Easy Kill (8 page)

Rhona suppressed a smile. ‘Good idea.’

‘Office politics,’ Rhona told Magnus when Judy left the tent.

‘The most interesting kind.’ He held her gaze, his expression frank and friendly. Despite Rhona’s antagonism, he seemed to want to call a truce. Rhona wasn’t ready for that yet.

McNab had the good sense not to come back with Judy, or else she’d asked him not to. Rhona knew him well enough to guess he didn’t mind flaunting his new love interest. Judy was another matter, though. Rhona had an urge to warn her colleague – of what, she wasn’t quite sure. Her own relationship with McNab had crossed three genres in swift succession – romance, thriller, horror. In that order. She and McNab had resolved their differences during their last case together, but that didn’t mean he’d mended his ways.

‘DS McNab says the turf was like that when they got here.’

Rhona was irritated to find herself watching Magnus for his reaction. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to her interest, muttering to himself under his breath.

‘That’s why he came back.’

‘You think the killer loosened the turf to help us locate the body?’ Rhona said. The site was alive with police. The idea hardly seemed credible.

‘The more he interests us in his previous crimes, the less time we spend anticipating his next.’

Rhona didn’t buy that. ‘But to come back here?’

‘I was here at two o’clock this morning. Just me and the guard, and he spent most of his time in the incident van.’

Rhona didn’t ask why Magnus was visiting the Necropolis at 2 a.m., but it was pretty clear he was of the opinion the murderer could enter and leave after dark at will.

‘Any word on the missing girl?’

Rhona shook her head. ‘Bill’s gone to interview some of her regulars.’

Magnus’s face darkened.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘I think if Terri Docherty’s still alive, it won’t be for long.’

Glasgow Pussy – Internet Blog

Saturday July 31st

If you found your way here, you know what the stakes are. The next streetmeat is yours to slaughter. Bidding starts at a grand
.

LEANNE BOLTED THE
door and stood with her back against it, breathing hard, her body crying out for relief from her mounting anxiety and fear. The truth was that she was useless without Terri.

‘Please,’ she muttered under her breath as she slid to the floor. ‘Where are you?’

No locks would deter Minty and his henchmen if he decided to come for his money. She’d left two messages on his mobile, explaining about Terri’s disappearance and the fact the police had her handbag with the money and bank card.

Since Terri had taken charge of their finances, they’d paid off most of Minty’s loan, despite the huge interest he levied. They’d laughed and joked about how soon they would be free. Free of drugs and free of Minty. How stupid that seemed now. A sob escaped Leanne’s throat. Already the dream she’d had with Terri was fading, replaced by a desperate need for something, anything to take away the pain.

She scrambled onto her knees, pulled herself upright and staggered into the bedroom. She would have to get out there early, pick up as many punters as she could, if she was going to keep Minty off her back. The only
way to face that was to take something. She took the Valium from the bedside cabinet and swallowed four, then took another two to make sure.

As she got ready to go out, she watched the news. The original story, about a young girl murdered on a night out, had been replaced with the truth. Lucie’s face stared out at Leanne, as the horrifying details of her death were read out. But nothing prepared Leanne for what followed. The revelation that a second body had been found buried below the first, sent her into hysterics. She was crying so loudly, she didn’t hear the first bang on the door. Then Minty’s voice broke through her sobbing.

‘Open the fucking door!’

Leanne froze as fists pounded the flimsy wood.

‘I said open the fucking door!’

Leanne tried desperately to get her head into gear. The Valium was kicking in, bringing euphoria to replace the panic. Minty would be a whole lot angrier if she didn’t let him in. But maybe he would think she wasn’t there and would go away? Leanne stood motionless, unable to make a decision.

The next thump sent the door flying, crashing against the inside wall. Leanne glanced wildly around, but there was nowhere to hide. Terri had always been the one to deal with Minty. She hadn’t been scared of him, not the way Leanne was.

Now he was in, Minty was taking his time. Leanne heard him go through to the living room, then the squeaking hinge told her he was in the kitchen. If she ran now, she might just make it down the hall and out
the front door. Leanne glanced down at her half-clothed body and bare feet. Minty would catch her before she got as far as the stairs.

