Face in the Frame

by Heather Atkinson

  “Oh yes. He’s been seen.”

  When she went silent he barked, “are you gonnae share or did you just bring me down here for a bit of torture?”

  “As tempting as that thought is, no. But before I tell you I want some information.”

  “I should have known there’d be a catch. About what?”

  “Who’s helping Big Malc?”

  Brodie cracked a humourless grin. “Haven’t you worked it out yet?”

  “I have my suspicions,” she said haughtily.

  “And you’d like me to confirm them.” He turned in his seat to glance at Caesar, enjoying how Toni’s eyes widened. “It’s obvious. It’s Uncle Tam, but you already knew that.”

  Solemnly she nodded. “I did. It was the only way to explain his reluctance about killing Malc. Anyone else and they would be six feet under by now.”

  “That’s why you sent me along with him, to see what went on?”

  She nodded. “If I’d sent Tam alone, which he wanted to do, he and that fucking big melon-headed bastard would have been laughing their arses off at me. That way they had to put on a wee show for you.”

  “They were convincing. I really thought Malc was going to piss his pants, unless he thought Tam had changed sides.”

  “Maybe,” she said, eyes darkening, manicured fingers curling into talons.

  “Great. Now we’ve got that worked out perhaps you can tell me where Lyons is?”

  “Oh yes,” she replied, coming out of her violent fantasies against Uncle Tam. “He was in Lerwick.”

  “Lerwick?”

  “It’s in the Shetlands.”

  “I know where bloody Lerwick is. What I mean is what do you mean by was?”

  “He was there for a few days then he left.” She pulled some photographs out of a drawer and tossed them onto the desk.

  Brodie snatched them up, brow furrowing at the sight of his nemesis’s fat pudding face. “What was the bastard doing there?”

  “Who knows? And to be honest, I couldn’t give a flying fuck,” hissed Toni. “Tam, the treacherous bawbag.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Whatever it is, it’ll be painful. He was always unsure about a woman running the family.”

  “Why didn’t he take control himself?”

  “Because I had too many supporters. I saw the way it was going, I knew Frankie would piss off the wrong person one day with his enormous gob, so I made alliances and bided my time. When someone did permanently shut his trap for him I was ready. But there are some in the family who don’t like being told what to do by a woman.”

  “I’ve no problem with it,” said Caesar from the back of the room with a smile.

  This comment encouraged Toni to smile back. “Caesar enjoys my discipline, don’t you baby?”

  “Urgh,” said Brodie. “It’s lucky I’ve not eaten yet.” He got to his feet, scooping up the photos. “Ta for these.”

  Toni arched a disdainful eyebrow. “I’ve not been given anything in return yet.”

  “I’m sure Caesar will see to that the moment I’m gone.”

  “He certainly will but I want payment from you.”

  “I confirmed Tam’s a treacherous bastard for you.”

  “Poor recompense for sending one of my men all the way to Lerwick.” She crossed her long legs, sending her skirt riding up her thighs. “I need more.”

  “I haven’t got anymore and right now I’ve got a lot on my plate so I’ll be off…” He sighed and hung his head when he turned to see Caesar blocking his exit, gun in hand. “This is getting ridiculous. I don’t work for you.”

  “You could if you wanted to,” said Toni. “You’d be an asset to my crew, which is what makes me reluctant to kill you, although I know Caesar would love it if I gave the order.”

  “Aye I would,” he said with an evil smile, brandishing the gun.

  “I’ll remember that next time it’s your birthday Caesar,” said Toni.

  “I’m an ex-polis for fuck’s sake,” exclaimed Brodie. “I’ve still got close ties to them. You’re playing with fire Toni.”

  “Yes and it excites me,” she purred. “And things are about to get even more exciting. I’m going to be playing hostess to some very special guests.”

  “You got the Queen coming?” he sneered.

  “I don’t think Jez and Mikey would take kindly to being referred to like that.”

