by Lin Anderson
‘I’ve a couple of makes. You’re interested in these things yourself, Detective Inspector?’
‘My father was an enthusiast,’ Bill lied.
‘Well, come through and take a look. My study’s a former dressing room, so I’m afraid you have to go through my bedroom to get to it.’
The room was compact and well organised, with two shelved walls. One held books, the other was carefully stacked with film reels and cassettes. The remaining wall, facing the door, provided the screen. The projector was still running, throwing out a grainy image of an extended family in a garden in summer, at least four generations gathered together.
‘They must have been wealthy for the time – there’s a swimming pool in the background,’ said Nelson. ‘By their looks and colouring I think this might be a Jewish family, and in saluting they were mocking the Fascists. Sadly, they had no idea what was in store for them.’ He threw a switch and the crackling reel came to a halt. ‘Now, what did you want to talk to me about?’
For the second time in a couple of hours, Bill was surprised. He’d expected Nelson to be evasive at least, at worst downright hostile, yet here he was being invited into the secret room and shown its hoard.
‘I came because I wanted to ask you about this.’ He gestured at the film cans.
‘Really? How did you know I was a collector?’
‘Your former cleaner mentioned it.’
‘You’ve spoken to Mrs Cochrane?’ Nelson looked slightly unnerved for a second. ‘I had to ask that woman to leave my employment, I’m afraid. I had reason to believe she was pilfering.’
‘But you employ her sister now?’
‘Yes. But I don’t give her a key, so I’m always in the house when she’s here.’ He scrutinised Bill. ‘But what have old films to do with your murder case?’
Bill didn’t answer. He had stepped over to study the spines of Nelson’s books. At first glance there were various tomes on films and film making, nothing along the lines of Moira’s discovery.
‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’ Nelson enquired.
The exaggerated nonchalance in his tone was unmistakable. In an instant Bill could tell there was a charade being played out here; Nelson had removed everything incriminating from this room, probably immediately after Bill had been shown the door on his previous visit. No wonder Peggy had been swiftly ejected shortly after him on the excuse that Nelson was off to play golf with a Lord.
‘Did a Jude Evans ever get in touch with you online, in your capacity as a film collector?’ he asked.
‘Jude. Is that a girl’s name?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘And you think this Jude may have contacted me about what, exactly?’ His voice sounded plausibly concerned.
‘Reel-to-reel films.’
‘I get a great many enquiries. I certainly don’t remember the name.’
‘We ran several televised requests for information about her. She’s been missing since she visited the Rosevale a week ago.’ As well you know, Bill thought.
‘I must have missed those. I don’t watch the TV much.’
‘Jude had in her possession a sixteen millimetre film which she found in the Olympia Bridgeton. She’d taken photo shots of the frames.’ Bill stopped at that point, awaiting Nelson’s reaction.
The other man affected puzzlement. ‘And what has this film to do with her disappearance?’
‘The digital images show the film depicted violent sexual acts.’
‘Really?’
‘Have you ever come across any films of that nature?’
Nelson arched an eyebrow. ‘Pornography, violent or otherwise, isn’t a new invention, Detective Inspector. It’s been depicted in art and film since the beginning of time.’
Bill didn’t like being lectured by someone he’d decided was a sanctimonious git, and a seasoned liar to boot. He decided he’d been nice long enough.
‘Have you any such films in your possession?’
‘No, I do not.’
‘And have you ever met or talked with Jude Evans?’
‘Not to my knowledge, no, and I object to being interrogated in this manner about someone I’ve never met.’
‘I’d like to take a proper look through your collection.’
‘Help yourself,’ Nelson said, almost triumphantly. ‘I have nothing to hide.’
Bill’s mobile rang and he answered it.
‘Nice timing, DS Clark.’ Bill spoke loud enough for Nelson to hear. ‘You have an officer in place? And “The Saucy Sailor”? Secured. Well done. I’ll head down first thing.’
