by Heleen Kist
‘So a bit of a hypocrite’s dinner, then?’
His back to me, he shrugged while stacking snacks on a shelf. ‘We need to keep him onside. Too many skeletons.’
‘Who knew the council planning department would have such double-dealing intrigue.’ As soon as it escaped my mouth, I gasped and covered my mouth. I watched in what felt like slow motion as he turned around, his eyes dark and lips pursed in distaste.
‘I would think you of all people would know we sometimes have to do things we don’t like. And right now, you’ll understand that I need to tread carefully.’
‘I’m sorry, Stephen. That was really insensitive of me. I’m conscious you need to go, but I really wanted to tell you something. I know Glory got you into a tight spot at work, but she was also doing something brave, something good.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well it’s a little bit of a long story, but I found out she was working on freeing modern-day slaves from the wholesaler.
‘What?’
‘Hear me out. There’s at least six guys there in forced labour, living in filthy caravans, and she was gathering evidence to report it to the police. You remember, no? The pictures she took at the wholesalers. This is what they were for.’
He stared at me, incredulous. ‘I’m really not sure why you’re telling me this.’
‘Don’t you see? I always thought it wasn’t an accident, and now I’m sure. You didn’t want to believe me but they must’ve run her off the road when they found out she was onto them. I’ve got it all planned now and I’m going to make sure we get justice. That bastard Mike will rot in prison for what he’s done.’
My presentation didn’t get the reception I had hoped for.
‘You’re like a dog with a bone, Grace. This is all too fanciful. I wish you would stop. I have accepted that Glory died in a freak accident. It happens. Why can’t you?’ He saw me tongue-tied. ‘Is it really better to believe that she caused her death herself? That she deserted me and her sons all because of some Mother Theresa crusade? I couldn’t care less about those slaves or what you want to do to the dirty gangsters she dealt with. Go ahead and get yourself into more trouble, for all I care. But leave me out of this. Even if it’s true, none of this is helping me. So I don’t want to hear about it.’
Anger flared inside as I received his dressing down. I was right. I had to be. Why did he not want justice for his wife? I itched to have it out with him but I knew it would do no good. It was clear that he needed closure more than justice and in that, so far, I had failed him. He was still vulnerable. He could still lose his job even if he did go ahead with the planning permission. That is, if he got found out. And I wouldn’t let that happen to Glory’s kids. They needed stability.
As fragments of our conversation swirled in my mind, an idea took shape. But having set Oliver off, there wasn’t much time to act. I chose to play nice.
‘Sorry Stephen. You’re right.’
He rewarded this with no more than a curt nod.
‘You’ll find quorn escalopes in the fridge. The boys will only eat them with a wedge of lemon. You can find chips in the freezer. I need to go.’ He grabbed his keys off the counter and shoved me aside to reach the door. ‘And walk the dog, Grace.’
Chapter Fifty
The next morning, the woman at the wholesaler’s greeted me like the regular visitor I was becoming, her disdain now reduced to a medium-level you-haven’t-wiped-our-feet-type scowl. As it was Saturday, it was a bit of a punt whether the boss would be in, but I had decided to give it a shot. Surely a criminal empire was a 24/7 job?
‘Is Mike around?’
‘Maybe. What’s it to you?’
I tapped on the napkin box held under my arm. ‘I come bearing gifts.’
She eyed the package with its familiar stars and accepted my presence. ‘You’re in luck. He’s about to go home. Takes the missus shopping in Merchant City on a Saturday. Then always lunch at Rogano.’
This wasn’t idle gossip; everything in her demeanour and tone suggested this excess of information was intended to remind me—perhaps on behalf of said missus—that her boss was a devoted husband who liked to spoil his wife. Maybe she thought I was coming too often for a regular a customer.
‘I won’t be long.’
‘Right. You’ll have to make your own way up. We’re low on staff today.’ She jerked her head towards the rear by way of permission.
‘Cheers.’
The lights came on in the stairwell automatically as I bounded up two steps at a time. Along the hallway, the offices were tidy and had been cleaned with a product whose sickly pine smell reminded me of cleaning my car after my first visit here.
Feeble.
But not now.
An overwhelming desire to burn the place down was tempered only by the knowledge there was another plan in train to take care of this scum. This murderer. And I needed him. I needed his men to scare off a man who held all the cards—though not for long. When I reached Mike’s door, I shifted the box to the other arm, relieving the pain in my dented rib. I knocked.
‘Come in.’ He was folded over his desk, reviewing papers. ‘What is it?’ He hadn’t yet looked up, presumably expecting an employee.
‘Mike, it’s Grace McBride.’
His head shot up in surprise. ‘Indeed it is. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to see you again. What brings you here?’
‘Well, I’m a woman who keeps her promises. This morning I realised I forgot to return this box to your chappie the other day, so I wanted to make sure you got it.’
‘Then we’re square.’ He rose and walked round the desk towards me to receive the parcel. After a brief inspection, he seemed ready to dismiss me. ‘Anything else?’
