Kill Me Twice: Rosie Gilmour 7

by Anna Smith

  ‘Just this side of Carlisle, Dan. Don’t worry. Nobody knows we’re here. The owner is a friend of mine, and I’ve already got someone else here out of the way. We’re safe, trust me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Rosie opened the door and got out. ‘Come on. Matt’s here too. He went to the flat and picked up some things for you.’

  Dan gave Rosie an anxious look, and she knew what he meant. ‘Yeah, don’t worry. He’s got your meth as well.’

  ‘All right, mate?’ Matt smiled at Dan.

  ‘Aye. Hope so, man.’ Dan looked glumly back, his shoulders slumped.

  ‘Come on, guys, let’s go inside.’

  Rosie hadn’t considered the fact that Dan and Millie Chambers would be in the same place at the same time. But the goalposts had shifted, and now she had to decide whether it was wise to introduce them to each other. Millie would probably be able to handle it – she would take a sympathetic, motherly view of Dan. But Dan would probably freak out if he learned the full details of Bella’s death at this stage. She decided it was best to leave it till later.

  ‘This is Dan.’ Rosie gestured towards Dan, as Bertie Shaw greeted them on the doorstep.

  Bertie gave him the long, slow look of an ex-detective, taking in every inch of his skinny frame. Dan seemed slightly intimidated and shifted from one foot to the other, glancing at Rosie.

  ‘Okay, son?’ Bertie stretched out a hand. ‘Come on, we’ll get you settled into your room.’

  Dan and Matt walked ahead along the shiny wooden entrance hall and Rosie hung back to chat to Bertie.

  ‘I hope he doesn’t set fire to the bed, Rosie.’ Bertie raised his eyebrows, half kidding, half serious.

  ‘He’ll be fine, Bertie. He’s very well behaved. He’s a bit of a poor soul, actually. Harmless.’

  ‘Yeah, well, he might be. But I’ll be making sure the money’s well locked away in the safe. You can’t trust guys like that. They don’t have any rules, as long as they get their fix.’ He lowered his voice. ‘If I’m honest, looking at the cut of him, I’d give him two years maximum. Skin and bone, Rosie. He’s on the last leg of his journey.’ He shook his head. ‘Poor bastard. He looks scared.’

  ‘He is, Bertie. He’s terrified. As I was saying, the guys I told you about are looking for him. They caught up with us in Glasgow, so I wanted to get out of the area as quick as possible.’

  Rosie hoped Bertie wasn’t going to renege after saying he’d put them up for a couple of days to escape the heat.

  ‘Of course,’ Bertie said. ‘There’s always some bastard on the street who’ll betray your trust for money and grass you up to the bad guys. Well, he’ll be okay here for a couple of days. We’re not busy. We’ve got about four guests in total – a couple checked in about an hour ago. And we’ve got a few rooms booked for the weekend. Some anniversary party.’ He smiled. ‘Definitely a bit different from dragging villains out of their beds in Possilpark at two in the morning.’

  Rosie chuckled. ‘Yeah. And I bet you’d give it all up just to be back in the action.’

  ‘Oh, aye.’ Bertie chortled. ‘That’ll be right. Give me my pinny and a full breakfast for four to cook, any day of the week. I’m loving the life. Honestly.’

  ‘Really? You don’t miss the action?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nah. Only thing I miss is taking some bullying hardman and running his head into a wall when I had to get some answers.’ He grinned. ‘But you can’t do that any more. Too much political correctness.’

  Rosie smiled as she watched Bertie go past Matt and Dan, and take the stairs two at a time.

  *

  Colin Chambers sat in his study in the darkness, transfixed by the glow of the fake flames from the gas fire. He swirled whisky in a heavy crystal tumbler, the aroma of the malt and the cask in his nostrils. He took a sip and swallowed, feeling it burn all the way down. How in the name of Christ had it come to this? Colin could hear a voice inside his head plead. He pushed it away and took another drink.

