Death Trap: Rosie Gilmour 8

by Anna Smith

  ‘Gilmour, I’ve been trying to bloody phone you.’

  ‘I know, Mick. Bad area. But I’m nearly home now.’

  ‘My arse, Gilmour. What’s happening?’

  ‘We had to get out fast – as per your instructions.’

  ‘What happened? Did you see that Timmy bastard?’

  ‘We did. And we’ve got an interview. Well, a sort of interview.’ She was conscious of Matt stifling a chuckle.

  ‘So where is he? Is he still in Blackpool?’

  ‘Er, no. He’s with us.’

  ‘What? He agreed to come to Glasgow? Did he admit anything?’

  ‘Everything. I’m going to phone the cops now, so that they’re ready to take him in.’

  ‘You mean he’s actually sitting in the car beside you?’

  ‘Not quite. He’s in the boot.’

  ‘Oh fuck! You kidnapped him? Christ, Gilmour! Are you kidding me?’

  ‘Who’s going to believe we kidnapped him, Mick? Seriously. He’s just confessed on tape to me that he killed his baby and its mother. And – wait for it – he also did the camper couple.’

  ‘What! You are fucking joking.’

  ‘Nope. He’s confessed to it.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Well. We kind of trapped him into it. I told him I knew he confessed to his da and brother, and he assumed that they stuck him in. He’s as thick as pig shit. But he’s a bad bastard. Put it this way: he’s very lucky to be alive.’

  ‘Does that mean the big Bosnian got his hands on him?’

  ‘Just a bit.’ She paused. ‘Listen, Mick. It might get a bit dodgy when the cops get involved, given the circumstances of us bringing him in. So can you have Hanlon standing by? I’m taking him to Pitt Street. We’ll be there in an hour.’

  ‘I’ll phone him. Well done, Gilmour. But I’m a bit edgy about this.’

  ‘Me too. Talk later.’ She hung up.

  *

  As they passed Lesmahagow and the sign for Glasgow, Rosie breathed a sigh of relief. They were almost home. But this was far from over. She called Don.

  ‘Rosie. How you?’

  ‘Listen, Don. How can I say this . . . There’s been a significant development in the bodies in the grave story. I’m heading to Glasgow right now . . . with the guy who did it.’

  Silence.

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘I have Timmy O’Dwyer in the car. He’s admitted everything on tape. I’ll explain it all later. But if I were you, I’d be out at O’Dwyer’s farm picking up his father and brother Finbar. Because he’s named them too – in the death of Bo – just as Tadi told you. And the robbery.’

  ‘Fuck me! And he’s with you?’

  ‘Yeah. His father sent him away into hiding, to traveller mates down south. He knows he’s done for. He’s a bit knocked about.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Never mind. All that matters is he’s admitting everything – even the murder of the young campers. He did it. He told me he was drunk and on his way home. He went past the field, saw the couple’s tent near the grave, and got freaked out.’

  ‘Christ almighty! I’d better get the boss.’

  ‘I’ll be at Pitt Street in half an hour.’ She paused. ‘And Don, I don’t want any heavy stuff from your bosses over how this has come about. So can you explain that?’

  ‘I’ll do my best, Rosie.’ He hung up.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rosie pulled down her visor to look at Timmy in the back seat. He sat still as a mouse, staring straight ahead, one of his eyes beginning to swell. They’d taken him out of the boot a few miles back and Adrian had told him that if he moved a muscle, he would kill him. Timmy knew he meant it. Adrian caught Rosie’s eye but there was the same lack of expression she had seen on him so many times over the years, when he’d kind of zoned out. What was going on behind those eyes right now, she didn’t know. But there was no triumph or happiness that he was bringing this killer in. Rosie knew he’d have preferred to mete out his own justice to this piece of shit – to make up for all the people who had been on the receiving end of bastards like him. She partly understood it. Unless you had been where people like Adrian had been, among the violated and butchered innocents in your homeland, you really knew nothing of pain. But whatever was going on in his head, it was clear that Adrian was not making progress with coming to terms with his past. Rosie flipped up the visor. That was for another day.

