by Caro Ramsay
Billy’s Vectra pulls into the gap. He does not move so I stay in place; Billy wants to play this his way.
The dad then jogs across the street in front of me, his beige raincoat flapping over his arm. He is wearing a suit but does not wear it well, in fact he looks like shit, like a man who is disappointed to find a few more grey hairs among the blond every morning, a few more wrinkles. I am trying to read his body language as he approaches the blonde female who is carrying two cardboard cups. Her hair is neater, she has on a short nylon coat, but as she turns I see it is Costello the sheep. Her smile is cursory but she hands him his drink and when she starts talking, it is a constant stream. He pays attention to what she says, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. This is merely a transfer of information on a street corner. I notice she is wearing flat black boots, her black trousers are functional and sensible. Despite his scruffiness, the man still looks more polished than her. He still feels the need to make an impression; she doesn’t care.
I look over at Billy’s Vectra, thinking that this is getting farcical. If he wants us to talk to them then why does he not get out and say what he has to say? I drop my window to listen just as he gets out of his car and walks past mine to approach them. I begin to wonder how important they are to us. To have known they would be here suggests that Billy knows their routine. As he walks closer I get a better idea of Costello; she is smaller than me, thinner, a less substantial human being altogether. In unison they turn to look at Billy; I can see them both full on. He is pleasant faced but tired. She looks tough, hard lines on her face as if her recent lack of sleep has not been recouped.
She catches sight of Billy wandering up looking like a jakey on the scrounge for extra change. Her recognition is instant, and wary. Billy continues his slow swagger and Costello sips from her cup. They stand together in silence as they watch Billy’s approach.
I open my window further to hear the exchange.
‘It’s DI Colin Anderson, isn’t it?’
‘DCI,’ he says, not friendly. ‘So what brings you back from the dead?’
‘You. You not doing your job properly.’ He is taking lessons from me on the subtle art of making friends, then. ‘Uneasy is the head that wears the crown and all that crap.’ Billy stands beside them and smiles. They look at him like they have been kissed by a leper.
‘Billy the fox Hopkirk,’ says Costello, her voice showing some disbelief. Then she adds, with more wonderment, ‘Sober!’
‘Just for a minute there, I thought the years might have softened you, sweet cheeks. Anyway,’ he rubs his hands together, addressing Anderson, ‘glad you could both make it, there’s someone I want you to meet. Costello has already had that displeasure.’
I get out the car and walk over to join them. Costello tries a weak smile but it fails.
Anderson keeps his eyes on Billy while sipping his coffee. ‘Ex-DCI Hopkirk, what are you doing here?’
‘I am a concerned citizen. I come with evidence.’ Billy has put his hand on his chest and suddenly sounds like an asthmatic Spartacus. ‘I bring you the witness who has found two of the bodies.’ He points at me, and a look passes between the two cops.
‘Elvira McCulloch, the one I was telling you about,’ says Costello, smugly.
‘Well, you wanted to speak to her. So are you going to keep us standing here until it rains or ask us in?’ says Billy, cheerfully.
‘Please come in, Miss McCulloch,’ says Costello, looking at me like a cat regarding a full litter tray.
‘Call her Elvie,’ says Billy, as Costello and I wait to see who blinks first.
‘I think we all need to have a wee chat,’ says Costello, in a low growl with a hint of a threat as she stands aside, suggesting we should follow her into the station. ‘I’ve been reading about you and the coincidences that follow you about.’
Billy smiles at her. ‘You always were a smart cookie, Costello, mouthy but smart. Whenever there’s one coincidence too many, chances are it ain’t coincidence. More like the link you’re looking for. So wake up and smell the toast as they say.’
The cops both ignore him. ‘If you have no objection I’d like to go through your statement with you.’ Costello’s gaze has not wavered. Her eyes are remarkable, a light grey flecked with dark; they are cold, suspicious eyes. I wonder how bad the world is when she looks through them. More wolf than sheep, then.
‘Fine,’ I say.
