Madness Lies Read online

  ***

  Chapter 12

  Jackson looked at the photo of the shooting victim and the two girls, and shook his head. No, he didn’t know them; hadn’t seen them before. He could hardly say otherwise, could he? He’d just have to make sure he was nowhere near the station if the girls were identified and brought in. Maybe it was time for another bout of ‘work-related stress’. He hadn’t pulled that one for a while.

  DI Black was staring at him. ‘You sure you don’t know them? I haven’t seen you smile like that since Wee Mary gave you one round the back of the Legion in ‘89.’

  Bastard. To think they had once been friends. That was before the two-faced chancer, Brian Black, had walked all over Jackson, all the way to the top. How Jackson would love to bring Black down. One of these days. Him and Galbraith. Just wait. ‘Never seen them in my life, Sir.’ And he kept on smiling.

  *

  Jackson was up to something; Joe was certain of it. They should have got rid of him years ago. He hadn’t done a decent day’s work in all the time Joe had known him. More interested in withholding information and jeopardising investigations. Nothing major. He wasn’t clever enough for that.

  Joe was going to meet a source. He had cropped images of the girls from the photo with Gordon Sutherland. If they were on the game and working locally, Ricky Shaw would know them.

  ‘Give me a shout when you get back,’ DI Black said. Behind him, Jackson was staring. Grinning. Arse.

  The older bird was Lithuanian, Ricky Shaw told Joe; the other was from Shetland. At the higher end of the ‘escort’ market, a fascinating cultural experience awaited those brave and well-off enough to venture into their abode on Carlton Terrace. No, Ricky didn’t know who was working them. Could be freelance.

  Joe called the DI and updated him. He asked for someone to accompany him to see the girls. A female, preferably. He’d meet her at Carlton Terrace.

  The road layout didn’t allow Joe to park in front of the flats, so he parked outside the Chieftain Hotel. He clocked the right flat, then he waited at the corner. There was a guy walking back and fore past the flat. Joe felt a little sorry for him. He clearly couldn’t make up his mind if this was how he wanted to spend his afternoon, or a good chunk of his wages. He stopped close to the door, looked at his watch, took a deep breath and stepped towards it.

  ‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’

  The guy turned. ‘What are you on, creeping up on people like that? You looking for trouble? Tosser.’ He didn’t look so nervous now, as he took a step towards Joe, his breath rich with alcohol. He was unshaven, with blood-shot eyes and a hairy belly-button peeping out of a gap in his checked shirt. Not quite the type of punter Joe had imagined finding here. Just off the rigs, probably.

  Joe nodded towards the door. ‘Not as much trouble as you’ll be in if you go in there.’

  ‘That right? Who’s going to stop me? You?’

  Joe shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

  ‘Aye, you’re not so brave now, are you, wee man?’

  Joe laughed and ducked as a flabby fist sailed over his head. More chance of being knocked out by the guy’s BO than a punch. As the drunk squared up for another attempt, Joe’s back-up arrived in a marked police car. They pulled in as close as they could get, blocking the hotel entrance. There were two uniformed officers in the front. They stayed where they were, both smirking as they watched the drunk advance on Joe again. He really should try to make some friends in uniform.

  The back door of the car opened and a long pin-striped leg emerged. Joe felt a tightening in his stomach. He wished DI Black had sent someone else. Even Jackson.

  DC Tina Lewis was trying not to smile, but the laughter in her green eyes gave her away. Her face was pale, with flawless skin and just a hint of colour on her high cheekbones. There wasn’t a blonde hair out of place.

  The drunk whistled. ‘Are you a police woman, gorgeous?’

  Tina nodded. ‘I am. And you are…?’

  ‘I am just on my way home, minding my own business. I see this guy about to go in there. I try to stop him but he won’t listen. The wee shite tried to hit me.’

  ‘And why would you want to stop him going in there?’

  ‘It’s a whore-house. And a bloody expensive one. Just doing my good deed for the day. Wouldn’t want him ripped off.’

  Smiling, Tina turned to Joe. ‘And what you have got to say for yourself, sir?’