  But an image of Millie in her twenties, barefoot on the beach, her hair billowing in the breeze, came to him. It was their first date, when they were Cambridge students, and he’d driven her to Dorset in his old Triumph convertible. He’d fallen in love with her there and then, and that single image had stayed with him, no matter how bad their lives together had become. But he didn’t want what she’d become. Millie wasn’t the girl he’d fallen for and hadn’t been for the past fifteen years. She was dragging them both down and he despised her. He couldn’t bear being in her company, and didnt want to go anywhere near the fact that she couldn’t even have his children. She should have pulled herself together after she’d lost them and got on with her life, but she’d wallowed in self-pity, drowning herself in booze. He couldn’t live with her like that.

  Now, though, she was in a position to harm him – and not just him: the child-abuse investigation could bring trouble for a lot of his people, and nobody even knew if it was true.

  He downed the last of his whisky and took out his mobile phone. It was time to do what he had to do. His aides had called earlier to say that they’d established where Millie was. Colin had asked if they were certain. He was told they didn’t want to spell out how they did business. Rest assured, they’d told him, they knew where she was. It was time to issue their further instructions. He punched in the number.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was always going to be grim, bringing Millie Chambers and Dan Mason together. One was grieving for the sister he’d been grieving for most of his life. The other was the last person to see her alive, and a witness to her murder. It was a difficult truth for Dan to have to hear, but he had to hear it. Rosie wasn’t looking forward to it, but she’d talked with McGuire that afternoon from her hotel bedroom, and he had decided that it had to be done.

  Rosie lay back on the bed, listening to the sound of the steady drizzle on the windows. She reflected on her conversation with McGuire.

  *

  ‘We have to put them together, Rosie,’ McGuire said. ‘It’s pure theatre.’

  ‘Jesus, Mick,’ Rosie moaned, ‘it’s not a TV drama. Forgive me if I don’t share your excitement. I know the value of having them together, but this is all a bit raw for them. Dan hasn’t come to terms with Bella’s death. I don’t know if he’s ready to hear what happened to her. And Millie—’

  ‘Gilmour,’ McGuire interrupted. ‘You’re not his social worker, for Christ’s sake. I know you get a bit emotionally involved with some of this shit and that it makes you who you are. I admire that. But I’m the editor, and I’m the one who makes the call on how to get the best out of the story. I want everything wrung out of it. Plus, we need some good pics.’

  ‘I know you do and I know exactly what needs to come out, but what I’m saying is, we need to tread carefully. Dan could fall to bits if this suddenly gets dropped into the conversation over dinner.’

  ‘But it would be great colour.’

  Rosie pushed out a frustrated sigh. ‘Not if he goes to pieces. We need him in some kind of shape.’ She paused. ‘Listen. Let me handle it my way. We’ll still have plenty of colour and emotion. I just don’t want to jeopardize what we’ve got. I have to keep these people together until we can get the full story in the paper. By the way, what are the lawyers saying about Millie’s story?’

  ‘They’re fine about her testimony of what she saw that night in Madrid, but they’re twitching a bit about her claims that Colin Chambers beat her up. And they’re positively shitting themselves over the child-abuse allegations and the shredded documents. That basically accuses the entire Met of negligence and a cover-up.’

  ‘Not really, just the former Chief Constable – and he’s dead. We need to use that line, even if we have to find a way to tone it down.’

  ‘We will, Gilmour. I’m still discussing with the lawyer whether to use the material first and ask questions second. But I think we have to show a bit of our hand in the interests of bal
ance and accuracy.’

  ‘Oh, that old thing . . .’ Rosie said sarcastically.

  ‘Right, Gilmour. I have to go. Just deal with it as you think best. It’s your call on how you do it, but I want both of them told tonight exactly how they’re connected. That’s going to be my day two after Dan’s splash and spread tomorrow. By the way, it’s looking terrific. We’ll punt this all over the world. Have a glass of wine on me.’

  ‘Yeah, great,’ Rosie said half-heartedly. She wished she could be more enthusiastic. McGuire was right, she was a bleeding heart, but none of this crap got any easier.

  *

  Rosie knocked on Dan’s door. ‘It’s me,’ she said.

  He opened it, pulling on a shirt, and she glimpsed his torso, the skin so white it was almost translucent.

  ‘You about ready to go down and eat, Dan?’

