Picture Her Dead (Rhona Macleod)

by Lin Anderson

  47

  Three men. In three different interview rooms.

  Bill decided to start with Jason. According to the duty sergeant the teenager had been informed why he’d been detained, and had had his prints and a DNA swab taken.

  ‘A solicitor?’ Bill asked.

  ‘He’s spoken to one on the phone.’

  Now, sitting in the interview room with Jason, Bill noted the boy’s ashen face and trembling hands. The lad looked fit to wet himself, but he was trying to hold it together. Jason’s former brush with the law had obviously left its mark.

  The record of the alleged offence had made interesting reading. Either the girl had got drunk, agreed to sex then regretted or forgotten that she had, or she’d had it forced upon her but then couldn’t face taking the assault charge any further.

  ‘Take off your shoes,’ Bill said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said take your shoes off.’

  Puzzled, Jason bent down and untied the trainers.

  ‘Put them upside down on the table.’

  Jason did as he was told.

  ‘Someone was in the projection room with Jude last Tuesday and they left their footprints behind. Our forensic department took casts of those prints.’ Bill waved an envelope in front of Jason.

  ‘Are these your footprints, Jason?’

  ‘I told you already. I met her at the side of the building.’

  ‘You said the fire escape before.’

  Jason hesitated.

  ‘When she realised she’d dropped her recorder she asked if you could let her back in, didn’t she?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘You told her to wait for you round the back. Is Jude still in there somewhere? Did you find some hiding place for her body, or did you take her someplace else?’

  If Jason had been scared before, he was terrified now. ‘I didn’t touch her.’

  ‘Where is she, Jason? Where did you put her?’

  Jason was crying.

  ‘All you have to do is tell me the truth. All of it.’

  The boy snuffled a bit, rubbing his hands together. ‘She forgot her recorder like you said. I told her I could let her in if she came back in twenty minutes. I wanted to be sure everyone was away.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She never came back.’

  ‘Did you go inside the projection room?’

  He shook his head. ‘When I told Angus what had happened he said to keep my mouth shut … because of the other thing.’

  ‘So who locked the projection-room door?’

  ‘Not me,’ said Jason emphatically.

  ‘What about the text you said arrived for Jude? The text that doesn’t exist.’

  He looked stricken. ‘I don’t know. I said that to make you think she went away. I’m sorry.’

  ‘If I find out you’re still lying to me, Jason.’

  ‘I’m not. Honest, I’m not.’

  Next door, neither Nelson nor his lawyer were in the best of moods.

  ‘If you’re not planning to charge my client with anything, I suggest it’s time you let him go.’

  ‘Fine by me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s free to go.’

  ‘But you’ve kept him waiting here for four hours.’

  ‘And now he can go. However, I’d like to take his shoe size and examine the soles of his shoes first.’

  Nelson looked aghast. ‘Why?’

  Bill waved the envelope in front of Nelson’s face. ‘Someone was in the projection room of the Rosevale recently, probably with our missing girl. They left a set of footprints behind, and I’d like to eliminate Mr Nelson.’

  ‘I told you I’d never heard of the girl.’

  ‘And she was never in touch with you about a pornographic film, yes, you said that. However, I have evidence to the contrary. The two men who gave Jude your contact details have told us about the film you offered to sell them.’

  Nelson was squirming in his seat, a fact not lost on his lawyer.

  ‘I’m going to ask you once again, Mr Nelson. Did you make contact with Jude Evans?’

  ‘I may have.’

  ‘Did you agree to meet her?’

  ‘OK, I did, but she didn’t turn up,’ he said defensively.

  Bill was getting fed up of hearing the phrase ‘she didn’t turn up’.

  ‘Where did you agree to meet and when?’

  ‘Last Wednesday.’

  ‘You’re sure it was Wednesday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you lied before, when you said you’d never heard from her?’

  Nelson looked indignant. ‘You were very aggressive and I had nothing to do with her disappearance. I wish I’d never agreed to look at her film.’

