Blindside acalf-3

by G. J. Moffat

  His head cocked to one side.

  He ran at her.

  Irvine saw his face clearly for a moment and pressed the button on the spray.

  He ducked his head and held a big hand up to protect his face from the spray. Irvine tried to angle the liquid into his eyes.

  Then he was on her.

  He shoved his leading hand into Irvine’s face, cracking her face back on to the wall. She felt the impact on her eye socket and cheek, the whole side of her face going numb from the blow.

  She kept her finger on the spray and moved the canister rapidly from side to side hoping to catch him in the face. It worked.

  He shouted out and pulled his hand off her face.

  Irvine kicked out at his legs and felt the side of her shoe connect with his shin. She stepped up into the hall and swung her fist at his head, the canister of pepper spray still grasped in it. She caught him with a glancing blow and he staggered on to the stairs, grabbing at the railing with one hand and swinging the other one round at her.

  She saw the blow coming too late. His hand closed into a fist and hit her high on the head, just below her hairline. The force of it made her stagger and she fell back against the wall.

  The man rubbed at his eyes. Turned and ran, half falling down the stairs.

  Irvine leaned against the wall and listened to the sound of him running on the stairs and the main door crashing back against the wall as he went out on to the street.

  She slid down the wall and dropped the pepper spray, her whole body shaking. She felt on the verge of tears but forced herself not to cry, taking in deep lungfuls of air to slow her pulse.

  The side of her face felt hot and tight. She put her hand to it and felt swelling around her eye, pulled it away and saw blood. She wiped the blood on the wall, smearing it red.

  Irvine searched in her bag for a packet of tissues, pulling out a handful of them and pressing them to her face. She felt blood soak them almost immediately.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Irvine looked up at the sound of the woman’s voice. She was leaning against the doorframe of her flat staring at Irvine.

  ‘Did he hit you?’

  Irvine nodded and pushed herself up. She bent down to lift her bag and felt her head swim, light flashing in her vision. When it passed, she grabbed her bag and walked towards the woman, the wad of tissues still pressed against her face.

  ‘Are you Suzie Murray?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m a police officer. Can I use your bathroom?’

  Murray straightened and looked inside her flat. Her eyes darted furtively back to Irvine.

  ‘I don’t care what you’ve got in there,’ Irvine told her. ‘I came to ask you about Joanna Lewski.’

  As she drew level with the door of the flat, Irvine saw that Murray’s lip was cut and there was swelling to her jaw. She had been crying.

  ‘Did he do that to you?’

  Murray nodded but said nothing. Irvine thought that she looked to be in her mid-thirties, with a bad blonde dye job showing dark roots, but was probably five to ten years younger than that. Being in her line of work tended to age women rapidly.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Irvine asked, taking the tissues from her face and looking at the crimson stain on white.

  ‘What is it about Joanna?’ Murray asked, unable to look Irvine in the eye.

  It hadn’t occurred to Irvine that Murray would not know that her flatmate was dead. Had nobody told her?

  ‘Let’s go inside, okay?’

  Irvine went past Murray into the flat. She followed Murray’s directions to the bathroom, a narrow room at the far end of the hall. The bath was stained where the tap dripped constantly and clothes were strewn across the floor.

  She went to the sink and looked in the mirror, turning her face to see the damage that had been done. There was a half-inch cut running down past her right eye and the side of her face was already swollen and discoloured.

  Irvine took some more tissues from her bag and dabbed at the cut. Murray came into the room and took a box of Elastoplast from a drawer under the sink.

  ‘It’s all I’ve got,’ she said, handing it to Irvine.

  Irvine took them from her and said thanks. Murray left her alone as she tore the backing off two plasters and crossed them over the cut, pressing down and seeing a bloodstain rise where she had applied pressure.

  She was going to have some heavy bruising but there was nothing she could do about that for now.

  Murray was in the living room when Irvine came out of the bathroom. The place was a mess — dirty clothes and dishes all over the place and a single, stained sofa against the wall opposite a window which looked down on to the street outside. Irvine decided she would stand.

  Murray pulled her hair back from her face and looked at Irvine.

  ‘Place is a mess.’

  Irvine wasn’t sure what the correct response to that was. She said nothing.

  ‘You said this was about Joanna?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry but she died yesterday.’

  Murray looked away but otherwise did not react.

  ‘We found her body in the river. She was naked. Somebody stripped her and dumped her.’

  Again, no reaction.

  ‘You don’t seem surprised or upset, Suzie.’

  Murray shrugged.

  ‘Stuff like that happens to us, you know. Comes with the territory.’

  ‘How well did you know Joanna?’

  ‘Not that well. She moved in a month ago.’

  Irvine knew the score: getting any worthwhile information from Murray was going to be difficult. Her inherent distrust of the police.

  ‘Sounds like maybe you didn’t have a choice in the matter? Her moving in, I mean.’

  ‘I don’t own this place. Someone else does.’

  Her handler. Pimp. Irvine made a note to check the Land Register to see who the owner was.

  ‘Who was that man? The one who was just here.’