‘She’ll be very co-operative,’ says Billy, and slaps me on the back, forgetting his sore wrist. He swears. ‘I’ll come with her ’cause she doesn’t say too much.’
‘Probably can’t get a word in.’ Costello eyes me warily as we enter a small reception area, there are a few nods back and forth. Anderson goes forward to punch in a number on a door keypad. The glass partition flies open.
‘DCI Anderson? Parcel for you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yip. Your name on it. Looks like some computer thing you ordered.’
A small box the size of a shoebox is passed through. Anderson takes it and taps out his number again on the keypad, the inner door buzzes open. Costello follows him and Billy pushes me through before they think better of it. On the other side there is calm, the air scented with fresh emulsion.
‘I didn’t order anything, did I?’ Anderson reads the name on the label. ‘East Tech? Who are they?’
‘Are they the guys who put the system in? Have you asked for something?’ Costello asks, guiding us along a corridor of endless doors.
‘Not that I know of. I’ve been complaining about the whole set-up, though.’ Then he stops short. The box balanced in his hand, he turns it. Dull light thud, rattle, dull thud. ‘You got any gloves on you?’
‘Yeah,’ Costello answers, her voice full of suspicion.
‘If it starts ticking, RLF.’
‘Run like fuck,’ explains Billy to me as we watch Costello pull on some purple gloves while still walking. She must keep them in her jacket pocket.
Anderson nods his head towards a door with MI3 on it. ‘In here.’
This room also smells of paint, gloss this time with overtones of newly sawn wood. One large table, twelve seats, four computers, empty in trays, empty out trays, one wall is a huge whiteboard. Immaculate.
Anderson places the box on the table and puts out a hand for the gloves, pulling them on with a loud smack, peering at the box closely all the time.
Costello is making non-committal noises as she picks at the brown tape with her fingernails, pulling it off carefully and opening up the flaps to reveal a polythene wrapped cover. Underneath is a sheet of bubble wrap round a small box.
Anderson’s face hardens. He sits down. Costello follows suit. So does Billy. I stay standing, watching over her shoulder. ‘What is it?’
‘Pass me those scissors, will you?’
Anderson cuts through the bubble wrap, opens it up and then breathes out very slowly. ‘Interesting,’ he says. He pushes the box across for Costello and me to see.
‘What is it?’ Costello repeats, peering in as she opens up the bubble wrap and lifts out a small black box.
‘Is that a gift from your lady friend, Colin? Or is she giving it back?’ asks Billy.
Costello ignores him and holds the box out to Anderson. ‘Want me to open it?’
‘Go on.’
Costello’s gloved fingers open the box; a small gold ankh lies on a black velvet cushion. She swivels the box to show him. ‘Any ideas?’
‘That was Sophie’s.’
The words are out of my mouth before I’m aware I have spoken. The pain that goes through me is physical. This does not make sense.
I am already reaching into my back pocket for my wallet when Billy says, ‘Are you sure?’ It was just conversational, he doesn’t doubt me. I pull out the small picture of Sophie from the credit card pocket and place it on the table. Hanging round her neck is the silver locket from our granny and the gold ankh.
Costello gets up and leaves the room, returning with t
he media photograph of Sophie. Anderson is now fingering the ankh gently.
‘It will be engraved, the date of her graduation,’ I tell him. ‘Eighth of July, 2010. It says round the top, All lawyers were children once. Her take on the Charles Lamb quote.’
‘It matches.’
‘It matches this as well, the unusual style.’ Costello compares it to the picture. The two detectives share a few seconds’ silence, then she turns to me. ‘Are you OK?’
‘What does this mean?’
She ignores me. ‘We need you to talk us through it. Might take a wee while.’
‘So does this make a difference, I mean, will you look for Sophie now? After this, Lorna, the girl on the hill?’
‘I have checked, Miss McCulloch, protocol has been followed fully so far.’ She looks at Anderson. ‘I’m sorry, she was not a priority.’
‘Not for you she wasn’t.’
