Snapshot

by Craig Robertson

  A blonde woman in her late-forties answered almost immediately, well dressed and polite.

  ‘Yes? Can I help you?’

  Winter held his SPSA identification up in front of him, hoping she wouldn’t look too closely at it.

  ‘Mrs McCabe? I’m Tony Winter, I was part of the investigation into the attack on your son and spoke to him while he was in hospital. I was hoping to speak to him today as part of a follow-up enquiry.’

  ‘Oh. Has there been a development?’ the woman piped up excitedly. ‘Do you know who did it?’

  ‘Not yet, but we are still investigating. Today’s visit is partly to reassure you that we haven’t given up on finding who did this.’

  This seemed to please the boy’s mother because she smiled at him and pulled the door wide, standing back to let him in. The house was tidily kept and looked as if it had been recently decorated. Mrs McCabe ushered Winter into the living room from where he could hear the noise of a movie or maybe a computer game.

  It turned out it was both. Rory was sitting on a couch with a PlayStation 3 in front of him while a crappy afternoon movie was thundering away on the television. A pair of crutches rested on the wall behind the settee. The boy didn’t bother looking up till his mother told him for a second time that he had a visitor.

  He knew Winter right away which explained why he got a glare. Either that or else he simply wasn’t best pleased at having to interrupt his game.

  ‘Rory, this is Mr Winter from the police. Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Winter, I forgot what rank you were.’

  ‘It’s fine, Mrs McCabe,’ he said with as much authority as he could muster. ‘Thank you. I’ll just talk to Rory now if that’s okay.’

  The woman flustered a bit and backed away.

  ‘Oh yes, yes. Of course. Can I get you a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Thanks.’

  She gave up her mission of hospitality and closed the door behind her, leaving Winter alone with her stroppy teenage son.

  ‘Hi, Rory. How you doing? That knee of yours getting better?’

  The kid sighed.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘You able to get around on those things?’ he asked, nodding at the crutches behind him.

  ‘I can manage okay. Listen, I’m no’ as daft as my mum. I remember you. You’re not a detective, you’re a photographer. So what you doing here?’

  Winter gave him a smile intended to tell him that he recognized that the kid was smart. And it wasn’t completely a lie. He wasn’t going to get anywhere by treating him like an idiot.

  ‘I didn’t say I was a cop, your mum just assumed that. But obviously I do work with them. I wanted to ask you some questions about the person that did this to you.’

  ‘I told you already and I told the cops. I don’t know who it was.’

  ‘Yeah, I remember. But I still think you know more than you’re telling.’

  Rory frowned and looked out of the window.

  ‘The guy that beat you up, he had a ring on his finger, right? Must have hurt like fuck when he punched you in the chest.’

  His head spun towards Winter, his mouth dropping. He quickly clammed it shut again but it was enough to let Winter know he was rattled.

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ McCabe mumbled. As he did so, his mobile beeped, signalling a text, and he picked it up, punching in a reply.

  ‘My mate across the road,’ he said, without looking up. ‘Wanting to know if that was a cop going into my house. He’s looking out for me.’

  ‘So what did you tell him?’

  ‘Said you weren’t a cop. But that you were hassling me for information.’

  ‘Ach, it’s hardly hassle, Rory. More like trying to help you.’

  ‘Aye, right.’

  Time to push his luck, Winter thought.

  ‘Your mum seems really nice.’

  He was wary. ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘Looks after you pretty well I’d say,’ he continued. ‘Thinks the world of you.’

  ‘Aye . ’

  Winter lowered his voice.

  ‘It would be terrible if she found out about the drugs.’

  He was reaching, guessing. It could have been game over before it had barely begun but he knew the link was there.

  ‘Fuck off,’ Rory hissed at him. ‘That’s not cool. You can’t do that. It would kill her. She thinks I’m the only teenager around here that’s clean. And I am clean. It was only a bit of weed.’

  ‘Just a bit?’ he guessed again.

  ‘Okay, more than a bit but it’s no big deal. But I don’t want her to know.’

