Picture Her Dead (Rhona Macleod)

by Lin Anderson

  Liam didn’t tell him that Jude had been brought up in care and had no family to call.

  ‘OK, thanks for your help.’

  ‘No problem, son.’

  Back outside, Liam looked up at Jude’s dark window. Could she have mentioned going somewhere specific last night, before they were due to meet in the pub? He had wracked his brains but couldn’t remember anything. Since she’d begun recording Glasgow cinemas, she was always prattling on about derelict foyers and old projection rooms. The truth was he didn’t listen most of the time.

  He glanced at his watch. He would miss the last class of the day if he didn’t hurry. As he headed for the main campus, he made up his mind to give it one more night. If Jude hadn’t contacted him or shown up at the halls of residence by tomorrow, he would go to the police and report her missing.

  Fifteen minutes into the tutorial, he received a text that changed his mind. It looked as though Jude had tried to send it the previous evening from somewhere with no signal: Wll B l8 Found gr8 cinema

  So she’d been visiting another cinema, but which one? And why hadn’t she turned up after that? He’d sat in the pub until closing time. Even hung around outside for ten minutes afterwards.

  Liam decided to risk the wrath of the lecturer and slip out early. The group was small enough to make it awkward, but he did it anyway. The caustic commentary that followed his departure was clearly audible as he closed the door behind him and headed down the corridor.

  ‘So the young woman hasn’t been seen since yesterday?’

  ‘She was meant to meet me last night. She didn’t turn up.’

  Liam knew what the policeman was thinking. Someone isn’t necessarily missing simply because they stood you up.

  ‘You don’t understand. Jude is very organised. She always turns up when she says she will, and she didn’t sleep at the halls of residence last night.’ Even as he said the words, Liam imagined the officer’s interpretation of events. Jude had decided she didn’t want to see Liam any more. Maybe she’d met someone she liked better. Someone she’d chosen to spend the night with.

  He ploughed on regardless. ‘And then I got this text. It didn’t arrive until today, but it reads like it was sent last night. Jude photographs derelict cinemas. She said she’d found a great one and that she would be late.’

  He showed the policeman the text.

  ‘And you’ve tried calling her?’

  ‘Loads of times. It just goes to voicemail.’

  ‘What about her family? Could she have gone home?’

  ‘Jude hasn’t got a family. She was brought up in care.’

  ‘So there’s no one you could contact?’

  Liam’s exasperation and worry were growing. ‘Something’s happened to her. I know it has.’

  The officer studied him intently. ‘And what makes you say that?’

  ‘Why else would she disappear?’

  ‘We haven’t established that she has disappeared.’ The man’s tone was firm. ‘And we certainly haven’t established that the young lady has been harmed. Now, this cinema she mentions. Have you checked there?’

  ‘I don’t know which one it is.’

  ‘Is there any way to find out?’

  Liam shook his head in despair.

  The policeman sighed. ‘When she visits these cinemas, does she go on her own?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’s no one else involved with her on this project?’

  ‘Jude prefers working alone.’

  ‘And you two are an item?’

  He shook his head. ‘We’re friends, that’s all.’

  ‘Did she have a boyfriend?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re certain of that?’

  Jude had never mentioned one. In his heart Liam hoped something might happen one day, although Jude had never given him cause to believe it would. She’d just treated him like a mate, with no sexual undercurrent at all. He’d been satisfied with that, as long as she allowed him to spend some time in her company.

  After a short silence the policeman said, ‘My advice is to give it another twenty-four hours. Chances are she’ll have turned up.’

  ‘What if she hasn’t?’

  ‘They usually do.’

  He was being dismissed. Liam stood for a moment, wondering whether he should argue, but the expression on the policeman’s face suggested he would be wasting his time.

  He left the building and slowly retraced his steps to the halls, trying to work out what to do next. He imagined what Jude would say if he did make a fuss and there turned out to be a perfectly logical explanation for her standing him up. It made him uncomfortable thinking about it, but it didn’t stop the niggling worry that he should be doing something.