  “Are you serious? You’re inviting the Maguires and Laws up here and you’re actually telling me about it?”

  “I thought you might like the warning.”

  “If you think I’m getting involved with them as well as you then you’re off your fucking heid.”

  “So I’ve been told but it’s happening.”

  “What’s to stop me from going straight to Pete with this?”

  She shrugged. “Tell him, see if I care. The Manc police have been after Mikey and Jez for ages and got nothing. They don’t even have criminal records. They’re two legitimate businessmen coming up to Glasgow to talk over a business deal.”

  “What deal?”

  “The factory I’m considering buying where we had our late-night chat. Of course they don’t know they’re coming up here yet but they will, they owe me. What’s so wrong with that?”

  “We both know you’re using them to flex your muscles and to show Uncle Tam and Malc what big tough friends you have. Jesus, is it really necessary?”

  “Yes because this is about more than just me, Tam and Malc.”

  “It’s the whole family isn’t it? Half for you and half for Tam? You’re fighting your own uncle for control.”

  “Bingo Brodie. I always said you were intelligent, despite the rumours. This is happening and you’d better choose a side.”

  “Why? It’s sod all to do with me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re well in with the underworld of this city. I’m doing you a favour giving you an advanced warning.”

  “Alright, I appreciate that but I’m not getting involved in this, I’m not a criminal.”

  “Aren’t you? Don’t think I don’t know about all your dodgy off the books business, all the people you’ve roughed up and hospitalised. If all that came tumbling out you’d be ruined and Pete McLaren’s career would be in tatters. He’s abetted you in most of that.”

  “You’re really starting to annoy me Toni,” he frowned.

  “And you are on my last nerve.” She leaned forward in her seat, gaze imperious. “Be warned. Now you may go,” she added with a dismissive wave.

  “Oh thanks a bloody bunch,” he muttered, striding to the door. “You going to get out of my way?” he snapped at Caesar.

  Caesar did, but he was smirking while he did it.

  Brodie didn’t go straight home, despite how late it was getting. Instead he tramped the streets to mull things over. It had been a crappy day, he’d almost lost Cass, but he was also delighted because she was staying put. She might have been put off men for life but at least he’d get to see her every day. He was starting to resign himself to the fact that being her friend was the best he was ever going to get. Intermittently he kept calling Pete but he never answered, his phone just ringing out. Brodie got the feeling he was avoiding him until he had something to tell, it would take time to search Thorne’s premises. Brodie prayed they turned up something because he wouldn’t be able to bear it if that bastard escaped justice, it would burn him up.

  He ambled back to the office, wondering what to do with himself. He paused for a moment to regard the spot where Fred and Robbie had been, which was still empty, wondering if it would ever be occupied again.

  To his surprise, Pete was waiting for him at his office door.

  “That wee nob from upstairs keeps peeking down at me,” was the first thing Pete said, nodding his head up the stairs.

  Brodie looked up to see a small face peering down at him. “Cooee,” he called, giving Roger a camp wave.

  “I might have known that dodgy article w
ould be a friend of yours,” sniffed Roger, indicating Pete.

  “Who are you calling dodgy?” Pete snapped back at him. “I’m a detective inspector.”

  The small face paled. “Oh, I do apologise, it’s just that you look…you know…with your hair and everything.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” boomed Pete while Brodie sniggered.

  “Ignore the fanny bawz,” said Brodie, taking Pete by the arm and pulling him into his office. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were on the Thorne case?”

  “They’ve handed it over to DI King, the prick.”

  “Aye he is a prick. Why? You’re much better than he is.”

  “Because apparently I’m too close to it, seeing how Cass is the victim and I’m friends with her.”

  “That’s a stupid reason.”

  “They’re taking no chances, Thorne’s got a real hotshot slippery arsed lawyer, so DI Dickhead’s in charge and I was told to bugger off, so there you go. Fancy getting tanked?”