Nelson’s face had turned a ghastly puce. ‘You’ve boarded my yacht?’
‘Not yet, but I intend to once I have my warrant. Until then the boat is off limits. To everyone. I assume that’s where your laptop is?’
Nelson’s shocked expression confirmed this to be the case.
‘I have friends in high places, Detective Inspector, and I intend reporting you for harassment.’
‘To your golfing partner, no doubt?’
‘Lord Dalrymple also plays golf with your Superintendent,’ Nelson said grandly.
Bill shook his head. ‘What is it about men and balls?’
Once inside the car, Bill allowed himself a brief moment to enjoy his victory before he phoned home to apologise for missing his tea again.
‘You sound pleased,’ Margaret said. ‘A breakthrough?’
Bill had to admit it was less than that. ‘A small step forward.’
‘Better that than a step back.’
As he turned on the ignition, his mobile rang again. Bill thought about letting it go, then saw the caller’s name.
‘Rhona? I’m just on my way home.’
‘Then I’m glad I caught you.’
‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve just been at Peterssons’ flat. His grown-up daughter’s there. She arrived unexpectedly, which he wasn’t pleased about. He booked her on a plane to London tonight, then on to Switzerland. He asked her to open the door to no one but me.’
Bill, exhaled heavily. ‘His daughter? So that’s who he was talking about. Is there a mother?’
‘She died in a car accident two years ago in Prague.’ Rhona paused significantly. ‘Brynja said, “The police told us a lorry skidded and hit her car,” as though it might not be true.’
‘You don’t think Petersson suspects she was killed on purpose?’
‘According to Brynja he’s been paranoid about her safety ever since. He also left a message with Brynja for me – apparently William McCartney is alive and coming home soon.’
‘He’s located McNab?’ said Bill.
‘It sounds like it.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘It is if it’s true.’
‘Nothing more than that?’
‘No. I can’t reach him by phone and Brynja doesn’t expect him back before she leaves.’
‘I’ve ordered Lang brought in.’
‘You had to,’ Rhona said.
‘Let’s hope whatever Petersson’s up to, it happens before Kalinin gets wind we’re after Lang. Now, on the cinema case, I’ve just finished talking to the former manager of the charity shop. According to his previous cleaner, he’s a porn-film collector. I suspect he’s shifted the incriminating stuff to his yacht at Helensburgh. I’ll take a look tomorrow. He was dropping a certain name quite heavily when he heard about the warrant to search it.’
‘Whose?’
‘Lord James Dalrymple. Apparently they’re golfing partners.’
‘I can’t imagine Dalrymple playing golf with anyone outside his social sphere.’
‘Maybe they do business together?’
‘What, porn business?’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
The earlier sense of triumph had gone, replaced by something Bill could only describe as dread. He’d felt futile in the Kalinin case from the beginning. Trying to pursue it alone hadn’t made that any better.
Trust
me, Slater had said, and for once had looked as though he meant it. Maybe he should have done just that? What if by interfering he’d made the situation worse for his team? All his instincts told Bill that they were fast approaching the crunch point and he could do nothing to prevent it.
38
Ben sat to one side to let Liam view the screen. ‘She used “Bladerunner” and added eighty-two to the end. The year the film was released.’
‘No emails have been opened since the night she disappeared,’ Liam said quietly.
Ben was opening the two messages, checking them. ‘They’re just spam.’
‘Jude would have deleted those. You know she would.’
As far as Liam was concerned, seeing the unopened messages had just confirmed what he already knew.
‘Look, there’s one that might be something.’ Ben scrolled to an older message from [email protected], one that had been opened.
Thank you for getting in touch about the film you discovered in the Olympia Bridgeton. Happy to meet up and chat about it. What about Tues? Jim
‘Did she answer this Jim?’ Liam said.
Ben was investigating the sent box.
‘Here it is.’ Ben read it out. ‘Meet you at the Lyceum at six – Jude.’
