Death Trap: Rosie Gilmour 8

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Death Trap: Rosie Gilmour 8 Page 14

by Anna Smith


  Deep down, Rory was secretly glad that this idiot was out of his hair at last. He was all the man he would ever be, and would never have amounted to anything – despite the best efforts of him and Finn to include him in the family business, and the devotion of his stupid mother who had treated him like a child for most of his life. Timmy was a waster, and they were well rid of him. He hadn’t even protested when Rory told him he would be going away for a long time and not to get in touch under any circumstances. Timmy would just be glad that he wasn’t being eliminated altogether, because he would know that his father could have sorted that. Rory had told his wife that her son would be going away for a while, and she knew better than to ask questions. He’d slapped that spirit out of her long ago. You had to treat your women like that, or they’d be all over the place, doing your head in and demanding to know what was going on.

  Rory and Finn had gone over the script several times in the event of the police coming calling. They’d taken Jake and the other workers to one of their flats out of the way of the farm until the police activity died down. As Finn now pulled the Jag off the road and into their farmyard, he could see they wouldn’t have long to wait.

  ‘The bizzies, Da. Look,’ Finn said.

  ‘I know.’ He slid down the passenger window and spat. ‘Fuckers. They’ll be doing the routine house-to-house, so just say as little as possible. You know the drill. Are we clear?’

  ‘Sure, Da.’

  Finn pulled up in front of the house and climbed out, walking towards the unmarked car. As they did, two men in suits got out and stood waiting.

  ‘Hello, sir,’ the older one said. ‘Mr O’Dwyer, my name is Detective Sergeant Malcolm Morrison, Strathclyde Police. We are conducting door-to-door inquiries in the investigation of the bodies recovered from the field nearby. Can we ask you a few questions? I take it you’ve seen the news?’

  Rory glanced to the sergeant and then at the younger detective, but he didn’t stretch out a hand in greeting.

  ‘Yeah. But to be honest, myself and my son were away for a few days down south on business, so I only really saw it yesterday.’

  ‘I see,’ the DS said, as he turned to the younger cop. ‘We’ll take some notes here and just ask a couple of questions. You all right with that?’

  ‘Sure. Fire away.’

  Rory stood tall, towering over them, legs apart, arms folded, as he answered the few questions the detective asked him. He was in charge here, and he sensed that the cops were being respectful as opposed to probing. The questions were mostly routine – how long they’d lived here, who resided in the house, what kind of work they did. Rory told them and added that now and again they took on some farmhands during the summer months, or if they became busy.

  ‘I understand, sir. Are any of the farmhands around just now so that we could ask a few questions? We’re really trying to establish if anyone saw anything suspicious in the area in recent weeks. As you know, the young couple were found murdered in that field.’ He waved a hand in the direction of the field. ‘But the discovery of the other corpses are just as important. We’re looking at three more murders here.’

  Rory didn’t flinch.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘As I say, I’ve only heard snippets. Actually, we don’t have any farmhands at the moment. We did have one lad, but he’s disappeared over the last few days. He was an odd character, kind of a loner. He was a foreigner.’

  ‘A foreigner?’

  ‘Yeah. He said he was from Kosovo and that he was an asylum-seeker or something, he said he was allowed to do a few hours’ work a week. We didn’t pay him much, really, just food and bunged him a few quid. He did say he wouldn’t be around long. He said he was going back home.’

  ‘Really? When did he disappear?’

  Rory was glad that the copper had latched on. Fucking gullible bastard.

  ‘Well, all I can say is he was here when we left five days ago, and when we got back he was gone.’

  They stood silent for a moment as the sergeant glanced at the younger cop, who was furiously taking notes in his book. The sergeant glanced over his shoulder and around the yard.

  ‘Did this guy, the Kosovan, not tell you he was leaving?’

  ‘Well, he did say about two months ago that he would be going soon, but I would have expected him to tell me, you know, or give me a bit of notice. But bugger all.’ Rory shrugged. ‘Things are a bit quiet for the next few weeks, so it’s no great loss to us.’

  ‘Do you have a name for him?’

