Poisoned Cherries (24 page)

“Why?”

“You’re his head of security, right?
 
Well, I’m reporting an incident.

Now shift!”

Thirty-Four.

Ricky quizzed me all the way out to Edinburgh Park, but I told him nothing other than that I’d had a call from someone reporting an emergency at the Torrent group corporate headquarters.

“But why you?”
 
he demanded.

“I don’t know!”
 
I yelled at him.
 
I don’t shout very often; when I do, it usually has an effect.
 
He dropped the subject and drove, while I phoned Susie and told her that I’d been delayed.

What I did know from the start was that I didn’t want him, or anyone else, to find out any sooner than necessary that Alison had been there, not until we found out ourselves exactly what had happened and to whom .. . not that I was in any doubt about that.
 
Ricky’s badly healed fracture was sticking out like an elbow in my mind.

The building was locked and unlit when we pulled up outside, but the big red T on its pole, was glowing.
 
As I looked at it, it occurred to me that it was shaped, more or less, like a cherry.

Ross jumped out and ran up the steps to the main entrance.
 
It was locked and brass gates had been locked across the glass doors.
 
He knew his way around, though; he headed straight round the side of the building, with me at his heels, until he came to a fire exit.

“Open,” he muttered, then pushed it, sending it swinging violently on its hinges.
 
I followed him into a short passageway, which ended with another door; we burst out into the main entrance hall.

It was just before eight-thirty and it was a bright evening, so there was still enough natural light coming down from the atrium for us to see what had brought us there.

No more than twelve feet from us, the body of a young woman was sprawled across the reception desk.
 
She was on her back, gazing sightless at the glass roof above.
 
On the floor, all around us, lay ripe red cherries spilled from the wooden bowl in which her head now rested.
 
I saw that several of them were squashed flat.

Ricky tried to hold me back, but I shook his hand off and made my way through them carefully, up to the desk.

I looked down at the dead girl; she was still wearing her plastic name tag, but I knew who she was, anyway.
 
I had guessed as soon as I had taken Alison’s frantic call.
 
“Anna Chin,” I said, quietly, as if I was trying not to disturb her.
 
She looked peaceful; the only odd thing about her was the angle of her broken neck.
 
Apart from that there was not a mark on her.

I looked over my shoulder at Ricky and saw that he was brandishing his twisted wrist.
 
“What did I tell you?”
 
he exclaimed.
 
“That was Alison who called you, right?”

“Yes.
 
Now tell me what else doesn’t fit.”

“What do you mean?”

The words had barely escaped his lips, when we heard the siren outside.
 
“No, it’s okay,” I told him.
 
“That’s what was missing.
 
Listen, when they get in here, ask them when they got the call.”

He frowned at me.
 
“Why?”

“Just do it.”
 
I glanced at my watch.
 
“It’s about twenty minutes since I had that phone call.
 
I’ll bet you the police were delayed by about that length of time; I’ll bet they should have been here sooner, so they could catch her on the premises.”

Ricky isn’t at all dumb.
 
He saw the same picture I was looking at.

“Okay,” he said.
 
“Don’t tell me any more.”

Just at that moment, two uniformed constables burst through the side door; one was a youngster, but the other was a veteran, grey hair showing at his temples.

“Where the fuck have you been?”
 
Ross barked.

The older copper glared at him for about half a second, until he recognised him, then changed his expression, instantly.
 
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said.
 
“We’re the second car.
 
The one that was supposed to respond was in an accident at the Barnton traffic lights; the driver went through on the red and a lorry smashed his side in.
 
I got the call after that, and I’d to come from Granton.”

“Okay.
 
Were the other guys hurt?”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

“The lorry driver?”

“No.”

“That’s a relief; if he was there’d have been hell to pay.”

The veteran nodded; he was only relieved that he hadn’t been in the other car.
 
“What about CID?”
 
Ricky asked him.

“I don’t know about that, sir.”

“Well, call them in pronto, and a doctor..
 
. not that there’s any helping this poor lass.”

“What’ll I call it, sir?”

Slowly and deliberately, Ross walked round the desk; he didn’t look down as far as I could see, but I heard more cherries squash under his feet as he walked.
 
“Tell them it’s a suspicious death, and that they should send a full scene-of-crime team.
 
You two wait here and don’t touch anything.
 
We’ll be outside.”

I got the message and followed him along the corridor, to the fire exit.
 
I hadn’t noticed before, but there were red marks on the floor that could have been made by the juice of crushed cherries.
 
As he walked, outside and round to the main entrance, Ricky’s shoes, and mine by that time, made even more.

“You’re right,” he said as we stood waiting at the top of the steps, speaking quietly as if there was someone around who might have heard.
 
“This was a set-up.
 
Whoever killed that girl knew that Alison was coming here and arranged it so that she would find her.

“I guess they watched her then called the police, expecting them to arrive with her still at the scene.”

He took a deep breath, then looked at me.
 
“You did the right thing, Oz, telling her to vanish.
 
First she finds her fiance’s body, then she’s caught standing over the girl he’s been having it off with.
 
It would have been all over for her; she’d have gone down for twenty years.”

“She might still.
 
They’re bound to find out she was here.”

“I don’t know that; you never told me that.”

“What if they trace the call to my mobile?”

“What call?
 
You never had a call, and you were with me all night.”

“Why did we turn up at the scene, then?”

“There’s a sign on the gate saying that these premises are protected by Ross Security; my phone number’s on it.
 
I had an anonymous call at around the same time as the police, telling me that there had been an incident at Torrent.
 