  If he only knew which cinema she’d been visiting, he could find out who had let her in and ask if the same person had seen her leave. He could search the building, make sure she wasn’t lying hurt inside.

  But if she was, surely she would phone for help?

  Liam started going through all the reasons why that might not be possible. Her phone had run of credit. Her battery had run down. She was somewhere with a poor signal. Well, that much was true – her message to him had come through very late. He immediately imagined her in the basement of some derelict cinema, hurt and alone. Hoping and praying that he would come looking for her.

  Liam upped his pace, reaching the halls of residence minutes later. The police officer who’d dealt with him in Strathclyde’s Headquarters had given him one idea at least. If he could get access to Jude’s computer, maybe he would be able to discover which of the cinemas she’d planned to visit last night. It was worth a try.

  ‘Back again?’ the warden said when he walked in the door.

  ‘I’ve been to the police station – I tried to report Jude missing.’

  ‘It’s too early for that, son,’ Charlie said sympathetically.

  Liam took a deep breath. ‘Look, Jude went alone to photograph a derelict cinema last night. I’m worried something might have happened to her there, so I need to find out which one. If I could check her laptop?’

  ‘You want me to let you into her room?’

  ‘You could come with me.’

  ‘The man took a minute to decide. ‘OK, let’s take a look.’

  As the warden was opening Jude’s door 3-D Specs reappeared.

  ‘Has something happened to Jude?’

  ‘Not as far as we know,’ the warden reassured her. He beckoned Liam to follow him and quickly shut the door, locking it behind them. ‘We don’t want the whole corridor in here with us.’

  Liam glanced round the meticulously neat room. He’d only been here once before, and then only briefly. At the time he’d got the impression that Jude wasn’t keen on people entering her private space, so he’d waited at the door.

  Charlie seemed pretty impressed. ‘I’ve never seen such a tidy room.’

  ‘Jude was a bit obsessive. That’s why I’m hoping she’ll have a record of which cinemas she planned to visit and when.’ Liam headed for the desk, where a laptop sat open. He powered on and was swiftly confronted with a log-in screen demanding a password.

  Shit. He should have known Jude would be a stickler for security. He could be here all day trying out combinations and still get nowhere.

  He checked out the desk drawers. The deepest one held a black metal box, which he slid out and placed on the desk. Opened, it revealed an old 16mm film reel. The other two drawers held neat bundles of pens and pencils, a sketchpad and a rule. Nothing specifically related to the cinema project.

  ‘What about these?’

  The warden indicated some photographs mounted on a wall board. ‘That’s the old Olympia in Bridgeton. I used to go there as a kid. Ninepence seats right down the front. You had to queue for hours to get in.’

  There were seven labelled photographs in total, all depicting cinema façades – the Old Odeon Renfield Street, the Olympia Bridgeton, the Govan Lyceum, the Grand Centr
al, the Parade in Dennistoun, the Riddrie and the Rosevale on Dumbarton Road.

  ‘Maybe Jude was visiting one of these?’ suggested Liam.

  ‘Maybe, but Glasgow has scores of old cinemas, son. You’ll have your work cut out if you plan to check them all.’

  Without access to Jude’s project diary, there was no way to pinpoint which one she’d planned to visit last night.

  ‘This is a job for the police, son.’

  ‘But they won’t look.’

  ‘They will, just not yet.’

  ‘What if she’s in trouble now?’

  ‘She’d call you, wouldn’t she?’

  Liam wasn’t so sure she’d be able to, but didn’t say so.

  As if in response, the warden’s mobile rang.

  ‘Charlie here. OK, I’ll be right down.’ He turned back to Liam. ‘Leave your number on the way out and I’ll let you know as soon as Jude turns up. I have to get back to the desk. Can you pull the door shut behind you?’

  Liam waited for him to leave then set about jotting down the names of the cinemas. None of them rang a bell.