  ‘I have it on good authority that you arranged to meet Jude last Tuesday.’

  That floored Nelson, but not for long. ‘Then they got it wrong. It was definitely Wednesday.’

  ‘Where and when?’

  ‘At the Rosevale. Five o’clock.’

  ‘Did you try to contact Jude to find out why she didn’t appear?’

  Nelson was contemplating another lie, Bill could read it in his face.

  ‘Be careful, Mr Nelson.’

  ‘No. She’d wasted my time and I was annoyed. Then I saw the news item saying she was missing, so there wasn’t any point.’

  ‘And you never thought to come forward and help the police with their enquiries?’

  ‘Her disappearance wasn’t anything to do with me.’

  ‘OK. Your shoes, please.’

  ‘Really, this is ridiculous.’ Nelson bent down and loosened his laces.

  ‘Upside down on the table.’

  Bill took his time, even though he could see immediately that these soles weren’t the ones imprinted in the dust of the projection room.

  Bill finally pushed the shoes back towards Nelson.

  ‘Can I go now?’

  ‘We’ll need to take a look at your car.’

  ‘Why on earth … ?’

  Bill ignored his protest. ‘I understand you drove here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I suggest you take the subway home.’

  Two down, one to go. Bill sipped another mug of cold tea, mulling over the stories so far. Jason, he decided, had given a good account of himself, in spite of his obvious fear. R2S were working on the CCTV footage of him with Jude, trying to enhance the sound. With luck Bill might yet hear what their conversation had been about. He also made a mental note to talk to Angus Robertson about giving the police false information. If he was trying to help Jason, he was going the wrong way about it.

  As for Nelson, if Aurora’s memory served her right then he was lying about the day he’d arranged to meet Jude. But Aurora’s evidence wasn’t enough. They needed more. A sighting of Nelson’s car in the vicinity of the Rosevale on Tuesday would help, some evidence he’d been in the projection room, or, better still, trace evidence of Jude in his car.

  One other thing kept niggling at Bill. Aurora had said Jude used the term Admiral Nelson. How had Jude known about the nickname? As far as Bill was aware, it had been coined by Angus. In fact, his recollection was that Angus had been the only one to refer to Nelson in that way, apart from himself. She could have come up with it by herself, but it seemed a coincidence.

  Bill did a quick web search to see if there was a pub in Glasgow called the Admiral Nelson. The first to come up had the right name but was in Twickenham, London. There was one called The Admiral in Waterloo Street, Glasgow and it served a burger called the Nelson.

  Bill sighed. It was time to have a heart to heart with Charlie. He’d handed the laptop over to Sandy for examination, and an initial check on start-up had shown nothing relating to Jude.

  ‘Whoever took it will have tried wiping everything off,’ Sandy had told Bill. ‘Give us time, we’ll restore what was on it before. I take it forensics has checked for prints, et cetera?’

  ‘It’s clean, apart from Charlie.�
�

  Charlie was sitting alone in room four with his own mug of tea, though his was steaming. He looked relaxed and not at all put-out. His demeanour was beginning to grate a bit on Bill – it was possible to be too nice.

  ‘You didn’t want to contact a solicitor, I hear?’

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘You realise you’re being detained in connection with Jude Evan’s disappearance?’

  ‘Yes, although I don’t know what that’s got to do with the story you told me about Sally Murphy. I take it that was a lie to get me to open the boot?’

  Charlie gave Bill a sorrowful look, almost disappointed. It was the sort of look Bill imagined he doled out to the students when they didn’t come up to scratch. What if Jude hadn’t come up to scratch for some reason or other?

  ‘How did you come by Jude’s laptop?’

  ‘I told you I bought the laptop on eBay.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Two days ago.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘Someone called Dave.’

  ‘How was it delivered?’

  ‘He was local, so I told him to bring it to the halls to save on postage.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it strange that the initials of the previous owner were the same as Jude’s?’

