Chapter 9
Like a scolded child, David submissively went along with Estelle’s actions. He was just happy to get the hell out of that bathroom without a single scratch on his body—or even worse, to be missing any vital sex organs like one unlucky gang member.
Estelle led David down the concrete-enforced underground corridors of Ibrox Stadium. When she saw a stream of security guards rushing towards her, she let go of David’s arm and entwined it with her own like they could possibly be a couple in distress. To David’s immediate shock, Estelle began crying and sobbing into his shoulder, like it was the most normal and natural thing to do in the whole wide world, just as the first two security guards pulled up in front of them.
“Someone said they heard fighting down here,” said the first concerned security guard,
Estelle pulled her sobbing face away from David’s shoulder. She was bruised, bloodied, and battered. She looked to be in an absolute horrendous state if ever the security guard had seen one. And he’d seen plenty of mass violent brawls at these football matches in the past. God only knew the horrible things running through his mind about what had happened to this poor sweet, innocent woman.
“I think so,” sobbed Estelle, playing the part of innocent victim to a tee. “These big horrible brutes… They tried to drag me and my husband into the toilets back there…”
Estelle sobbed harder. David didn’t quite know which way to look or what the hell to say. So, he kept his mouth firmly shut.
“They tried to beat us and rape us... Both of us...”
David looked utterly perplexed at that statement, but played the part of the dumb silent hubby. He pulled Estelle a little closer into him. The security guard looked horrified.
“If it wasn’t for my big, strong, quick-thinking husband here… I hate to think what might have happened in there…” Estelle continued in quick fire bursts of sobs and mumbled wails.
“Sick fucking bastards. Are you okay to wait out here then, miss? The police are on their way. You’ll need to make a statement. I’ll call an ambulance too.”
Estelle continued to sob into David’s chest. Seemingly unable to speak anymore.
“Are the fuckers still inside the toilets?” asked the security guard, rolling up his sleeves. David gently nodded. Still lost for words. The security guard swiftly directed the other three behind him to follow his lead further down the corridor and towards the men’s room.
“Don’t worry. We’ll deal with these scumbags. Just make your way up to reception. I’ll get the medical team to meet you up there.”
Estelle gently nodded and continued to sob.
“Thanks, man,” David finally spoke. Feeling that he should at least add something to the conversation.
Once the security guard and the rest of his team hurried away, roaring into his radio for more backup to come, Estelle grabbed David by his arm again. She took a sharp left turn and entered an emergency stairwell. On the next floor up, she kicked open a fire door and continued to lead David outside of the stadium and back over into Edmiston Street.
David still looked too flustered to say a word. At the very end of the street Estelle jumped into the first taxi in a queue of several. She bundled David into the back seat, climbed in beside him and slammed the door shut. Before the curious driver could ask where they wanted to go, David finally broke his silence.
“Will you say something to me, Estelle? Please?”
Estelle blatantly ignored him.
“I’m sorry.” David tried again. “I had no choice. He’s my boss. He’s who I answer to here.”
Estelle continued to ignore him. The taxi driver, feeling a little nervous and confused himself, mostly at the abrupt icy presence of Estelle in the back of his taxi, hesitated before asking the most important question that every taxi driver had to ask.
“So... Where to, guys?”
“Hold on,” Estelle replied as she pulled out Luke’s wallet from her hoody pocket and searched through it. She found his driving license.
“Finnieston. Bentinck Street.”
The driver nodded and started to drive.
“I could’ve told you that,” David said in a soft, groveled tone. And he was going to have to do a shit load more groveling too in order to get back in Estelle’s good books again.
“Just shut the fuck up.” Estelle coldly replied without even turning her head to face him. She was in no mood for anymore of David’s shit. She pulled out the picture of the young family having a picnic in the park. She shoved it right into his face.
“Do you know these people?”
David studied the picture hard. He casually shook his head.
“No. Why do you have it?”
“I found it hidden away in Gayle’s apartment.”
“That’s... fucking weird? Did you find anything else there?”
Estelle looked David dead in his eye. She knew he was talking about drugs or even the bundles of cash she’d found stashed away in her sister’s secret places, but she’d be damned if she was going to tell the treacherous bastard about any of that. He deserved nothing from her anymore. She’d take him to Luke’s apartment just in case there were any more surprises. Then she’d be done with him.
“No.”
David glanced away and focused on the passing motorway and gazillion other cars whizzing by. Finnieston was barely fifteen minutes away in good traffic, but today it was going to be one of the longest rides of his life.
Fourteen minutes later they arrived outside Luke’s Georgian apartment block on Bentinck Street. Estelle hadn’t said another word to David the entire journey while David had been too damn scared himself to say anything else to her.
Estelle took out some cash notes from Luke’s wallet and overpaid the taxi driver. He looked delighted and nodded appreciatively. The entire journey he’d had the most anxious feeling that the two vagabonds in the back seat of his cab were going to do a swift runner and not pay him a damn penny just as soon as he pulled over to let them out.
David and Estelle exited the taxi. Estelle lit up another cigarette.
