by Bill Daly
‘When will you be back to Glasgow?’
‘Tonight. I’m booked on the half-past six train. What’s up, Gavin?’ Stuart asked, yawning. ‘You said it was something important?’
Gavin hesitated. ‘The cops are trying to pin Murdoch’s murder on me.’
‘Fucking hell!’
‘I have to talk to the police today. I’m going to tell them that we went to the First Tiger gig together on Saturday night, but my uncle is convinced they’ll still try to stitch me up, so you’re sure to get a visit from the cops before long.’
‘That’s not a problem.’
‘If there’s any difference in what we say to them, they won’t let it go. My uncle says the bastards will stop at nothing in order to get a result. I’ll give you call later on, when you’re on the train, to make sure we both tell them the same story. Is that okay?’
‘Sure.’
Disconnecting, Gavin steeled himself before clicking onto Andy Carter’s number.
‘Where are you?’ Andy demanded as soon as he heard Gavin’s voice.
‘I’m at Lesley Adams’ place.’
‘What the hell’s going on, Gavin? I tried calling you half a dozen times yesterday, but all I got was your bloody answering service.’
‘I didn’t have my phone with me yesterday.’
‘That bird of yours phoned me. She told me that Anderson had arranged to come to see you on Thursday night, but you’d done a runner. She wanted to know if you were here.’
‘It was nothing, Andy. I just made myself scarce. I didn’t want to talk to Anderson.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Gavin! Don’t do daft stuff like that. If Anderson wants to talk to you, you have to see him. All you need to do is stick to the story we agreed and everything will be fine.’
‘I need to talk to you, Andy.’
‘What about?’
‘Not on the phone. Can I come across to your place just now?’
‘All right.’
Jack Mulgrew was sitting at his kitchen table, munching a slice of toast, when Charlie Anderson rang his doorbell.
‘What the hell do you want now?’ Mulgrew whined when he opened the door of his flat and saw Charlie and Tony standing there.
‘How about you tell us what really happened last Saturday?’ Charlie said as he stepped inside.
‘I’m sick and tired of telling you,’ Mulgrew complained as Tony followed Charlie in, closing the door behind him. ‘Andy Carter and a bloke called Gavin nailed me to the bog door in The Jacobite Arms.’
‘We know that Andy Carter attacked you,’ Tony said, ‘but we also know that Gavin was nowhere near The Jacobite Arms last Saturday.’
‘So maybe I misheard the lad’s name? Maybe it wasn’t Gavin? It could’ve been George, I suppose. My hearing’s not all that great. Tall bloke, about twenty, spiky hair.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a very good description of Jim Colvin,’ Tony said.
‘Who’s Jim Colvin?’
‘Surely you remember him?’ Tony said. ‘He told me you lent him a hundred quid last month when he was skint.’
‘Did I? My memory’s not great either. If he says that’s what happened, I suppose it must be right.’
‘How come you had money like that to lend?’ Tony asked.
‘I remember now,’ Mulgrew said, snapping his fingers. ‘I had a good win on the gee-gees last month. I picked up a few hundred quid.’
‘Cut the crap, Mulgrew,’ Charlie interjected. ‘We know who nailed you to the bog door in the pub, and it wasn’t a bloke called Gavin.’
‘Like I said, his name might’ve been George – or maybe it was Gerry? Come to think of it, Gerry sounds familiar. It might very well have been Gerry.’
‘I’m beginning to get annoyed, Mulgrew,’ Charlie growled. ‘Very annoyed. We are conducting a murder investigation and if you persist with this half-baked story you’re going to end up on a charge of perverting the course of justice. Now, for the last time, tell me what happened to you last Saturday. Who attacked you in The Jacobite Arms?’
‘Andy Carter.’
‘And who else?’ Charlie demanded.
Mulgrew looked Charlie straight in the eye. He licked at his lips slowly before replying. ‘A young bloke called Gavin, I think – or maybe it was Gerry.’
Tony glanced across at Charlie, who nodded. Opening the door of the flat, they let themselves out.