  ‘Yeah. I took some of the meth a wee while ago, so I fell asleep. Just woke up and out the shower.’ He glanced over his shoulder, a look bordering contentment in his eyes. ‘It’s nice here. Like being away on holiday.’

  If only, Rosie thought. ‘Listen, I need to talk to you for a second. Can I come in?’

  ‘Aye, sure.’

  He stood back and Rosie stepped inside. She saw the sudden concern in Dan’s eyes. ‘Can you sit down a wee minute, Dan? I’ve got something to tell you, and it’s going to be hard for you to hear.’

  Dan sat on the edge of the bed, the colour draining from him. ‘What’s wrong, Rosie? Have those bastards found us?’

  ‘No, don’t worry. Nothing like that.’ Rosie sat beside him. ‘It’s about Bella.’ She swallowed. ‘And how she died. I have something to tell you, and I wanted to do it in private, before I take you to meet someone.’

  This wasn’t how McGuire had wanted it done, but it was Rosie’s call.

  Dan looked confused. ‘Meet someone? What do you mean, Rosie? Tell me what happened. I’m shaking here. What happened to Bella?’

  Rosie put her hand up. ‘Just calm down a bit. I need you to be calm and listen. Okay?’

  Dan nodded. ‘I’m all right.’

  Rosie ran her hand over her brow and pushed her hair back. She leaned a little closer to Dan and took his hand in hers. ‘I have solid information that Bella did not commit suicide, that . . . that she was thrown off the roof of that hotel in Madrid.’

  Dan’s eyes widened, like a rabbit caught in headlights, and he stared unblinking, holding his breath. Rosie watched, afraid he was going to pass out. Then his lip trembled. ‘I knew it. I fucking knew it, Rosie. How do you know? Tell me, please.’ He was beginning to crumple.

  Rosie squeezed his hand. ‘There was a woman on the roof that night too. She’s the woman I told you about, who is also staying in this hotel. She’s in hiding, and I’ll explain that later. But she saw what happened to Bella.’ Dan’s eyes scanned her face, urging her to continue. She swallowed. ‘She saw two men. Three, actually, in the beginning. Bella was arguing with one of them. Then . . .’ Rosie almost couldn’t bring herself to say it, ‘. . . then the other two men dragged her to the edge and threw her off the roof.’

  Dan looked confused, as though he were waiting for something else to be said, then he dissolved into tears and jumped to his feet. ‘Oh, fuck, Rosie! I knew Bella didn’t kill herself. She would never do that. No way. Where is this woman? Why didn’t she help her? Did she really see it?’

  Rosie stood up and took him by the shoulders. ‘She saw it all, Dan. The woman wasn’t well herself, she was depressed, and was actually going to take her own life. That’s why she was on the roof.’

  ‘What? Who is she?’

  ‘She’s a British woman. You’re going to meet her shortly. But don’t be accusing her of not helping Bella. There was nothing she could do, and that’s not going to help anyone right now. I want you just to put that out of your mind. She’s quite fragile, so try to understand that, okay? But I need you to listen to her, and I want you to know the truth. I also need you to identify a photograph of someone.’

  Dan nodded, tears spilling out of his eyes. ‘I knew Bella didn’t kill herself. Please, Rosie, we have to find out who did.’

  ‘That’s why we need your help. Now, I know this is hard for you to take in, and I’m so sorry I had to break it to you like that, but you need to know where we are now. You need to be strong.’

  He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. ‘I’m all right. You know something? There’s a part of me that feels a bit better because Bella didn’t kill herself.’ He swallowed. ‘But she didn’t have to die. She shouldn’t have died. It’s – it’s not fair. After everything that happened to her! She wanted to live. For both of us.’ He broke down and sat on the bed.

  Rosie watched him for a long moment, then reached out and stroked his hair.

  She sat beside him.

  ‘Come on, Dan. You need to be strong.’

  He threw his arms around her and sobbed on her shoulder.

  *

  Rosie saw something like panic flash across Millie’s eyes when she walked into the restaurant with Dan. She was already seated with Matt and Bridget at a secluded table, away from the other few diners. Rosie had gone to Millie’s room earlier after breaking the news to Dan: she knew she would be equally shocked to meet him. She’d been upset, but more nervous than distraught, the way Dan had been.

