Picture Her Dead (Rhona Macleod)

by Lin Anderson

  ‘And she never got in touch again?’ Liam said.

  ‘Not until tonight. And that was you, it turns out.’

  ‘When did she first make contact?’

  ‘About a month ago. She said she was doing a project on old cinemas. My brother and I are former projectionists. We met and she recorded us talking about our work.’

  ‘We heard that,’ Ben said. ‘It sounded like one person. We didn’t realise there were two of you.’

  ‘Did Jude ever mention an old film she’d found?’ asked Liam.

  ‘Yes, that was the reason she asked to meet up at the Lyceum,’ said Jim.

  ‘Did she tell you anything about the film?’

  ‘Just that she wanted to date it and thought we might be able to help.’

  It all fits, Liam thought. These guys are bona fide.

  ‘Do you think this film has something to do with Jude’s disappearance?’ asked Jim.

  ‘It was stolen from her room, along with her laptop, the night after she disappeared.’

  ‘There is a good market for old films, particularly rare footage. Do you know what the subject was?’

  The boys exchanged looks.

  ‘We only saw the first few frames,’ Liam explained. ‘It was pretty violent gay porn.’

  The men’s shock was obvious. This wasn’t what they’d expected.

  ‘Tell them the rest,’ Ben urged him.

  ‘When Jude didn’t appear I started to worry that she might be lying hurt in the Rosevale. Next day I went to the shop and asked to look in the cinema. That’s when we found the body.’ Now the brothers looked utterly astounded. ‘You must have heard about it on the news?’

  ‘We don’t listen to the news,’ Jim said. ‘Was this death suspicious?’

  ‘That’s just it. The papers are hinting at some sort of sexual ritual like we saw in the film.’

  ‘And you think Jude discovered this body?’

  ‘We don’t know for sure. It was hidden behind a wall.’

  ‘Did the police say how long the body has been there?’

  ‘A long time.’

  ‘I think we should talk to the police about this.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘When we were starting out as projectionists, there were rumours about a private club showing films like the one you describe. A young colleague told us about it.’

  ‘Is this colleague still around?’

  ‘He may be. We haven’t seen him in years.’

  ‘It’s a possible lead on the film, at least,’ Ben said.

  ‘But it doesn’t help us to find Jude.’

  The four parted company outside the pub, the twins heading westward along Govan Road. Liam had considered asking them not to mention this meeting, but had decided not to. Once the twins talked to the police all of this would come out anyway, including the fact that he and Ben had not heeded Rhona’s instructions to stop interfering and leave it to the police.

  Both of them were silent during the return journey. Even ebullient Ben was clean out of conversation. They’d reached the end of the road, Liam realised now; there was nowhere else to go in their search for Jude.

  39

  Rhona locked the car with the remote and contemplated what she might find to eat at home. If her memory served her right, nothing. She swithered between phoning out for a pizza or walking to the nearest takeaway.

  She finally settled on checking out the various delivery menus by the phone in the kitchen, although she doubted any of them would offer fresh pasta with black olives and anchovies.

  The sound of her key in the lock brought Tom rushing to greet her, winding his way through her legs as she made her way to the kitchen. Rifling through the menus, she finally decided on Chinese. She called and ordered the first item she recognised on the long list, then headed for the shower.

  When the delivery boy arrived, she heaped the entire contents of the carton on to a plate and carried it through to the living room, taking her mobile with her. She began her meal but abandoned it as soon as her initial craving was satisfied. Despite the spicy flavours, it tasted nowhere near as good as the fresh pasta of the previous evening. She remembered her conversation with Sean, and resolved to get in touch with Liam again.

  Rhona rose and switched on the fire, then fetched the duvet from the bedroom. Bed would be more comfortable, but she might fall into a deep sleep and miss the mobile if it rang.

  She did doze, but fitfully, her dreams peppered with vivid disturbing images from the past. In the nightmare she saw herself entering that hideous little room where the rent boy had died, saw his body lying face down on the blood-splattered cover, blond hair masking his face.

