‘Thanks, mate,’ Dimitri said. ‘None taken.’
‘Your parole people...’ Kenny thought out loud. ‘If you were to be given a desk and a computer with a cheeky wee internet connection, how would they know?’
Dimitri shrugged. ‘Knowing my luck they’d find out. I’m not going back to jail, man. I have a wife and two teenage daughters to take care of.’
‘How do they think you’re making a living right now?’
‘They couldn’t care less, so long as it doesn’t involve a computer.’
‘How can anyone work nowadays without a computer?’
‘You don’t.’
Kenny gave this some thought. ‘True.’ He did have a laptop but he didn’t commit anything from his business onto it.
‘What did you do? Steal millions? Hack into the US defence system?’
Dimitri shook his head.
‘If it wasn’t for money or violence, that leaves a woman?’ Kenny surmised.
Dimitri relaxed back into his chair and looked at Kenny’s glass. ‘If I’m going to tell you this properly, you’re going to need a refill.’
Kenny looked at his watch. He didn’t have to be anywhere. ‘Get me a coffee, will you?’
Dimitri attracted the presence of a waiter and the drinks were ordered and quickly supplied. All the while Dimitri sat in his chair wearing more faces than the town clock. One moment he looked resigned; the next depressed; then anger, then uncertainty. Then back to resigned.
‘I’m really shite at this, aren’t I?’
‘Aye.’ Kenny nodded. ‘You’re a nice guy, Dimitri. What made you try for a life of crime?’
‘There was this guy in the jail...’
‘Guys in jail are full of piss and wind, Dimitri.’
‘Anyway,’ – Dimitri took a sip of his coffee – ‘my entrance to a life of crime was all for the love of a beautiful woman.’
‘Good start, D. There might even be a movie in here.’
‘Shut the fuck up, Kenny, and let me tell it.’
Kenny, impressed with the assertive side of Dimitri, did as he was told and shut the fuck up.
‘Her name was Elizabeth. Gorgeous woman. Sexiest woman I’ve ever met.’ His eyes all but glazed over at the thought of her. ‘What did she see in me? Bald, overweight, hairy like a chimp.’
‘Don’t tell me... you’ve a nine-inch tongue and you can breathe through your ears?’
Dimitri stuck his tongue out and grinned. ‘Anyway, we had an affair. I swear to God I’ve never been unfaithful before, but this woman... out of my league. It was like Man United playing Stranraer. Whatever she saw in me, she saw in me. I wasn’t complaining.’ His eyes drifted away from Kenny and into the past. ‘Long story short. We were going to run away together. She booked a room in one of the Hiltons in London. From there we were going to jump on a plane and go to Spain.’
He sipped from his cup and swallowed like it pained him. ‘She wasn’t at the hotel. Nor did she arrive the next day. I got a text – a fucking text – to say that she couldn’t go through with it. Too many people would get hurt.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘What’s a guy to do? I made a fool of myself with this girl. I was humiliated. I needed to say something, do something, yeah? But first I had to find her. She wasn’t answering her phone. So I got this not-so-clever idea of hacking into the hotel computer.’ He made a cheeky wee face. ‘It was SO easy. But there was nothing under her booking that I didn’t already know... her email, mobile number, address. Just then it occurred to me that there must have been loads of couples staying in that hotel that weekend who weren’t with who they were supposed to be.
‘It was just a harmless prank, right? I emailed everyone staying at the hotel that weekend and thanked them for their custom. Offered them all a free weekend if they re-booked within six months. I was just messing around, man.
‘During my trial, the papers reported that as a result of my email fourteen married couples split up. The wives or husbands who hadn’t been there, for whatever reason, intercepted the email and found out their partners had been doing the dirty on them.’
Kenny laughed. ‘Oh man, that is brilliant. Wouldn’t it have been great to see their faces?’