“You’re still a real cigarette addict, aye?” David said in jest, trying to make a light joke of a bad situation. Estelle gave him another look of daggers.
It didn’t take long to figure out which top floor apartment belonged to Luke without even glancing at the numbers. The faint sound of rock music could be heard coming from one of the nearby top floor flats, just a few buildings away.
“That’s his apartment at the far end there.” Said David.
“Who’s having the party?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been to his place in a while. Maybe a couple of his friends by the sounds of it. I thought they were all at the football match tonight, though.”
***
Back at the stadium, multiple police and ambulances had pulled up outside like there was some kind of terrorist attack taking place. The paramedics were treating the five members of Luke’s gang for non-fatal stab wounds and other non-life-threatening injuries.
Police detective Jonas, a broad, stocky middle-aged man in his early forties screeched up in his car right beside the first ambulance. Inside, Luke was being treated for his broken arm and multiple stab wounds.
Detective Jonas exited his vehicle. He strolled up to the back of the ambulance and waved away the medics and two police officers who were surrounding Luke inside.
“Take five, guys. I’ll deal with this.”
The medics and police officers nodded and climbed out of the ambulance. The medics looked a little more reluctant to do so at first but there were plenty other things for them to be doing and more injured men to attend to.
“What the fuck, Luke?” Jonas roared as he climbed inside the ambulance even though the medics he’d recently waved away weren’t even out of earshot yet.
Luke casually shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t give a shit what Jonas had to say or hoe he even spoke to him. There was clearly some history there between
the two. A dark, corrupt, and shady history. In the real world, out on the street, the two would never have met or interacted with the other. They ran in completely different social circles. In his spare time Jonas’s enjoyed golf, fishing, fine wine, and even finer food. Luke’s passions were football, drugs, money, fighting, and fucking. And not always in that order. It was only through Jonas’s shady, corrupt police work and his hierarchical connections that the two had ever stood face to face in the same room and done business together.
“What happened?” Jonas went on. “Who did this to you?”
Luke smirked and remained reluctantly silent. One of the injured gang members nearby, who was getting treatment outside the ambulance, suddenly shouted over to them. He’d obviously overheard their raised voices.
“A girl! A fucking psycho bitch girl...”
Luke shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his one good hand.
“What’s he talking about, Luke? What fucking girl?”
Luke took a deep breath and lowered his voice.
“It was Gayle’s older sister, all right...”
Jonas looked a little confused. He clearly knew Gayle and Luke. And reasonably well. But the mention of the word sister had severely thrown him off.
“But Gayle doesn’t have a sister, Luke. Or any family for that matter. Isn’t that what you told us? Isn’t that what you fucking assured us?”
“Yes, because her sister fucking died. Like the rest of her useless junkie cunt family, over fifteen years ago.”
Jonas hesitated. He looked deeply distressed. Like this little shitshow at one of the biggest and most popular football stadiums in Scotland wasn’t enough of a headache in paperwork for him to clear up already, that the hint of a possible, even bigger shit storm brewing on the horizon with massive consequences towards his future as a police officer, stressed him out even more.
Jonas took a deep breath. Then another. He calmed himself down as best as he could before moving swiftly on to his next question.
“So, where’s this sister been then for the past fucking decade and a half, if she’s supposed to be dead?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know? You’re the fucking detective. Check her files, for Christ’s sake, arsehole.”
Jonas shook his head. Not many people could get away with talking to him like that. Not in Glasgow. Not in his city. But Luke seemed to be one of the few individuals who could. He obviously had some kind of shady hold over the detective too. In fact, they both had shady holds over the other and more than they could count. But Jonas was supposed to be a respectable officer of the law. He had a lot more to lose than the football hooligan-street thug sitting all bandaged up in front of him if things went tits up. Instead of taking his frustrations out on Luke, Jonas violently kicked a box of medical supplies at the back end of the ambulance, sending them flying in bits and pieces all across the carpark outside. The nearby medics looked unimpressed and gave him daggers but once again said nothing.
“FUCK.” Jonas roared.
Luke chuckled and laughed at the angry detective.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?”
“I’m laughing, Detective Jonas, because you’re in the shit now too, you baw-jawed fuckwit. Just as much as I am.”
Chapter 10
Estelle and David climbed the stairwell and emerged onto the top floor landing of the Georgian apartment building. The faint rock music that they’d heard from the other side of the street was now blasting its way into their faces from a nearby open apartment doorway.
The top floor landing was filled with around a dozen or so party revelers, all of various ages, and all of them chilling and taking a time out on the stairwell from the raging party within. Sipping wine and beer. Smoking weed and cigarettes.
“Maybe a couple of friends, you say?” Estelle casually remarked.
“It must be his main girlfriend. She likes to throw these crazy-arse parties sometimes, you know,” David casually remarked.
Estelle looked a little taken aback by that.
“I thought Gayle was supposed to be his girlfriend?”
David glanced away, looking ashamed.
“Gayle was one of his girlfriends, aye. But not his main girlfriend, no.”
