Songs by Dead Girls

by Lesley Kelly

  As she walked away, one of them shouted after her in a broad Glaswegian accent. ‘I think I know the man you want, doll. Come back and we can talk about it.’ He cackled. ‘You can buy us a cup of tea first.’

  ‘Looks like you’ve got a hot lead there, Mrs Kilsyth.’

  She glared at Paterson. ‘At least I’m trying.’

  ‘Trying to do what? Get yourself mugged?’

  ‘What choice did I have? After speaking to you yesterday I didn’t have much faith that you were actually going to do anything. And as the old adage says, if you want something doing, do it yourself.’

  ‘Well you had no need to come all the way down here. I spoke to our HQ and they’ve sent us to retrieve the professor.’

  She looked up and down the length of the Embankment, as if searching for something. ‘Just the two of you?’

  ‘Yes just the two of us! What did you expect? We are trying to be inconspicuous here. Would you prefer it if we had an army of police officers scouring the alleyways of London, and leaking to the press while they do it?’

  She considered this for a moment. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Have you found out anything useful?’ asked Mona.

  ‘I’ve been showing Sandy’s picture to the many gentlemen of the road I have encountered, and several of them are of the opinion they could take me to him right now if I paid them suitable expenses.’

  Paterson smiled. ‘And yet you’re still here.’

  ‘Call me cynical, Mr Paterson, but I’m not sure they’re telling the truth. Nobody has said anything sensible, such as they saw him here last night.’

  ‘Well, you can leave the hunting to us now.’

  ‘I don’t think so!’ She folded her arms. ‘I’m staying right here to make sure that you do actually look for him.’

  ‘And you know a lot about mounting a search do you?’ Paterson indicated the homeless men who were watching their discussions. ‘Another half hour here and you’d have been minus both your purse and your innocence.’

  ‘You’re a few years late to be protecting that, Mr Paterson. Now I may not be trained in the ins and outs of witness recovery, but I’ve been around your kind of institution long enough to spot a token effort when I see one.’

  ‘It’s not token, it’s discreet.’

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Believe me, we are every bit as keen as you to find the professor.’ It was Paterson’s turn to fold his arms. ‘And anyway, I only have your word for it that you are genuinely interested in Professor Bircham-Fowler’s well-being. For all I know you’re spying on him, for persons and reasons unknown.’

  ‘Then I’ve been embedded for a bloody long time!’ She waved a hand at him, dismissing him back in the direction of Hungerford Bridge. ‘Right, have it your way. You continue your investigation and I’ll continue mine.’

  ‘Guv,’ said Mona, a note of concern in her voice. Having Theresa continuing her own search would be disastrous. While she had more faith in Mrs Kilsyth’s ability to look after herself than Paterson did, there was huge potential for her to get into trouble. She could get mugged or attacked, and end up attracting the attention of the police. Or, if she wandered around long enough she was sure to bump into the London equivalent of the HET, who would be busy trying to contain the public health problem presented by a large number of people with uncertain health statuses bedding down together for the night. Either way, if she wound up in trouble it wouldn’t be long before someone questioned why Professor Bircham-Fowler’s secretary was trawling the underpasses of the South Bank.

  ‘Yes, I know, Mona, I get your point. Mrs Kilsyth can assist us, and I mean assist.’ He waggled a finger at her. ‘No telling us what to do, no saying we’re getting it all wrong; in fact, no whinging of any kind.’ He turned the finger back toward himself. ‘I am in charge here.’

  She looked at Mona, and shrugged. ‘Whatever you say – Guv.’

  The address for Elijah was annotated with a description of how to get there.

  ‘We’re looking for a church hall, Guv, down one of these backstreets. I’ll check the map on my phone.’

  ‘Where would we be without the map?’

  Mona glared at his back. Greg’s A–Z app had proved invaluable, even if Paterson did glare at her every time she consulted it. She wondered how he would prefer to navigate the streets of London. He might know every close, cut-through and rat run of Leith, but here they were on foreign territory.

  ‘According to the map, Guv, it’s the next road on the right.’

  ‘Mrs Kilsyth,’ she touched her arm to stop her walking past the turning. ‘We’re down here.’

  ‘Theresa, dear, call me Theresa.’ She smiled and obediently followed her.