  “I’ve got to pick Cass up tomorrow morning from the hospital.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t try to lure you back to my place when you’ve had too much to drink.”

  “I mean I want to be fresh, she needs me.”

  “Oh Christ, here we go.”

  “What do you mean?” frowned Brodie.

  “Your crush is going to be worse than ever. After rescuing her you’re going to see yourself as her knight in shining armour.”

  “I’m not. We’re just friends. The last thing she wants right now is anything to do with men. She said she might become a nun.”

  “That’ll change once she’s got over Thorne. Come on, let’s go out and get steamin’. Maybe we can find you a nice wee woman while we’re at it.”

  “Don’t you dare start matchmaking again you prick. The last time you tried you set me up with someone’s granny.”

  “She didn’t look like a granny.”

  “Not to you because you had your beer goggles on. Jeezo Pete, she had a zimmer frame.”

  “That wasn’t a zimmer, it was one of those shopping bag things on wheels.”

  “No it wasn’t.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  Brodie shook his head. “No. That’s what happens when you get pissed, so none of that please. I know I’m not exactly a spring onion but I’m not into necrophilia thank you.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Who the hell are you calling a chicken?”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “The expression is spring chicken you numpty, not spring onion.”

  “Oh. Come on then, I need a drink after that bloody conversation.”

  Brodie and Pete wended their way down the road together, singing rude songs, ignoring the occasional shout from the darkened houses they passed to shut the fuck up, it was late. They’d trawled all their local haunts, both deciding to get well and truly plastered after the day they’d had. Pete had said he’d get a constable to drive Brodie to the hospital to pick Cass up in the morning, so he could have a good drink. Fortunately he hadn’t tried to matchmake him with an octogenarian either, so Brodie was happy.

  “Hurry up, I need a piss,” said Pete as Brodie struggled to get his key in the lock.

  “I’m trying but the stupid bastard key won’t stop moving. Or is it the door?”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem,” sniggered Pete.

  “Shut it you…ah there we go,” said Brodie triumphantly when the door finally swung open.

  “Well done, you can open a door,” said Pete. “Out of the way, police emergency,” he added, shoving him aside and charging into the flat.

  “Prick,” muttered Brodie, slamming the door shut and ambling into the living room, trying to walk in a straight line. Pete had convinced him to have a couple of tequila slammers, which he was now regretting. They didn’t go well with red wine.

  The sight that greeted him on his living room floor caused him to sober up in an instant. He was so shocked he was still staring at it when Pete wandered in, wearing a big smile of relief.

  “That’s better. Close call there.” He frowned at Brodie standing there with his jaw hanging open. “What’s up with you?”

  Brodie turned to regard him incredulously. “What’s up with me? Some detective you are, you’ve not even noticed the dead body lying on my floor.”

  “What are you talking about you daftie? Jeezo,” he cried when he finally saw the source of Brodie’s amazement. “Did you put that there?”

  “Oh yeah,” he snorted. “I decided to kill someone, leave them in my flat then bring back a dippy detective inspector to take a look. Are you mental or something?”

  “Alright, calm down.” Pete went quiet as he gazed at the mess before him. It looked like the man had been hit by a steamroller. “Do you recognise him?”

  “He’s one of Big Malc’s goons. He was at the pub when me and Tam went to see him, he let us in.”

  Pete blinked at him. “Tam McVay? What were you doing hanging around with him?”

  “I didn’t want to be there. Toni threatened you and Cass if I didn’t go.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “You know I said Big Malc was setting up operations against Toni?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well it seems Tam’s in on it too. It’s not just a rivalry, he’s after taking over the family.”

  “Jesus Brodie, you’ve landed yourself right in the middle of a gang war.”

  “Toni dragged me into it and I don’t know why.” It was worrying him the way Pete was looking from himself, to the body and back again. “Don’t nick me Pete. Don’t you dare bloody nick me.”

  “Alright, keep your hair on.”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  “Seriously, jokes now, with a corpse on your living room floor?”