  Murray rocked back and stood, walking over to the window and wrapping her arms around herself. Irvine couldn’t tell if it was because she was scared or trying to avoid talking about him.

  ‘Suzie?’

  ‘I don’t know his name.’

  ‘That’s not really an answer.’

  Irvine heard her sigh.

  ‘He sold us some stuff.’

  ‘Drugs?’

  She nodded, still looking out the window.

  ‘Have you used any of it?’

  ‘No. He came here with Joanna the other night. Said they were going to party.’

  Irvine looked around. Not much of a place for celebrations.

  ‘Did they?’

  ‘What, you want the details?’

  Irvine said nothing.

  ‘They didn’t stay here long. They went out.’

  ‘And they took the stuff with them?’

  Murray nodded.

  ‘Had he sold you drugs before?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘He showed up a couple of weeks ago with Joanna. She was the one who knew him. Said he had better stuff than anyone else.’

  ‘And he didn’t take cash from Joanna for it?’

  ‘You want a prize for figuring that out?’

  There was a knock at the door. Murray looked at Irvine, her eyes wide with fear.

  Another knock, louder this time.

  5

  Irvine held her hand up, telling Murray to stay where she was. It didn’t sound like whoever was out there had gone away.

  Irvine’s mobile rang. It was Armstrong.

  ‘Where are you?’ he said.

  ‘I’m in Suzie Murray’s flat. Someone was here. I think it might have been the guy who dumped Joanna Lewski’s body. And I think maybe he’s come back.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, I mean, I’m standing outside her door waiting for someone to answer and I’m the only one here.’

  ‘That w
as you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Irvine ended the call and went to open the door. Armstrong looked at her face and winced.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Irvine almost shouted. ‘Why didn’t you say anything when you knocked?’

  ‘It’s not something I’m in the habit of doing.’

  ‘Wait here.’

  Irvine went back to the living room and gave Murray one of her cards. Told her to call if she could remember anything else that might help. Asked if she had anywhere else to stay in case he came back.

  ‘What do you care?’ Murray said. ‘And, anyway, there’s nowhere else.’

  ‘I’ll have someone call in on you. Take a full statement.’

  ‘Look, lady. No offence, right, but I’m not telling you any more.’

  Irvine stared at her.

  ‘Want to know how I keep out of trouble? I don’t get involved. You’ll have to sort it out without me.’

  Irvine wanted to say more, couldn’t work out what might help.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Armstrong said, from the hall outside the flat.

  Irvine turned to look at him.

  ‘She’s said all that she’s going to say,’ Armstrong told her. ‘That’s the end of the story.’

  Murray shrugged at Irvine.

  ‘Unbelievable,’ Irvine said, stepping out into the hall and closing the door to the flat.

  ‘Where to now?’ Armstrong asked.

  ‘You’re taking me to the hospital to get this looked at,’ she said, pointing at her face.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

  Irvine stopped at the top of the stairs, looked around and kneeled to lift the canister of pepper spray from the floor.

  ‘Was lucky I had this.’

  Armstrong looked at her and shrugged.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Irvine turned and went down the stairs without waiting for him.

  6

  Logan was sitting at the Cahills’ dining table when he heard the phone ring through in the study. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after nine. Wondered why Becky hadn’t called yet.

  Cahill got up and went out to answer the phone. Noises sounded from upstairs where Ellie had gone to play with the Cahill children. Sam looked up at the ceiling and then at Logan, smiling.

  ‘How’s she doing? Ellie, I mean.’

  ‘Pretty good. We haven’t been to the counsellor for a while and she’s not quite as raw now when we go to Penny’s grave.’

  ‘She’s awful grown-up now.’

  Logan nodded.

  ‘You’re doing a good job. I mean, of bringing her up.’

  ‘I hope so. But how can you tell, really?’

  ‘Ask me that again in twenty years’ time.’

  It was Logan’s turn to smile.

  Cahill came into the room holding the phone to his ear and motioned for Logan to follow him. They walked briskly to the study where Cahill activated the speaker on the phone base station.

  Logan heard a woman’s voice before Cahill cut across her.

  ‘Melanie, I’ve got you on the speaker now with Logan. He’s the lawyer who’s coming over with me.’

  They exchanged brief greetings before Cahill spoke again.

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘I don’t know if it’s anything. But you said it didn’t matter how small it was.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘It’s just this one thing. I went through Tim’s stuff and couldn’t find anything. Then I remembered that I hadn’t checked our e-mail account since, you know…’

  No one said anything.

  ‘Anyway, I logged on and found this e-mail which Tim sent from his phone. It’s timed just before the flight. He must have sent it here in a hurry.’

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘It says “D. Hunter, Denver”. That’s all.’

  Cahill looked at Logan and shook his head.

  ‘Does it mean anything to you?’ Melanie asked.

  ‘No. What about you?’

  ‘Nothing. I never heard the name before. You think it might be connected?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Cahill said. ‘The timing is certainly interesting. Like he was sending himself something that he thought was important. And also maybe that he wanted someone else to see if anything happened to him. Can you forward that e-mail to me?’