  ‘I’m Mona.’

  ‘Mona.’ She nodded. ‘A lovely name. And your boss is called?’

  ‘Mr Paterson,’ said the Guv, without turning round.

  Theresa rolled her eyes. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re visiting a community project. The worker here knows everyone, apparently. Number 27, Guv, this is it.’

  Paterson knocked on the front door, which opened under the force of his fist. ‘Hello?’

  They followed him into an old-fashioned church hall. The wooden floor creaked under their weight. The room had seen better days: the elegant cornicing on the ceiling was offset by the peeling paint on the walls. Half a dozen tables had red polka dot plastic covers over them, and a number of homeless men sat at them, drinking tea. Mona looked them over. They were a mixed bunch: old, young, black, white. The one thing they all had in common was an expression of extreme weariness. As homelessness went, these guys were on the front line. No sofa surfers here, this was the hardcore sleeping-under-bridges brigade.

  There was a serving hatch in the corner of the room, with a strong smell of soup emanating from it. Paterson wandered over and knocked on the wood. ‘Hello?’

  Two middle-aged black women appeared, their hands full of crockery and dishtowels. One of them stepped forward, her eyes full of suspicion. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you. We’re looking for Elijah?’

  A head popped out of a doorway. ‘Someone say my name?’ The accent was broad East End. The man was black, as tall and as broad as the Guv, but wearing a grin that suggested an infinitely more cheerful disposition. ‘Because if you are looking for Elijah, consider him found. How can I help you?’

  ‘We were given your details by Detective Sergeant Paterson. We’re down from Scotland looking for an, ehm, missing person.’

  ‘DS Paterson? A good man. Very understanding when we have our little local difficulties here.’ Elijah laughed, a big booming sound, then shook each of their hands in turn. ‘You guys cops as well?’

  Paterson made a non-committal noise. Fortunately Elijah didn’t follow it up.

  ‘So, who’s the dude you’re looking for? Or is it a lady?’ He looked round the café. ‘We don’t get so many women in here.’

  ‘It’s a man,’ said Mona, and produced the picture of the professor.

  Elijah took it from her and studied it closely. ‘No, sorry. Can’t say I’ve seen him.’

  ‘Take your time.’

  He handed it back. ‘No, really. He’s a weird-looking dude, and I ain’t seen anyone in tweeds like that.’

  ‘Have you seen this woman?’ Theresa elbowed them both out of the way, and waved the photograph of the professor’s daughter.

  Mona wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Paterson radiated even more fury than he had earlier. Elijah looked surprised. ‘Oh, yeah, what’s her name again?’

  ‘You know her?’ asked Paterson. ‘Is she a rough sleeper?’

  ‘Nah, she ain’t no rough sleeper. She works for a charity – the Homeless wotsit UK lot? Know who I mean? This is their annual sleepout.’

  ‘A sleepout?’

  ‘Yeah. They all bed down on the Embankment to draw attention to the lack of resources to tackle homelessness. They always get a few famous p
eople to join them, you know, soap stars, that kind of thing. It gets a lot of publicity for them.’

  ‘Any idea of her name?’

  ‘Oh, now you’re asking.’ Elijah stood staring into space, his brow furled. ‘Lovely girl she is. Sure it was something beginning with M, like Mary or Margaret.’ He slapped his forehead. ‘Maria! Her name’s Maria.’

  ‘Maria Bircham-Fowler?’ asked Theresa, again to the Guv’s annoyance.

  ‘Don’t think so.’ He shook his head. ‘Nah. Weren’t something like that. Something more exotic, I think. I thought she was foreign?’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Mona, reluctant to show her ignorance. Theresa might be able to shine some light on this. ‘Would you be able to give us the proper name of the charity she works for?’

  ‘You people are taxing my brain today! Homeless something UK. Homeless Hearts, I think? Something like that?’

  ‘Hearthless Hearts UK.’ A voice drifted out from the kitchen.

  ‘Antoinette – you are an angel! That woman,’ he pointed into the kitchen, ‘she never forgets anything, not a name, or a face. She’s very popular with our clients. So, if she says Hearthless Hearts UK, then that’s what it will be.’

  ‘Any idea where their offices are?’

