‘She touched you?’
‘Yes. She . . . well . . . She touched me. She massaged . . . me.’
Fisher isn’t saying anything now. His expression is perfectly blank. He’s letting Stewart swing in the breeze; suffer through every detail of the story.
‘So I knew that she was still interested. The taxi reached their house. We got out. I helped Winter up the path. Zara opened the door. We got him upstairs, into the bedroom. It was . . . unpleasant. Winter was saying stuff, but I couldn’t understand what it was. He was aggressive. I don’t think he gave her any sort of life. He wet himself. And he took a swing at me. We dumped him on the bed, and we went downstairs.’
Don’t let things get out of sequence, Fisher is thinking. Ask about the arrival. ‘When you pulled up at the house in the taxi, did you notice anyone else around?’
‘No, there was nobody there. At least, I didn’t see anyone.’
This is no killer. This Macintosh is a horrible disappointment, but he might still deliver something.
‘Then what?’ Fisher’s asking.
‘We went downstairs. Zara had a whiskey. She was stressed. I think she was under a lot of pressure with him.’
‘And then?’
‘She . . . uh . . . took her clothes off. She helped me take mine off. We started . . . making love . . . on the couch.’
That would relieve the stress, Fisher is thinking.
Stewart can feel that he’s blushing. He’ll be bright red; he’ll look like a silly little boy who’s been caught with his pants down.
‘Go on,’ Fisher says. He’s sitting there, expressionless. His colleague is writing a few things down, but not much. DC Davies mostly just looks bored.
‘We were . . . ’
‘Making love, yes, you can say it,’ Fisher tells him drily. He gets a dirty look from the lawyer, but who cares about him anyway?
‘I heard a big bang on the door. I didn’t know what it was. Then another one. There were two men in the room with us. It was terrifying.’
He knew Cope was lying to him. That’s what’s going through Fisher’s mind right now. If that silly little bitch had just been honest from the start, the investigation could be a lot further forward.
‘They didn’t say anything. They just stood there. One of them pointed a gun at us.’
‘What did they look like?’ Fisher interrupts him. The boy wants to tell a general story. Fisher needs details.
‘They were dressed all in black. They were – I don’t know – average. I don’t know. They were all in black. They had balaclavas on. They were pointing a gun at me. That’s why I panicked.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I tried to run for the door. I didn’t even have my clothes on.’ He can feel his skin burn. ‘I just ran. One of them hit me. It hurt. I fell over a chair. I was lying on the floor. I think he must have hit me with the gun. I still have the lump on my head. I . . . I stayed on the floor. I was so scared. Then I heard the bang. Then I heard the front door close. That was it.’
There’s a pause in the room. Silence. It all sounds plausible. It stacks up with what Cope told him. Okay, she left out a few details. The suspect is now a witness to the killing. But there’s more. Now he has to explain why he wasn’t there when the police turned up.
‘So the killers have left the house. Then what happens, Mr Macintosh? Because, when my officers arrived at the scene, you were nowhere to be found.’
He looks to his lawyer, who nods. Time to tell the worst of it. ‘I didn’t know what to do,’ he’s saying, almost whispering now. ‘I mean, you don’t, do you. I’ve never been in that sort of situation before.’
Stewart puts his hands flat on the table and looks at his fingernails. Just try to get the picture of Zara out of your mind when you’re telling them all this.
‘It was Zara. She pulled herself together. She realized what was going to happen. The police were going to come to the house. She said that I needed to get out, or I’d get caught up in the whole thing. I didn’t want that. My career. Everything. I didn’t . . . And she said there were things in the house that she needed to get rid of. She could go to jail if they were found. They were the old guy’s – Winter’s – but she would be blamed. I just wanted to help her.’
Now we’re getting somewhere. Now we’re getting something we can throw at her for being so bloody deceitful. This is going to be good.