‘Who cheats and leaves a joint email address? Fucking idiots. My guess is they wanted to get caught. In any case, the hotel group got so many complaints they ran the diagnostics and found my IP address. I got eighteen months and lost my job.’ He squeezed his cheeks into a smile. ‘At least the wife took me back.’
‘And now you need to pay her back by earning some good money?’
Dimitri nodded.
‘How much you been earning in your new life of crime?’
‘Fifteen, give or take.’
‘Pathetic.’ Fifteen thousand.
Dimitri nodded.
Kenny shook his head. ‘You need a change in career. You need to use your skills and I’m the man to help you.’ Kenny looked into his eyes. ‘How are you at serving beer?’
‘Eh?’
‘Bar Manager is the front, but you’ll spend most of your time in the office on the computer doing special tasks for me. How does thirty thou a year sound?’ He would be a manager in one of Kenny’s bars. Which one, he wasn’t quite sure yet, but that would be the front. His real job would be in computers. It was about time Kenny went digital. Better records meant work analysed and lessons learned. Lessons learned meant more money. ‘But first...’
Dimitri opened his mouth. A sound like the chirp of a bird sounded. He coughed. ‘Aye?’ was all he could muster.
‘Got a pen?’
A nod.
‘Write this down...’ Kenny waited for Dimitri to locate a spare piece of paper in his filofax, while inwardly groaning – a fucking filofax. Then he gave Dimitri a name and a date.
‘He’s my father. He disappeared eighteen years ago and you’re going to help me find him.’
20
Mason Budge was wearing a grey suit, white shirt and black shoes. He looked like any other prosperous young man walking his way through this part of the city. Tilting his neck, Mason extended his view up the height of the buildings that surrounded him. Red sandstone cut in ornate shapes, large windows giving way to high ceilings.
The people who built Glasgow must have made shitloads of money back in the day, he thought. Sugar, cotton, slaves and a serious lack of conscience had contributed to the city’s wealth in those times. You do what you know until you know better, Mason had once heard some uppity black woman say on TV.
What if you never learn to know what ‘better’ looks like, he grinned to himself.
A tall woman, bobbed-blonde in tight jeans walking towards him read the smile and thought it was aimed at her. She smiled back.
Mason sent his eyes on the slow slide down her body. He liked what he saw. Her jeans looked expensive and didn’t appear like they had much trouble containing the curves. Up close, her skin was lined and her eyes heavily made-up. Didn’t bother him; he liked older women. He winked and walked past her. As he did so he drawled, ‘Made my day, darling.’
He caught the woman’s answering blush and delighted smile. Nice to be nice, Mason thought, but it wouldn’t do to dally with the locals. Especially not when he was trying to be all invisible and stuff. Making like a ninja cowboy.
Walking backwards for a few steps he checked out the woman from behind. Nice ass, he thought. He stopped and caught up with her. He could have some fun with this one. Fuck with her mind. He had the time and he wasn’t so close to his destination that two and two would later add up to a police witness.
‘Hi,’ she breathed. Pleased and wary at the same time.
‘What say you and me have a party?’
‘Ehm, I’m sorry,’ she said pushing a strand of hair behind an ear. ‘You’re being very forward, son.’
Mason smiled his bes
t smile. Up close, she wasn’t half bad. Once you got past the loose skin on her neck.
‘Don’t you know young men nowadays got a thing about older women? Milfs, we call ’em.’
She crossed her arms and looked up and down the street; obviously, she wasn’t quite ready to trust him. Mason followed her line of sight. Nobody was paying any attention whatsoever. He could pull this woman into the doorway behind her and no one would see a thing.
‘Milf?’ the woman asked, her smile growing warmer as she looked him up and down, liking what she saw and flattered that someone so much younger than her would pay her any attention. Mason hooked his wallet out of his pocket and, as he spoke, he pulled out some notes.
‘Mother I’d Like to Fuck,’ he explained and counted out some money, ignoring her indignant gasp. ‘Fifty do for a blowjob?’
