Madness Lies Page 7

  ‘Fuck this,’ Todd said, ‘I’m going to turn.’ But he couldn’t. The traffic was backed up on the other side of the road too. As he stared ahead, a low growling noise filled the car, and chilly fingers caressed their way down Ryan’s spine.

  At last the traffic started to move, and soon they were on Millburn Road, heading back towards the town. Todd turned left and pulled up in front of the Chieftain Hotel. ‘Come on. Hurry up.’

  Ryan got out of the car and he could hear two women shouting. He followed Todd to a row of tenement flats. One of the doors opened and a teenage girl came out. Her dark hair was pinned up and her short skirt showed off long tanned legs. There were tears in her big eyes as she teetered out the gate in high-heeled sandals, shouting: ‘Leave me alone.’

  Behind her, another female, older, with fury in her eyes. She was wearing a thin robe that might have been see-through, but Ryan didn’t dare look too closely.

  When they saw Todd, they both fell silent. Ryan glanced up, and saw that Todd was transformed. He was smiling. ‘Hey girls, no need for that shouting. What will people think? You must be Danielle,’ he said to the younger one. ‘I’m Todd. Where you going, honey?’

  Her eyes were filled with fear. ‘To the bank.’

  ‘In town?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’ll take you along. I’m going that way myself.’

  Ryan saw Danielle glance over her shoulder. Run, he wanted to shout. Just run! But she was following Todd to the car. There were locks of hair cascading down her slender neck. Todd held the back door open and she got in. Ryan reached for the handle of the passenger door.

  ‘In the back, Ryan,’ Todd said. ‘Shift over, honey.’

  Ryan should have run then. He should have made for the hotel, told them to call the police. He could have stopped whatever was going to happen to Danielle. He would have told the police everything, even if it meant going away himself.

  Could’ve. Should’ve. Would’ve. Didn’t.

  Todd locked the doors, and Danielle looked at Ryan, her eyes huge.

  ‘I thought you were going to town,’ she said, when Todd took a left turn into Victoria Drive. Ryan had never heard an accent like it before.

  Todd looked in his mirror. ‘I am. Just trying to avoid the traffic.’

  Ryan stared at the back of Todd’s thick neck, and wished he had a weapon. He’d like to strangle him with that thick chavvy gold chain he always wore, but it would take some strength.

  Todd took a right turn before the top of the road, and right again. He passed a row of tall posh terraced houses. Ryan glanced at Danielle. The colour was gone from her face. ‘This isn’t the way to the town. It isn’t.’

  Ahead, Ryan could see the road coming to an end. No more houses, just trees on both sides. He felt the car leave the road and bounce on to the wide track. Todd pulled in to the side. When Ryan looked back, he saw they were out of sight of the houses. On his right, he could see the land sloping downwards. They hadn’t come far. If he could run down that wooded embankment, he’d almost be back at Danielle’s flat.

  Beside him, Danielle was crying. ‘I’m sorry, Todd.’ Her voice was soft. ‘I didn’t tell them much.’

  Todd didn’t look round. Ryan saw a hint of red creeping up his neck. ‘You didn’t tell them much?’ His voice sent shivers of ice through Ryan. ‘You didn’t fucking tell them much? You told them my name, and you said I told you to target Gordon fucking Sutherland. You offered to go and look at photographs. You stupid bitch.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say.’

  He turned and his eyes were like lasers, boring into Danielle’s. ‘Fucking little tart.’

  ‘I’ll tell them I was wrong. I’ll…I’ll give them someone else’s name. Please…’

  ‘Please.’ His voice was high and terrifying. ‘Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t make me pay for my fucking stupidity. Please…’

  She was crying. ‘I’ll do anything.’

  ‘You’re good at doing anything, I hear. I did everything for you. I moved out so you could get set up in that flat. I sent the best of punters your way. Kept you off the streets. And I didn’t even try the goods for myself first.’

  ‘You…you can now.’ The words were forced through her sobbing.

  ‘I can do whatever I want. But I’m going to be a gentleman and let my friend go first.’ There was excitement on Todd’s face as he stared at Ryan. ‘How about it? You been with anyone yet?’