  Just as before, she reached out and rolled the body back to reveal the boy’s mutilated genitals. Then the image blurred and changed, and now the body was dry and blackened, the desiccated face masked by dirty dark blond hair and the remains of the penis shrivelled and torn inside a metal ring.

  Rhona woke suddenly and sat upright, her mind racing. A violent sexual death, a leather collar, asphyxiation. Trademarks she recognised from the rent-boy case. They had no way of knowing how long Gavin MacLean, the perpetrator, had been operating by the time they’d caught up with him. Could the body in the cinema be another of his victims, undiscovered for close to a decade?

  The more Rhona considered the proposition, the more the similarities with the current case seemed apparent. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before, but it was a depressing truth that she saw so much violence day to day that she preferred to forget the details of each case once it seemed to be over. And now Bill had a possible link between the former manager of the charity shop and Dalrymple, who had been implicated in the rent-boy case but slipped through the net thanks to his connections.

  She rose and went to make a pot of coffee. Sleep wasn’t a possibility now. Not until she looked over her evidence from the Rosevale and carefully considered her latest leap of deduction.

  She finally snatched a couple of hours’ sleep before dawn. Her mobile hadn’t rung and there had been no texts. No news is good news, she thought as she showered and dressed, hoping it was true.

  In the cold light of day her musings in the small hours seemed more of a dream than a reality. But the notion still persisted. The timing was right. The method of killing could fit Gavin’s profile. But none of that was any use without proof that Gavin MacLean had been in contact with the victim, and that was something only trace evidence could supply.

  40

  ‘On what grounds was this warrant issued?’ Sutherland said, keeping his tone even.

  Bill had expected the summons, but it had arrived quicker than anticipated. Nelson must have been on the phone to his Lordship as soon as Bill had left the previous night.

  ‘Mr Nelson’s former cleaner identified film material in his room of a violent and pornographic nature. Mr Nelson had access to the Rosevale cinema around the time the body was put there. His behaviour last night suggested he’d removed anything he thought incriminating in anticipation of my arrival. I assumed he’d taken it to his yacht and thought it should be searched.’

  ‘As I understand it this cleaner has a grudge against Mr Nelson.’

  ‘Mrs Cochrane might be lying, but the easiest way to find out is for us to search the boat, Sir.’

  Sutherland conceded this with a grudging tilt of his head.

  ‘Nevertheless Mr Nelson has claimed you are harassing him.’

  ‘If asking pertinent questions in a murder enquiry is harassment, then he’s right. I’m harassing him.’

  The Super shot Bill a warning glance. ‘Has the search begun?’

  ‘They’re waiting for me, Sir.’

  ‘I think it would be better if you weren’t present.’

  ‘May I ask why, Sir?’ Bill said, knowing full well.

  ‘It matters little who searches, but whether they find anything.’

  Dismissed, Bill rang DS Clark and told her to get on with it. ‘Bring
everything back, Sergeant. I don’t care if it says Teletubbies on the label.’

  Bill sat back in his chair, temporarily satisfied. Nelson might have friends in high places but that didn’t mean he was above the law.

  The internal phone rang and he picked up. It was the desk sergeant.

  ‘Two men named Jim and John Mulligan want to speak to the person in charge of the Rosevale case.’

  ‘I’ll be right down.’ Bill allowed himself a smile. Two successes and it wasn’t even nine-thirty. What did they say about good luck coming in threes?

  Bill observed with interest the two men sitting in front of him. He had met twins before, but was struck by how alike these two elderly men were. The same faces, the same build, slight but wiry. He couldn’t tell them apart. They were even dressed the same. And the voices! No wonder he’d thought there was only one man being interviewed on Jude’s recorder.

  The one who’d identified himself as Jim was the spokesperson, although Bill got the eerie impression they were talking in unison, because Jim’s every facial movement was duplicated by his brother.

