“Were you the one putting money into her bank account every few months?” David curiously asked.
Again, Estelle remained silent. She wasn’t the one. But she didn’t need for David to know that little fact. She still had no reason at all to trust him. The only trust they had was on the basis of a friendship that died fifteen years ago.
“You know she just spent it all on drugs and partying anyway, right?”
Estelle leaned in close to David with a look of pure and utter venom. It was those cold, steely eyes that did it. The ones he remembered from their teenage days out on the hardened streets, right before Estelle would knife the annoying arsehole who had just pissed her off. David looked fearful again. He let out an anxious gulp.
“And who was selling her all those fucking drugs, huh, you sick fuck?” Estelle shot right back at him.
David took another breath and darted his eyes down and away from Estelle. He couldn’t even look her in the eye anymore; he felt so damn ashamed. Out of nothing he burst into a fit of tears and sobs.
“I’m sorry. But if it wasn’t me then it would have been some other fucking scumbag selling her that shit. At least I gave her good, clean stuff.”
Estelle hesitated. She leaned back into her seat and took another drag from her dying cigarette.
“Was she a dealer too? Was she helping you out with the drugs?”
“Sometimes. But nothing hardcore or heavy duty. Just hash to some friends and neighbors she knew from time to time. Maybe the odd tab of acid and ecstasy.”
“When was the funereal?”
David wiped his tears with the sleeve of his jumper. He took a moment to compose himself.
“Last week. She was cremated at the Linn Crematorium down at Lainshaw.”
“And her ashes. Where did you scatter them?”
“Nowhere.”
“Why not? Where are they?”
“Her... Her boyfriend has them.”
Estelle looked stumped by that little revelation. She had no idea her sister had a recent boyfriend. There was certainly no evidence of it in her online social media presence.
“Her boyfriend… Who the fuck is her boyfriend?”
“Luke McCall.”
Estelle gently shook her head. She could vaguely recall the name in that moment. Perhaps because nobody ever really knew each other by their surnames back where she was from. Just first names and nicknames.
“You must remember Luke? Rival school street gang. You stabbed him in the fucking leg one time when we were kids.”
Estelle remembered the fucker now. But she didn’t let on to David that she did. Luke, the man-boy who had punched her sister in the alleyway all those years ago. Trying to steal her stash after she’d done all the hard work of stealing it for herself. She had more history with Luke too, just before her mother and stepfather died, but she didn’t want to think about that right then.
“I stabbed a lot of people when we were kids, David.” Estelle casually remarked, her face still poker straight. “So where can I find Luke?”
“Look. You don’t want to mess with Luke right now, Estelle. He’s bad fucking news. You might’ve had had some leeway in your teenage terror years, but now. He’s like a fucking gangster-made football hooligan. He’s got connections from the top of the apple tree all the way down to the mud and shit at the bottom.”
Estelle leaned back in, even closer towards David.
“I’m only going to ask you this one more time, Short Arse before things start getting really bad for your body and limbs. Where. Can I find... Luke?”
Chapter 8
It was almost seven thirty pm. Thousands of rowdy Glasgow Rangers football fans were making their way to the huge fifty thousand-seater Ibrox Stadium in the west end of Glasgow for the 8pm kick off.
Outside the stadium, Estelle and David stood against a steel fence on the opposite side of Edmiston Street, directly in the shadows of the main south stand and its towering red brick walls. They were watching the huge surging crowds, of mostly men, drifting to and from the opposite sides of the street as they made their way into the various gates and entrances of the stadium.
Estelle was on the lookout for Luke, who according to David attended every single home and away match with a large group of his thug mates. They were all season ticket-holders so would always sit in the exact same seats.
“They always stand in the southwest corner of the West stand.” David said raising his tone over the singing and cheering crowds. “Even though it’s all seated and you’re supposed to sit. They always stand. The stewards and police say fuck all to them. Everyone is pretty much shit scared of Luke and his crew around here. They’re the hardcore hooligan section. Always looking for a fight after the game with rival supporters. They are absolutely mental fucking headcases the lot of them.”
Estelle continued to watch the crowds, engrossed by the rowdy tribal chanting, singing, and the roaring of their foul-mouthed bile and hate shit-talk like there was no tomorrow. And all of it directed at whichever opposing football team they just happened to be playing that day.
They watched more droves of supporters as they continued to make their way towards the stadium. When Luke finally emerged from the east side of Edmiston Street, David recognized him instantly and pointed him out. Estelle didn’t recognize him at all. Fifteen years was a long time since puberty. He looked typically masculine with his tattoos and bulging biceps and puffed-out chest like a big raging gorilla. If she were honest, some of the other larger, scowling, yet quieter-looking hooligan gang members around him looked as if they’d make more intimidating alpha male leaders than him. It was one of the many skills Estelle had acquired over the years: to read a person’s body language in seconds, to understand and get a feel of them instantly without having to get very close to them.
There were six gang members in total, all drinking and chanting away like a right bunch of hooligans, some more expressive than others with their chants and sick taunts of what they were going to do with the opposition team and their fans. Luke seemed to be the most expressive and animated of all. They all had one thing in common though: an arrogant aura of being untouchable. But Estelle knew that in her world, the real sick and twisted world, nobody was ever untouchable.
