Bridge of Doom

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Bridge of Doom Page 13

by George McCartney


  'Yes, mam,' said Jack standing up and saluting with a big stupid grin on his face, which did not bode well for his prospects of getting a lift home.

  'She's quite magnificent when she's angry, Jack,' said Henry admiringly, as Annie left the pub. 'I do love a woman with a bit of spirit about her.'

  'Oh, she's got plenty of that all right,' said Jack ruefully. 'She can be a complete pain in the arse, but she's usually right about most things.'

  'That's so annoying, don't you think?'

  'Absolutely.'

  'Ready for another pint of mother's milk, Jack?'

  'What harm could it do, Henry? Go for it. Oh, and get me a big bag of salted peanuts, will you? Just to help settle my stomach.'

  An hour and a half later, Annie tried unsuccessfully to get Jack on his phone. After three failed attempts, she sent him a curt text message advising that she'd left for home and that the last Glasgow train would leave Waverley station at 00.30am.

  Jack Davidson, posted missing in action.

  Chapter 28

  The next morning, just after half-past eight, when Annie arrived in the JD Investigations office, she was astonished to find her partner already at his desk. In body at least, if not in spirit. Unshaven, with crumpled clothes, hair tousled and ashen faced, Jack was slumped in his chair clinging desperately to a half-empty bottle of Irn-Bru, which is Glasgow's answer to penicillin. However, there are limits to the restorative properties of Glasgow's favourite non-alcoholic beverage. Jack looked like death warmed up and certainly wasn't capable of doing any work, but at least he had made the effort to come in on time.

  Progress, thought Annie to herself. 'Morning boss, this is quite a surprise. I didn't think you'd surface for at least a couple of days after the Edinburgh trip.'

  Raising his head with an effort, Jack managed a limp wave followed by a wan smile and croaked, 'I didn't have the nightmare last night, Annie. Okay, it wasn't the best night's sleep I've ever had and I had to get up once to be sick. But I didn't have that crazy dream at three o'clock and I didn't need to take any anti-anxiety meds. I actually managed to sleep till seven o'clock this morning, for the first time in weeks. You've no idea how good that felt.’

  ‘I’m very happy for you.’

  ‘And you were absolutely right, I needed to get out of my flat and stop brooding about what happened with Thomas Burke. So going on a jolly to Edinburgh and having a complete change of scene, combined with a few pints and some serious man talk with old Henry, seems to have done the trick.'

  'It looks to me like you had a lot more than a few pints.'

  'Yeah, maybe. Although I think it was when Henry got us involved in a Jagerbomb shot drinking challenge, against a fierce-looking women's rugby team, that’s when things really started to go downhill. Believe me, some of those big women can really drink.'

  Shaking her head in disapproval, Annie said, 'I tried to phone you just before I left Edinburgh to head back home, but you didn't answer.'

  'Well, to be fair, it was a bit noisy in the karaoke bar. Henry actually does a surprisingly good version of "River Deep Mountain High," by the way, and he's got all of Tina Turner's best moves off pat. I think he must practice for hours in front of a mirror at home, which is kind of worrying when you think about it.'

  'I'm sorry I missed that. So did you get the train home after that?'

  'No, after I hit the fresh air, outside the karaoke place, things definitely went a bit hazy. But I do remember Henry somehow managed to get hold of a cab and then he took me somewhere else. Yeah, it's slowly coming back to me now. I remember there was a young dame, wearing a really skimpy outfit, who kept sliding up and down a pole.'

  'Oh for God’s sake, don't tell me the two of you went to a lap-dancing club?' spluttered Annie in disgust. 'I don't believe it, what a pair of sad old perverts.'

  'Actually, to be fair, I don't think it was a lap-dancing club, Annie. I'm not a hundred per cent sure, but I think it was probably the stop where the last night bus leaves Edinburgh city centre. The dame who was sliding up and down, could hardly stand and she was actually trying her best just to hang on to the bus stop pole. I reckon she was even more pissed than me, which is really saying something. Thankfully, the bus driver was a total star and he woke me up at Glasgow bus station and then phoned for a taxi. God, what a night.'

