’s quality to impress. Making half of it up, I know, but still plenty in there to embarrass his mum, and her colleagues if it came to light.’

  Bernard closed his eyes. Blackmail. Another one to add to the list of things that they’d failed to cover in his induction training. What was he supposed to say? He needed to talk to Carole, and Mona and Paterson, or anyone else who could tell him what to do. He played for time. ‘Alessandra’s registered at your cousin’s house. Don’t you know where she is?’

  ‘She’ll have gone crying to someone, they always do. Anyway, you think about what I said. Have a little chat to your colleague about not pursuing these recent unfortunate events too vigorously.’ He stood up, and Bernard followed suit.

  ‘You can find your own way home, I’m sure. I’d offer you a lift, but I dare say you’d prefer your own company.’

  Bernard, sensing he was free to go, hurried toward the door. Behind him he heard the sound of another record being stacked onto the record player.

  ‘I’ll be back in touch.’ The music started, the female voices swooping in harmony. ‘Oh, Bernard, by the way you’re not quite as ethical as I’d originally thought, are you? I know that wasn’t your wife, that wasn’t Carrie, I think her name is? Didn’t see you rushing to correct me though.’

  He stopped dead. ‘Leave my wife alone.’

  ‘You’re compromised, Bernard.’ The music filled the room, the female voices swooping mournfully over the guitars. ‘Now I know you will tell lies, when it suits you. And as I said, I’ll be in touch.’

  7

  ‘Eight miles to Edinburgh, everyone, according to that last road sign.’

  ‘Great.’ Mona gave Ian a curt nod. Conversation in the car had been limited since they’d climbed back in at Gretna. Ian and Bob had made a few attempts at chit-chat, which Mona had immediately shut down. She was in no mood to play along with their fictions about what she had or hadn’t witnessed at the services.

  She contented herself with staring out of the window. It would be lovely to be home again. She was going to soak in a long bath, get clean clothes, plan how she could improve the ambience of her living room using pot plants and throws, and work out the best approach to bully Stuttle into authorising a pay rise for her. That was the one sensible thing that Bob had said on this journey; after all, she could have died in that wood. And sure, it was a bit pushy to imply the channels that she might have to pursue, but then Stuttle knew all about bullying.

  The professor leaned forward. ‘I live in Newington, but I was wondering if you might be able to drop me at my offices at the university? I really need to do some preparation for tomorrow’s Parliamentary meeting.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Ian. ‘I thought someone had spoken to you.’

  ‘About what? The meeting is still going ahead?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. We’ve all invested a lot of time and effort in making sure of that! But we remain a little concerned for your safety, Professor, so we’ve arranged for you to spend the night
at a safe house. We’re not sure that going back to your own place is a good idea right now. We’ll keep a couple of Police Scotland officers with you at all times, then give you an escort into the Parliament building tomorrow.’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’

  ‘Professor!’ Mona turned round to face him. ‘We spent last night hiding in the trees at the back of a service station because a car full of persons unknown were trying to shoot you. You’ve been lured to London in an attempt to get you to miss a Health Check, and someone, for reasons we don’t yet know, chose to inject you with a sedative. Do you not think this highlights a need for you to have some protection?’

  ‘Oh, I suppose you are right.’ He sighed. ‘I was just so looking forward to a shower, change of clothes and a night in my own bed.’

  ‘It’s just one more night, sir,’ said Ian. ‘If it helps, we can try to locate Mrs Kilsyth and she can fetch whatever you need.’

  The idea seemed to cheer the professor up. ‘Yes, that’s true. Tess will know what I need.’

  ‘And I have a request for you both. We would rather you didn’t mention the events of last night to anyone.’

  ‘Who do you mean by “we”, Ian?’

  ‘You work for the HET, Mona, just consider yourself told.’

  ‘That’s right, Ian. I work for the HET, you don’t. You work for Police Scotland, and last time I looked you were nowhere in my line management structure.’

  He looked furious. ‘I risked my fucking life last night rescuing you two from a man with a gun, remember?’

  ‘And the mysterious group of people you call “we” put the professor and I in that position. I answer to John Paterson and Cameron Stuttle on this, and no one else.’

  ‘Just keep your mouth shut.’ Any remaining camaraderie from the earlier part of the trip had vanished. ‘And believe me, Paterson and Stuttle will have been told the same.’

  ‘So Stuttle’s not in charge of this operation?’

  Ian shot her a look of absolute fury. She grinned in return. ‘Said something you shouldn’t have, Ian?’

  ‘And I’ll only tell Tess,’ said a voice from the back seat.

  ‘No, Professor! You can’t speak to anyone, not even Mrs Kilsyth.’

  ‘He’s a civilian . . .’ began Mona.

  ‘Shut it!’

  ‘Please don’t shout at Mona, I’m extremely grateful to her. But I can assure you I am deeply embarrassed about the events of the past few days, and I will be drawing no further attention to them if I can help it.’

  ‘That’s great, Professor,’ said Bob, in a tone of voice that aimed to be soothing. ‘So, Mona, are we all on the same page here?’

  She folded her arms and returned to staring out of the window. She heard Bob sigh from the back seat, and resolved if he tried to pat her shoulder again, she’d break his fingers.

  They drove in silence through streets that got steadily more urban. Mona’s thoughts turned back to the night’s events. She didn’t buy the Twitter crazies theory, but who else was out there that would be so concerned about the professor’s speech that they’d be willing to risk killing him? And all just to avoid a couple of weeks’ quarantine?

  ‘Mona, where can we drop you?’ Ian shot her a conciliatory smile.