  Joe raised his eyebrows, and her smile disappeared. Her face reddened. ‘Sorry, Sarge; I couldn’t resist it.’

  The drunk looked from Tina to Joe. ‘Sarge? Oh shit.’ He rubbed his hand on his jeans, offered it to Joe. ‘No offence, officer; I’m just a bit – ’

  ‘Do one,’ Joe said. ‘Now.’

  ‘Thank you; you’re an officer and a gentleman. Thank you.’ He backed off, his hands together in prayer, bowing and scraping his way along the road.

  Joe pressed the buzzer and waited. And waited. Nothing. He held it down. Her poise regained, Tina grinned. ‘Coitus interruptus. Nothing worse, except maybe limpus dickus.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’ Shit. Had he really just said that?

  Tina’s eyes sparkled. ‘I quite believe it.’

  He felt his face flush as he pressed the buzzer again. ‘This place is not as upmarket as I expected. Looks right grotty.’

  At last someone answered. An Eastern European with a serious strop. ‘What your problem?’

  ‘Police.’

  ‘You fucking having on me?’

  ‘No, I fucking not having on you. Open the door. Now.’

  ‘That Jimmy?’

  ‘It is not Jimmy. Open the door or we’ll open it.’

  Nothing. Tina looked towards the patrol car. ‘Will I get the guys?’

  ‘Nah. Give them a minute to get their togs on. Do you think there’s a back door?’

  ‘Will I go and see?’

  Joe shook his head. Last thing he wanted was to get caught up with a couple of punters. Easier just to let them slip out the back door and crawl back to respectability.

  As someone buzzed them into the close, the back door at the other end of the passage swung closed.

  On the first floor landing there was a single, expensive shoe. Tina laughed. ‘How I’d love to hear him explain that to his missus.’

  Joe looked at his watch. ‘Or his secretary.’

  Keeping her composure in a foreign language was no trouble at all to the Lithuanian, Katya Birze. They were escorts. High-class. They escorted people. No funny business.

  Joe nodded. ‘So, the man that just left by your back door, dropping a shoe on the stair, he was being escorted to…?’

  ‘Man? Shoe? I see no man. I see no shoe.’ She turned to her fellow escort. ‘You see shoe?’

  Eighteen year old Danielle Smith wasn’t quite as poised, but she did her best. ‘I don’t know what man or shoe you’re talking about.’ Her accent sounded almost as foreign as the Lithuanian’s. They were both in dressing gowns, and Joe knew he could catch them out. There was evidence in the bedrooms, he was certain of it. And the patrol car had probably seen the shoeless punter making his escape. But that wasn’t what they were here for. Not yet.

  Katya was good. Not a flicker when she was shown a picture of the victim. Meant nothing to her; never seen him before. Danielle tried to copy Katya, but the slight flush on her neck gave her away. Time to separate them, and bring out the picture of them with Gordon Sutherland.

  Katya first. ‘Okay.’ A slight nod. ‘I see him different now. I remember. We invited to special charity evening for special people. He there. We speak. That all.’

  ‘You speak very closely,’ Tina said. ‘Why him?’

  She shrugged. ‘He was there.’

  ‘And was he interested?’

  She shrugged again. ‘No.’

  ‘Did you escort him anywhere else? Into a hotel room, perhaps?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you try?’

  ‘No.’

&n
bsp; ‘Why not?’

  ‘Is simple. He was not interested.’

  ‘You say you were invited – who invited you?’

  She stared into the distance, as if trying to remember. ‘I forget.’

  Aye, right.

  Danielle Smith was a pushover. There was a man with an English accent. His name was Todd. She hadn’t met him and she didn’t know his surname, but he and Katya were close, and he’d put a lot of clients their way. He usually dealt with Katya, but this time he’d phoned Danielle about a local charity event and told her to show Councillor Sutherland special attention. If things went the way he hoped, there was a room waiting for them in a hotel nearby.

  Things had not gone as Todd had hoped. Councillor Sutherland was polite, but completely uninterested. Danielle wasn’t sure he even understood what was on offer. He was just like her father, she said. Kind and respectable. And completely incorruptible.