  Shaking her head again, Annie said, 'anyway you look as if you've been shot out of a cannon backwards. I've got some paracetamol tablets here in my desk somewhere, if you want them. Or, I could nip out and get you something to eat, if that would help to settle your stomach.' With a wicked grin she continued, 'so how about one of your breakfast favourites, one of those nice big hot mince pies on a white roll? Just imagine the smell and all that lovely hot grease running down your chin, when you take the first bite. You know what they say about a really bad hangover, boss? Kill or cure.'

  Jack's stomach immediately lurched violently in protest at the very thought of food and he knocked his chair over in a rush to reach the toilet, for a prolonged and noisy dry heave.

  Five minutes later he re-emerged looking even paler than before. However, if he was expecting sympathy, he found that it was in extremely short supply.

  'So, tell me, in between umpteen pints of beer, the karaoke bar and the Jagerbomb challenge with the women's rugby team, did you actually manage to find out from Henry what this Edinburgh job is all about? When I left you in the Southsider, it had hardly been mentioned. I mean that was the purpose of the trip after all.'

  'Funny you should say that. I did ask him at one point to put a bit of meat on the bone, in terms of details about the job, but all I can remember is that it's something to do with a big property deal that’s going badly wrong. The bloke Henry works for is the brains behind the deal, but Henry seems to think he’s becoming totally paranoid and almost on the verge of a nervous breakdown.’

  ‘It sounds like the poor man needs a good psychiatrist instead of us.’

  I know, Annie, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but extra security in the guy’s house seems to be what’s wanted. So that’s where we come in. Basically, I think our role is just to babysit Henry’s boss.’

  'That doesn't sound too difficult, on the face of it. So why on earth do they need to bring in private detectives from outside Edinburgh to do the job?'

  'Good question, Annie. I don't know the answer, but Henry said he would email me full details so we can give it the once over, before we commit to anything.'

  'And was the delicate subject of money mentioned at any stage of your schmoozing with Henry?'

  'Yes, that was mentioned. He quoted a fee of £1500 a day, plus expenses. With no time limit on the job, but a minimum of at least ten day's work for us. So, pretty good money.'

  'What did you say?'

  'I played it cool and said I would think about it and discuss it with my wonderful new partner.'

  'I'm not sure,' said Annie. 'Don't you think there's something not quite right about this?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well, I just think it all sounds too good to be true. The client is, apparently, allowing Henry to pay well over the odds and sub-contract the work to us, instead of a local firm. Why would he do that? And then he dragged both of us through to Edinburgh and didn't bother to properly explain what's going on.'

  'Lighten up, Annie, will you. It's just a routine bit of work. We do it, get well paid and then scuttle back to Glasgow with a big cheque. Everything in the world doesn't always need to make perfect sense.'

  'Well, just for the record, I don't like anything about your pal, Hooray Henry. He's a smart arse and his snobby, sexist jokes are crude and completely unfunny. In fact, he's so bad, he makes you look quite the Renaissance man.'

  'Cheers for that, Annie. But it's not as if he's a complete stranger. I've worked with him before, remember. He played it straight down the line with me every time and then paid our agreed fee promptly at the end of each job. So I really don't see what the problem is. He's ju
st a little eccentric and likes to mix business with a bit of pleasure. Works for me.'

  'I'm just saying,' said Annie, still unconvinced. 'Look, I know things have been quiet workwise recently, while you were off recuperating, and we can certainly do with the money. But still.'

  'I trust your instincts, Annie, I really do. Tell you what, let's wait till he sends us the full brief before we decide one way or another. Is that a deal, partner?'

  'Okay, deal.'

  Chapter 29

  Jack looked up from checking through their office email inbox and announced, 'okay Annie, here we go.'

  'What is it?'

  'It's the email I've been expecting from Henry and there's a file attachment, containing some more details on this Edinburgh job.'