  ‘I visited them with one of our gentlemen a while back. They were at Pillars Lane then, but that was probably about a year ago, but I didn’t hear anything about them moving. Antoinette!’ he yelled in the direction of the hatch. ‘Hearthless Hearts – they still down at Pillars Lane?’

  ‘As far as I know.’

  ‘We’ll start there then. Thanks so much for your help.’

  ‘Always happy to support the police. Though we do take donations for our work . . .’

  Paterson smiled and dug into his pockets for a tenner, which he laid on the polka dot table. ‘It’s great that there are immune people like yourself doing this kind of work.’

  ‘Immune?’ Elijah’s big booming laugh sounded again. ‘I ain’t immune.’

  The three of them stared at him.

  ‘Aren’t you scared of catching the Virus?’ asked Theresa.

  ‘Nah.’ He put his hands together as if praying. ‘The Lord will protect me.’

  4

  Alessandra slammed the front door shut behind her, and stomped down the path with Bernard and Carole following in her wake. She tutted impatiently as Bernard struggled to find his car keys. ‘Go and hurry up, will you? I want this over with.’

  ‘If you’d turned up for your scheduled appointment it would be over with,’ said Carole.

  ‘Think you’re smart, don’t you?’

  ‘Found them,’ said Bernard, opening the car. ‘Please get in.’

  Alessandra tutted again, but climbed in without further protest.

  ‘Well, she’s a charmer, isn’t she?’ said Bernard.

  ‘Yeah, but she’s also a woman who is working as a prostitute, and had both her eyes blackened not so long ago. It could all just be front, especially if she thinks that McNiven guy is watching.’

  ‘I suppose. Well, at least we’ve got her to her Health Check.’

  ‘We’re not at the clinic yet. Do you want to ask her questions or shall I?’

  ‘Be my guest.’

  ‘OK.’ Carole turned on the intercom. ‘So, Alessandra, we are here because you missed your Health Check. Was there a reason for that?’

  She shrugged. ‘Just had a lot on.’ She pulled a long strand of hair out at a right angle from her head, and started wrapping it round her fingers. ‘I forgot about it.’

  ‘You know that it’s an offence to miss your Health Check? You’ll get a letter in the post with a warning if this is the first time that you’ve missed a Check, but there will be a fine if it’s happened before.’

  She looked less than terrified at this prospect. ‘Right. Whatever.’

  ‘Have you missed a Health Check before?’

  She appeared to think about this. ‘No.’

  ‘And I need to confirm your address. You said you were living at 84 Morningside Crescent?’

  ‘That’s right. I was just visiting Stevie.’

  ‘So, you’re a friend of Mr McNiven?’

  She looked frustrated. ‘Stevie said I didn’t have to answer any questions, I just need to get the test thing done.’

  Carole turned back to Bernard and switched the intercom off. ‘She seems pretty on edge. Do you think she’s OK?’

  Bernard looked at the passenger in his mirror. ‘It’d be amazing if she could be described as OK, given her photographic history and the company she keeps. Do you think she’s on drugs?’

  ‘Pretty likely. Maybe that’s why she’s in such a mood – she’s in need of a fix?’ She turned the intercom back on. ‘Alessandra, are you OK? Is there anything we can do to help you?’

  ‘I just want to do the bloody test!’

  Bernard winced as the voice came through loud and clear. He pressed the button to give them privacy. A judder went through the car.

  ‘Did she just kick the back of our seats?’ asked Carole.

  ‘I think she did.’ He looked at the mirror again. ‘And I can see her swearing away to herself.’ He started the engine. ‘Let’s get her Health Check over as quickly as possible.’

  ‘OK. But after that I’m going to try again to get her to accept some help.’

  Bernard grunted. He didn’t fancy Carole’s chances.

  ‘Right. We’re here.’ They pulled up at the Health Check Centre, which was located in a doctor’s surgery on Colinton Road.

  ‘I don’t know this one,’ said Carole.

  ‘It was the nearest. Let’s hope they are co-operative.’

  ‘What if they say they can’t do it?’

  ‘Well, the law says they are supposed to prioritise the emergency Health Checks, so let’s hope they are up to date in their training on the legislation. Anyway, I suppose we better get her out.’ He looked at Alessandra in the rear-view mirror. She caught his eye and flicked him the finger. ‘OK, Carole, are you ready for this?’