  ‘All he told us was his name was Tadi. He didn’t give us a second name. He was just a guy who turned up one afternoon and asked did we have any work. We sometimes get that, you know, the odd drifter, they come and go. But he seemed a nice enough guy and he was a good worker. Anyway, that’s all I can tell you about him.’

  The detective raised his eyebrows ‘And you think he disappeared in the last five days?’

  ‘Well, he must have – unless he’s coming back. But I’ve been back since yesterday now and he hasn’t turned up. My wife says he was here one day, and then the next day he wasn’t. That’s all I know.’

  The detectives glanced at each other.

  ‘Did he stay here? I mean, did you provide accommodation?’

  ‘Not here,’ Rory said. ‘I have a couple of flats in Twechar I rent out, and I put him up there while he was working. But Finbar, my son here, went to the address yesterday and there was no sign of him.’

  The cop looked at Finbar who nodded in agreement.

  ‘That’s right. The flat is empty. No clothes or anything lying around, so it looks like he’s just buggered off.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ the sergeant said. ‘But, sir, are you aware that asylum-seekers are not supposed to be working in this country? They are not allowed to earn money.’

  Rory managed to look suitably surprised and glanced at Finbar.

  ‘Did you know that, Finn?’

  ‘No, I did not.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Rory said. ‘Christ, are you going to tell me now I’ve broken the law? I honestly didn’t know that or I wouldn’t have employed him. It’s the first actual foreigner I’ve taken on – and it was only a few weeks.’

  ‘Well, yes, actually you shouldn’t have had him working here. But anyway, that’s not why we’re here, so we’ll leave that aside for the moment. Could you give us the address he was staying at? And would you be able to give us a description of him?’

  ‘Of course I can.’ Rory reeled off the address and the young cop wrote it down. Then Rory looked at Finn. ‘He was a tall, skinny kind of fella, wasn’t he, Finn?’

  ‘Yeah. Very skinny. Kind of sunken eyes,’ Finn said. ‘He had light hair, like dirty fair hair, short. That’s all really I can think of. Light eyes, I think. He was a strong lad though he was skinny. He worked on the cars a bit for us, and was wiry all right.’

  The officer wrote down the information.

  ‘Anything else?’

  Finn shook his head, the officers looked at each other and the younger one closed his notebook.

  ‘You’ll let me know if there are any signs of him living in my flat, will you? I’d hate to think he’s just buggered off from here and is squatting in my house, free, gratis. Asylum-seeker or not – I’m not having that.’

  ‘Yes, quite. Of course, sir. We’ll let you know.’

  ‘Anything else I can help you with? Would you like a cup of tea or anything?’

  ‘No thanks. We’ll be on our way. Thanks for your help.’

  ‘No problem,’ Rory said. ‘To be honest, you’ve got me interested now. I never gave it much thought that your man disappeared, but now that you’re here, it’s making me think. You never know who you’re hiring, do you?’

  ‘No you don’t, sir. That’s the thing with hiring itinerant workers. You don’t know who they are or what their background is.’

  *

  Rosie looked up when Don came into the cafe, which was crowded with lunchtime workers. S
he waved at him and he came across and sat opposite her. He looked as though he hadn’t slept for days.

  ‘You need a holiday, pet.’ She smiled at him.

  ‘Fat chance. I’ll settle for a coffee right now.’

  Rosie caught the waitress’s eye and waved her across. She ordered a black coffee and a black tea for herself.

  ‘So what’s the sketch, Don? I take it there’s all sorts of shit on the walls with the witness going missing?’

  ‘And how, pal! What the fuck is it with these guys – they’re supposed to be looking after people!’

  ‘Was he on any kind of protection though?’

  ‘Well, not in the real sense, nothing like witness protection or anything. I mean, Boag’s only gone missing for the past week, but I think the problem is our guys took their eye off the ball. There’d been such a lot of crap flying around because he escaped that nobody managed to think through what his next move would be. People thought he’d try to get out of the country, so all ports were under surveillance as well as his old haunts – not that he’d chance going back there. But the last thing anyone was expecting was that he’d be digging out a witness. We were still building up a case against him. He’d only just been arrested, so it was going to take time for his case to be fully investigated and be sent to the Crown Office. I’m not even sure how much he knew about the witnesses.’