  After a few minutes perusing the content of the email, Jack said, 'as far as I can see he's not disclosing the identity of the client, until we finally commit to the job, but it looks like pretty much everything else is here. I'll skim through it and then let you have a look.'

  'Are there any more of his rotten jokes?'

  'I'm afraid so, right at the end. But just the one this time, thankfully.'

  'Okay then, let's get that bit it over with so I can concentrate on the rest,' sighed Annie.

  'Two young guys from Edinburgh are chatting in the pub and one says confidentially, 'Look, don't tell anyone, but I'm starting to think that my new girlfriend from Glasgow is a bit of a slut.'

  'Really … why's that?' asks his pal.

  'Well, the first time we had sex I asked her if she preferred being on top or on the bottom, and she said, 'in the middle.'

  Annie shook her head slowly and grimaced before asking, 'what is Henry's problem anyway? All this constant sniping about Glasgow? It's pretty pathetic really, coming from a grown man.'

  'I honestly don't know Henry all that well, but I think he used to be married to a girl who came from Glasgow. After the last job I did for him, he seemed a bit down for some reason, so we went out for a couple of drinks and he started to open up a bit about his past. It turned out that it was his wedding anniversary, so naturally I asked why he wasn't spending the evening with his wife.’

  ‘He explained that because he'd been caught messing around on several occasions, there had been a period when things weren't so good between them. But they'd talked it through like mature adults and he'd come to a new understanding with his wife about, you know, seeing other people. So, being nosey, I naturally asked him, how does that work? He smiled and said that he was now free to sleep with any female he wanted, any time he wanted and he could even bring them back to the house and use the marital bed. I remember I was quite shocked by that and I said, 'that's incredible, Henry, and your wife's totally cool with that?'

  ‘And that's when he said to me, 'I don't know, Jack. She doesn't speak to me, or live with me anymore.' So that's typical of Henry, he even made a joke about splitting up with his wife. Quite a good one, actually.'

  'Yeah, but I don't think that was a joke, boss. Sounds to me more like a cry for help,' said Annie.

  'Oh, I see what you mean … yeah, maybe you're right. Anyway it turned out the divorce had actually been finalised a month before and he didn't look to me like a man who was dealing with it very well. I tried to cheer him up a bit by sharing some war stories about my own rocky path through the divorce courts, but he wasn't in the mood. Believe it or not, we only had a couple of pints that night and then he said was going to put a bet on and head off home for an early night.'

  'So do you think that's where all the bitterness and rubbish jokes about people from Glasgow comes from?'

  'I think so, Annie. He's probably lonely, that's my guess, and the constant forced hilarity and flirting is all just a front. Some men seem to get stuck in the past and just can't move on. Like the old country song says, "In My Dreams You Still Belong to Me."

  'Oh God, let me take a wild guess. Is that Hank bloody Williams again?' said Annie, rolling her eyes in horror.

  'That was very good, Annie. See … you're learning.'

  'Just promise me you won't start singing it, okay?'

  'Actually, I think behind the brash Hooray Henry act, there's maybe a half-decent bloke hiding in there somewhere.'

  'He keeps it well hidden, that’s all I’m saying. But I'll take your word for it,' said Annie.

  ‘Anyway the bottom line is that, if we take the job, there's a payment of five grand upfront as a retainer. And we've been invited to a party at the client's house in the New Town, on Saturday night. Although it doesn't sound like it'll be much fun because it's formal evening dress, apparently. Henry says here that, if Annie only has her old jeans and Doc Martens boots to wear, I've got to buy you something a bit more glamorous and feminine.'

  'He's a cheeky sod, I can get dressed up if I want to.'

  'It's just that usually you don't want to.'

  'Exactly. I've never felt very girly, ever. But I suppose I could wear the outfit I had on at my granddad's funeral last year. A classic little black dress never goes wrong, does it? Especially when it only cost fifteen pounds from a charity shop. So, if we're going, that's me sorted. How about you? Have you got something suitable to wear?'