  ‘Not really. Do you think she’ll try to do a runner?’

  ‘I hope not. Imagine having to go back and tell Maitland we’d lost her? But she’s let us bring her this far, so, come on, let’s get this over with.’

  He held the door open for Alessandra. ‘We’re here.’

  She grunted and slid across fake leather upholstery. As she got out she pushed the door wide, nearly knocking Bernard off his feet. He cursed his stupidity, and was relieved to realise Alessandra wasn’t attempting to make a break for it. In fact, she wasn’t trying to go anywhere. She leaned back against the car, her thumbs tucked into the pockets of her jeans.

  ‘I need a fag before I go in there.’

  Bernard was torn. He hated smoking but he had an overwhelming desire to get the Health Check over, and if a cigarette was going to make it go more quickly . . . ‘OK, but be quick.’

  ‘Well?’ She was looking at him, expectantly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Give me a fag then.’

  ‘I don’t smoke.’

  ‘But I don’t have any fags.’

  Carole took her arm. ‘Then you’re not going to be able to have a smoke before you go in, are you?’

  ‘Fuck’s sake.’ She shook Carole’s hand off, and gave the car a kick with the back of her heel.

  Bernard hoped she hadn’t scraped the paintwork. ‘That’s enough of that.’ He gingerly took her arm, and Carole grabbed the other one.

  ‘Fucking police brutality this.’ She tried to shrug both of them off, and the three of them half-fell through the door into the surgery.

  The waiting room was full. The entire pensioner population of Colinton appeared to have chosen today to visit their GP, and a sea of grey perms turned toward them and watched as Alessandra successfully shook off first Carole’s arm, then his own. She then let rip with a range of profanities that the OAPs were unlikely to have heard before, unless they had spent a considerable part of the
ir youth in the merchant navy. Bernard felt compelled to take control of the situation.

  ‘Enough of that language, Ms Barr,’ he shouted.

  His raised voice woke the only baby in the room, who immediately started to howl. Bernard did his best to ignore the stares, and pulled Alessandra in the direction of the front desk. The receptionist eyed them nervously.

  ‘We’re here from the Health Enforcement Team.’ Bernard flashed his card. ‘We need an emergency Health Check.’

  ‘An emergency Health Check.’ The receptionist looked slightly bemused. ‘I don’t know if we do that.’

  ‘You do,’ said Bernard, hoping to God that the HET’s database was up to date. He couldn’t bear the thought of dragging Alessandra to another clinic.

  She looked doubtful. ‘I’ll speak to the practice nurse.’

  The receptionist reappeared with a woman in her thirties, in the blue tunic and trousers uniform of a practice nurse. ‘You are the gentleman from the HET, I take it, after an emergency Health Check?’

  He nodded, relieved that she seemed to know what he was talking about. She gestured to him to step away from Alessandra, and spoke in a low voice. ‘Is she under arrest?’

  ‘No, just late for her Health Check.’ Bernard passed over his Defaulter sheet. The nurse looked at the picture and winced.

  ‘Is she suffering from drug withdrawal symptoms?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Likely to turn violent?’

  Bernard thought about the footmarks on the car. ‘Possibly. Are you happy to do the Health Check?’

  ‘I’ll do it but I want you and your partner on the other side of the door.’

  He nodded. ‘Just give us a shout if you need us.’

  The nurse turned toward Alessandra. ‘Ms Barr? Shall we go through?’

  ‘’Bout time.’

  Alessandra followed the nurse through the waiting area and into her room. Bernard waved Carole over to him. ‘I said we’d stand just outside the door.’

  Carole nodded. Bernard thought he saw a hint of relief on her face that they’d made it this far. Alessandra was having her Health Check, and as soon as that was completed they would have no further commitment to her. They didn’t even have to offer her a lift home. He wondered if Carole would still be intent on encouraging Alessandra to take up some form of support. Maybe he was getting old and cynical, but he wondered if it was worth it. She wasn’t going to accept their help, he was sure of that. In fact, he was pretty sure that getting her next hit was Alessandra’s main priority. Perhaps they could phone Social Work or something like that, alert them to a vulnerable individual? Although social services’ resources were stretched wafer thin, like everyone else’s.