‘She was supposed to meet me at seven,’ Liam reminded him.
‘So, she planned to fit this in beforehand. Where’s the Lyceum?’
Liam’s head was spinning. ‘I have no idea.’
‘No worries.’
Ben brought up a copy of Jude’s memory stick. They both scanned the folder names.
Liam spotted it first. ‘There it is. The Govan Lyceum. Govan’s just across the river from Partick. What do you want to do?’
Ben was thinking. ‘We could send Jim an email from Jude, asking him to meet her tonight.’
‘But what if he has anything to do with her disappearance?’
‘My guess is he’ll get back to us, assuming we’re the police, if only to appear innocent.’
‘OK, let’s do it.’
That done, they adjourned to the pub, taking Ben’s laptop with them. Liam’s state of mind was seesawing between despair that nothing would come of it and fearful anticipation that something might. He was also secretly relieved that their latest lead didn’t involve Charlie.
While they drank their pints, Liam told Ben about Aurora’s revelation.
Ben looked suitably stunned. ‘You said he was a nice old guy.’
‘I thought he was,’ Liam said.
‘What did Jude think?’
‘She liked him too.’
‘Well then, we don’t know what to think, do we? I guess we have no way of knowing if it’s relevant yet. Anyway, if we get a response from this Jim, where do you want to meet? Outside the Lyceum?’
‘Isn’t that too obvious?’ Liam said.
‘Not if he’s innocent. And if he’s guilty, he’ll want to know if it was the police who sent him the email. Are their IT guys following this up?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not supposed to be involved, remember?’ grumbled Liam.
Ben looked thoughtful. ‘If we are on the right track, maybe we should let Rhona in on it?’
Liam lifted his pint and took a mouthful, hoping his silence was answer enough.
They were on their second pint when the laptop pinged to indicate incoming mail.
‘Bingo.’ Ben turned the screen so Liam could read it.
Where and when?
Ben typed a reply: Tonight Govan Lyceum?
Seconds later the sender was back: See you in half an hour.
‘Shit!’ Liam hissed.
Ben looked equally rattled.
‘What do we do when he turns up?’ Liam said.
‘We take his photo from a distance, but we don’t approach unless agreed.’ Ben was already on his feet, downing the remainder of his beer.
Neither of them spoke on their way to the underground at Kelvinbridge. Liam, already regretting their decision, didn’t dare voice his concerns. It was as though, having bought into this, there was no going back. They were meddling, he knew that. And maybe they would screw everything up. For Jude, for Rhona, for the police. Sherlock and Watson? What the hell were they thinking? Ben seemed equally preoccupied but also determined.
Well past the evening rush hour, the train was relatively quiet. By the time it reached Partick, the last stop north of the river, the only people sharing their carriage were a young woman who looked as though she was at the end of a long hard day and an elderly man. Neither paid them any heed.
They emerged from the station to find themselves on a side street yards away from Govan Road.
‘We never checked how we get to the Lyceum from here,’ Liam said.
‘The address is 908 Govan Road.’
‘We could set off in the wrong direction.’
‘We’ll ask someone.’ The girl from the train was passing as Ben spoke so he smiled at her and opened his mouth to ask, but she walked straight past. The elderly man appeared behind.
‘What is it you want to know, son?’
‘Which way do we go for the Govan Lyceum?’
‘The Lyceum, eh? Why d’you want to go there? The place’s been closed for years.’
‘We’re meeting someone.’
‘Well, you want to walk west. You’ll pass Govan Old Parish Church halfway. Now that is a famous place. We get a lot of folk coming off the subway looking for the church. Further along is the Lyceum, but as I said, it’s all boarded up.’ He gave them a studied look. ‘Watch yourselves at this time of night, lads. Govan isn’t what it used to be.’
‘Thanks, we appreciate your help,’ Liam said.
The man nodded and walked on.
‘So we have to watch our backs as well?’ Liam said.