  ‘Okay. What’s your e-mail address?’

  Cahill told her and said he would check it out and call her back if he found anything.

  ‘What do you think?’ Cahill asked Logan after ending the call.

  Logan shrugged.

  ‘Sounds like it might be something. The timing, you know.’

  Cahill nodded and dialled another number on the phone. A man with a strong Glasgow accent answered.

  ‘Bruce, it’s Alex. Can you look at something for me?’

  ‘Sure. What is it?’

  ‘I need you to check any connection between Tim Stark and a D. Hunter from Denver.’

  ‘Not much to go on.’

  ‘It’s all we have.’

  ‘That’s it? No documents or anything?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘When do you need it?’

  ‘Tomorrow is fine. Or the day after. I’ll be in the States so call my mobile.’

  Cahill ended the call, opened his laptop and waited for it to boot, drumming his fingers on his desk. He accessed his e-mail and waited for the message from Melanie Stark to download. He clicked on it and printed off a copy.

  Logan got up and went to the printer, lifting the page from the tray and handing it to Cahill.

  ‘Doesn’t look like much of a lead,’ Logan said.

  Cahill looked over the printed copy of the e-mail and when he was done he forwarded the e-mail to Bruce and shut down his laptop.

  ‘What’s the plan tomorrow?’ Logan asked.

  ‘I’ll come pick you up. We can leave my car at the airport.’

  ‘And after we get there?’

  ‘We play it by ear.’

  ‘You realise that it’s likely our names will raise a flag now with Homeland Security when we get over there and hit the US customs’ desk?’

  ‘I’m kind of counting on it. I mean, where else do we start?’

  ‘That’s your idea? You make enough of a nuisance of yourself that they lock us in a small room at the airport for several hours and threaten to send us straight back here.’

  ‘Something like that, yeah. I find it works most of the time.’

  Logan stared at him.

  ‘Look, they’re not going to send us to Guantanamo Bay or anything.’

  Logan’s eyes widened.

  ‘And we need to get in touch with whichever law enforcement agency is really in charge of this thing. They will come to speak to us.’

  ‘If they don’t?’

  ‘We make our presence felt over there. Go see the Feds and the cops and anyone else that we can think of.’

  ‘What if they ignore us? I mean, have you thought about that? Then you go to the press, is that it?’

  Cahill smiled. ‘Not bad. I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘I was kind of kidding.’

  ‘No,’ he was excited now, ‘it’s a good idea. There’s nothing they hate more when they’re trying to keep something under the radar.’

  ‘Let’s see if we can get into the country without getting arrested first,’ Logan said, regretting even mentioning it now. ‘Take it from there.’

  Sam Cahill came into the room and held up Logan’s mobile.

  ‘This was ringing. I think it was Becky.’

  Logan stood and took the phone from her, walking past her to go out of the study. Sam looked at her husband.

  ‘You look after him over there,’ she told him.

  7

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Logan asked Irvine. ‘I mean, it’s getting late now.’

  ‘I’m fine. It’s nothing.’

  ‘What’s nothing?’

  Irvine sighed.

>   ‘I had a bit of a confrontation tonight. This case I’m working on.’

  Logan wanted to ask more but let it go for now.

  ‘Are you at home?’

  ‘Yes. But you don’t need to come over tonight if you don’t want to. I know you’ve got a long trip tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m coming over.’

  ‘Good.’

  Logan parked a little way along the street from Irvine’s house and walked back. When she opened the door he stared at the discoloration on her face, her eye half closed from the swelling.

  ‘Jesus, what happened?’

  She lifted a hand self-consciously, trying to cover it.

  ‘I thought you said it was nothing.’

  She stepped back and told him to come inside. He followed her down the hall, through the dining room and into the kitchen where she sat at the table.

  She poured herself a cup of tea while Logan went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He sat next to Irvine and pushed her hair back to look closely at the damaged side of her face. He saw now that she had three stitches in a cut beside her eye, which was heavily bloodshot.

  ‘Some confrontation,’ he said. ‘Did you get in a fight?’

  ‘Sort of. Somebody I wanted to talk to on my case wasn’t quite so keen to speak to me.’

  ‘Don’t you work these things with a partner?’

  She looked sideways at him. ‘Yeah, usually. This time I went on my own. Turned out not to be such a good idea after all.’

  Irvine put her mug down and turned in her seat to face him. Her lip trembled.

  ‘Logan…’

  She moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, crying quietly. Then not so quietly.

  ‘I was so scared. He was much bigger and stronger. If I didn’t have the pepper spray-’

  She didn’t finish the thought.

  He held her and stroked her hair. After a moment she pulled away and took a tissue from her pocket, dabbing at her eyes.

  Her phone rang, shrill in the quiet of the room. Irvine grabbed it and answered.

  ‘DC Irvine?’ a male voice asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s DS Jim Murphy. Listen, sorry to disturb you at night, but I thought you might like to know what we found.’

  ‘You got something new, Jim?’

  ‘Well, we think it’s the clothes from your victim. Lewski.’