Estelle bit her tongue and said nothing more. David could see that rage burning in her eyes again. She was always so good at hiding her emotions back in the day, but only her closest friends back then knew that her eyes always gave her emotions away in the end. That was one of her rare, yet biggest flaws and weaknesses. And nothing had changed.
Estelle barged past the hallway of resting revelers and entered into the jumping house party taking place in the huge open-planned apartment. Dozens of young hipsters and students were dancing in the main living room as Estelle and David made their way across the busy makeshift dance floor. Dozens more were getting totally shitfaced and off their heads with booze and drugs in every corner.
One drunken male reveler even tried to grab Estelle towards him for a cheeky little dance. Without hesitation, Estelle kicked him hard in the balls and he dropped down onto the dance floor like a lead weight, disappearing underneath a carnage of dancing bodies. Estelle took another long, hard glance around the bouncing room, trying to get her baring’s.
“Which one… is the girlfriend?”
David studied the bouncing room too for a few seconds. Then he spotted a young, beautiful model of a girl who looked like she could be Luke’s main girl through the dim party lights and sprawling mass of bodies. The girl was hovering by the kitchen, socializing with a couple of other girls around her like she was the life and soul of the party.
David pointed her out. He’d only met her a few times in the past, usually while picking up drug packages for Luke. But he’d never seen her dressed and dolled up to the nines and in nighttime-party mode before. Pointing her out to Estelle, he silently prayed that it would gather him some much-needed brownie points with his old childhood friend who he could only describe now as a freak force of nature.
“She’d better be the right person this time.”
David gulped but didn’t say a word. He followed Estelle through the rest of the packed sweaty dance floor and over towards the kitchen.
Suddenly, another grabby drunk guy dancing with his jubilant cocky mates abruptly put his hands right on top of Estelle’s shoulder. He pulled her in towards him, just like the last unlucky punter had tried to do. Trying to get her to join him for a dance. When she turned to face him, he took one look at her bruised and bloodied face, then her ripped and blood-stained jacket and hoody, and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Nice costume, sweetheart!” Yelled the wasted man over the deafening music. “I didn’t know it was fancy dress the night like. Did you come as an extra from the walking dead?”
The drunken man howled with more hearty laughter at his own joke. So did his nearby friends who had overheard his shit but humorous chat up line. They all looked Estelle up and down in her drunken stupor.
Estelle didn’t get the joke or find it funny in the slightest. Instead, she head-butted the man directly in the face for his efforts, breaking his nose instantly. Blood and mucus splattered all over his face, his shirt, and the dance floor. Yet none of the surrounding partygoers paid much attention in amongst the pounding music and mass of dancing, wriggling bodies.
The drunk man crashed to the floor in a crumpled heap, just like the last poor guy. His friends looked on, utterly dumbstruck of what the tall uptight woman had just done to their friend. It wasn’t until Estelle casually addressed them all that they finally came to their senses and snapped out from their horrific trance to attend to their fallen mate.
“You should get your friend to a hospital before he bleeds to death.”
Estelle didn’t hang around for a response. She made her way through the last of the dancing bodies and approached Luke’s girlfriend who was still hovering at the edge of the kitchen. She held a glass of wine in her hand and gazed up at the severely
underdressed Estelle with a look of utter contempt. In all fairness, Estelle looked like she’d just walked in off the street from the nearest homeless shelter for battered wives.
After giving Estelle an excruciatingly long once over, Luke’s girlfriend soon recognized David standing beside her. She snapped her attention to him instead and smiled.
“David. So good to see you. It’s been a while.”
Luke’s girlfriend opened herself up to give the reluctant David a quick, friendly hug. Before she’d even made it halfway towards him though an impatient Estelle grabbed her by her immaculate blonde ponytail and dragged her immediately over towards a nearby bedroom. She dropped her wine, the glass smashing to smithereens on the marble-tiled floor. Her girlfriends, hovering beside her along with some other dance floor stragglers nearby, watched in shock as Estelle manhandled the beautiful model away. Yet nobody said a damn thing or tried to intervene. When it was two women with grievances it was acceptable to stand back and just let them get on with it.
“Was that for real?” said one party girl to the other. “Did she just grab Betty by the fucking hair?”
“She must be one of Luke’s new ‘bit of rough’ on the side.” The other party girl sniggered. “And just found out that she’s not the only one.”
They both giggled at that and started dancing away again.
Estelle bundled Betty inside the dark and spacious bedroom. There were a few randy couples already camped within, heavily making out and more. Estelle pulled a knife from inside her jacket and addressed the various mixed gender couples.
“Get the fuck out of here. Right now.”
In a flash the couples all hurried out, one by one, pulling up and pulling on their various tops, underwear, trousers, and skirts as they scurried out like scolded dogs as fast as their legs could carry them.
Betty tried to struggle free again from Estelle’s tight grip of her hair, but Estelle was having none of it and tightened her hold. She even wrapped her beautiful ponytail a second time around her knuckles.
Cold Heart Page 12