  Ryan shook his head. He couldn’t speak.

  ‘What better place to start?’ He opened the glove compartment and took something out. Tossed it over the seat and it landed on Ryan’s knee. A condom. ‘Tell you what, I’ll not watch. In fact, like the gent I am, I’ll even get out of the car while you fill your boots. Take your time, son; savour it. And remember, she’ll do anything.’

  *

  Carla and Ronald didn’t talk often but when they did, he always left her feeling better. Safe, somehow. He was her only link to her father, and he reminded her of him. The same quiet certainty, the shared mannerisms and phrases. Though her father wasn’t brought up on Uist, and though her grandparents hadn’t passed their native language to him, he had used the odd Gaelic word here and there. When she was very young, it fascinated her, and when she was a teenager, it bugged the shit out of her. And now, when Ronald said the words in his soft island accent, she regretted every time she’d criticised her father. What she wouldn’t give to hear him speak now, to have him hold her and reassure her, tell her everything would be all right.

  Despite Ronald’s obvious concern for her, Carla couldn’t entice him away from the island. He had too much to do, but he had a suggestion. ‘Why don’t you come here? You can fly from Inverness.’

  Carla didn’t even know how she’d manage to get back home, far less make the trip to Uist.

  ‘Keep it in mind. I’d love to have you here. Sorry, I’m going to have to go. The sheep are making another bid for freedom. We’ll speak soon. Tiorraidh ma-tha.’

  She wanted to repeat the words her father used to say. Instead, she used the English equivalent. ‘Bye, then.’

  She lay on her back and watched the clock. Her friend, Louise, had promised to bring in some food, and she’d expected her hours ago. A hint of nausea rose in her throat at the thought. Typical. After only managing half a slice of toast for breakfast, she’d spent the morning craving prawn sandwiches, grapes and carrot cake from M&S. She probably wouldn’t be able to eat it. Maybe it wasn’t the thought of the hospital food that had turned her stomach at lunch time; maybe her stomach was riddled with cancer, no room left for more than half a slice of toast.

  Get a grip, she told herself, as tears threatened. If Louise didn’t hurry up, they might not let her in. She couldn’t expect them to keep making allowances for the police. Another five minutes and Louise appeared, in uniform. Grateful that she’d had time to recover her composure, Carla tried to smile. She could see Louise wasn’t fooled. ‘You look like shit.’

  ‘Cheers.’ At least she was more honest than Joe.

  She put a bag down on the bed. ‘Last prawn sandwich. I had to fight off a pensioner with a zimmer and a death wish. My ankles are black and blue. No respect for the police these days.’

  *

  Tina Lewis was pacing. Joe looked up at her. ‘You’re giving me a headache. Haven’t you got work to do?’

  She stopped by his desk. Raising her hands, she ran her fingers through her hair. Her top lifted and he saw a glimpse of taut ivory skin, and a flash of silver. A pierced navel? Joe felt his face flush again as he looked away.

  ‘Sarge, our little northern friend is taking the piss. We should have brought her in. Both of them. What do you think?’

  Joe thought. What was there to link them to Sutherland’s death? They’d had their photo taken with him weeks ago. Someone had seen fit to deliver that photo to his wife. It certainly wasn’t one of them. There wasn’t enough. Not yet. ‘Give her half an hour.’
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br />   ‘If you say so. Coffee?’

  He nodded.

  ***

  Chapter 15

  If Sharon had been worried about Ryan before he went out, she was terrified when she saw him return. She was coming out of the bathroom as he came into the flat. His face was grey, his eyes wide and scared. ‘Hi, son. You all right?’

  It wasn’t that unusual for him to ignore her, but it was the first time he’d ever pushed her. She crashed against the wall and almost fell. The bathroom door was slammed and locked. Sharon kicked it. ‘Ryan, open the door, you little bastard. I’m so sick of you!’

  There was no answer; just the sound of choking and crying, gasping and retching. It went on for a minute or more, then she heard the shower start. She slumped to the floor and sat with her back against the bathroom door. There was no way he was getting past her without an explanation.