  ‘No problem,’ Winter smiled. ‘You help me and I help you. And everything you tell me stays between us.’

  The teenager stared straight through him, gnawing his lip and thinking hard. Tears began to run down his cheeks.

  ‘Fucking bastard,’ he choked. ‘This isn’t fair. If he finds out I’ve talked . . . he’ll kill me. I’m scared.’

  ‘I know you are but he won’t find out from me. I promise.’

  He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, his cheeks scarlet with embarrassment and worry.

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘Yes,’ Winter nodded.

  ‘You better. You saw what he did to me last time.’

  Rory nodded as if he’d come to a decision, dried his eyes again and began.

  ‘Okay. First off, I don’t know who he was. Just one guy. Six footish. With a ski mask on. I really don’t know who he was. Okay?’

  Winter believed him.

  ‘Okay.’

  Rory swallowed hard.

  ‘He just wanted information from me. That’s all.’

  ‘Tell me what he wanted, Rory.’

  The boy swore, blowing bubbles through his tears, his eyes red.

  ‘There was a mate of mine that died a wee while back. Keiran McKendrick. Died of an overdose.’

  The words stuck in the boy’s throat as if he hoped that if he hadn’t spoken them then they wouldn’t be true.

  ‘What happened?’

  He glared again. Winter was wanting more information than he was prepared to give. He was intruding on the boy’s grief.

  ‘Don’t really know. He didn’t do much more than I did. A wee bit of miaow-miaow, that was all. Hardly ever though. Then he overdosed.’

  ‘Sorry to hear it. So what did that have to do with you being attacked?’

  Rory swallowed hard again.

  ‘The guy wanted to know who supplied Kieran with the gear. He beat the shit out of me till I told him.’

  ‘That’s all he wanted?’

  ‘Aye . ’

  ‘And who did give your pal the drugs?’

  ‘Never mind. The other guy had to knock the fuck out of me to get it. All you need to know is that was what he wanted.’

  ‘Come on, Rory. Finish the job. Give me the name.’

  ‘No, I’ve told you enough. Why don’t you just leave me alone?’

  ‘Look, Rory . . .’

  The living-room door opened and Mrs McCabe pushed through with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. She immediately saw that her boy had been crying and looked at Winter sternly, the tigress coming out in the quiet housewife.

  ‘Trauma,’ Winter assured her. ‘People underestimate the effects of re-living an attack like that. It’s a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Just leave him with his PlayStation for a bit and he’ll be okay. Maybe a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits.’

  The woman looked unsure but Rory nodded at her.

  ‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll be fine. He’s just going, we’re finished.’

  The words were to his mum but they were said with a look at Winter. He wasn’t saying any more. Not that day, anyway.

  ‘You’ll have a cup of tea though before you go, Sergeant Winter?’

  ‘No, sorry, Mrs McCabe, but I have to go. Thanks, anyway. Take care of yourself, Rory, an
d I’ll pop back and see you.’

  ‘No need, Sergeant,’ Rory said, emphasizing the last word.

  He let Mrs McCabe show him to the door and back into the close. He started down the stairs, wondering why the fuck somebody was so determined to find out the name of a dealer that they would take a bat to the kid’s knee. It had to be linked to the shootings though, it just had to be.

  He heard footsteps behind him just a second or two before he felt a kick to the back of his legs. A second boot swiftly followed and he found himself tumbling down the stairs. As he fell, he could hear more feet approaching, from down the stairs this time, and a hard blow came at his shoulder.

  ‘Keep away from Rory, ya cunt. What’s your problem?’

  ‘He’s no done nothing, right. Leave him alane.’

  Winter covered his head and pushed himself back up onto his feet, taking a boot to his right knee for his efforts. Pain shot through it, causing it to buckle and he sank down, half kneeling. He fired out a punch at the nearest person and caught him solid, hearing a groan and footsteps staggering back. He threw back an elbow and caught someone else somewhere solid. It gave him enough breathing space to get to his feet and see three guys in hoodies, two with scarves over their faces and the third, much taller and broader than the other two, was wearing a balaclava that showed only his eyes. Winter lashed out at the nearest one with a boot and caught him in the balls.