  Millie stood up, and Rosie was surprised to see her make her way towards them. She stopped and all three of them stood still, Millie trying to control the tremor in her bottom lip.

  Rosie broke the silence. ‘Millie, this is Dan Mason. Bella’s brother.’

  Dan looked from Millie to the floor, then finally looked up again.

  ‘Hello, Dan,’ Millie said softly. She stretched out her hand. ‘I . . . I’m so sorry for what happened to your sister.’ Dan took it, and she covered his with the other, holding it for a few seconds. ‘I saw her only briefly, twice on that day, and I can see now that you were the image of each other. She was very beautiful.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he sniffed. ‘I miss her. Bella was all I had. We had a lot of plans.’

  Dan was handling it better than Rosie had hoped. ‘Come on,’ she interjected. ‘Let’s have a seat and we can talk over dinner.’

  She went to the table and beckoned Dan to sit next to her, Millie opposite. Matt gave her a so-far-so-good look. The waiter arrived alongside them and Rosie turned to everyone. ‘I think we could all do with a drink.’ She ordered some wine and beers.

  Over dinner, with a couple of beers inside him on top of his methadone, Dan was more talkative than depressed and spoke animatedly about himself and Bella as young children. How their mother had been a single parent and had put them into a home when he was only five. He still remembered the day that had happened. Bella had taken on the role of his protector; though she was a skinny little thing, only four years older, she was fiercely protective of him when they were placed in care. She had refused to eat when they’d split them up because of Dan’s age, and the home had to allow them to have beds next to each other. It was only for the first few weeks, Dan said, until he’d stopped crying for his mother and Bella had made him understand that the boys had to sleep in another dormitory. But most of the time they’d been inseparable. He talked of how everyone spoke of Bella’s beauty and the boss of the home said that, with a face like hers, she could have anything she wanted in the world. It was when Bella was almost thirteen, Dan said, that they’d taken her. Some guy from showbiz or modelling said he could put her on the front page of every magazine.

  Rosie let him tell the story about how Mervyn Bates had arranged for a couple to foster Bella. They’d wanted only one child, so Dan had been abandoned while they carried Bella off, kicking and screaming. He didn’t see her after that until she tracked him down twelve years later. Millie listened, fighting back tears, and Bridget sat shaking her head and telling them about how children being split up happened all over Ireland on a daily basis for decades. It was a shame, she said, that would ha
unt the country for ever.

  Rosie was pleased with how the conversation was going, and decided it was time to bring out the photograph that had been faxed to her. She placed it on the table and turned to Millie.

  ‘Millie, is this the man you saw on the roof that night?’

  Millie pulled it closer to her, peering at it. ‘Yes. It was dark, but although I was in the shadows, I could see him. It was the arguing I heard first, which made me realize who it was coming from. It was him.’

  Rosie turned to Dan. ‘You know this guy, don’t you, Dan?’

  Dan nodded. ‘Fucking Mervyn Bates. Merv the perv. I know him. I remember him from when I was just a wee boy coming into the home. But it was Bella he was always fawning over. I met him with her one time after she found me. He’s a fucking creep.’ He looked at Millie. ‘He killed Bella? Is that what you’re saying, Millie?’

  ‘He was the one who was doing the shouting. He was in charge, but then he disappeared and left Bella with the two other men. It was they who . . .’ Millie trailed off and she looked at Dan, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I wish I’d had the courage to do something, Dan. I’ll never forgive myself.’

  Dan shook his head. ‘They’d have killed you too.’

  ‘I went there to kill myself. But when I realized what they were doing to Bella, all thoughts of my own suicide were gone, and I just wanted to get away so that I could be the person who witnessed it. If they knew I’d seen it, you’re right, they’d have killed me.’

  Dan nodded, but said nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Something woke Rosie from a restless sleep. She opened her eyes, blinking in the darkness, and lay there, holding her breath, just listening. There was a rustling sound, and at first she wondered if it was the tall trees outside her window, but her eyes, now getting used to the dark, shifted to the door. She thought she heard a click, like a door handle being turned or opened softly, and sat up in bed, focused on her own door. Then silence.