‘I’m afraid there is.’ He took two steps back and gestured to the chair as he perched on his desk. ‘So as I was saying, I am a woman of my word. We have a deal and I am determined to stick to it.’ His raised brow indicated I was foolish to expect him to remember our conversation, what with him likely handing out a threat a day. ‘I’m talking about the money laundering. We agreed I would keep it quiet. And I have.’
‘But? There is a but, isn’t there?’
‘Yes. But someone else is about to blow the whistle on you. Brian Scott.’
In that instant, I had his full attention. ‘Talk.’
‘It’s to do with the Left Bank development, which Brian’s property company is involved with. I don’t know if you’re aware, but Glory’s husband, Stephen Paterson, is one of the decision-makers for the planning permission. At the moment, with all the objections, it’s not looking good. So Brian is blackmailing him. He’s threatening to release information about Glory’s money laundering if Stephen doesn’t get the approval through.’
‘And why are you telling me this?’
The morning’s empowering affirmations still fresh in my mind, I inhaled a fresh batch of courage and cast my hook.
‘Because we’re screwed—you and me if this comes out. And it will. Stephen is a man who lives by the rules. I can’t convince him to play ball. He knows his job and reputation are at risk, but he won’t do it. He wants to call Brian’s bluff. Reckons there is no way he would go ahead with it. That it would draw too much attention to him, to his property dealings.’ The storm brewing on Mike’s face egged me on. ‘Of course, you and I know the bastard could easily make an anonymous tip-off. And it’s not his business dealings we need to worry about. It’s yours. So you need to get Brian Scott to back off.’
‘You were right to bring this to me.’ He retreated to his desk without sparing me a glance. ‘You can go now.’
‘What happens now? What will you say?’
‘That’s not your concern.’
His stern dismissal made me keenly aware that I’d unleashed something I couldn’t contain, a shape I couldn’t quite see, and I slid out the door on a plain of dread mixed with anticipation.
Chapter Fifty-One
My B
earsden client was now up to ten push-ups, having started on two. She was keen to learn how to best make use of the vibration plate she’d bought on eBay, believing it was the easy answer to her muffin top. During her minute-long holds in varying positions, she’d thankfully given up trying to make sentences from shaken syllables and my mind was free to roam.
Like a director looking down on the action from a crane, I swept through an assemblage of scenes that I had set in motion, unfolding in unscripted directions. A cinematic escapade in which every righteous reel ended with the same climax: both criminal adversaries foiled and out of our lives. Forever.
A smug satisfaction washed over me as I reflected on my orchestration, the set-up. As if on order, the lyrics ‘face to face’ and ‘double cross’ rose from the client’s play list, and I couldn’t help but feel that the smooth operator being crooned about was me.
While packing my stuff away at the end of the session, my heart skipped as a text came in from Oliver asking me to call. One more manoeuvre and we were on. I rushed to the car to phone him back.
‘Hi. It’s Grace.’
‘Thanks for calling. I spoke to my man at the specialist crime division and told him what you’ve got. They are very interested to talk to you. Some of the pictures I described, with the working and living conditions, could be very valuable. And evidence regulatory breaches in and of themselves.’
‘That’s great.’ Now for the tricky bit: I had to stall a little. ‘When?’
‘As soon as you can. Turns out they’ve had Excelsior on their radar for some time and your evidence might be exactly what they need to speed things up.’
‘So were they aware of the forced labour already?’
‘They didn’t say. But DI Roberts said they’ve been compiling a dossier on this guy’s shady business dealings and this could well be a way to get into Excelsior’s books, to get the proof they need.’
My throat constricted, and a nervous flush enveloped my head, rendering me temporarily deaf. Had I heard that right? Did I just facilitate an investigation into Mike’s money laundering? My heart palpitated as I witnessed my carefully constructed plan leak out of my hands, my mind scrambling for means to contain the escaped mercurial droplets heading for a target of their own. A target I couldn’t let them find.
‘Grace? Hello?’
‘Yes, I’m here.’
‘He suggested you could come see him Monday at ten o’clock.’
The day after tomorrow.
Two days.
So fast.
But I couldn’t now delay without it looking suspicious. ‘Whereabouts?’
‘The police station on Aitkenhead Road. I could come too, if you want.’
That was right by Excelsior, so it made sense they were the ones investigating. But as if I wasn’t feeling exposed enough, Mike’s words popped into my head to remind me how foolish I’d been to think I was in control: ‘Half of them are on the take.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you there. Bye.’ I slumped sideways and let myself fall onto the passenger seat.
Oh shit, Gi. I think I messed up.
Chapter Fifty-Two
The alarm went off and my arm swung over to slap the snooze button for the third time. The only thing I was late for was my 10k. And after the restless night I’d had I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to pull my trainers on, let alone put one foot in front of the other for a semi-serious distance.
I spat the hair out of my mouth and rubbed my face to bring some life back into it, crusty tears breaking into minuscule flakes falling like snow on my sheets. It was just as well I’d asked Dave to stay away or he wouldn’t have slept a wink either.
In what felt like a giant effort, I turned the alarm off, rolled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen for a welcome caffeine kick. To my relief, there were no messages on my phone and I skimmed the news headlines while the coffee machine sputtered. There was an odd reassurance in finding the outside world was operating as normal, when mine had been turned upside down.