‘Calm down, bro. I have eyes in the back of my head.’
The warning proved unnecessary, the main street being pretty well deserted. They passed a smart old pub called The Brechin, with the statutory smoking huddle outside the door. Apart from that and a takeaway place, everything was closed.
They were opposite the Old Parish Church now. It stood tall, its back to the river, at the rear of a shadowy walled graveyard. As they passed, a noisy group of lads approached on that side of the road. They were carrying various bottles and cans, and obviously looking for somewhere to drink them.
Ben upped his pace, Liam following suit, but the boys were too intent on their own plans to notice them. When the gang reached the church gate they turned and headed inside, disappearing into the gloom, whooping and shouting enough to wake the dead.
Seconds later Ben ground to an abrupt halt and Liam collided with him. ‘There it is.’
The building on the opposite corner, with its distinctive curved frontage and five tall windows, was easily recognisable as the Lyceum.
‘There’s no one there,’ Liam said.
But Ben had already moved on, taking a left turn up a narrow side street. Liam followed.
‘We can watch from here.’
They stood in the darkness of a doorway, sheltering from the rain, Liam conscious that the warmth and light of The Brechin was only yards away. He checked his watch. Forty minutes since they’d sent the email.
‘Maybe he won’t show,’ he said hopefully.
‘They just have.’ Ben eased a shoulder out of the alleyway and used his mobile to take a shot of the two elderly men who now stood in the shelter of the cinema entrance.
‘There’s two of them.’
‘Well, there’s two of us,’ Ben said. ‘And they don’t look scary. What d’you say we head across?’ He set off without waiting for an answer.
Two virtually identical faces watched their approach with some concern. Liam suddenly realised that they were the ones that probably looked threatening.
Sensing this, Ben called out, ‘Hi. Is one of you Jim?’
One of the men stepped forward. ‘I’m Jim, this is my brother John.’
‘We emaile
d you about meeting up,’ Ben said.
‘The message came from Jude Evans,’ Jim said puzzled.
‘We’re friends of hers.’
‘Where is Jude?’
‘That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,’ Liam decided to be blunt. ‘Jude’s gone missing.’
‘Missing?’ Both men spoke at the same time, looking identically surprised.
‘She hasn’t been seen since Tuesday.’
‘We were supposed to meet her here last Tuesday evening but she never turned up,’ said John.
‘Why don’t we head for the pub,’ Liam suggested. ‘We can talk there.’
The men glanced at one another, then Jim answered. ‘Yes, let’s do that.’
They set off across the road in the direction of The Brechin, Ben and Liam following.
‘It’s like talking to one person,’ Ben whispered under his breath.
‘That recording Jude made. It sounded just like them.’
‘You’re right. It did.’
The twins entered as though they were familiar with the place and made their way to the bar.
‘Have you got any money?’ asked Ben.
Liam fished fruitlessly in his pocket. ‘No, but I can use my card.’ He turned to the twins. ‘The drinks are on us. What can we get for you?’
While Liam and Ben waited at the counter, the twins found an empty table. Liam could see them hunched there, talking together, concerned looks on their faces.
‘I don’t think they knew about Jude.’
‘Or they’d already discussed how they were going to play it,’ Ben said.
‘But they’re harmless.’
‘They look harmless. That’s a different thing, mate.’
Liam paid for the drinks and carried them over. Pints for him and Ben, orange juice for the twins. Once seated, they all formally introduced themselves.
‘Now,’ Jim said. ‘What’s this about Jude?’
‘She was supposed to meet me at seven last Tuesday after she photographed the Rosevale cinema in Partick. She didn’t turn up,’ Liam told him.
‘We had arranged to meet her at six outside the Lyceum. She didn’t show there either. We assumed she would email later to explain.’
‘But she didn’t?’
‘No.’
‘Did she have a mobile contact for you?’
They shook their heads in unison. ‘We only communicated via the website,’ said John.