  ‘Would the missing teacher not have been mentioned by the detectives during interrogation?’

  Don nodded. ‘Yeah. It’s looking like it, but I don’t know all the details yet. What I can tell you is that people are twitching in case our witness turns up dead.’

  Rosie shook her head. ‘What a right mess your boys are making of things these days. You’ve got to get Boag, before the powers that be send in an outside force.’

  ‘That’ll be some red neck for the bosses if that happens.’

  ‘So, what can you tell me about the teacher?’

  ‘You have to be careful how you write this.’

  ‘Don’t worry. At the end of the day, I could have been digging this up myself.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose so. Okay. His name is Charles Dawson, and he’s the head of music up at Glasgow Academy. Single, gay, living on his own. Very much the quiet man, didn’t mix with any of the other staff, so nobody knows much about his private life.’

  ‘What about family?’

  ‘He has a sister who lives in France. But we’ve contacted her and they’ve not spoken in years. So he’s very much a loner.’

  ‘Did he come to you about Boag?’

  ‘Yep. But only after he was arrested. In fact, it was the next day.’

  ‘What – he just called the cops and said he knew him?’

  ‘Yes. He phoned HQ and asked to be put through to the incident room. By all accounts, when the boys interviewed him, he was in a right state. He said he felt he should have come forward earlier, like when bits of Jack Mulhearn started turning up and we were going nowhere in our investigation. He said he felt guilty that he could have perhaps prevented the boy’s death.’

  ‘How come? Had Boag been violent towards him?’

  ‘That’s his evidence. In the beginning it was just a routine pick-up at a gay bar, but then they met again. He said Boag began to get a bit rougher each time and seemed to get some kind of pleasure out of making him afraid. He said he was talking about chopping people up. That was when our man decided he wouldn’t see him again. Boag had told him where he worked and stuff and seemed to be quite taken with him. He seemed to become a bit obsessed, but the guy just bailed out and never got in touch again. He didn’t return any of his calls and stayed away from the club.’

  ‘I’m wondering how come Boag didn’t just do him in, instead of the young boy he picked up.’

  ‘Well, who knows what goes on inside the mind of a psycho. Maybe he was secretly in love with the teacher and didn’t want to destroy him at that point, and maybe just snapped with the boy that night.’

  Rosie thought about it for a moment.

  ‘That’s quite good thinking, Batman. You should maybe get moved to forensic psychology.’ She winked at him.

  ‘Aye, or maybe just get moved to psychiatric. I hate cases like this. They really freak me out.’

  ‘You and me both. I keep looking over my shoulder for this bastard, so I wish you’d hurry up and arrest him.’

  Don drank his coffee.

  ‘I’ve told you, Gilmour. You need to get some protection.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’ll not be asking the police to do it, that’s for sure. Especially if our teacher turns up dead.’ She paused. ‘Do you think he will?’

  ‘I’d put my house on it.’ He drained the coffee and looked at his watch. ‘Right. I need to go. We’ve got a meeting in half an hour. But I’m serious about that protection. You should at least move out of your flat.’ He stood up. ‘I’ve got a spare room, you know. Own bathroom.’

  Rosie smiled.

  ‘Thanks, Don. But I wouldn’t make a great flatmate.’