The barren refrigerator shelves signalled a trip to the shops was long overdue, but I managed to squeeze enough yogurt from between the dried-out sides of the pot to create a thin smoothie. How anyone survived before Sunday trading was beyond me, but I remembered my parents being horrified when it came into effect. They’d been steadfast in their resistance to this sacrilege. But once they sold the shop, the new owners quickly capitalised on the neglected retail opportunity.
With my throbbing head, I dreaded a supermarket’s bright lights and figured I could live off the bare minimum that could be provided by the local newsagent. And if I was going outside, I may as well go for my run.
Hair scrunched, leggings on and armed with a plastic bag and debit card, I left the flat and turned towards the park. I was determined to restart my running habit and not be such a loser. I didn’t’ need the mirror to tell me I’d gained weight. It wasn’t only that. My runs were my refuge, a time for my mind to wander free and let the fresh air sweep any unhappy thoughts away; but the complications since Glory’s death had replaced this pleasure with a relentless stream of conflict and anxiety. Serious about reclaiming my hobby, I focused on my breathing to prevent my mind wandering.
Halfway along Queen Mary Avenue, not paying much attention to my surroundings and about to cross the street diagonally, I was shaken by a loud, continuous honk from behind. As I spun round, I saw a small red van bolt towards me, blasting its horn. I stood glued to the ground, paralysed. The charging vehicle screeched to a halt at my side and it was then that I saw Dave was the driver. My relief unclenched all the muscles in my body, to the extent I nearly let go of the pee I’d so valiantly held it in through my moment of terror. Relax. It was only Dave.
My stomach flipped however, when he jumped out and I saw the urgency in his eyes. In that instant, all the people I loved flashed before my eyes and I braced myself for what else could have gone wrong.
Mum?
‘There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’
‘What the hell’s going on Dave? Why did you have to scare me like that?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. But I have some news and you need to find Stephen.’
‘Stephen? Why?’
‘Because Brian Scott is dead.’
‘What? Glory’s landlord? How do you know this?’
‘I was on the job at the Prince William this morning and the bartender got a call. He sounded really upset so I got a bit closer to hear what was going on. And the guy starts making call after call telling people what happened. Grace, Brian Scott was shot in the head in his car this morning.’
‘This morning?’
‘Yes, not long ago. Apparently two guys jumped on him as he was setting off to work. Right in the driveway of his own house. He got shot in the head—twice—and he’s dead. Crazy. So then I thought about Stephen. The council vote is tomorrow. You have to tell him he’s off the hook. Do you think he’ll be home? Here, jump in. I’ll take you.’ Lagging behind on fully digesting what he was telling me, I obeyed. ‘When the guy caught me eavesdropping, he kicked me out. Man, he was in a mood.’
‘Do they know who did it?’
‘He never said. But babe, you’re talking Glasgow underworld here. He’s bound to have enemies wanting him dead. God knows what he’s done this time, but he’s certainly pissed someone off.’
Pressing my nails into the palms of my hand to counter my rising panic, I told myself I could never tell Dave about my visit to Mike. While I comforted myself that I had only ignited the fire under an existing feud, I knew my conscience would forever remind me I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.
I had a man killed.
Then again, he was a bad man.
Chapter Fifty-Three
As Stephen closed the door behind us, he thanked us once again. Descending the steps, Dave reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘That went well,’ he said.
Having agonised about it on the ride over, I now fel
t justified in having brought Dave along to share the news. The men had greeted each other awkwardly but over the course of the conversation, Stephen had seen how Dave had sought to protect him today; and maybe, by extension, also in their past. As the sun beamed down on us, I hoped this would mark a turning point for us all.
‘Yes. My God, the relief on his face. He’s right though,’ I said.
‘About what?’
‘We’ll have to wait until the planning meeting to see if it’s truly over. Maybe one of Brian’s guys will still come to pressure him.’
‘Babe, with the execution the way it was this morning I don’t think any of those guys will be giving any business deal a second thought any time soon. They’ll be out to get whoever killed their boss.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ In every sense, I thought, quite happy if Mike was to suffer as a result.
The gate had been opened remotely and as we hit pavement, I saw the red van we’d come in. I’d been so distracted by the assassination that I’d forgotten my earlier fright. The hand holding mine suddenly felt constricting and, feeling the sweat build around my fingers, I dropped it.
‘Dave? Whose car is this?’
‘It’s Tam’s. He wants me to use his van when I do jobs for him, rather than my own.’
‘Have you had it long?’
The question must have told him something was wrong. He stopped looking for his keys and swivelled my way with an enquiring gaze. ‘What’s up?’
He’d accused me of conspiracy theories before and I didn’t want to sound like a loon again; but I needed the truth. With every bone in my body I believed I’d been followed. But scanning my memories for confirmation, I couldn’t be sure. Could my mind have played tricks on me?
‘I’ve noticed a red van following me lately. Is it you?’
A cloud passed in front of the sun and the temperature dropped, as we were covered in shade. When Dave bit his lip and looked at his shoes, I had my answer.