  When he’d finished, he took a last look round, his gaze resting on the laptop. If only he could take a proper look at that. If he gave it to his flatmate, Ben the hacker, he would gain access in no time. But he couldn’t just remove it from the room, could he? As he dragged his eyes away, he spotted something he’d missed before – a memory stick, still plugged in.

  Surely compulsive Jude would back up her data regularly? Liam hesitated before crossing to the desk, extracting the stick and slipping it in his pocket.

  Thankfully Charlie was in full flow on the phone when Liam reached the lobby. He quickly scribbled down his mobile number and left it on the counter, before heading for the front door.

  5

  ‘So what have we got?’

  ‘Some DNA swabs and fibre tapes, and maybe even a couple of partial fingerprints. Soil for sieving and a selection of footprint and tyre casts to run past the database. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the coffin in the back of the car.’ Rhona’s feeble attempt at a joke was rewarded with a withering look. Getting back into Chrissy’s good books wasn’t going to be easy.

  ‘Einar Petersson’s been trying to get hold of you.’

  ‘He called here?’ said Rhona, surprised.

  ‘Why shouldn’t he? There aren’t any more secrets, are there?’

  ‘I’ll get back to him once I’ve logged what I have here.’

  ‘I can do that.’

  Rhona tried to sound innocent. ‘OK. I fancy a coffee. What about you?’

  A trip to the coffee machine would allow her to call Petersson out of earshot of Chrissy. But judging by the look on Chrissy’s face now, her plan was pretty transparent.

  Rhona made for a quiet spot in the corridor before pulling up Petersson’s number. He picked up on the third ring.

  ‘Rhona!’ He sounded pleased.

  ‘Why did you call the lab?’

  ‘You didn’t answer your mobile.’

  ‘I was processing a grave.’

  ‘McNab’s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So the world knows our detective sergeant is alive,’ he said.

  ‘Seems that way.’

  There was an expectant silence. Rhona knew it was her turn to speak; after all, she had been the one to contact him.

  ‘I have something for you, from the recently deceased.’

  ‘Really?’ he said, clearly intrigued. ‘May I ask what?’

  ‘An envelope.’

  ‘So you’ve met up with him?’

  Rhona ignored the loaded question. ‘When can you pick it up?’

  ‘Tonight? I could also bring some food and wine.’

  She hesitated. Would it be better to pass the envelope on in private or in public?

  Petersson was reading her mind. ‘Alternatively we could have dinner out and you can pass it across the table surreptitiously, wrapped in a napkin?’

  ‘This isn’t funny,’ she said sharply.

  ‘No, you’re right. It isn’t.’

  Rhona was silent for a moment. ‘Come round about eight.’

  ‘OK. What do you fancy eating?’

  ‘Surprise me.’

  When she returned with two coffees, Chrissy was already at work sifting soil. She waved the coffee away impatiently, but Rhona accepted the rejection with good grace. She had betrayed Chrissy, or at least that’s how it must seem to her.

  Rhona settled down to cast an eye over the photographic evidence she’d collected. There had been six distinct footwear impressions in the soft soil near the grave. She’d routinely sealed them with hairspray to prevent the casting material from damaging the finer details, before mixing dental stone and water to a thin pouring consistency. She’d been able to lift each of the casts after half an hour, but it would take a day of air drying before she could brush them clean and examine them properly.

  She had also located a set of tyre marks a few yards from the open grave. The road through the cemetery was tarred, but the vehicle had drawn up partly on the muddy grass that bordered it. She’d used the same method of casting to record the three-dimensional negative print left in the soil. Tyre-tread designs were hugely variable and complex. They could be used to identify the tyre manufacturer and through this possibly the make and model of the vehicle. If they could link the vehicle in some way to Nikolai Kalinin, that would help the case against him.

  It was a slender hope, thought Rhona; the Russian was far too well organised to leave such an obvious trail.

  6

  Liam plugged the memory stick into his laptop. The list of folders and files that appeared on the screen showed what an organised person Jude was. It was in direct contrast to the haphazard manner in which he stored his own files.