The door swung open. Minty was perspiring heavily from his exertions. He stank of sweat, stale beer and skag. He smiled when he saw her, exposing the space where his two front teeth should have been. Leanne made a useless attempt to cover her exposed top half. But Minty wasn’t interested in bare breasts; not yet, anyway.

He snapped his fingers. ‘Money.’

Leanne struggled to find her voice. ‘I told you on the phone.’ She licked her lips. ‘The police have Terri’s money. I’ll make it up tonight.’

He thought about that, his eyes roaming over her. Leanne reached for the top she’d laid out on the bed. Until now, Minty had taken their money and never demanded anything else. Lucie had been different. She had been his to own – a piece of streetmeat he’d controlled and fed off when required.

And Lucie was dead.

The terrifying thought that Minty might be the killer crossed Leanne’s mind. Maybe Lucie had done something to piss Minty off, like not handing over her earnings, or spending it all on drugs.

‘I have to go to work.’ Leanne pulled on the top and sat down to put on her shoes. The tranquillisers were generating a wave of disinterest, as though she were an onlooker rather than a participant in the scene.

Leanne rose unsteadily and had to widen her stance to balance on her heels. In her present state, Minty’s
approach appeared to play out in slow motion, although it must have taken only a split second. She saw the gleam of the knife as he flicked it open, then he was on her. A hand grabbed her bare crotch under the short skirt and she yelped as his nails dug into the sensitive flesh. Then he used the blade to hook the strapless top and yank it down to expose one breast.

To her fury and shame the nipple grew hard, as adrenalin fuelled by fear fought the Valium for control of her body. Minty swiped the blade past, so close Leanne thought he’d cut her nipple. His face was an inch from hers, his mouth frothed with angry spittle.

‘Tomorrow. Got it?’

Leanne forced a nod.

Minty pushed her away and she staggered back, her head reeling. Then he was gone, the door slamming behind him. Leanne sat on the edge of the bed, the room drifting in and out of focus. She longed to curl up and let the drug take over, but she had to stand up. She had to go to work. Minty would be back looking for twice as much money tomorrow.

‘
DOGGING
?’ Bill said in disbelief.

‘We’re not talking about walking the dog, here,’ grinned McNab.

‘I know what we’re talking about.’

‘The Necropolis is recommended on dogging websites,’ Janice said. ‘Which goes some way towards explaining the quantity of condoms we’ve picked up, sir.’

Bill was struggling with such a concept. ‘I thought they needed a car for that?’

‘It’s been a long, hot, wet summer.’

Bill shot McNab a look, ending the joke. ‘So someone might have seen him?’

‘Dogging involves watching people have sex outdoors,’ Janice explained. ‘Sometimes joining in. They might not want to advertise what they’ve been doing, or watching.’

‘We could ask the websites to mention the crime,’ said McNab, more serious now. ‘Encourage any member who has used the Necropolis recently to email Strathclyde Police in strict confidence?’

‘Worth a try,’ Bill conceded. ‘Okay, who have we brought in?’

‘The old man, George Wilkins,’ said Janice. ‘Charles Beattie, alias Atticus, should arrive shortly. He denied everything until we pointed out we had phone evidence of his contact with Terri. He asked to come in rather than be interviewed at home.’

‘What about the Barras man?’

‘Haven’t got hold of him yet. Gary Forbes is being interviewed on his home turf. Posh Ray doesn’t answer his phone. We’re checking his home address via the mobile company. The other contact numbers are being dealt with by the rest of the team.’

‘Okay, let’s see Mr Wilkins.’

‘I should warn you sir, he’s not washed for a while.’

That was an understatement. Bill felt his throat close in a reflex reaction. Someone had opened the window, but the combination of heat and stale urine in the room was overwhelming. If Terri agreed to have sex with this old man, she was either out of her head, or she deserved a medal for services to the community.

‘Mr Wilkins?’

A pair of rheumy eyes looked vaguely up at Bill. ‘You found Marie?’

Bill sat down and faced him across the table. Janice switched on the recorder and identified those present.

‘Who is Marie, Mr Wilkins?’

‘Everybody calls me Geordie. Marie is my wife, Inspector. Forty years we’ve been married.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know where Marie is, Geordie. We wanted to ask you about another woman. Terri Docherty. You used to meet her on a Wednesday night.’