  His success didn’t last long though and he felt a fist crash into the side of his head, nearly putting his lights out. Bodies were on him like pack rats and he went down under the weight as boots and punches rained in on him. He could taste blood in his mouth. Pain chased pain over his body like an electric circuit. He heard Rory’s name again but couldn’t take much in. Fuck. A kick to the side of his head delivered a dull sting and he knew he was close to blacking out.

  Maybe he had because he was suddenly aware of them having stopped and could only feel the aches that were in every bone. He still had his hands wrapped round his head but no more blows came.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Had the cunts in the hoods suddenly developed a conscience? He seriously doubted it. He lifted his head gingerly and peeled his arms away, seeing two wooden pegs with rubber soles just a few inches from his eyes. Crutches.

  Rory McCabe looked terrified, probably as much for himself as for Winter. He tottered nervously above him, his damaged knee bent and his leg raised from the ground.

  ‘Shite, I’m really sorry. I didn’t ask them to do this. I really didn’t know they were going to do anything.’

  Winter looked up at him, wiping blood from his mouth and massaging his ribs.

  ‘One of those guys was waiting at the hospital when I came to photograph you, wasn’t he? The big guy with the balaclava?’

  Rory blanched.

  ‘He fits the description of the guy you said beat you up,’ Winters persisted.

  ‘No, no way.’ McCabe hissed at him. ‘Lee is just trying to protect me.’

  He stopped, realizing he’d said too much. ‘Look you won’t tell the cops, will you?’

  Winter knew he probably couldn’t have told them even if he wanted to but Rory didn’t know that. He looked the kid in the eye.

  ‘I’m not sure. I might have to.’

  ‘Fucksake,’ the boy whispered, leaning back against the wall so that it held him up. ‘He’s just looking out for me. He’s in the army and will be in big trouble if this goes to the cops.’

  ‘I’m not sure I have any choice.’

  ‘Right, I’ll tell you who Kieran’s dealer was, okay? Then you don’t come back here again and you don’t mention Lee to the polis. Right?’

  That sounded like a great deal to Winter.

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Okay. It was a guy named Sammy Ross. He’s from Royston and . . .’

  CHAPTER 25

  A couple of phone calls was all it took for Narey to learn that Melanie’s boyfriend Tommy Breslin was, as they say, known to the police. He had previous for theft, aggravated assault and possession with intent to supply but he also had a reputation for a violent temper. Colin Daly, a mate of Narey’s at Maryhill cop shop said that basically T-Bone Breslin was a bad bastard who was quick to use his fists, his boots or whatever he had to hand. He was a dealer with a sideline in pimping and if he could combine the two then all the better. Daly reckoned chances were that all the money that Melanie earned on the streets went straight to Breslin for drugs, leaving her broke and dependent on him as well as crack cocaine.

  Daly’s suggestion that Narey would be better taking a couple of burly cops with her instead of Julia Corrieri was, inevitably, met with an indignant retort. In the end, though, Narey saw the benefit of having the added manpower at least to get the door open and that was why there were four officers standing on the doorstep of Breslin’s flat in Summerston at seven that morning.

  Corrieri stood at the back with the two uniforms in between her and Narey who was about to knock on the heavy door. It wasn’t exactly the loudest of knocks but after a few seconds, the DS stood back and nodded at the constables to do their business. They advanced holding the enforcer ram and slammed sixteen kilos of hardened steel into Breslin’s door. With a bang, the door flew open, leaving the remnants of hinges, bolts and chains scattered on the floor. The uniforms stepped aside and Narey strode into the flat, just in time to see Breslin burst naked, shaken and bleary-eyed from a bedroom clutching a baseball bat.

  The DS stood her ground and just looked at him, flipping open her warrant card holder and holding it up in front.

  ‘Police, Mr Breslin. I suggest you put that weapon down.’