As she was standing on the platform at Partick Station, waiting for the train to Westerton to arrive, Lesley Adams tried to figure out what was going on. She was totally confused – and she was worried. What had happened to Gavin? Why had he made himself scarce when he knew Inspector Anderson was coming to see him? Where had he been for the last two nights? Were the police really trying to pin John Preston’s murder on him? Gavin had told her that he’d gone to a gig in Edinburgh with his pal, Stuart – and she believed him. So what was all this about him claiming to have been in The Jacobite Arms with his uncle? Was Gavin trying to cover up for Andy, provide him with an alibi? Everything would get straightened out when the police got in touch with Stuart and he confirmed that Gavin was with him in Edinburgh. But if things were as straightforward as that, why had Gavin gone to such great lengths to avoid talking to Anderson?
When the train pulled up at the platform, Lesley got on board. She would have to put Gavin’s problems to the back of her mind. She’d be spending time with her mother today and, as with every other visit for the past two years, she wondered if her mother would recognise her.
When she arrived at reception in the Westerton, Lesley bumped into the senior staff nurse.
‘How is my mother today, Emily?’ Lesley asked.
‘She was very confused this morning. She’s having a real problem with her short term memory these days.’
‘Tell me about it!’ Lesley said.
‘By the way,’ Emily said. ‘We had a police officer round here a couple of days ago. He was asking about you.’
‘Really? What did he want?’
‘He wanted to know if you were here last Saturday. When I told him you were, he wanted to know what time you left the building. All very mysterious.’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I told him I’d seen you with your mother around ten thirty, but I’d no idea what time you left.’
‘I can’t even remember that myself,’ Lesley said, thumbing back through the pages of the visitors’ book. ‘Ah, here it is. Ten forty-five. Miracles will never cease. For once, I actually remembered to sign out.’
‘What was that all about?’ Emily asked. ‘Why was he asking those questions?
’‘I’ve no idea,’ Lesley said, glancing at her watch. ‘I’m sorry, Emily. I don’t have time to stand around and chat. I need to go up and see my mother,’ she added, walking across and pressing the button to call the lift.
Harry Thompson liked to start his rounds early on Saturday mornings so he could get to the pub in time for a lunchtime game of darts with his mates. There were nine girls he had to collect from today, now that the Nigerian bird had decided to join the club. Harry had been confident that she would. The girls were always shocked at first by the suggestion that they should go on the game, but when they had time to think things through, they nearly always decided to go along with it, the alternative being so much worse. They had to hand over half their takings to pay for the lawyer, but they got to keep the other half for themselves. That wasn’t a bad deal.
Jim Colvin was pleased with Harry for signing up the new girl. On top of his basic pay, Harry got ten percent commission on the girls’ takings – which amounted to a lot more than he ever used to earn delivering pizzas.
*
Gavin Carter rehearsed over and over again what he was going to say to his uncle while he was on his way across to Maryhill on the bus. He knew Andy would be spitting blood when he told him he was going to change his story, but sticking to Andy’s version of events wasn’t going to work. The cops knew fine well he w
asn’t in The Jaco last Saturday and there was nothing he could say or do that would convince them otherwise. If he told them he was in Edinburgh – and Stuart backed that story up – that would work. But he had no idea how he would be able to convince Andy of that.
Getting off the bus, Gavin walked to the mouth of Andy’s close, then slowly climbed the stairs to the third floor. He felt his heart rate quicken as he knocked on the door.
‘What happened to you?’ Gavin stammered, staring at Andy’s bruised face when he opened the door.
‘It’s nothing,’ Andy assured him. ‘I’m okay.’
‘Who did that to you?’
‘A couple of Jim Colvin’s goons.’
‘Why?’
‘Colvin wasn’t at all happy when he found out I’d told the cops that it was you and me who had nailed Mulgrew in The Jaco. He was worried that it might come back and bite him, so I was taught a lesson for stepping out of line.’
‘Fucking hell!’
‘Don’t worry about it, son. Making sure you have an alibi is a lot more important than a couple of black eyes. Come on in and tell me what it was that you didn’t want to talk about on the phone.’