‘Look, as I am sure Avril explained to you, the evidence pointed to the fact that she had run off with her lover. She is over eighteen. That is not something I can take to my boss and ask to work it as a case. Most people in that situation won’t thank you for finding them. And tracking them down is not my job, I have better things to do.’
The most awful thing about her is her honesty.
‘You do not have better things to do than this.’ My words are chilling.
Costello takes a deep breath. I think I know now how to press her buttons. She concedes. ‘But this new evidence might allow us to get it moving, it gives us something to argue the case.’ Her eyes lock with mine; the steely grey matches her character.
Billy has a coughing fit and we both turn to make sure he survives it. ‘Yeah. But we’ve got much further than you would ever have got, so put your sensible head on, petal, and think about the evidence we might be able to give you.’ He raises his eyebrows, making sure that she gets the point he is making. ‘Jesus, Costello, you’re getting nowhere with this case. You have two dead bodies now and another two women who might be imprisoned somewhere going through God knows what. Major Case needs to think again, and you need to think a bit smarter.’
Something passes between them, I can’t quite identify what. Has he just dangled a carrot for her? A promotion?
‘You’re too savvy to let this pass, petal.’ Again he raises the eyebrows, the sprouting grey caterpillars do a little dance.
She flashes him a little nip of a smile. ‘You have no idea how often I have heard that – usually just before I get handed the shitty end of the stick.’
Billy throws her a look, something approaching affection. They have a history. ‘At least you know I’m full of shite.’
‘I know that more than most.’
‘Costello, petal, would I lie to you?’
‘Call me petal again, and I’ll staple your dick to the table.’
‘We’ll get this examined. Are you sure she had the ankh on when she went missing?’ asks Costello, writing out a series of labels, the same info again and again. She does not look at my face.
‘I’m not sure,’ I say. But I am sure. My memory is excellent. The ankh was in its box in her bedroom the day after Sophie went missing. It has been there each time I’ve looked since. Or have I only seen the box and presumed?
‘You – not sure about something?’ Billy’s voice is incredulous. ‘You’re as sure as death and taxes.’
‘She always wore the locket. Sometimes she wore the ankh as well, sometimes not.’
Costello checks the picture again, both the silver locket and the gold ankh are there round her neck, hanging on different chains. She gets up and takes the ankh with her, returning with a pad and a pen.
Billy makes a humming noise, his brain is grinding away. ‘It said in the paper on Sunday that Anderson was the senior investigating officer in Lorna’s case. Maybe that’s why it was sent to him. The question is: why was it sent at all?’
‘DCI Anderson is my superior but I am the SIO,’ Costello bristles.
‘Oh, you haven’t been in charge of a murder squad before, this started off a missing person.’ Billy’s voice is brutal. ‘You identified the other body yet? The girl on the hill? Costello, you stand firm because there are too many similarities between them, and if you want me to go and threaten the Chief Constable for you, I will. I’ve nothing to lose. These girls do. Now is the time to hold your nerve, petal … hen.’
Costello’s grey eyes flicker over the picture of my sister. ‘OK, Elvie, tell me what happened. Right from the start.’
Billy interrupts. ‘There are no free tickets, no free ride, Elvie is a bit …’ He taps the side of his head. ‘Why not play her to your advantage? She’s an interested member of the public with more than a bit of savvy. She can go places that you can’t.’
‘True. But that is not the kind of deal we make, you know that, Billy.’
He smiles to himself. ‘Well, there is a price for our information.’
‘I don’t deal.’ Costello taps her pen on the pad, annoyed. ‘As far as I know, she might be the number one suspect. She does seem to know where the bodies are buried.’
I search her face for a hint of humour and fail to find any. She has the good grace to look away.
‘But she could be the link you’re looking for. Which is why I’m keeping my eye on her,’ adds Billy, rattling out another lungful of phlegm.
‘God, I bet she sleeps easier in her bed knowing that,’ says Costello with some warmth in her sarcasm.
‘She can look after herself,’ he whispers.
A smile flits across Costello’s face, like sunshine in ice. ‘So, Elvie, talk me through it. Right from the start.’