  ‘We don’t watch the news, Detective Inspector. We find it too distressing most of the time. So we had no idea that Jude was missing until her two friends got in touch.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Bill said, though he had more than an inkling.

  ‘They said their names were Liam Hope and Ben Howie.’

  So Liam hadn’t heeded his mother’s warning. Bill wasn’t unduly surprised. ‘And how did they get in touch?’

  ‘They sent an email using Jude’s email account, asking to meet at the Govan Lyceum last night.’

  ‘And you thought the email came from Jude?’

  ‘We had no reason not to. Except the last time she made an arrangement to meet us, Jude didn’t turn up.’

  ‘And that was when?’

  ‘The night she disappeared,’ Jim confirmed. ‘The boys mentioned an old film reel that had gone missing from Jude’s room. The reason Jude asked to meet us that night was to discuss that film.’

  Bill sat up in his chair. This was something he didn’t know. ‘She told you what was on it?’

  ‘No. She said she was interested in dating it and hoped we might help. The boys told us what was on it.’ Jim glanced at his brother who nodded imperceptibly for him to continue. ‘Then Liam explained about finding the body in the Rosevale, and we remembered something we thought you ought to know.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Some forty-odd years ago, when we were working as apprentices, there was a private club that showed films like that shot in Glasgow. A colleague of ours was involved as a projectionist. His name was Brian Foster.’

  ‘Are you still in touch?’

  ‘We haven’t heard from Brian in twenty years. We don’t even know if he’s still alive.’

  ‘Do you remember where this club was?’

  ‘We think St Vincent Street, but it’ll be long gone by now.’

  ‘Had Jude contacted anyone else about this film?’

  ‘I’m afraid we gave Jude the contact details of a man we bought a sixteen millimetre film from on eBay. He lives in the West End. His name is Nelson. At the time we had no reason to believe he would pose any danger to her.’

  ‘And you do now?’

  ‘He recently offered us some rare sixteen millimetre footage, which we declined because of the content.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘He hinted that it was early pornographic material.’

  The third piece of luck, Bill decided, had arrived.

  41

  ‘OK, so we’re a little behind the amateurs, but then again they’re only running one show, whereas we’re running three for you alone,’ Sandy said.

  Bill grimaced sympathetically. ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘On the Sinclair front, he didn’t actually call anyone around the time Dr MacLeod left the hotel.’

  ‘You’re sure? She says she saw him.’

  ‘I’m sure. He did, however, send a text fifteen minutes later.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘A Pay-As-You-Go number. The text just said “Can we meet? Need to speak to you”.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘A pick-up was arranged from the hotel at the end of his shift.’

  ‘CCTV?’

  ‘Same problem as last time. Car across the road, can’t quite make out the licence plate. R2S are running comparison software to see if we can match the two cars.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘And now we come to the missing girl. I located the service providers for both her mobile and email. Mobile first: your suspect Jason said she received a text when he was with her. That’s not true.’

  ‘What about the text to Liam Hope?’

  ‘It was sent when he said. If she tried before that, she didn’t have a signal.’ He handed Bill a printout. ‘Full details here of all calls for your minions to pore over. R2S are plotting the locations leading to the final blackout.’ He paused. ‘Now, emails. According to her account she sent one last night to info@reelcinemas.com arranging a meeting in Govan.’

  Bill interrupted. ‘That was sent by our amateur sleuths.’

  Sandy looked impressed. ‘So they cracked her password. Nice work. Here’s a breakdown of the rest. Nothing since her disappearance apart from that one.’

  ‘Did you spot any communication with someone called Nelson about old films?’

  ‘No, the only email correspondence relating to old film was with reelcinemas.’

  ‘Thanks, Sandy.’

  ‘We aim to please.’

  Bill made his way back to the incident room, clutching his printouts. With DS Clark away he would have to delegate the job to someone else. DC Campbell, class clown and expert impersonator, was the lucky man. Bill handed over the printouts and issued his instructions.