  'I've got an old dinner suit I bought twenty-odd years ago, that still fits me. Just. I should be okay, as long as I remember not to sit down, or bend over too quickly. Or eat anything.'

  ‘What’s the occasion?’

  ‘It's a house-warming party, apparently, because the mysterious client only moved in last month after extensive renovations were carried out. Henry's attached several pictures of the property, so we can get our bearings. It's quite a pad … come and see.'

  Annie went around the desks to look over Jack’s shoulder at the iPad screen, as he continued, 'the unnamed client is a wealthy property developer who lives in some style in the New Town. He owns this complete A-listed, five-storey Georgian town house, in Moray Place, which has six bedrooms, four bathrooms and a gym, with sauna and plunge pool, down in the basement. The property overlooks private gardens which are strictly for residents use only. Probably worth around a million and a half to two million pounds, at a conservative estimate. That’s for the house, by the way, not the gardens.’

  'So how come Henry knows this guy?'

  'They go right back to school days, apparently. They both went to Edinburgh Academy back in the Eighties and he seems to have done quite a lot of work for the guy in recent years, on various big deals where a bit of nifty footwork was needed. But the story is that for this particular job, they need people who aren't well known within polite company in the New Town, or the Edinburgh property scene.'

  'So, I take it that's where we come in. The unknown scruff from Glasgow.'

  'Maybe so, Annie, but remember, if we take the job, there’s five grand up front and a grand and a half a day after that. Honestly, they can insult me as much as they want for that kind of money. I don't give a shit. So are we going to go ahead and do this? What do you think?'

  'I still have reservations, but I think that's mainly because I can't stand Henry. You know him a lot better than me and, if you really think that it's all okay, tell him we'll take the case. But let's wait until we have the five grand retainer before we do anything.'

  'Fair enough, Annie. I'll confirm by email and he can make a BACS payment straight into our business account.'

  Jack passed his iPad across to Annie, so she could take another look at the pictures of the sumptuous New Town pad. She finished scrolling through the glossy pictures then sat back, whistled and said, 'this is very impressive, boss. I've heard of the New Town, obviously, and seen pictures of some of the streets, but I've never actually been there myself for a proper look around. Most of the time when I go through to Edinburgh, it's usually at night to go to a gig, or occasionally for a party. But it’s never been anywhere near the New Town.'

  ‘It's very swish as you see, Annie, but also very expensive. The people who live there are a mixture of toffs with old money
, and successful professional types. You know, well-known lawyers, bankers and drug dealers, that kind of thing. I read somewhere that there’s also lots of foreign money going into good quality Edinburgh houses. As they say in the property pages, if you’re looking for classy and understated ambience, look no further.’

  ‘You’re starting to sound a bit like an estate agent yourself.’

  ‘No, it’s just that I really like this part of Edinburgh. Although, admittedly, all the streets in the New Town aren’t quite as nice as Moray Place. But almost all the townhouses and tenement flats in the area do have huge rooms, with high ceilings and ornate plaster cornices. That’s what really catches the eye, when you’re wandering around nosing in the windows. I once spent a couple of weeks working on a job in the area and, when there was nothing much happening, I used to love walking around and just staring at all of the beautiful houses I could never afford. So I actually got to know bits of the New Town quite well and, if we get the chance, I'll give you the guided tour. Don’t get me wrong, Glasgow has some beautiful buildings and streets as well, Annie, but truthfully we've got nothing like Edinburgh’s New Town. Although, to be fair, nobody else has either. It's quite unique and special but please, whatever you do, don't tell Henry I said that.'

  Chapter 30

  The partners had arranged to meet up just before eight o'clock, at Queen Street station. When he arrived ten minutes before the Edinburgh train was due to leave, Jack initially scanned the crowded concourse in vain looking for his young sidekick. Then her distinctive cropped blond hair caught his eye and he hurried across to where she was standing, staring up at the departures board.

 

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