Gavin hesitated. ‘It’s about the alibi, Andy. I don’t think it’s going to work.’
‘What the hell are you on about? Of course it’s going to work. All you have to do is stick to the story we agreed and everything will be fine. Don’t add any bells and whistles. Don’t say anything to the cops that we haven’t discussed.’
‘Andy… I don’t want to do that. The cops will trip me up – I know they will. Or else Mulgrew will crack. Then I’ll really be in deep shit. The fuzz will know that I killed Murdoch.’
‘Leave me to take care of Mulgrew. I’ll make sure he doesn’t crack. And anyway, you can’t change your story now, Gavin. That’s a surefire way for the cops to know that you did in Murdoch.’
‘I want to tell the polis that I was in Edinburgh with Stuart, Andy,’ Gavin pleaded. ‘I can make that story stick. I know I can.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Gavin – don’t even think about going there! Listen to me and listen good. I’m looking at a six month stretch inside because I told the cops I’d nailed Mulgrew – and the only reason I did that was to give you an alibi. Then I got this,’ he added, pointing at his face, ‘because I pissed Jim Colvin off by telling the cops that you were with me in The Jaco when Mulgrew got nailed, so don’t give me any crap about changing your story now and saying you were in Edinburgh with your pal. It wouldn’t take the cops five minutes to prove that was a load of old bollocks. You were with me in The Jaco on Saturday night. Full stop. Have you got that?’
‘But, Andy..’ Gavin sank his teeth into his quivering lower lip.
‘No buts,’ Andy snapped, grabbing Gavin by his shoulders and pulling him towards him, their foreheads touching. ‘Have you fucking-well got that?’ he mouthed in Gavin’s face.
‘Aye,’ Gavin muttered.
‘Now get your arse out of here and go and see Anderson straight away,’ Andy said, slowly releasing his grip. ‘Come up with a good excuse for why you weren’t in your bird’s flat on Thursday night when he came to see you. Then tell him exactly the same story we told O’Sullivan. Word for word. You were with me in The Jaco at half-past ten last Saturday night when we nailed Mulgrew’s hand to the bog door. Right?’
‘Okay, Andy,’ Gavin mumbled. ‘Okay.’
‘And for God’s sake, make it sound fucking convincing,’ Andy growled.
CHAPTER 24
Grace Adams had good days and bad days. This was a particularly bad day.
‘Who are you?’ she asked, sitting on the edge of the upright chair in her room, wringing her skeletal hands together.
‘I’m Lesley, Mum.’
‘I don’t know anyone called Lesley.’
‘I’m your daughter.’
‘I don’t have a daughter.’
‘Yes, you do, Mum. You have two daughters.’
Lesley sat down on the bed and took her mother’s hands in hers.
Grace furrowed her brow. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I come to see you every week.’
‘Do you?’ Grace shook her head in confusion as she slumped back in her chair.
‘I brought some photos to show you,’ Lesley said, letting go of her mother’s hands and producing a battered photograph album from her handbag. She opened it at the first page and handed it across. ‘This is one of you and Dad on your honeymoon.’
Grace peered at the photograph over the top of her spectacles. ‘That’s me and Archie,’ she said, her red-rimmed eyes lighting up as her finger slowly traced the two smiling figures, sitting hand-in-hand on a bench on a wide promenade. It was low tide and the sun was setting. In the background, the sandy beach at Scarborough stretched a long way out towards the sea. ‘I’ve never seen this photo before,’ Grace said.
‘Yes you have, Mum,’ Lesley said, doing her best to suppress a sigh. ‘Last week,’ she muttered under her breath, ‘and the week before - and the bloody week before that, you –’
‘Eh? What was that you said?’
‘Nothing, Mum.’
‘I got a text from Tom Freer with the Parkers’ address, sir,’ Tony said to Charlie.
‘Where do they live?’
‘In Nitshill.’
‘Put their address into the sat nav and we’ll swing by their place on the way back to the office,’ Charlie said. ‘With a bit of luck, Mrs Parker might be home by now.’