  ‘I never even noticed the initials. They were almost scrubbed out. Anyway, if it was hers what are the chances of me buying it, out of everyone looking on eBay? I picked it because it was a good price, and the seller being based in Glasgow was a bonus.’

  Charlie gave Bill a look that suggested he was lacking somewhat in intelligence.

  ‘I’ll need a contact for this Dave.’

  ‘I gave him the number of the halls via eBay. He called me.’

  It was all too easy. Too pat.

  ‘Well, you can leave us his username on eBay and we’ll trace him that way. What about the missing film reel?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘You didn’t buy that on eBay too?’

  ‘Don’t talk daft,’ Charlie laughed.

  Maybe the day had gone on too long. Maybe he was too tired to do this interview, but Bill had an overwhelming desire to smack Charlie one in the face, thus removing his self-satisfied look, if only momentarily.

  He thrust that desire away and tried to be dispassionate. There were things that needed checking. Sally Murphy’s story. Charlie’s background. The whole eBay transaction. Bill was suddenly struck by how much work was created by other people’s lies.

  Charlie, unperturbed, took another mouthful of tea.

  Bill planned his next move. He could take Charlie’s prints and a DNA sample and keep him there for the full six hours. In the interim he might get something on the ownership of the laptop, but it was beyond hope he’d get results on anything else.

  ‘How long have you been at the halls, Charlie?’

  ‘A couple of years.’

  ‘Where were you before?’

  ‘Here and there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘All over. You get restless when you’ve been in the army.’

  ‘I’m going to send in one of my detective constables. I’d like you to give him all the details.’

  ‘Sure thing, Detective Inspector.’

  Bill rose. ‘Another mug of tea?’

  ‘That’d be great. Thinking’s thirsty work.’

  Bill left Charlie sitting there, knowing that unless the laptop turned out to be Jude’s, he had nothing on him. Sally Murphy hadn’t felt compelled to lodge a complaint against the warden up to now. That didn’t mean Charlie hadn’t sexually harassed her. He could have been assaulting young women all over the country, and if none of them had gone to the police they would never know about it.

  Bill couldn’t shake off a sense of unease, as though there was a whole road he’d not yet discovered, let alone walked down.

  ‘Sir?’ Detective Sergeant Clark was eyeing him from the door of his office.

  ‘What is it, Janice?’

  ‘We’ve found Dominic McGeehan, Sir, or the man impersonating him.’

  48

  Rhona left the police station, relieved that Liam had given a good account of himself. Observing her son both in the café and the interview room she’d realised it was pride she was feeling. Until now, guilt had been the only emotion she’d ever experienced when confronted with Liam.

  Liam’s consistent and continued interference in Jude’s case had actually proved useful, what with his discovery about Jude’s later meeting at the Govan Lyceum and his revelations about Charlie. He should have followed her instructions and left well alone, but Rhona secretly rejoiced that he hadn’t. As, she believed, did Bill.

  She turned into the laboratory car park, wondering if Chrissy had returned from the construction site. The thought took her back there, the smell of burnt human flesh still powerful and real. Rhona threw open the car door and took a deep breath, trying to dispel the memory.

  Her mobile rang as she locked the car door.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Just outside.’

  ‘Hurry up. Coffee’s on. And I bought a packet of caramel wafers.’

  The strength of Chrissy’s stomach never failed to amaze Rhona. Last time they’d attended a scene like the one this morning, Chrissy’s favourite had been Jaffa Cakes. She’d been pregnant back then and forever hungry. Jaffa Cakes were still occasionally produced, but the favourites now were Tunnocks Caramel Wafers and Teacakes.

  Despite everything, Rhona’s heart lifted a little as she climbed the stairs. Chrissy sounded as though she had something to impart. Something more substantial than a caramel wafer.

  While Chrissy dished out the coffee and biscuits, Rhona brought her up to date on Liam’s latest adventures.

  ‘He never gives up, does he?’ Chrissy said with a degree of admiration. ‘Even when he’s told to. Who does that remind you of?’