  ‘Rosie.’ Adrian leaned forward. ‘Before you meet with your police, I will go. You understand?’

  ‘Sure,’ Rosie replied. She turned around and could see something like hope register in Timmy’s eyes.

  Adrian grabbed his upper arm and squeezed it until Timmy squeaked in pain.

  ‘But you don’t move. If you try to get out of the car, I will be close by and I will be watching you. Believe me. Is better if you go with the police than be found by me.’

  Timmy said nothing.

  Rosie phoned Don.

  ‘Don, can you be outside the office in two minutes? At the back entrance?’

  ‘We’re on our way down. I’ll get the lads to open the gates.’

  Matt pulled up just yards from the police station.

  ‘Is here okay, Adrian?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’ He squeezed Rosie’s shoulder as he opened the door. ‘I call you later.’

  She turned her body around and they faced each other in silence for a long moment.

  ‘Thanks, Adrian. Be careful.’

  He squeezed her shoulder a second time.

  ‘You be careful, my friend.’

  Then he was gone, walking briskly away from the car and up Bath Street as they turned into the police station. Timmy sat, his hands on his knees, his face sweating. Rosie could see four uniformed officers coming out of the back door towards her car, and a second later Don, along with DI Morton. Matt stopped the car, they both got out and he locked the door. By the time Don and the DI were at the car, Timmy was banging hysterically on the windows.

  ‘Let me out! Please! They kidnapped me! Help! Police! Help!’

  Everyone looked at Rosie and she looked at Matt, then turned to the car.

  ‘Don’t listen to the shit he’s talking. He’s a bad bastard, guys. He killed four people. He’s told me all about it, in front of Matt.’

  The DI gave her a long look, then said to Matt, ‘Can you unlock the door please?’ He nodded to the uniformed officers to move forward.

  As the door opened, Timmy frantically struggled to get out, but he was met by a six-foot heavyweight plod who grabbed him and turned him around quickly, pushing him into the car with his arms behind his back. The other officer cuffed him.

  ‘It’s a set-up, officer. These bastards kidnapped me. I’ve done nothing.’

  Rosie looked at the DI and Don.

  ‘He’s a liar,’ she said quietly. ‘But as you’ll find, not a very good one. He’s thick as pig shit.’

  The DI gestured to Rosie to come away from the car and she and Matt followed him and Don.

  ‘Rosie. Did you kidnap this man? Because if you did, his defence lawyer will drive right through any case we try to build.’

  ‘He’s guilty,’ Rosie snapped. ‘He told me he murdered his own baby daughter, buried her and the mother in that shallow grave, Inspector. I’ve got the full interview on tape. Don’t listen to a word he says. He killed that young couple too.’

  ‘Rosie, I believe you. I believe he told you that. But look at the state of him. What happened? Did someone rough him up?’

  Rosie stood her hands on her hips.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who?’

  Rosie glanced at Don, who looked at her and then the ground.

  ‘A friend of mine. But he’s gone now. Look, none of this matters in the great scheme of things. He’s a murderer. I’m leaving that up to you guys now. I’ve brought him to you, so I can’t do any more.’ She paused. ‘I have to go back to my office. See how we want to play this.’
/>   ‘Do you have the tape of his confession?’

  Rosie looked at him for a moment but didn’t speak.

  ‘Yes.’

  She glanced at Matt, grateful that he had suggested that they take ten minutes before they hit the road to transfer the tape onto one of his gadgets so that she had a copy. He had been afraid they would have to hand it over, but in the drama of the moment, Rosie had forgotten. Now she went into her bag and pulled out the copy. She handed it to the DI.

  ‘There you go. No charge.’

  He took a long breath and shook his head slowly, an expression somewhere between incredulousness and gratitude spreading over his face.

  ‘We’ll need you to make a statement. Can you come with us? Let’s go up to my office.’

  Rose put her hands up. ‘I will make a statement, no problem. But not right now. I have to get back to the office. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Rosie. But we have a job to do.’