‘She went upstairs. I don’t know where to. I stayed down. I got my clothes on. She came back with these bags. I knew they were drugs. There were two wads of banknotes as well. I put them in my pockets. She said they were her partner’s. She was so beautiful. She was desperate for help. I had the chance to do something to rescue her from the life he’d thrown her into. The chance to stop her from being dragged down by him. I put them all in my pockets. We kissed. It was . . . She led me to the back door. I went through the garden and over the fence at the bottom. I came out on some other street. Got a taxi back to the flat. Hid the stuff in a shoebox.’
Oh, this is very good. Possession with intent to supply. ‘So my men will find it all in your flat?’
‘No. She came to the flat yesterday afternoon. She took it away. I haven’t seen her since. I hope she’s not in trouble.’
Fisher can hardly suppress his smile. She’s in trouble all right, pal, she’s in big trouble. Probably the sort of big trouble that gets a little girl thrown in jail. That’s what he’ll be pushing for, anyway. There’s a brief explanation of Cope’s visit to the flat, and that’s the end of the interest. Time to print up a charge sheet for Mr Macintosh. He’s been useful, in a pathetic sort of a way. Silly little boys. The trouble they get themselves into, just for a free shot at a little whore like her.
Fisher’s upstairs, feeling confident about his investigation. He’ll get a conviction against both Macintosh and Cope, that’s for sure. The killer. Not Macintosh. Cope might be involved. She’s looking more culpable. If she knows anything, then she’ll be compelled to speak.
He’s shouting across the room, telling anyone who’s listening to get in touch with Higgins and Matheson and tell them they won’t find a weapon. Tell them to keep looking for any sign of drugs and money, though. Patting a hand on the table, trying to work out the next move. The comedown. You get progress, and then you hit a brick wall. Arresting Cope will be enjoyable, but the stories suggest that she won’t know who the killers are. That means more digging around. It means we’re no closer to catching the ones that matter most.
41
In a small flat there are only so many places that a person’s going to hide illegal belongings. They worked the bedroom first, considering it the most obvious place to check. They got word from the station to look for a shoebox. There were four of them on top of the wardrobe, all with shoes in them. They put them in bags, just in case. The bedroom yielded no results. It was even less interesting than an average bedroom. Clearly the occupant just slept in the room and spent very little time there otherwise. No TV. No magazines of an interesting nature. No condoms in the bedside cabinet. Nothing that suggested the occupant lived an interesting life.
Into the bathroom. More awkward hiding places here. Opening the cistern. Checking inside the shower head. Checking to see if there’s a false back on the cabinet above the sink. Nothing. Another site of extreme boredom. Clearly these are young men who use their flat very little. A bed and a toilet, a place to eat occasionally. Into the flatmate’s bedroom. Condoms in the bedside cabinet. Three unflattering photographs of a nude woman tucked away in the back of a drawer; the photos were obviously taken for Tom. A little snicker at the woman’s ill-judged attempt at modelling, then carry on. Nothing.
They’re doing the living room now – nothing there. Tom is still sitting in the kitchen, his head in his hands. He’s called his sister, but she hasn’t arrived yet.
‘I don’t understand any of this,’ he keeps saying.
‘You’re not under any suspicion, sir,’ Matheson tells him for t
he third or fourth time. ‘If you could please move into the living room so that we can search the kitchen, we would appreciate that. I know this is difficult for you, but any help you can give us we would be grateful for.’
‘I don’t know what I can do,’ Tom’s saying, moving mechanically from the table to the doorway.
He’s one of those people who thinks that criminals aren’t like him. He can’t understand that a friend might have been involved in something terrible. Sheltered lives. They’re pulling everything out of the cupboards, getting in under the sink. Pulling apart cereal packets and emptying biscuit tins. Messy business, but they’re never the ones who have to clean it up. Serious business, though. Looking for anything that might be incriminating. Anything at all. Nothing. What a boring little flat. It’s rare that you go through a place like this, owned by two young men, and don’t even find a bit of weed.