  She realised how tired she was. ‘Somewhere near my home. I need to sleep for a couple of hours before going in to work. In fact, if you pull in here I can leap out. I’m only about ten minutes from home.’

  She undid her seat belt. ‘Good luck tomorrow, Professor.’

  To her surprise, he opened his door as well.

  ‘Professor, you’re staying here,’ said Bob, alarmed.

  ‘Yes, yes, I just want to say goodbye to Mona.’

  He bounded over to her, and swept her up in a big bear hug.

  She seized the opportunity to ask him a question. ‘Professor,’ she whispered. ‘Are you really talking about the quarantine tomorrow, or is it something else?’

  ‘You are a very clever woman, Mona.’ He pressed something into her hand. ‘Please take my card. I’d very much like to meet you properly, under less stressful circumstances.’

  Bob was out of the car now, watching them.

  ‘Thank you again for everything, Mona,’ said the professor, and climbed back in without looking at her.

  ‘Mona,’ said Bob, ‘we need to . . .’

  She walked off, and was brought up short as he grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away, but he held firm. He stepped toward her and brought his mouth close to her ear. ‘I get that you are pissed off that there are things here you don’t know. But have you ever considered the possibility we are trying to keep you safe too?’

  He released his grip and she ran, and didn’t stop running until she was back in her flat, door safely locked behind her. She paced up and down her living room, wondering how to channel the fury that was coursing through her. Lied to. Manhandled. What the hell were Police Scotland playing at? That is, if the two of them really were just working for Police Scotland. Sleep. She needed to sleep, but was so wound up that it seemed a distant possibility.

  She sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at the professor’s contact details. Rather than handing her a single card, he’d given her a small bundle of them, held together with a rubber band. Mona smiled. The professor needed Theresa to organise him. She would phone him, in a couple of weeks or so, when all this was over. Maybe she’d take Bernard to meet him. That would be a meeting of minds.

  She stuck the cards in the top drawer of her desk and yawned. Bed.

  8

  Bernard ran until he was about six streets away from the house, then pulled out his phone. The phone’s log showed there were half a dozen missed calls from Maitland, and an equal number of text messages rising in temperament from mildly annoyed to frantic. He wasn’t surprised that his colleagues were worried; after all he’d just popped out for some milk over two hours ago. He absolutely needed to phone Maitland back, not least because his colleagues might phone the police, but he really didn’t want to answer any questions about the conversation he’d just had. The one thing he wanted right now was time to think about what had just happened. There had to be a way to deal with all this, there must be, if only he could get his brain into gear. He missed Mona more than he would have thought possible. Mona would know what to do.

  He braced himself and pressed dial. ‘Maitland?’

  ‘Bernard, thank God.’ His colleague sounded genuinely relieved. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I . . .’ He wondered what to say to buy himself some breathing space. ‘I got a lead on my Defaulter.’

  ‘What? And you didn’t think to mention it?’ Maitland was sounding less relieved, and more back onto his usual home ground of irritation. ‘We were about to phone the police, for Christ’s sake. We’ve already phoned your landlady and your ex-wife in case they’d seen you.’

  ‘Were they both OK?’ He couldn’t stop the tone of anxiety in his voice.

  ‘They were fine. Why wouldn’t they be? Bernard, what’s going on?’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘Bernard, listen to me. This is not the time to be a go-it-alone asshole. Tell us what the problem is and let us help.’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine,’ he said quickly, and ended the call before Maitland could protest.

  His phone immediately rang again. He turned it to silent mode and shoved it in his pocket. He had a lot of things to do. He needed to speak to Carole – well away from Maitland or anyone else from the office – and warn her about her son’s activities. He needed to speak to Megan, and warn her that her troubles may not be over. He needed to speak to his wife and persuade her that she needed to relocate, at least temporarily, to a place of safety, ideally in a different hemisphere. And he needed to track down Alessandra Barr and warn her . . . although he was pretty sure she’d already got the idea that she was in danger. Then, all of that groundwork done, he needed to walk into a police station, probably the one where PC McGo
vern worked, and explain exactly what had happened over the past day.

  It would be the appropriate response. He would be covering his own back. He couldn’t be held responsible for any of the day’s events, not if he brought all this information directly to the proper authorities. And yet . . . the police were stretched thin since the Virus. Even if he could get them to take the threats to Megan and Carrie as seriously as he would like, there wasn’t the manpower to provide them with round-the-clock cover. It went without saying, too, that Carole would never speak to him again if he brought Michael into all this. Maybe the police would see him as a victim, a naïve fifteen-year-old who was caught up in something he didn’t understand. Maybe the whole experience would put the fear of God into him, and he’d be back to being a straight A student, who never gave his mum and dad a moment’s worry. Or maybe he’d get a criminal record and end up tied more closely to the kinds of people he was already involved with.

  Then there was the one final victim of all this, the woman he was looking for. The woman whose voice he had never heard, whom he wasn’t sure he would recognise if he ever actually met her. If he found her, and delivered her to Kerr, would it buy some security for Megan and Carrie? A quick tip-off to Kerr and his wife would be safe. Chances were, Bernard would never know what happened to resolve the problem. But then he’d have to live for the rest of his life knowing that he’d possibly sent a woman to her death, and he knew he couldn’t bear that. So, if he couldn’t do what Kerr asked, and he couldn’t involve the police, there was only one thing he could do. He would have to find Alessandra Barr himself, and, one way or another, keep her safe.

  A taxi appeared in the distance, and he stuck his hand out. Kerr had been right about one thing. Alessandra Barr had probably gone crying to someone – and he had a pretty good idea who. The woman who had been providing a shoulder to cry on to girls in trouble for more years than anyone could remember. If only she was prepared to talk to him.

  ‘Where to?’