  ‘I’m sorry. But the statement will have to wait.’ She glanced at Timmy, face down on the bonnet of the car. ‘I’d say you’ll have enough on your hands getting your own confession from that piece of shit.’

  The DI grimaced. ‘If we don’t get a confession, he’ll say your confession was beaten out of him.’

  Rosie smiled defiantly as she pulled her bag on her shoulder.

  ‘Well, look on the bright side. At least it wasn’t you who beat it out of him. So you’re in the clear, pal.’ She paused. ‘Now please, I have to go, if it’s okay. But I’ll be available at the Post in the morning.’

  The officers stood still, as though they didn’t know how to react.

  ‘Your protection guys are outside, Rosie. Wait there while we tell them you’re on your way out of here. Okay?’ Don said.

  ‘Okay,’ Rosie said and turned towards the gate where a car, with two plain-clothes officers inside, drove in.

  *

  Adrian was already in the all-night cafe in Woodlands Road when Rosie walked in. She’d called him as soon as they left the police station, after she’d spoken to McGuire. Instead of coming to the office at this time of night, the editor had told her to go home and get some sleep. The tape could wait til tomorrow morning. He was just glad that she hadn’t been arrested for kidnapping. But Rosie was too wound up to go to bed and the thought of going back to the empty flat filled her with dread. That had been happening more often in the past few days. She felt threatened by the silence that she normally craved, and the loneliness that she had always felt comfortable with now closed in on her. What was happening to her? She brushed the thought aside as she told Matt to take her to the cafe, then go home and get some sleep. She knew Adrian would be there for her. He always was.

  ‘Rosie? You are okay?’ He stood up when she came towards him.

  She nodded. ‘Yes. What about you?’

  Adrian made a so-what face, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  ‘Are your policemen still watching you?’

  ‘Yes. They’re outside. They must think I’m some raging insomniac. But I don’t feel tired yet.’

  ‘I’m the same. I won’t sleep if I go to my friend’s house, so I’m happy to sit here with you.’

  The waitress came over and Rosie ordered a decaf tea, and Adrian some mineral water.

  ‘Insomniacs together. But I need my sleep, Adrian. I’ll be wrecked in the morning, and I’ve got so much to do.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, comfortable in each other’s company. Then Rosie looked at Adrian.

  ‘Did you think at any point in that dogfight that you were going to get rumbled – caught, I mean?’

  ‘Always a little bit of me is ready in case it happens. It would have been bad in that place if something went wrong. These people are very different from you and me. Different from a lot of people I know – even violent men I have known. They have their own, how do you say, code and way they do things. They would have torn me apart. Maybe throw me to the dogs.’ He sipped his water. ‘But I am here.’ He paused. ‘Do you think the police will get a confession out of Timmy?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘I think so. Don called me and said they’d picked up the father and brother, so no doubt a lawyer will have been called by now. If the cops do their jobs right tonight, they will get enough to hold them in custody for a couple of days.’

  Adrian was looking beyond Rosie into the street.

  ‘I keep thinking of the mother and the little baby he killed.’ He brought his gaze back to Rosie. ‘You know why I was so out of control earlier, don’t you?’

  She reached across and touched his hand.

  ‘Of course. And I understand.’

  Adrian’s mouth tightened.

  ‘I wanted to punish him. Stupid, I know. I cannot punish the man who killed my child. I wanted to punish someone who killed another innocent mother and child. I have tried not to be like this.’ He shook his head.

  ‘I understand.’

  Then Adrian changed the subject. ‘How long do you want me to stay here? I mean, in Glasgow, to help you?’

  She looked at him curiously. ‘Do you want to go home?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Of course, I will stay as long as you need me. Always. I will stay until the police catch this man, Boag. Because I think he is someone who is cleverer than a lot of people. He is your real danger now – not the gypsy people.’

  ‘I know. Don’t make me any more scared.’

  He half smiled and leaned across and touched her hair.

  ‘I miss you sometimes, when I’m back in Bosnia, Rosie. Like that time when you were over, in hiding. I think a lot of those days and the good times.’