  She had intended on sounding Don out about Tadi, but changed her mind as soon as he sat down. He was so up to his eyes on Boag right now that she was afraid throwing Tadi into the mix might be a big mistake – especially given that the police desperately needed a culprit for at least one of the crimes currently making them look inept.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tadi woke to the sound of Ava softly humming from the kitchen, and he could hear the patter of Jetmir’s feet as he ran around, playing on the wooden floor in the hallway. It was music to his ears. For weeks, he’d lain desolate in the single bed at night in the dingy, damp flat, unable to sleep, frantic with worry that he would never see his wife and son again. He’d watched the flesh drop off his body, partly from being underfed, but also from the stress of being trapped in this hell. The first night after Ava came back, when they finally went to bed, they’d held each other for a long time until they fell asleep. But he’d sensed a change in her. Outwardly she was glad to be with him, but he could see she was traumatised and afraid. When he asked her why she was sad now that they were together, she told him she was crying because she was happy. Deep down, Tadi knew there was more. He’d never asked her what she did while she was being held in the flat. He didn’t want to know. Somewhere in Ava’s sad eyes, he could see the answer, but he pushed it away. None of that mattered any more. What’s done is done. They were together now, and nothing would keep them apart. He was determined about that, even though there was a niggle in his gut about what Rosie had said – that he should go to the police. He knew she was right, but he needed more time to think. He needed a few more days of this – the sounds from the kitchen, of the aroma of his wife cooking breakfast, and the smile on her face he saw now as he got out of bed and stood by the kitchen door watching her.

  ‘You are more beautiful every day,’ he said. ‘I wanted to tell you that, Ava. I told you every day in my mind while we were apart and I am going to tell you every day for the rest of our lives.’ He went across to the cooker and took her in his arms. ‘I am a very lucky man.’

  ‘No,’ she said, burying her head in his shoulder. ‘It’s me who is lucky.’

  He held her for a moment, then let go, as she carried on cooking, pushing things around a pan. Tadi went into the living room where the BBC News bulletin was just starting. He stood, gazing at the screen, not paying much attention to some political story. Then he sat bolt upright, listening hard. Had he heard that correctly? The woman was saying that police had revealed this morning that they were looking for a man who may be able to assist with their investigation into the bodies recovered from the field near Lennoxtown.

  ‘The man is believed to be from Kosovo and was working on a nearby farm but hasn’t been seen for several days. Detectives are anxious to speak to him and have issued a description of him, as tall, fair and very lean.’

  Tadi felt his legs go weak.

  ‘My God! My God!’ he whispered.

  There was nobody here
– no Adrian. He had no way of contacting Rosie Gilmour unless he went to the newspaper offices. But what if the police saw him? He had to keep calm for Ava and Jetmir, but they had to get out of here.

  ‘Tadi,’ Ava called. ‘Come and get breakfast . . . Jetmir. Come.’

  Tadi tried to compose himself. He walked into the kitchen and sat down, but he could see Ava looking at him, bewildered.

  ‘Tadi,’ she said. ‘What is wrong? You are white. What is it?’

  She put a plate of eggs down and poured tea into two mugs. Jetmir was at the table eating toast and scooping up the boiled egg.

  Tadi looked at his wife and swallowed.

  ‘Ava. We have to leave here. Now.’

  ‘What? What are you saying, Tadi? We are not safe here? Why you say this so suddenly?’

  He took a breath, reached across and held her hand. ‘I saw it on the news, Ava. They are saying police are looking for me. Because of the bodies in the field.’

  ‘What? But how? How can they say that? Why?’

  ‘I don’t know . . . I don’t know how. The presenter just said police were looking for a man who worked in the farm close to where the bodies were found. They said he is missing. That is me, Ava. They said he is from Kosovo, and they describe me.’ He could feel himself choke with emotion. ‘They are looking for me. The police will come.’

  ‘But . . . but. You must call Rosie. Where is Adrian? We must call someone!’

  ‘We have no phone here. We should go.’

  ‘But why? Nobody knows we are here. Why leave? We can stay here until someone comes, maybe Adrian. Or Rosie.’ She pushed the plate towards him. ‘Come on. Eat something. We must eat.’

  Tadi looked at the plate. His appetite had gone, but he knew he had to eat something.

  ‘I will eat, Ava. But when we finish, we pack our things and we go. We must be calm. We will go to the old priest. Remember him? He will protect us.’

  ‘But . . . but what about Rosie? She said she would help.’

  ‘She wants to take us to the police, but we can’t do that now. It’s too late. They are looking for me now. They think it is me who killed these people, and that I ran away. Ava, listen. You must trust me. We have to go.’

 

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