‘I’m a grandmother now, son, and I’d still be way too much work for your scrawny wee arse.’ She put both hands on his chest and pushed him away. ‘Away and have a wank.’ She turned and walked away so fast her high heels were clicking up a storm on the stone.
Mason chuckled at her spirit. He could have had a lot of fun with this one. Shame he was on the clock. Places to be and all that.
Things to do.
People to kill.
21
By the time Kenny had talked things through with Dimitri he had six missed calls on his mobile. One was from a number he didn’t recognise, four were from Alexis and one from Ian. On dialling his answering service a voice told him he had four messages and he guessed they would all be from Alexis.
He should call them both but couldn’t be arsed talking to either. His head was full of the plans he had for Dimitri. This man could be a real big help to him. The idea to have him do a search for his father hadn’t even been in his thoughts when he began to outline what he was looking for. Then it just came pouring out.
‘The human mind is a funny thing,’ he said out loud as he sparked the ignition. Enjoying the purr of the engine, and thinking of whom he needed to phone – the delay before the inevitable – he sat back in the chair and exhaled. Kenny believed in getting the difficult jobs out of the way first, and then he could get on with having a good time without the distraction of worry.
Alexis could wait; she’d only be looking for an answer from her prospective pimp. Wearing a grimace, he dialled Ian’s number. It went straight to answerphone.
‘Ian, it’s me. Gimme a call.’
With a different grimace he tried Alexis. She answered straightaway. Kenny couldn’t make out much of what she was saying given the fact she was hysterical.
‘You’re what?’ Kenny asked, his stomach churning in reaction to her distress. ‘Babe, you’re going to have to calm down. I can’t understand a word.’ The signal faded and her voice came through in snatches, as if a violent wind had torn every other word from her mouth. Then the signal was gone.
What the fuck?
What should he do? Part of her anxiety had transmitted to him. Something had gone terribly wrong. He put the car in gear and made for the car park exit. So lost was he in thought that he missed the halting wave offered to him from his newest employee.
Kenny hit the M8 into the city centre. He sent a prayer of thanks to the traffic gods that the Kingston Bridge was quiet and he was soon heading through the city centre towards the Merchant City.
The build-up of traffic was his first warning. The next was the blue flashing lights. Like every one ever caught up in a worrying scenario, he just knew that the lights were flashing from the home he was headed towards.
Alexis’ street was blocked off. Police cars and police officers were everywhere. Kenny gripped the steering wheel tighter. There wouldn’t be this much of a police presence if for a call out to a beaten prostitute. Somebody had to have died here.
He took the detour offered by the uniformed guys and took a left and another left, knowing it would bring him back in to Alexis’ street from another angle. It was also blocked off. From here he could see an ambulance parked at an angle facing in to Alexis’ front door. A paramedic in his green all-in-one uniform was talking to a guy in a suit. He recognised the guy. It was Ray McBain.
He found a space outside a café further down the street. Then he picked his phone from his pocket and sent a text.
Big favour. Meet me outside the café round the corner. Right now. Then as an afterthought he added, Please.
Fuck off. Very busy, read the almost instant reply.
Kenny raged. Realised he was overreacting, but still called Ray a prick. He forced himself to calm down. Demanding anything of Ray McBain was only going to seriously piss the man off.
A flash of insight shot into his brain. He had been talking to Alexis, what, thirty minutes ago? From the look of the set-up outside her flat the emergency services had been there for longer than that. So whoever had died, and a murder was almost certainly what had happened here, it wasn’t Alexis.
So who was it?
He thumbed the keyboard on his phone and sent another text.
Big favour. Before you go back to the office to do your typing thing. Come and speak to me. Will make it worth your while.
No tongues, was the reply. Kenny grinned. McBain might be a mate but he was a typical cop. All he was interested in was information.
McBain kept him waiting for over an hour, during which time Kenny continuously dialled Alexis. No reply.
‘Help you?’ McBain asked when he opened the passenger door and sat down. It was now dark and the streetlight offered a red tinge to his face.