‘Okay, Mr Shields,’ Matheson is saying to him, ‘we’ve finished our search. We’re sorry that we had to be so disruptive, but you can understand that this is a very serious crime and requires a very thorough investigation.’ He pauses, waiting for a response. Tom’s looking up at him from the couch with a desperate look on his face. He’s not going to say anything. ‘Okay then,’ Matheson nods. ‘We’re heading back to the station. We have a few possessions of your flatmate’s that we’re going to take with us; nothing of yours. I expect there’ll be someone round to question you more thoroughly about your flatmate in due course.’ He was supposed to thank him for his cooperation, but the boy had done nothing to help and clearly just wanted them to leave.
Back at the station. Shift over. In the changing rooms, getting out of uniform.
‘Fisher’s still upstairs, still calling the shots on this one,’ Matheson says casually.
‘I dunno why he’s got such a bee in his bonnet about the woman and the guy we arrested tonight. Neither of them were involved. Winter was a dealer; the killer will have been working for another dealer.’
‘Aye, true. Still, Fisher’s the sort of mad bastard that’s gonna catch a killer like that.’
‘Mad?’
‘The guy’s obsessed. Obviously doesn’t have a life away from the job – he’s always here.’
‘Well, I do,’ Higgins is smiling, ‘so I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Higgins is back in his own flat, but he can’t sleep. There are things he feels he has to do. He owes people. Young warned him about Shug Francis. It was a warning. He told him about Shug, and then this happens with Winter. Winter’s killing doesn’t make a lot of sense until you throw people like Shug and John Young into the equation. Winter was smalltime. He was a nobody in the grand scheme. You needed people like Shug and Young to make Winter important. But which one of them was Winter working for? Usually he would have said almost certainly Young. But now? Young had warned him about Shug Francis because of this.
Higgins is picking up his phone. An emergency number. He looks at the display for thirty seconds before he presses dial. It rings. It rings some more. He glances at a clock. It’s after midnight. He doesn’t want to do this, but he has to. The danger of doing nothing is that Young takes action. Ruins his career. Ruins his life. He warned Higgins about Shug Francis to force him to help. To make him more active. This is the price you pay for the favours you’ve received, and the ones you may request in the future. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to live with it. The phone’s still ringing. Maybe he won’t answer. Maybe you’ll have a get-out: I called and called, but I couldn’t get through to you.
‘Hello?’ Slightly confused. Still half-asleep. Definitely Young.
‘John, can we meet at the flat? I have something to tell you.’
‘Okay. Be there in ten minutes. I’ll be there in twenty.’ He sounded awake by the time he finished that sentence.
Already Higgins is regretting it, but these are the consequences. So you have to suffer a little – that’s too bad. You took their help when you needed it, and you know you’ll need it again. Your family needs help. Not the sort of help you can give them. You will need Young again. You have to make a good impression. He has to feel that you’ve earned the help you intend to ask for. So make a good impression. Get to the flat.
By the time he arrives at the flat Young has a bad feeling about it. He’s parked his car two streets away. He’s walking through the drizzle to get to the meeting place. A cop calls you up and tells you he wants to see you. He calls you in the dead of night. He calls you because he has something important to say. He’s never called you before. Took Young an age even to find the mobile that was ringing. Young has several, all for different people. He didn’t expect the one dedicated to Joseph Higgins to be ringing. Maybe the cop has decided to confess to his superiors. Maybe he’s decided to set Young up. Or maybe he’s decided to do it a different way. When people are in your pocket, they sometimes try to fight their way out. Even a cop can be dangerous.
In the door and up the stairs. At the door of the flat. Key in the door. A dull light inside; a lamp is on along the corridor in the living room. Follow the corridor in. Higgins sitting in a chair alone, looking nervous.
‘Hello, Joseph, how are things?’ Young asks him, sitting opposite. Trying to sound relaxed. Make the boy feel at ease with the situation, because he’s clearly nervous. Then again, he’s always nervous when he’s in this flat. Quiet and a little depressed. Trying to relax him is nothing new.
‘Things are okay,’ Higgins is saying, but it doesn’t sound like he means it.
He’s clearing his throat, as if he’s building up to something real important. This better be good, young man. This better be worth all the aggro.
‘I thought you would want to know that we’ve arrested someone in connection with the Lewis Winter death.’