  When Rhona didn’t respond, Chrissy popped the remaining half inch of her wafer into her mouth and chewed it before saying, ‘OK. Here’s my news. The blue coat retrieved from the Govanhill Picture House didn’t belong to Jude. At least, it didn’t match the DNA we extracted from her toothbrush.’

  ‘They’ve completed the search of the Govanhill?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the Olympia?’

  ‘Nothing there of any interest bar a partially smoked cigarette in the projection room where Jude found the film reel. Since Jude doesn’t smoke, it might have had something to do with the film being there.’

  ‘Bill thinks Jude may have gone back to the Rosevale to collect her recorder,’ Rhona said. ‘Either that or she was picked up in a car before she got to Partick Cross.’

  ‘That makes sense.’

  Chrissy fell silent although Rhona had a pretty good idea what the next question would be.

  She answered it in advance. ‘The post mortem’s tomorrow morning.’

  ‘You’re going?’ Chrissy looked perturbed.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But—’ Chrissy stopped when she saw Rhona’s expression.

  Rhona drained the remainder of her coffee. ‘I’m going to get some work done.’

  A couple of hours later, Chrissy called in her goodbyes.

  ‘When are you going home?’

  ‘Soon,’ Rhona lied.

  ‘I take it there’s no news on McNab?’

  Rhona shook her head.

  ‘OK, see you tomorrow.’ Despite everything, there was a light note in Chrissy’s voice.

  Rhona knew why.

  ‘Give baby Michael a kiss from me.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Rhona watched as the door closed behind Chrissy, experiencing a brief stab of envy. That’s how it could have been, she thought. Had I not given up Liam. Had I not asked Sean to leave.

  Later, when Rhona pushed open the flat door, the peace and quiet she had chosen for herself didn’t seem quite so welcoming. Stepping into the gloom, she quickly flicked on the light. T
here was a pile of envelopes on the hall floor. Rhona scooped them up and carried them through to the kitchen, leaving them on the table while she fixed herself a drink.

  She reached into the cupboard for the whisky bottle, recalling the night Liam had turned up and Petersson had insisted on hanging around. He’d been surprised, even delighted, to discover that she had a teenage son. Having met Brynja, Rhona now understood why.

  But Petersson was dead. Burned alive. It didn’t feel real. She, like Brynja, was still living in a world where Petersson might call or walk in at any time.

  Rhona poured a double and added a little water. The first mouthful went down like fire. By the time it reached her stomach, she’d swallowed another. The warmth the whisky brought to her chilled heart and body was temporary, but welcome.

  She glanced without interest at the pile of envelopes. Mostly white and official looking, except one. Rhona extracted it. It was a proper letter, but from whom? She turned it over. There was no sender’s address on the back.

  Rhona tore it open and read the words, hearing Einar’s voice as clearly as though he was there in the room with her.

  Dear Rhona

  By the time this letter arrives a number of things may have happened. I have no way of knowing which one, and can only hope.

  First of all I owe you an explanation and an apology. I lied to you. Not about everything. I did believe McNab was alive and wanted to find him. I had to find him, because if I did not, someone I loved would have paid the price for my failure. I had already lost my wife. I could not lose Brynja too. I hope you can understand that.

  So I made contact with you. I knew that Detective Sergeant McNab and you were close, and I believed if he contacted anyone it would be you. And we found him together. How happy you were when that happened. And all the time I planted the thought that Detective Inspector Slater might be the one betraying you both.

  I gave Kalinin what he wanted. A live McNab. I knew he wouldn’t kill him straight away, because he told me so. He also told me that should I reveal this to anyone, then whatever he did to McNab, he would do to me and, much much worse, to my daughter.

  So I chose to tell them where McNab was, but then found myself unable to live with that choice. I decided to set McNab free and help him go south, to make sure he gave his evidence. The reason? Unless he did, I would continue to be Kalinin’s pawn and Brynja could never be safe.