  He glared at her, still trying to take in what was happening. He held the bat in both hands, legs wide, swishing it through the air as he weighed up his options. None of the cops moved, letting him come to his own conclusion that he had no choice but to put it down or take them all on. Finally, reluctantly, Breslin tossed the bat against a wall where one of the two constables quickly walked over and picked it up. The dealer stood, breathing hard, unperturbed by his nakedness. He was a muscular six-foot tall, in his early thirties, with close-cropped fair hair and a scar under his left eye.

  ‘Thomas Breslin,’ Narey addressed him. ‘I have a warrant to search these premises and I suggest you put some clothes on. Officers, go with him.’

  ‘You’ve no fucking right being here,’ roared Breslin. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

  ‘Where do you want to start?’ replied Narey. ‘Possession with intent to supply? Or should we talk about Melanie? Or rather Una?’

  Breslin’s eyebrows knitted over in what could have passed for confusion or being found out but either way it soon manifested itself in aggression. His face contorted in fury and he advanced quickly on Narey until his face was right in hers, his spittle pebble-dashing her forehead as he ranted at her. She waved the male cops back with a quick motion of her arm and stared the man down.

  ‘The fuck are you talking about?’ he bellowed, his eyes bulging. ‘Coming into my house at this time of the morning. Fuck’s your game?’

  ‘Something to hide, Mr Breslin?’ Narey remained calm. ‘Was it the mention of Una’s name that bothered you?’

  Breslin snarled and took half a step back and pulled his right arm back, ready to throw a punch at her. In a split second, another arm was quickly bent over his and he was forced to the ground with his arm twisted behind his back and a foot placed behind his right knee.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ Narey admitted. ‘They teach you that at Tulliallan?’

  Corrieri looked up at her with a sheepish grin, tightening her hold on Breslin’s arm and being rewarded by a pained grunt from the naked dealer.

  ‘Evening classes,’ she admitted. ‘Kuk Sool Won and Pilates. I get a discount for doing them both.’

  ‘Nice work,’ Narey nodded. ‘Mr Breslin, I think we should take a wee trip to the station, don’t you?’

  In response, Breslin bitterly spat on his own c
arpet and let off a string of expletives, most of which were unflattering remarks about female police officers.

  Half an hour later, a bristling T-Bone Breslin was parked in a chair inside Stewart Street, glowering at Narey and Corrieri and complaining at the length of time it was taking for his solicitor to get there. The bravado that he’d lost when Corrieri had brought him to his knees had returned along with his aggression.

  ‘Talk to us anyway, Tommy,’ Narey was telling him.

  ‘Go fuck yourself, bitch. You should be out on the streets trying to catch the fucker shooting people who are only trying to make a living by providing a service to the community.’

  Yes, you’re right, thought Narey, I should. But I’ll settle for cutting your balls off if you’ve done this.

  ‘I really don’t see why you wouldn’t talk,’ she continued. ‘When did you last see Una?’

  ‘What the fuck do you keep bringing her up for?’ he shouted.

  ‘It’s a simple question. When did you last see her?’

  ‘I don’t fucking know and I’m saying nothing till my lawyer’s here.’

  ‘You don’t know? She’s your girlfriend, right?’

  ‘None of your fucking business. I’m saying nothing.’

  ‘And she’s the mother of your daughter, right?’

  Anger flashed across his features.

  ‘Leave my daughter out of this. Out of this!’

  ‘When did you last see Una?’ Narey persisted.

  ‘I don’t know. A week ago. Just piss off.’

  ‘When would that be then? Last Friday? Last Saturday?’

  ‘Saturday maybe. I don’t remember.’

  ‘Long time to go without seeing your girlfriend, isn’t it?’

  ‘She’s a crackhead. She doesn’t know where she is half the time so how am I expected to know?’

  ‘Long time for your daughter to go without seeing her mother.’

  Breslin’s anger flared again and Narey could see his weak spot.

  ‘Seems to me you don’t care much about that wee girl if you don’t even care where her mother is.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about my daughter. I love her, right? You know nothing.’