  ‘Mam, what’s wrong?’ It was Liam. ‘What was that banging noise?’

  ‘Nothing, son. Ryan’s just a wee bit sick; I’m going to wait here for him.’

  ‘Will I get him some ice cream?’ His wee face was so serious.

  Sharon smiled. ‘No, he won’t feel like anything. He’ll be…’ She heard the shower stop, the toilet flush. ‘Go on, son; you go and watch the rest of the film. I’ll be through in a minute.’

  Liam gave her a hug and left, just as Ryan unlocked the door. She got to her feet and stood in the doorway. ‘You’re not getting past until you tell me what’s going on. And don’t even think of pushing me again, or you’re dead.’

  He looked half-dead already, his face washed out, like someone going cold turkey. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and there were scratches and marks on his neck. Looked like someone had grabbed him. Was that a hickey? He stared at her, but there was no fight in him. He sat on the edge of the bath.

  ‘Well?’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t tell you anything, Mam; I just can’t.’

  ‘Have you done something? Is it to do with that shooting? I know you went…’ She couldn’t tell him she’d followed him. ‘You can trust me. I’d do anything to help you, son; anything.’

  ‘I know. It’s nothing to do with that. And I haven’t done anything. I just…just…’ He put his hands up to face and started to cry. As she reached for him, she noticed scratches on the back of his hands.

  ‘Who did that to your hands, son?’

  There was no answer. She held him tight and whispered that everything would be all right. When the crying stopped, she wiped his eyes with a bit of toilet roll. ‘Why don’t you get dressed and come and watch the Lion King with me and Liam? You used to love the Lion King.’

  He sniffed. ‘Aye, when I was about five.’

  ‘I’m thirty three and I still like it.’

  ‘Okay.’ Ryan tried to smile. ‘Are you going out tonight? Are you seeing…seeing Christopher?’

  ‘No. We’ll have a night in, just the three of us. We’ll get fish and chips.’

  Ryan nodded. ‘Mam, I’m sorry for pushing you. I really am.’

  ‘I know, son. I know.’

  *

  There was no answer at the flat on Carlton Terrace. When Joe looked through the letterbox, there was a dark emptiness. Had they gone already? He knocked on a neighbour’s door. A middle-aged woman answered. She looked Joe and Tina up and down. ‘You’ll be the police, then.’

  Joe showed her his warrant card. ‘We’re just making some enquiries about – ’

  ‘About them next door. Bloody tarts. Ever since that young one arrived, they’ve been at it day and night. I complained to that other policeman, but nothing was done.’

  ‘What policeman?’

  ‘Smallish, dark hair, moustache. And bad breath. That was ages ago.’

  ‘Did you go to the station?’

  She shook her head. ‘He was hanging about in the stairs. I thought he looked suspicious, so I said I was going to call the police. He told me not to bother ’cos he was the police. He showed me his card, but I can’t remember his name. The bugger did nothing.’

  ‘Did you hear anything today?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve been out at work, and I’m not long home. What are you going to do about it? It’s not fair on the rest of us, men back and fore day and night. The things I’ve heard have given me nightmares. Or they would, if I could get any sleep. It’s no wonder I’ve turned grey. It wasn’t so bad when the big bald guy was there. He and the older tart moved in at the same time, but he left just before the young one came. I was terrified when I first saw him, he looked that fierce, but there was no trouble from him.’

  ‘Do you know his name?’

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t want to encourage them. Just nodded on the stairs, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Did you see his car?’

  ‘I saw him with a couple of different cars. Big dark things mostly. I’ve no idea what make. If my man was still here, he’d be able to tell you, but he buggered off with another tart four years back. I told you, it’s no wonder I’m grey. I’ve got the landlord’s number. He lives in Perth. I phone him every time I get disturbed. He doesn’t answer now, not if it’s the middle of the night. Just wait there and I’ll get it for you.’

  She returned with the number scrawled on a piece of paper. ‘Good luck with him. He’s a cheeky wee shite, so he is. It’s little wonder I’m grey.’