I came straight here, bringing you along for the ride since you were with me at the time.”

“What if they check to make sure there was a call to you?”

He gave me an offended look.
 
“They won’t: most of the CID in this division used to be under my command.
 
Their boss is my brother Mason, and so are some of them.”

“If it’s that cut and dried, can I get out of here?”

“As soon as the CID arrive, yes; take my car and leave it at the Mound when you go to Glasgow.
 
But before you do any of that, I want you to find Alison.
 
Call her mobile, and tell her everything’s under control.
 
If she isn’t waiting there already, tell her to go home, as normal. You meet her there, get her calmed down and settled in and, most important of all, take the shoes she was wearing and scrub the soles; make sure they’re spotless.
 
Tell her to sit tight and wait for me; I’d better stay at her place tonight.”

“You think she’s actually in danger?”

He gave me a “Be patient, he’s an idiot’ look.
 
“Someone’s tried to frame her for two murders, and failed twice.
 
What will they do next?
 
Of course she’s in fucking danger!”

Thirty-Five.

That’s how it went.
 
The CID arrived .. . two detective sergeants. They both knew ex-Superintendent Ross, called him ‘sir’, and accepted his story without question.
 
They didn’t even talk to me.

Ricky gave me his spare keys to the Alfa, and I headed off back into town; as soon as I was out of sight, I called Alison’s mobile number.
 
She answered on the fifth ring, as if it had taken her that long to decide to take the call.
 
She was at home, but she still sounded terrified.

I drove straight there.
 
She was in her dressing gown when she let me in; her hair was wet, straight from the shower.

“That girl, Oz,” she whispered.

When I told her who Anna Chin was, and what they had in common, she slumped down into an armchair.
 
After a few seconds she began to cry.
 
“Someone’s got it in for me, Oz,” she moaned, ‘and I haven’t a clue why.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve got the good guys on your side.
 
We’ll find out and put a stop to it.”

The soles of her shoes were still stained dark red with cherry juice. I went to work with bleach and a nailbrush, until they were spotless.

She had stopped crying by the time I was finished.
 
I thought about questioning her, but decided that already I was way more involved that I’d planned.

So I gave her a big drink, drove the Alfa back to the Mound, picked up some overnight kit, and headed for Glasgow.

It was midnight, but Susie was still pleased to see me; no more, though, than I was pleased to see her.

“My God,” she said, looking at me in the doorway.
 
“You look dead beat; you must have had a hard day at the office.”

“I have,” I said, and then I picked her up and hugged her, for quite some time.

When I woke there was a strange, middle-aged lady leaning over the bed .. . only when I could focus, I realised that she wasn’t strange at all.
 
It was only Ethel; she had been trying to put a mug of tea on the table by my head without disturbing me.
 
I don’t know why she thought I’d like to wake up to a mug of cold tea, but that appeared to be the game plan.

“Morning,” I mumbled.

“Sorry, Oz,” she said, with the bright morning voice of the professional nurse, “I was trying not to wake you.
 
This isn’t part of the service either,” she added, almost as an afterthought, ‘but Susie’s feeding baby Janet and she asked me if I would bring your tea in.”

I mumbled again as she left, then checked the bedside clock.
 
It told me in big red liquid crystal numbers that I’d slept for almost ten hours.
 
I pulled myself up in bed and used a remote to switch on the television in the corner, but all I could find was cartoons, kids making a noise, and that blonde girl with the tattoo on her bum who does the Saturday morning football programme.

I gave them all up and settled for Radio Clyde One, just as Susie came into the bedroom with wee Jan still attached.
 
Maybe it was all the stuff that had been happening over the last few days, but my heart and my eyes just seemed to fill up at the same time.

“Come here,” I said, barely able to see them.
 
“Come into bed and let’s be a family.”

We did that, we just lay there, did Susie and I, for about half an hour, with our child between us, talking mostly nonsense.
 
I told her about Ewan and Alison having done their deal, I told her about the rehearsal and the scene set visit to Advocates’ Close, and I told her about meeting Don Kennedy, the famous golfer, and his gloomy prognosis for my slice.
 
But I did not tell her about Anna Chin; that sort of stuff has no business invading a moment like that.

Eventually we got up, and each of us, while the other showered, took turns at playing with the smiling Janet.
 
Some people say it’s only wind at that age, not a real smile, but that is sheer nonsense ... I have two nephews and a daughter; I know these things.

It was Ethel’s hard-earned weekend off; she muttered something about going to see her sister in Roseneath and headed off in her all-silver Ford Ka.
 
“Right,” Susie declared.
 
“Janet’s fed, now what about us?”

“Saturday morning,” I replied.
 
“Glasgow.
 
I’ll go for the rolls and the papers, like any other bloke.
 
You start the fry-up, and get the tea on, like any other woman.”

“Bloody chauvinist!
 
But I don’t fancy going out looking like an unmade bed .. .”
 
See?
 
Stereotypical behaviour; with her red hair tousled, and her freckled face fresh from the shower, she looked absolutely stunning.
 
‘..
 
. So we’ll do it your way.”
 
She took the door keys from the kitchen table and tossed them to me.

The flat is in a building near the top of Woodside Terrace, so I cut along to Lynedoch Street, and down to Woodlands Road, where I could take my pick of grocer news agents each one just like my friend Ali’s place.
 
I went into the nearest, bought four morning rolls, baked that day, the Daily Record and the Scotsman.
 
The woman behind the counter gave me a knowing look, probably marking me as an out-of-towner, because I hadn’t taken the Herald.
 
I had a reason for picking the Edinburgh daily, though.