  ‘You sound disappointed,’ Joe said.

  She shrugged. ‘I was offered good money. I could have done with it.’

  ‘Are you using?’ He didn’t think so, but he might as well wind her up.

  ‘No. I…I’m going to university.’

  ‘Aye? No tuition fees in Scotland; student loans. Do you really have to do this?’

  Though her face was red, her look was defiant. ‘I’m going to Oxford.’

  ‘Better class of punter there?’

  Joe saw the blow hit home. Had he been too harsh? No, he hadn’t. No amount of ambition justified doing this to herself. Tina Lewis stepped in. Probably just as well. Her voice was firm but kind. ‘Will you come down to the station to look at some pictures?’

  Danielle’s voice rose to the verge of hysteria. ‘I told you, I haven’t seen Todd. I wouldn’t know him. I can’t help you.’ She was picking at the sleeve of her dressing gown, her hands shaking.

  ‘You don’t know that.’ Tina leaned towards her. ‘We’re investigating a murder. You’ve been pictured with the victim. You can come voluntarily. Or…’

  ‘Can I make my own way down?’ Danielle looked at the clock on the wall. ‘In an hour or so? I have to go to the bank before it closes.’

  Tina nodded. ‘That’s fine. See you around five.’

  Katya’s English had deteriorated remarkably. She no understand anything. Who is this Todd with English voice? What is Councillor? What this mean?

  The improvement in her English was equally remarkable after they left the flat. A shout from behind the door made them pause on the landing. ‘Stupid fucking bitch. What you tell them for?’

  They couldn’t make out Danielle’s response. She was crying, incoherent. A door slammed and there was silence.

  ***

  Chapter 13

  Ryan couldn’t remember ever feeling this fear. Not even the many times he’d hidden under his bed while his father battered his mother. He’d fantasised about killing his father. There were so many possible ways, and his father had shown every one of them to him. A heavy arm round his little shoulders, the smell of beer, carnage on the television.

  Fate beat him to it, his father killed in a car crash on the A9. He took three others with him when he smashed head-on into their car. In the days following the funeral, while his mother reclined in drugged oblivion, his Aunt Gillian recreated his father for Ryan. Peter MacRae was a good man. He’d looked after his kids and tried to keep Sharon out of trouble. And that wasn’t easy. Not that Sharon was a bad mother, his aunt said. She just didn’t make things easy for her man. And his dad was a good man.

  There hadn’t been any fear since then. Just resentment against his mother, the police, the world. And a slow burning anger, accompanied by an overwhelming desire to know everything he could about his father. His mother wouldn’t help him. Best not to ask, she’d say; she didn’t want to speak ill of the dead, but that fucker…well, enough said. Only it wasn’t enough, and when the opportunity arose to find out more about his father, from someone who really knew him, someone who appreciated him, Ryan had jumped at the chance.

  And now, Ryan was trying to keep his fear from Todd. His hands were deep in his pockets so they wouldn’t shake, and his feet were braced hard against the back of the foot well.

  Todd didn’t like it. ‘Look at you, slouching like a sloth when I’m talking to you. This is serious shit.’

  Ryan straightened up and pulled his knees in. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That’s better. Show a bit of respect; that’s what your father would have done. He knew the game.’

  Ryan wasn’t even convinced that Todd had known his father. Just ‘cos he had a few photos. Anyone could get photos. He should have walked away that first day. He’d been to his Aunt Gillian’s house in Wyvis Place, but there was no one home. He was just closing the gate when a big black car had pulled up. The driver got out. ‘Gillian MacRae live here?’

  This big bald git could be anyone. Ryan shrugged.

  ‘You don’t know? You’re coming out the gate, but you don’t know who lives here? You a Jehovah’s Witness or what?’

  Ryan shrugged again. The guy had stared at him with eyes full of malice. ‘Idiot.’

  Ryan’s heart had been hammering as the guy drove away. It took him the walk to his own flat before he calmed down. And guess what? The same car was outside his block of flats, and it was empty. Though he wanted to turn and run, Ryan couldn’t leave his mother to deal with the guy he’d seen at Gillian’s. He took the stairs two at a time, his head down.