  “It’s my defence mechanism.”

  “Well it’s shite, get yourself another one. I’m not going to nick you, I know you didn’t do him in. The question is, who did and why?”

  “Either Tam or Toni McVay. Possibly Big Malc.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea.” Brodie thought furiously, trying to puzzle this one out. “Unless they’re not trying to set me up. It might just be a warning.”

  “Tam knows you know what he’s up to and he wants you out of the way,” said Pete. “Or Toni is just having fun with you. She likes you but she’d probably find it funny if you got arrested for murder.”

  “She would, the bitch but it makes more sense that it’s Tam. He knows she sent me to go with him to spy on him and he’s probably after a bit of revenge. Toni said she’s bringing the Maguires and Laws up here in her fight against Tam and Malc.”

  Pete’s eyebrows shot up. “And when were you going to tell me about this?”

  “It slipped my mind after the fifth glass of wine.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” sighed Pete, kicking at the armchair.

  “Oy, careful,” scowled Brodie.

  “What do you care? It’s knackered anyway.”

  “It’s not knackered, it’s comfortable.”

  “Your arse nearly touches the floor when you sit on it.”

  “Can we get off my armchair and back on the dead body please?”

  “I’ll have to call it in.”

  “I know,” sighed Brodie, raking his hands through his hair. “This is going to be embarrassing.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Every officer who turned up at Brodie’s flat was one of his ex-colleagues, all experienced officers with a penchant for taking the piss.

  “What did he do Brodie?” said Detective Sergeant Findlay, a barely concealed smile on his lips. “Call your clapped-out rust bucket of a car a shitehole?”

  “Ha ha you fucking clown. Like I need you right now.”

  “Pathologist reckons he’s been dead for no more than two hours after being beaten to death. Where were you?”

  “I was with Detective Inspector McLaren getting pissed, unless
you want to call him a liar?”

  Findlay reluctantly turned to his superior, who was glaring at him with challenge in his eyes. “No.”

  “Didn’t think so,” said Brodie. “You always were a wanker Fiddly Findlay.”

  “Love you too,” he retorted, pursing his lips in a kiss, not taking offence. Findlay, like all his colleagues, had huge respect for Brodie MacBride. He’d been a good DI, firm but fair, and an exemplary copper.

  “It seems Mr MacBride has got caught up in gang warfare,” said Pete, throwing a glower at Brodie.

  “Dragged into it more like,” he retorted. “They’re trying to set me up.”

  “You’re lucky I was with you tonight. If you’d gone wandering about on your own, which you have a tendency to do, you’d be right in the shit now.”

  “I know, I know,” sighed Brodie, shaking his head.

  “Well you can’t stay here,” said Pete. “Want to doss down at mine for the night while CSI flash pants here sorts out the scene?”

  Two men in crinkly white suits looked up at him with a frown.

  “Aye, I suppose I’ve no choice,” said Brodie, sounding put-upon.

  “Oh you’re welcome,” said Pete sarcastically. “DI Dickhead will be here soon. I don’t want to be here when he arrives but unfortunately, thanks to you, I’m a witness, so I have to stick around and watch him strut about like a fat ugly peacock.”

  “Oh boo hoo. I’ve got a dead prick on my floor,” exclaimed Brodie.

  “Ladies please,” said Findlay when they started to bicker, smile falling when they both turned to glare at him.

  “Two hours. I can’t believe it,” sighed Brodie as he and Pete were driven to the latter’s house in a quiet, tree-lined street with no dog jobbies.

  “DI Dickhead is a proper little Hitler,” commented Pete. “Just wait till all this is wound up, I’ll take him down a peg or two. Actually I’ll drag him down it, ensuring I give him a boot in the danglies on the way.”

  Brodie let Pete ramble on and get it out of his system, perfectly assured that he’d shut up soon. He glanced at his watch and sighed. It was four in the morning. “I have to be back at the hospital in five hours to pick Cass up.”