When they drew up outside the Parkers’ residence, Charlie pointed to a vehicle parked a few yards further along the street. ‘It looks like our luck is in. That’s the car that was in Malcolm Steel’s drive earlier this morning.’
When Charlie rang the bell, Donald Parker came to the door.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you at home on a Saturday morning, Mr Parker,’ Charlie said. ‘Would it be possible for us to have a word with your wife?’
‘I’m afraid not, Inspector. At least, not today. She’s down in Derby, visiting her sister. She won’t be back until tomorrow. Can I ask what it is you want to talk to her about?’
‘How did she travel down to Derby?’ Charlie asked.
‘She drove.’
‘Is that not her car parked outside?’ Charlie asked.
‘That is her car. But she took mine to go to Derby. It’s more comfortable for a long journey.’ Parker looked perplexed. ‘Would you mind telling me what this is all about?’
‘Maybe it’s not your wife we want to talk to after all,’ Charlie said. ‘Maybe it’s you. Were you visiting Malcolm Steel last night?’
Parker’s face flushed.
‘I paid Mr Steel a visit earlier this morning,’ Charlie said, ‘and your wife’s car was parked in his drive. Were you in his house at the time?’ Parker’s Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed hard. ‘Were you there?’ Charlie repeated.
Parker nodded, his eyes cast down.
‘Did you overhear the conversation I had with Mr Steel?’
‘I did,’ he said quietly.
‘So is it you that Mr Steel is trying to protect?’ Charlie asked. ‘Are you the friend whose name he refused to give us?’
Parker nodded again.
‘Were you also with Mr Steel last Saturday night?’ Charlie asked. ‘On the night John Preston was murdered?’
‘I was. My wife’s been down in Derby for the past fortnight, Inspector. Malcolm and I have been seeing quite a lot of each other while she’s been away.’
‘As you overheard what was said this morning, you will know that I told Mr Steel to be in my office at twelve o’clock today.’
‘Malcolm and I talked things through after you left. He will be coming to see you later this morning. I told him that he had to tell the police about us, otherwise he’s going to get implicated in John Preston’s murder, but he’s not prepared to do that. He doesn’t want me – or the school – to have to face the adverse publicity that making our relationship public wo
uld attract.’
‘In that case, I suggest that you be in my office at twelve o’clock as well, Mr Parker, so we can get this sorted out.’
Parker nodded his agreement.
‘Happy birthday to you!’ Tony chanted when Sue took his call.
‘Thanks.’
‘Did you get my card?’
‘Yes, you cheeky bugger!’
Tony laughed. ‘What are your plans for today?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to take Jamie to the Riverside Museum this afternoon. We went there just after it opened a few months ago and he’s been nagging me ever since to take him back.’
‘Would it be okay if I come round to your place this evening?’ Tony asked.
‘Will you be able to get away?’
‘I hope I’ll be able to knock off at a reasonable time. I think your Dad’s feeling a bit guilty about your birthday arrangements getting messed up.’
‘So he should.’
‘Assuming I can get away, what do you fancy doing this evening?’
‘Definitely not what you suggested in your birthday card!’
‘Ah, well, nothing ventured –,’ Tony said with an exaggerated sigh. ‘I suppose that means I’ll have to settle for the bit between your teeth and a three-line whip.’
‘It’s either that, or eggs, beans and chips.’
‘Tough call.’
Harry Thompson looked at his watch. He was making good progress this morning – might even get to the pub early for once. Only one more to collect from, the new Nigerian girl.
Harry straightened his tie as he rang Chibundo Ikande’s doorbell. She pressed the buzzer to let him in.
‘Do you have the money for the lawyer?’ Harry asked.
‘No.’
Harry shrivelled his brow. ‘What do you mean by ‘no’?’
‘I didn’t do it – I couldn’t go through with it.’
‘But I fixed you up with a good client.’
‘I didn’t go to see him.’
‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at? You do realise that if you don’t have a lawyer to lodge an appeal on your behalf, you and your daughter will be deported?’
‘I spoke to my social worker. She’s going to help me. She thinks I might qualify for legal aid. She said she’d look into that for me. She thinks I’ve got a good case.’