‘Someone was murdered here, yeah?’
Ray just looked at him. Made a face. ‘And I should tell you before the next of kin knows, why?’
‘Which flat was it?’
‘What am I, your bitch?’
‘Ray,’ – Kenny waved a slow-down motion – ‘this isn’t idle curiosity. A friend of mine lives in that building. What number flat was it?’
Ray relented when he saw how worried Kenny was. ‘12B.’
Kenny sat back in his chair and exhaled sharply. That was Alexis’ flat.
‘Emergency services got a call about an hour ago from a neighbour. She said there was some thumping noises and a loud scream.’ Ray looked at his friend, not sure if he should be concerned on his behalf. ‘It wasn’t pretty, mate.’
‘Do you have an ID on the dead woman? Do you know yet who she is... was?’ Kenny had already reasoned that it couldn’t be Alexis, but he had to be sure.
‘Unusually for a woman, she had very little in her handbag. No bank or credit cards...’
‘Ray, do you know who she was?’ Kenny’s heart was thumping. He wiped his palms dry on his thighs.
‘No. Not yet. But we know the flat is owned by a private landlord. As most of them are in these parts.’ He looked up at the buildings around him as if their owners’ names were going to flash from the windows.
‘You have a name for the landlord?’ Kenny asked, wondering if Alexis had set up some form of property firm and then rented a flat out to herself.
‘Some faceless corporation,’ Ray answered. ‘We’ve yet to run down the facts on that.’
Kenny paused, almost afraid to ask. ‘What can you tell me about the dead woman?’
Ray chewed on the inside of his cheek as if wondering just what to say. ‘Describe your friend.’
‘Long blonde hair...’
Ray nodded.
Kenny’s gut churned.
‘Hard to judge given that she was lying down, but I’d say about five feet-ish. Not the tallest?’
Kenny leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. ‘Good, good...’ It wasn’t her. Alexis was tall for a woman. Five ten.
‘Glad I cleared that up for you,’ Ray said. ‘Now how about you explain why I am sitting in your car right now? What’s going on, Kenny?�
��
‘Do you not need to go back to...?’
‘Kenny, what’s going on? What do you know?’
‘I’ll drop you off at your car?’ Kenny fired the ignition.
‘O’Neill, if you don’t tell me why you’ve just dragged me away from a fucking murder investigation, I’ll do you with wasting police time.’
‘Okay, okay, keep your hair on, big guy,’ Kenny said and shut down the engine. ‘I don’t know who the dead girl might be. But that flat is where my girlfriend stayed... or worked out of.’
‘What do you mean... worked out of?’
Kenny made a face.
‘Oh. Right. Worked out of.’ The penny dropped with McBain.
‘Yeah. She’s a prostitute... my friend is a prostitute. The girl you found might also be...’
‘And this wasn’t just a trick turned sour, judging by the amount of concern you are showing?’
Kenny nodded. ‘She asked me if I could go into business with her. She was high class, but she still needed a strong arm around the place in case... you know.’ It was pointless to point out what ‘in case’ might refer to.
‘Did your friend need protection from punters or something more...’ – Ray searched for the right word – ‘...organised?’
Kenny nodded. ‘She won’t tell me who, but some Mr Big has been trying to keep her for himself.’
Ray stared ahead, working on a theory; processing all of the information. Kenny watched him and thought that his friend suddenly looked tired. No, not tired; his features suggested a mix of frustration, disgust and bone-weariness.
Kenny looked at the curve of the steering wheel, the dash and his hands. Everything wore a flash of red. Like the car had its own personal wee sunset. He leaned forward and looked up. A street sign on the wall above spelled out the word Parking in neon crimson. Kenny wondered what that colour might be called in a decorator’s chart – murderous red?
Ray shook his head, slow and measured. His eyes looked as if they were unable to contain everything they had witnessed.
Beyond the Rage Page 11