  The landlord hadn’t met Katya Birze. She’d signed the lease through a letting agent. She had a partner, but she didn’t want his name on the lease. He didn’t really know anything else about her. The letting agent had done all the checks. He’d been about to terminate the lease anyway, sick of the neighbour phoning him at all hours.

  Joe had just started up the engine when they got the call. A body in the lane between Victoria Terrace and Auldcastle Road. Young female. Late teens or early twenties. Dark hair.

  ‘Yes.’ Tina beat her hands on the dashboard. ‘Bugger this running around after a pair of skanky tarts. Some real police work. Where is that? Can we get there quick?’

  Joe stared at her and shook his head, then he took off. She clutched at the dashboard with her manicured hands as he pulled into Victoria Drive, sped past Millburn Academy, and took a sharp right into Victoria Terrace. He drove past the terraced houses and on to the muddy track between the tall trees. He pulled to a halt a few yards into the track. They’d left the flat on Carlton Terrace about a minute earlier. ‘Quick enough for you?’

  ‘Jesus, Sarge…what’s going on?’

  ‘Ask her, why don’t you? See how exciting she finds it?’

  There was a woman standing on the track, with a black dog on a lead. Her face was ashen. Joe called the station to tell them he was there. As he and Tina got out of the car, a patrol car pulled up behind them, lights flashing.

  They stood and looked down the wooded slope, and Joe heard Tina gasp. He felt a little bad. He should have remembered how he was at first. A long night in traffic; nothing happening; the excitement of a call. It hadn’t taken too many calls to rid him of the idea that there was anything exciting about a road accident. And now, although he’d known as soon as he got the call, he should have realised that Tina had no idea. She hadn’t been in Inverness for long, and didn’t know the lay of the land. She had no idea that Victoria Terrace was just above Carlton Terrace, and that the chances of this dark-haired young corpse being anyone other than Danielle Smith were slim.

  Danielle’s body was lodged between two trees on a wooded slope. Her dead face was looking upwards, eyes wide. She’d been thrown down there after death; didn’t need a SOCO to tell Joe that. As Joe stared down at her body, he felt his world tilt. The marks on her throat spoke of strangulation; the skirt up around her waist spoke of sexual assault. She looked so young.

  The Senior Investigating Officer was DCI Archie MacBain. His eyes widened when Joe told him he knew the victim. His bushy eyebrows lifted when he heard that Joe and Tina Lewis had spoken to her less than a couple of hours ago.
He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. Joe felt like shit. Though he wasn’t about to admit it to anyone else, he lived with the certainty that he’d be found out one of these days. He was good enough at the job, better than many of his colleagues, but that didn’t stop the little voice inside that told him he was useless, always would be. He could have done his job differently, and if he had, this beautiful girl would be alive.

  That was nonsense, Tina Lewis told him, before he could even voice it. They’d had no way of knowing Danielle was in danger. She was barely linked to Gordon Sutherland. They couldn’t have arrested her; they couldn’t even have forced her to come in for questioning; they’d done the right thing.

  Words, words, words.

  *

  Katya Birze was gone, and it looked like she’d left in a hurry, clothes discarded on her wardrobe floor, a cold cup of tea and two bits of toast on the bedside table. In Danielle’s room, some cheap jewellery, a map of Shetland, and some clothes. No phone, laptop or tablet. Had Katya taken everything, or was Danielle on the run when she was caught? And if she was, where was her bag?

  They found the sock later that night. It was lying close to the body, just a small flash of white reflecting off the bright lights brought in to counteract the fall of dusk. The first thought of the SOCO that found it was that it was unconnected to the murder. But wait. Was that a splatter of blood spots along the edge of the sock? No blood at the scene, so probably still unconnected, but odd. She bagged it and passed it to a colleague for logging.

  *

  It was 10:40 when Christopher sat at his desk. The email was waiting.

  Howdie mate. Leg okay? Another strange day. Got a lot on my mind. I’m going away for a while but will try to keep in touch.

  Any ideas for our ten years? We have to do something. I’m leaving it with you. Take care. Yours always. T