Shock. Holy shit! Calum. He’s a good boy, he won’t talk. A big loss. Shit again.
‘The guy’s name is Macintosh. Stewart Macintosh. They don’t think he’s involved in the actual killing, though. They thought he might have been, but not since they questioned him. He was there when it happened, but not to be involved. Seems like he was there to have sex with Zara Cope while Lewis Winter was asleep upstairs. They’re going to arrest Cope too, for hiding drugs and money that had been in the house at the time.’
Relief. Huge relief. Calum is okay. The job went well. They’re arresting people on the periphery. That’s usually a good thing; means that they’re distracted from the actual murder.
‘What about the actual killer? Any word on that?’
Higgins is shaking his head. ‘They have nothing. Seems to have been a real professional job. They have nothing to go on right now.’ He pauses. He’s not sure if this is the right moment. If this isn’t, then when is? ‘I suggested to DI Fisher – he’s leading the investigation – that Shug Francis might be a name worth looking at. I was careful. I told him I’d been tipped off by a contact that I didn’t much trust.’ He waits. He’s looking to see what Young’s reaction will be. A nodding head. Not angry. That’s a relief.
Young’s not sure how to react. Is it too soon to be throwing Shug’s name at the police? No, never too soon. This is one of the reasons you brought it up. You need to put Shug on their radar. You need them to start getting awkward with the bastard. The boy has done well.
‘I’m glad you brought his name up. It’s important that the police are aware of what a growing threat Shug Francis is. I think the man’s going to become a really big problem for this city. I do hope you and your colleagues will be able to do something about it.’
‘We’ll be looking at him,’ Higgins is saying, ‘that’s something.’
‘What about you, Joseph, how is life treating you?’ Time to be nice and polite. Make sure he knows that you appreciate and care.
‘Things are going okay for me,’ Higgins is answering, nodding his head. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t expect that to last. ‘It can be a challenge sometimes, though, looking after that family of
mine.’ He says it with a smile, but the implication is clear.
‘You know, Joseph, any time your family needs my help, you only have to ask. Just let me know what might need doing, and I’ll be on top of it. I want to help you. You’ve been a help to me, so it’s only fair.’
Higgins nods and says that there’s nothing right now. Fair enough. He needs to think about it. He needs to think about how much help he wants to ask for, and in what area. He’ll ask, though. He’ll throw himself even deeper into the hole. Young knows he will. Young knows he has to. He knows why too. He knows because he’s been working hard to make it happen. Get the family back into debt. Get the sister running around with another bad crowd. Get them into all sorts of trouble that they can’t hope to get out of without his help. He organizes the trouble. He organizes the help. It’s part of his job. Keep valuable assets like Higgins dependent on you. It’s one thing to get them into your pocket; it’s another to keep them there.
‘Why don’t you head off home, Joseph,’ Young is saying. ‘I’ll stay behind. I have a phone call to make anyway.’
Higgins nods. He gets up from the chair, shakes Young’s hand. Always so polite. Christ knows where he got those manners. Not his infested, degenerate family, that’s for sure. There’s no call to make, but there are things to consider. There are problems still to overcome. Good news that Shug is on the police radar. Get him implicated in drug deals. Link him to Winter. It’s not the meeting with Higgins that he’s thinking about. It’s the hushed call from Frank MacLeod. A call that suggests the next step is about to be taken. The question for Young – and, as strategist, it’s he who must find the answer – is who steps first?
Tempting to go after Davidson. A nice opportunity to slap down the enemy. But who do you use? Frank is out of action. It’s not safe to use Calum twice in quick succession. Not safe to order two hits in such close proximity anyway, no matter who you use. Tempting to take the next step. Might be wiser to let the other side have a go. Let them make their move. Let them dig themselves in even deeper. If they hit one of our men, it gives us carte blanche. There’s nothing that can’t be justified after you’ve been attacked. Easy to win support amongst other organizations. Let people see that Shug is dangerous. Let the rest of the industry see that Shug is a threat to them too.
The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter (Glasgow Trilogy) Page 20