“After one week you’d think he’d be more upset.” Estelle casually remarked as she continued to observe Gayle’s apparently grieving boyfriend behaving like a lunatic and like he hadn’t a single care in the whole wide world.
“What are you going to do?” David softly asked.
Estelle fell silent and continued to watch Luke move towards the west gates and ticket turnstiles of the stadium. It was still hard to get a good look at his face and eyes as he wore his blue Rangers hat over most of his head and face. She still couldn’t believe how much he’d changed since she’d last seen him as a teenager. Like he’d almost doubled in size. Most likely shoving himself full of steroids while at the gym seven days a week. But she had to get him alone, away from the comfort and protection of the rest of his gang.
She imagined with all the booze and alcohol he’d been pouring down his throat on the way to the stadium that a few bathroom breaks would be in order throughout his two-hour stay. Approaching him in the stadium toilets during the game might be her best option. She could wait until after the match, of course, and follow him for the rest of the evening, hoping to get him alone at some point. But time was of the essence. She needed to know everything that he knew about her sister. Look the fucker in the eye and be convinced that he had nothing to do with her death. Or if he indeed knew of any sinister motives or reasons behind Gayle’s demise… Also, she wanted her sister’s ashes. Or to at least to know what the muscle-bound steroid prick had done with them. That particular task was beginning to itch upon her more than anything else. She wanted to do right by whatever little specks of dust remained of her little sis.
Estelle turned to David, pulled out a thick wad of twenty-pound notes, and stuffed them into his pocket.
“I want to keep a low-profile while I’m here, David. Do you understand?”
David hesitated, then casually placed his hands into his pockets to feel the money.
“Mum’s the word.”
***
Estelle stood on her own at the back of the semi-busy southwest stand and watched Luke and his gang of thugs like a hawk, all of them taking turns shouting and cheering at their players kicking their little football around down on the floodlit field below, then screaming down torpedoes’ worth of foulmouthed abuse and threats at the opposing team players every time they ventured close enough for them to hear.
Fifteen minutes into the first half, Estelle finally got her chance to follow Luke on his own. He left his friends, seemingly unable to hold his full bladder any longer, and headed off to find the men’s toilets. He even took a coffee and pie order from his mates for his return, which in Estelle’s eyes didn’t seem like the alpha male thing to do at all.
But it was all happening so fast and like clockwork. Like it was just a little bit too easy. Estelle felt a twitch in her gut, but she ignored it for the time being. Instead, she casually stood and followed Luke down into the bowels of the stadium. She didn’t have time to be cautious or listen to her gut instinct and follow him around for a few days, like she usually did on a mission or until she knew his every move better than he knew them himself. This had to be resolved this evening. Which meant that mistakes would most likely be made.
Luke continued to make his way down the steep quiet stadium stairwell. Occasionally filled by the echoing roars of fans still watching the game in the main arena as their team kicked another shot on target or forced another attacking corner.
Estelle noticed that there were much closer toilets at hand too, ones that Luke could have easily entered to use and relieve himself in, but for some reason he was heading down into the quieter depths of the stadium. Perhaps he was going outside for a cigarette, was another thought that came to her mind. But still, she ignored the alarm bells ringing inside. Down in the basement of the main stand, Luke finally entered a quiet toilet that seemed like it was more for the staff and players than the punters up in the stands paying their hard-earned cash to watch the match.
Estelle waited outside the entrance for a short time. There didn’t seem to be anyone else inside or even around the hollow concrete corridors. She noticed an unlocked cupboard to her left, like a small utility cleaning room, and she opened it up. Inside, were three cleaning carts full of mops, buckets, cloths, and bleaching products. Up against the cupboard walls were a pile of cleaning signs too, neatly and tightly stacked. Estelle took two of the signs and placed them outside the front of the men’s room door.
Out of order, read one sign. Female attendant inside, read the other.
Quietly she opened the men’s room door and gently stepped inside. It was a spacious toilet area. A row of ten urinals stood on one side, while a row of three cubicles, all empty with doors wide open, sat opposite along with a row of five wash basins beside them.
Luke appeared to be the only person inside. He stood up against the far urinal, draining himself like a bloated camel. The only thing he seemed to be paying any attention to in his half-drunken state was the flow of urine streaming out of him.
Estelle took slow, quiet steps and crept stalker-like right up behind him. She knew exactly what she was going to do as soon as she watched him standing there all relaxed with his cock in his hands. With only a few yards between them now, she silently pulled out her flick knife and leapt up behind him like a panther. Swift and firm, she wrapped her left arm right around his throat, immediately putting him into a choke hold, while her right hand pressed the razor-sharp edge of her knife right under the lower shaft of his flaccid cock and balls.
Luke squealed like a pig with the shock of it all. His body froze as he felt the cold, hard sharp steel slicing a few millimeters into his penis. He looked paralyzed with fear and ceased urinating immediately. Pressed right up against his back, Estelle could feel he was trying his best not to move a muscle or even breathe too hard for fear of pressing his manhood closer against the blade. Without words, Luke slowly raised his hands and arms up into the air in surrender.