  ‘Careful,’ a voice said as he reached the top of the second set of stairs. He looked up into the eyes of the bald giant. He was smiling. ‘I don’t suppose you know if Sharon MacRae lives here either?’

  His mother must be out. Ryan shrugged and turned away.

  ‘Listen, son, I’m not here for trouble. I’m figuring you must be related to Gillian and Sharon. Are you Ryan, Peter’s son? I’ve heard a lot about you. You look just like your dad.’

  And that was all it had taken to reel Ryan in. He hadn’t told his mother. She was still a mess at that time, and mentioning his father would only make her worse. Todd gave him a phone so they could keep in touch. He said Ryan could text any time and he’d pick him up at school.

  Ryan guessed Todd was into all sorts. Money lending, drugs maybe, and worse. He’d get phone calls that would make him angry, then he’d drive to a house and leave Ryan in the car. He’d come out all hyped up and even more arrogant than before. He wouldn’t say much. Just the odd comment about people that crossed him, and how Ryan’s father would have handled them just the same. He gave Ryan money and told him not to let on to his mother. And Ryan had thought he was it. He’d arrived. Idiot.

  Now Todd leaned towards him. ‘You know, son, no one would blame you if you had told them. You’re young. It’s not easy to keep quiet under that kind of pressure. I’d understand.’

  Despite his fear, Todd’s attempt at cunning pissed Ryan right off. He’d understand? That would be right. He hadn’t spilled; he hadn’t given a thing away, and here was Todd trying to pull one over on him, trying to trick him into confessing. Bastard.

  Todd laughed. ‘You’ve seen through me. I guess we both know what would happen if you talked. But it’s not over. They could have you back in any day.’

  Ryan shrugged. ‘I can’t see what they’d have on me. Nothing on my phone. Nothing on my clothes. They’ve got fuck all.’

  ‘They’ve got an officer that saw you fleeing the scene. I’d say that counts for quite a lot. Listen, this is not just about me. Chris…I mean, Christopher, is involved too. You really don’t want to cross him or his associates. Have you said anything to your mother?’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Me. The shooting.’

  Ryan shook his head. As if he’d tell his mother anything.

  Todd nodded. ‘That’s good. Christopher wouldn’t want her to know about this.’

  He took his phone from his pocket and fiddled with it, then he passed it to Ryan. ‘Look. Cute or what?’

&nb
sp; As Ryan looked at the photo, he felt sick. He tried to keep his hand steady.

  ‘Move it on,’ Todd said.

  Ryan swiped though a series of photos of his wee brother. The first few were taken in the school playground. Then the swing park near the flats. Liam looked so innocent and happy.

  A phone rang. It wasn’t the one Ryan was holding. Wherever it was, the call must have connected automatically through Todd’s Bluetooth earpiece. Ryan saw Todd’s hands tighten on the wheel, the knuckles turning white, his face and thick neck turning red. ‘No way.’ He shook his bald head. ‘No fucking way. Where is she?’ He thumped his hand on the wheel. ‘Tell me where she is. Right. Keep her there – don’t let her out of your sight.’

  His face contorted with rage, Todd started up the car. Just as well the roads were quiet. Ryan wouldn’t have fancied the chances of anyone that crossed Todd’s path as he raced towards the Longman, passing the police station and the college, then turning right onto Harbour Road.

  ‘What the fuck are they stopped for?’ Todd thumped the steering wheel again as they approached the railway bridge and a row of cars.

  ‘A train?’ There was a level crossing just after the bridge.

  ‘Fuck’s sake. Fucking train. The traffic in this place is a fucking joke.’

  Ryan saw his chance. ‘I’ll just get out here. I can get myself home.’

  Todd pressed a button and Ryan heard the doors lock. ‘No chance. You need to see what happens to people that grass me up.’

  ***

  Chapter 14

  Todd was staring at the cars ahead as if he could will them to move. Ryan willed them not to move. Maybe the train would break down on the level crossing and the road would be closed for hours. Maybe the poor cow that had grassed Todd up would be long gone by the time they got wherever they were going.