‘It was a Thursday night, I was at my flat in Glasgow.’
Costello stops me to confirm the address.
‘Rod phoned me at the flat at about half ten that night. I had been reviewing a case study on a patient who had been self-prescribing antibiotics off the internet, a drug called Amoxicillin. I was to present it the following day. He said Sophie hadn’t come back from her run.’ I recall my thoughts as he told me, So she’s done it, she’s gone. At the time I thought, Well done you. ‘Then Rod started listing all the folk he had phoned. Olivia, her friend, Belinda at Boadicea …’
‘This Boadicea – Sophie did their legal work?’
‘Yes, Rod spoke to them and was then going through the list of pals that had been at her birthday party.’
‘That was the previous Saturday?’
I nod. ‘Nobody knew where she was. But why would they – she’d gone out for a run. It was illogical to call them.’
‘Was it like her to go away overnight and not tell anybody?’ asks Costello. She’s thinking about that overnight bag.
I feel Billy watch me as I answer. ‘No, not at all. One of the rules of living under Mum’s roof – always tell her where you are.’ I return Billy’s stare, there’s a smile playing round his dry, cracked lips. ‘The next morning she still wasn’t home. Something happened to her.’
‘Or she ran off with Mark,’ mutters Costello. ‘The overnight bag.’
I ignore her. ‘I’ll show you all the photographs that were taken at her birthday. We’ve already been through all the ones on the Facebook page and they got us nowhere.’
‘OK, but let’s get back to you on that night. So you leave the Glasgow flat and drive home to Eaglesham?’
‘Yes, Mum’s house, Sophie’s house.’ I explain it all to her, as I had explained to Billy, and he nods along as if it is now his story as well as mine. After a few minutes I pause a little. ‘I knew that something had happened.’
‘Why did she still stay at home, a successful young woman like her?’
‘She wanted to be at home.’
‘Why?’
I shrug. ‘I found the house claustrophobic since Dad died. But Sophie and Mum were like peas in a pod.’
Costello nodded. ‘But then your mum moved her boyfriend in. How did Sophie feel about that?’
I avoid looking at B
illy; these cops have minds that think alike. ‘Mum was happy, so Sophie was happy,’ I say gingerly. ‘Rod was good for Grant, a father figure and all that.’
She is still staring at me; she has not got the answer she wanted.
‘You knew Rod before?’ prompts Billy.
‘Of course – he taught PE at the school where Dad was head. He was a bit like an uncle to us, his wife died years ago. Rod, Grant and Dad all golfed together on a Saturday, they were out together when Dad died, heart attack, seventeenth hole. Dad was lifting Grant’s bag when he collapsed. Rod couldn’t resus him. I’m not sure who blames who.’
‘I’m sorry, Elvie,’ says Costello.
‘Why?’
‘Just losing your dad.’
‘You knew him?’
‘No, I just …’
‘Go on, Elvie, about Grant?’ Billy prompts again.
‘It’s complicated, he has a bad knee. Osgood-Schlatter’s. Basically he has to be careful with his knee until he’s fully grown. But he keeps reinjuring it. Then he blames everybody else. He got knocked back for his dream scholarship, unfit.’
Costello thinks about that. ‘So did that lead to any problems between Grant and Rod?’
‘No, they’re close.’
‘So you get to Eaglesham and you go out to look for your sister. Where was Grant?’
‘Grant had been out looking for her, he came back as I arrived. He was filthy, he’d been running around. He was washing himself at the sink when I went out in my car.’ It takes a few more minutes to tell her the story of me finding the car at the dam. As I recall it in my mind’s eye a shiver passes through me.
‘So neither you, your brother nor the police found any evidence that she had come to harm?’
‘Except Sophie wasn’t there. People don’t just disappear,’ I said.
‘They can if they want to,’ said Costello, her eyes flinty again. She looks at Billy for back up.
She’s not going to get it.
He folds his arms. ‘I was a cop for many years, you get that feeling in your bones. As one incident everything that you say makes sense, but if you look at Lorna, at Gillian, the pattern …’
