Kill Me Twice: Rosie Gilmour 7 (21 page)

To some, Millie was a pathetic soul, and was out there somewhere and vulnerable. But that didn’t matter a damn to Colin. She was a nervous wreck and on the verge of a breakdown, and the very fact that she had buggered off to Madrid without telling him showed how unhinged she had become. He had been right to get her locked up for some treatment. It wasn’t that he wanted her back – he’d
given up the ghost of their marriage a long time ago, and she didn’t even attract him any more: It was over. Millie was a seriously loose cannon. She knew too much.

She’d been around and would have been in a position to hear things while he was Home Secretary. Especially during that unfortunate time when allegations began to emerge about a sexual-abuse ring. The claims were far-fetched, the police had told him. He should bear in mind that the kids making the claims were mostly from criminal backgrounds and were already young offenders. They were not to be trusted. Colin had been a little uneasy about it in the beginning, but once names had begun to emerge in political circles, it was important to silence it, shut it down.

His closest advisers in the civil service suggested it was easier simply to shred the dossiers. It was his decision in the end, but everyone knew it was the civil servants who were the nuts and bolts of the government. They covered your back and they made things disappear. You just had to keep denying things. But every bloody time Millie was pissed she brought up the conversation she had overheard between Colin and the Chief Constable of the Met. ‘What about those kids?’ she’d kept moaning. ‘You knew about it. I heard you talk with the Chief Constable,’ she’d bleated one night. She’d received a hard slap for being so presumptuous and spying on him. But still she went on about it. It niggled him that she was out there now in a position to
damage him, and was bitter and twisted enough to do it. But he consoled himself with the fact that she would be roaring drunk somewhere, not making sense to anyone. With any luck, they’d get her picked up in the next couple of days.

His phone rang on his desk and he answered it.

It was a private eye. ‘The mobile phone of that nurse has been traced to a location in the borders. She must have made a phone call,’ the voice said.

‘The borders? How come? Whereabouts?’ Colin barked.

‘The only place for miles is a country hotel. We have the name of it. Unless she’s lost her phone, I’d be surprised if this lady isn’t staying there. Perhaps Mrs Chambers too. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s all we have.’

Colin took a few moments to process the information, then he spoke. ‘Okay. Do what you have to. Let me know when you find out any more.’

*

Rosie was glad Dan had crashed out in the passenger seat and was comatose most of the journey towards Carlisle. He’d been flapping after they’d made their getaway from the hospital car park, and had broken down in tears over the state Mitch was in. When they arrived at the hotel, Matt in his car following Rosie up the long, leafy driveway, Dan woke and looked around him, bewildered. ‘Where are we?’

‘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 balance 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?’