  Rosie didn’t know what to say. It had been a desperate time, and she’d run to him when she should have gone to TJ. But it was in the past. It had to be, if she stood any chance of having any kind of normal relationship with TJ.

  ‘Me too. I think of those times. Good memories.’

  There was a slight awkwardness in the moment. In the past, Rosie would have allowed the conversation to develop and they would perhaps have ended up together tonight, in the quiet of the bedroom, as lovers and friends. But she said nothing, and they sat listening to the noises of the city and the hiss of the coffee machine behind the counter.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  McGuire listened to the tape, playing it again and again, wincing and frowning at Rosie sitting opposite him in his office.

  ‘He sounds a bit under pressure, Gilmour – like he doesn’t have a choice.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Rosie said. ‘But he did have a choice. He could’ve said nothing. He was still going to the cops whether he confessed or not.’

  ‘But was your man terrorising him?’

  Rosie folded her arms.

  ‘It’s fair to say he got a going-over, Mick. But we’re not the cops, we don’t have to play by their rules.’

  McGuire frowned. ‘We don’t beat stories out of people, Gilmour, you know that. But apart from anything else, you might be called as a witness if this goes to trial. What’s it going to look like if a reporter is seen to be –’ he made an inverted-comma gesture with his fingers – ‘ “coercing” a confession from a guy by having him beaten up?’

  ‘The beating was in self-defence, is what I would say. I would say that my friend got a bit of a hiding too in order to get out of the place and bring Timmy with him. And at the end of the day, Timmy didn’t have to go into the detail he did about how he killed those people. Nobody was more surprised than me when he confessed to killing the young couple. He wasn’t coerced into that. He just opened his trap and let it all spill out. He’s that reckless.’ She paused. ‘And anyway, I’d bet my house on it not going to trial. He’ll plead guilty. The cops have already picked up Rory O’Dwyer and Finbar, and they’ll be all over the farm looking for forensic evidence. Maybe they’ll even find a weapon. This case is only going in one direction – towards jailing these three bastards. Plus the cops have got Tadi’s testimony about the ro
bbery and how they put him up to it. Guaranteed they’ll all plead guilty. They’re going down for a long time. I’m not even worried about it.’

  McGuire stood up and walked across the room, past the wall adorned with pictures of historic front pages of the Post. He stood at the window with his back to Rosie. Then he turned around.

  ‘Then in that case, I think we need to use what we’ve got before the police start charging everyone and closing us down. What can we use?’

  Rosie sat back with her hands clasped behind her head. This was what she’d hoped for. McGuire liked to push it as much as she did.

  ‘The police and Crown Office will go nuts. But basically, I can sit down and pretty much put a full story together of the whole investigation – from the bodies in the grave right up to the O’Dwyers being arrested.’

  ‘I want to use Timmy’s confession.’

  ‘We’ll need to get the lawyers in. It’s dodgy. But it’s not a confession to the police. It’s a confession to a reporter – a claim by him that he’s killed four people.’

  ‘I want to use it. I can’t resist it. Write it as he says it. Straight quotes.’

  ‘Okay. Then I’ll put everything down in the next couple of hours – just tell it as it was told to me and write up our investigation, how we went down to Blackpool to track him down and found him in the midst of a dogfight. Adrian got some footage from inside one of the fights.’

  ‘Brilliant! I want to see the pics as soon as possible.’

  ‘Good. Matt has them now. If I get the copy done early enough, we can talk to the lawyers in the afternoon and pray that the cops don’t charge anyone in the next twenty-four hours.’ She stood up. ‘But tomorrow is Father Dunnachie’s funeral, so I want to go and pay my respects.’ She sighed. ‘I still can’t believe it’s happened. Imagine going through your whole life as a priest in a difficult community, and then some psycho from nowhere bursts into your home and murders you. It’s just so . . .’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I feel so responsible.’

  McGuire came back to his desk.

  ‘I know you do. But listen, you made your peace with him before he died, and he told you that you weren’t to blame. So you need to stop beating yourself up and get on with it – really, you owe that to him. Go to the funeral, and then you need to put it behind you.’