“What the fuck, man? What the fuck…” He finally spoke. “I don’t have any money or drugs, mate… Please.”
“Where are Gayle’s ashes, Luke?” was the first sentence out of her mouth. Luke suddenly looked even more perplexed.
“What… the fuck?”
Estelle raised her right wrist and sliced another little nick into the bottom root of his cock. Luke unleashed a desperate cry and raised his hands and arms even higher in protest.
“No, wait. Please… Fucking wait, all right. I have them. I fucking have them. They’re back at my flat. What the fuck is this all about?”
Before either of them could say another word, Estelle heard the noise of the main door to the men’s room barging open and the signs she’d placed outside kicked to one side. She turned her head to glance at the commotion. Six men, all various shapes, sizes, and color, herded into the spacious men’s room—the rest of Luke’s hooligan gang of thugs.
Estelle’s heart sank just a little, but she was ready for this. She knew everything had gone far too smoothly for her liking, but at least she had prepared herself as best she could. Then something else happened. Something else revealed itself to her and threw her completely off guard for the first time in years. She blinked hard and did a double take.
The final man to enter the room and close the bathroom door behind him was that fucking weasel, David. Her so called best friend from her tyrant teenage years. She had a gut feeling that she couldn’t trust the fucker as far as she could throw him. But still, it was a surprise and a kick to the gut to see her old childhood chum standing side by side with the men who were standing in her way of getting the information that she so desperately needed.
This was why she always worked alone. She trusted no one in life. Not her employers or fellow employees, her husband—hell, even her own daughter would probably betray and break her trust one day. These thoughts were always at the back of her mind. Always.
The tallest man of the group, the one with the familiar charming grin and standing in front of the others like their apparent, obvious leader, suddenly pulled David into him and hugged his arm around his neck while kissing his forehead in jest. David looked extremely uncomfortable at the playful gesture of dominance. He couldn’t even meet Estelle’s painful, deathly stare.
Estelle understood then what was happening. The familiar-looking man with his arm around David was in fact the real Luke. She recognized him now. How had she missed it? Blinded by the emotions of grief and revenge and making everything so bloody damn personal, she had lost all track of what made her exceptional at what she did for a living. Now it all made sense. It was a set up. Right from the moment she’d revealed herself and confronted David the fucker had stitched her up like a kipper. Well and truly.
If her inner mind was in turmoil, Estelle didn’t show it one bit on the outside. She remained totally calm, silent, and very still. She said and did absolutely nothing when others would have raged and let their guard drop immediately. She continued to watch and study the group of large, fierce, and intimidating men, searching for weakness and vulnerabilities in their body language and stature as she continued to hold her knife firmly against the first man’s rapidly receding manhood.
“He’s a good little pet bitch this one, no?” said the real Luke as he continued to playfully hug the awkward David’s neck while rubbing his head in an alpha gesture. “Very obedient and very faithful to his master.”
Estelle remained completely stoic right behind fake Luke, still using him as a shield.
“When David told me who you were,” Luke went on. “I couldn’t believe it. I could not fucking believe it! I had to see it with my own fucking eyes, man, you know…”
Luke broke into a fit of chuckles before mumbling on.
&
nbsp; “I mean, holy fucking shit! Didn’t you like lose your virginity to me back in the day, Estelle? Or was that your sister? Or maybe it was both of you.”
Everyone apart from David and Estelle had a good hearty chuckle at that. Estelle remained eerily calm though and didn’t respond right away. Luke was clearly looking for an emotional reaction here, desperately trying to both find and push her buttons at the same time. There was a vague half-truth in Luke’s statement somewhere though as more memories began flooding back to Estelle at a million miles per hour.
She vaguely remembered being at some drink and drug-fueled house party in Paisley as a teenager, right at the beginning of her sexual awakening and experimentation years. She’d arrived at the party with some girls she knew from her rare appearances at high school. Already, in their drunken stupor, most of the girls were pairing off with guys left, right, and center. All of them without a care in the world of the future consequences of their actions. At the time, Estelle had never had sex before, let alone kissed a boy which may have surprised everyone else at the party if they had any idea, especially the way she always handled and carried herself, so bold and so full of that raging arrogance, never one to shy away from anyone or anything, especially a person or a problem, bigger or bolder than herself.
In truth though, she’d never really cared about sex. It was just an afterthought to her adolescence and rapidly changing hormones and emotions. Sex had never really driven her actions or feelings like it had done for most of the other teenagers she knew back in her school days. Even now as an adult, she cared very little for the act of fornication.
Back in the day she’d be the last person to let herself be pressured into something like sex or giving up the keys to her own body. Lying down in submission for someone else to ride her like a bike and use her for their own pleasure. If anything, she would be the one doing the choosing, using, and riding. She would be the one in control. And if there was any pleasure to be had by anyone, then she would be the damn well one receiving it first and foremost. That’s just who she was.
Cold Heart Page 10