  He chose the folder entitled ‘Cinema Project’. It opened on a further set of files labelled ‘City Centre’, ‘North’, ‘South’, ‘East’ and ‘West’. He opened the ‘City Centre’ folder first and saw sixteen further folders inside, each with the name of a cinema.

  ‘West’ offered a further eight folders; ‘South’, eight; ‘East’, nine; and finally ‘North’ had three. That made forty-four cinemas in total, and Jude could have been visiting any of them.

  Liam gazed at the screen in dismay. Charlie was right, it would take forever to check them all. Even the police would be pushed to do that in a short space of time. The only chance he had of finding out where Jude was last night was a schedule of some sort. Surely Jude, of all people, would keep a diary, and keep it up to date? He knew she used every facility on her mobile whereas he had scarcely investigated half of them. Would she keep the project diary on her phone? The thought alarmed him.

  To calm himself and feel as though he was making progress he opened the first of the ‘City Centre’ folders, Britannia Panopticon. From the files inside he quickly realised that the Panopticon wasn’t actually derelict, but was operating as an arts centre. He suddenly recalled Jude suggesting they go there to watch some Laurel and Hardy films. Free entry but no heating, she’d said. For some reason they hadn’t gone, and he couldn’t remember why. Liam tried another folder. The La Scala had been turned into a Waterstone’s. Jude’s text the previous evening had definitely not been sent from a bookshop.

  He clicked his way through more of the folders. If a cinema had been converted and was in use in some other capacity he made the assumption Jude had already been there, since it was easy enough to get access. He suddenly realised that he should be checking for folders which had no photographic records inside – the ones yet to be visited.

  It took him a while but eventually he had four possibilities, all of which had been included on the wall display. The old Odeon on Renfield Street in the city centre, the Olympia in Bridgeton, the Govan Lyceum, and the Rosevale on Dumbarton Road.

  None of these had folders of images, save for one picture of each exterior. OK. He was down to four, which was a whole lot better than forty-four. T
he question was, which to try first? They were pretty well spread out across the city. Had he discovered this while at the Art School the sensible thing would have been to head for the Odeon first, then go east into Bridgeton. The Lyceum was across the Clyde on the south side, definitely out of the way. As his flat was in Gibson Street, he could either jump on the underground and head into town or go for the one in Dumbarton Road.

  The room had gradually grown darker as the winter evening began to draw in. Whatever he decided, it had to be soon. Liam grabbed his jacket from the back of the sofa.

  He made his decision at the front door. He would head for the Rosevale. The image had suggested the front of the cinema was now a charity shop, so surely someone in the shop could tell him if Jude had been around?

  He began to walk briskly along Kelvinway. The street lights were already on, but here between the two halves of Kelvingrove Park and its encroaching trees it always seemed dark. A short while later he was turning right into Dumbarton Road. He had no idea where exactly on the street the cinema was, but he knew he was looking out for a sign for the British Heart Foundation.

  He eventually found it, though at first glance he thought he’d got it wrong. How could a cinema have existed here? All the others he’d seen in Jude’s photos had had impressive frontages, some even regal.

  The building he stood outside now was a red sandstone tenement block with a shop at ground level, but according to Jude this had been the location of the Rosevale cinema.

  Liam hesitated for a moment, then pushed open the door and stepped inside. The tinkling bell immediately brought a woman from a back room.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I’m looking for my friend Jude. She’s a photographic student at the Art College and she’s doing a project on old Glasgow cinemas, including the Rosevale?’

  The woman smiled. ‘Oh yes, that’s right, but I’m afraid you’ve missed her. She was here yesterday, taking photographs of the foyer and projection room.’

  Liam’s heart leapt. ‘So she was definitely here?’

  ‘I let her in myself, not long before closing time. Why? Is anything wrong?’

  ‘Can you tell me when she left?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I can’t. She arrived quite late, so I agreed she could leave by the back entrance when she’d finished her photographs.’