  ‘In the absence of my right-hand woman, I’m trusting you, Detective Constable.’ Bill turned on his heel and entered his office, shutting the door, conscious of the fact that Campbell could do a perfect impersonation of him, too.

  Bill sat at his desk, lost in thought. Hundreds of thousands of people in this city, linked by a complex web of actions and interactions, of lies and truths. He’d learned over time that if you did the ground work and asked the right questions, patterns of human behaviour eventually revealed themselves. All lies were liable to unravel, because life was too complicated to cover all your bases.

  As he saw it, all the possible suspects in Jude’s disappearance had at some point lied or at least evaded the truth, even Liam. Bill refused to let his mind settle on a prime suspect. If you did that, you evaluated everything from then on in that light, shutting your eyes and ears to other possibilities, while the real culprit might be lurking in the shadows.

  The guy who’d called himself Jude’s uncle had turned out to be a fellow resident in her last care home. Checked out by Sunderland police, he was deemed not to be a suspect in her disappearance. So that left the people who’d encountered Jude in the days before her disappearance. Liam, Charlie, the girl in the neighbouring room, Jason, Angus, Carol, the twins and Nelson. He was looking forward to interviewing Nelson in the light of the discovery that Jude had in fact been in touch with him. Another lie uncovered.

  He was deep in his musings when he heard the door open. Bill swung round, expecting one of his team or even DS Clark back from her trip to Helensburgh. He did not expect to see Geoffrey Slater.

  ‘Can we talk? In private?’

  ‘Of course. Shut the door.’

  ‘I’d prefer to do it away from your room full of bloodhounds baying for my blood.’

  It was an apt description of his team. Bill rose. ‘Lead the way.’

  You could have heard a pin drop as they exited, but when the outer door closed behind them, a clamour erupted. Slater said nothing as they headed outside and over to his car. Harry Black was sitting in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, his face blank. Slater indicated that Bill should get in the back, then sta
rted up the engine.

  Bill’s initial irritation at being herded into Slater’s car was fast being replaced by anger.

  ‘What the hell’s going on? You said you wanted to talk.’

  Slater drew out into the traffic. ‘You need to see something first.’

  He drove towards the city centre, crossing the river at Eglinton Street. Above them the giant box girders of the new flyover dominated the skyline. Slater took a left and drew up outside a block of flats encased in scaffolding opposite an entry to the M74 construction site. He turned to face Bill.

  ‘I asked you to trust me. Did you?’

  It was a loaded question. Bill had no intention of answering.

  ‘I’m asking you about the Kalinin case,’ said Slater, his small eyes narrowing.

  ‘I was taken off that case,’ Bill shot back.

  ‘And did you come off it?’

  ‘I never give up on one of my own. You should know that.’

  ‘So you ordered Johnny Lang brought in.’ Slater’s voice was thick with accusation.

  ‘Lang was implicated in the Sinclair killing.’

  ‘His footprint was also identified near McNab’s open grave, which could put him in the frame.’

  The sick feeling in Bill’s stomach was rising, fast. ‘I wasn’t aware of that.’

  ‘It’s your job to be aware of such things,’ Slater hissed at him.

  Petersson’s warning echoed in Bill’s head. He will try to bring you down professionally. A policeman stripped of power. Maybe he’s already using Slater to do this.

  ‘Come on, Slater. What’s this really about?’

  ‘Your actions had consequences.’

  Slater gestured to Black and they got out of the car. Bill hesitated, his mind racing. What the hell was going on here? The two men crossed the road and entered the construction site. Bill got out and followed, suddenly struck by the silence. Apart from a guard on the gate, the site was completely deserted.

  Slater strode on ahead, Black one step behind. They were under one of the huge box girders now. A JCB stood idle, its shovel half full of rubble. Slater stopped in front of the pile it had been shifting.

  Bill picked up the stink on approach. He’d met that smell before, and not long ago. Then, it had emanated from a burned-out skip on a municipal dump to the south of the city. The murder that had brought Nikolai Kalinin to his and McNab’s attention.