‘I don’t know any Terri Docherty.’ He shook his head. ‘Marie and me every Wednesday, regular as clockwork.’

Bill changed tack. ‘What does your wife look like?’

Mr Wilkins’s face broke into a smile. ‘A bonnie, bonnie lass. They all wanted her, but she married me,’ he added proudly.

Bill turned to Janice and said quietly. ‘What do we know about his wife?’

‘According to a neighbour, she died three years ago of cancer.’

‘Jesus,’ muttered Bill under his breath. The old man was staring at him, trying to make sense of what was going on.

‘You met Marie every Wednesday?’

Geordie nodded. ‘Same place, same time. I wanted her to come home with me, but she wouldn’t.’ He looked distressed. ‘She was always ill at home.’

Forty years of marriage and it had ended like this.

‘We think, ah,
Marie’s
gone missing.’

‘I know she has,’ Geordie said with certainty. ‘She got into that car and never came back. I waited and waited.’

‘You saw her get into a car?’

Geordie nodded again. ‘She shouldn’t have done that.’

‘What kind of car?’

The old man’s eyes filled with tears.

‘Geordie,’ Bill said softly.

Geordie began to cry in earnest, his body slumping forward. ‘She’s never coming back, is she?’ He turned his fearful gaze on Bill.

‘We’re going to find her, Geordie, but we need your help. Can you remember what the car looked like?’ Bill watched the old man’s struggle, anxiety driving his desire to be useful, his memory letting him down.

Finally Geordie said, ‘It was a dark colour. Big and flash.’

Bill waited patiently, willing him to give them something more. ‘Did you see the number plate?’

But the light had gone out. Geordie was back in his own world, filled with grief. ‘He won’t hurt her, will he?’

‘We’ll make sure he doesn’t.’ Bill could say the words, but he couldn’t keep the promise. ‘What if DC Clark gets you a nice cup of tea? That might help you remember.’

Geordie’s face brightened. ‘Any chance of a chocolate biscuit?’

Atticus was waiting in reception. Bill decided to bring him through himself. He wanted a surreptitious look at a guidance teacher who paid for sex with his former charges.

The view from behind the desk was that of a balding man in his forties, dressed in golfing trousers and sweater. The desk sergeant gave Bill a nod and informed him under his breath that the gentleman had been waiting twenty minutes and had already made a complaint.

Bill buzzed open the door.

‘Mr Beattie. I’m Detective Inspector Wilson.’

The man rose. ‘I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.’

‘Thank you for coming in so promptly. We appreciate that.’

Instinct had sent Mr Beattie down the path of outraged innocence. Bill’s grateful response was causing him to reconsider. The man was intelligent and used to giving orders. Being on the receiving end of authority was unnerving him.

Geordie was still in the interview room. Bill had told Janice to leave the door ajar when she went for the tea. He walked Mr Beattie slowly past so that he could get the full benefit of Geordie’s scent, before showing him into a neighbouring room and ushering him to a seat.

‘What was that terrible smell?’

‘Another one of Terri’s customers.’

‘I was not one of Terri’s customers.’ The affronted air was back.

‘Your number is on her phone.’

Beattie drew himself up. ‘I was Terri’s guidance teacher at school. When her older brother died, she became very withdrawn and I tried to help. I gave her my mobile number then. She recently phoned me to ask if I would help her again.’

‘How, exactly?’

‘She needed someone to talk to. She was trying to get off drugs and change her life. I told her to call her parents. She said her father had broken all contact and forbidden her to visit or get in touch.’

‘Did you meet with Terri?’

‘No.’

‘Terri told someone that you were a regular punter. Every second Wednesday without fail. She recognised you, but you pretended not to recognise her.’

‘Then that someone is lying.’

Beattie was growing more confident with every utterance. Even if they could prove he had sex with Terri Docherty, she wasn’t a minor and he hadn’t committed an offence.

‘You are aware that Terri is missing?’

‘Of course I am. Her picture is everywhere.’

As well as being on the front page, Terri’s photograph had appeared on the big screen in the main train and bus stations and two major shopping centres. This still hadn’t resulted in a sighting.