Songs by Dead Girls

by Lesley Kelly

  ‘I’ll put these in the bin.’ Kate started to pick up takeaway cartons and plates.

  ‘No, let me.’ Bernard made to stand up.

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ She motioned to him to sit back down. ‘You’ve had a terrible shock. You take it easy.’

  As soon as Kate was out of the room the look on Maitland’s face morphed from miserable to murderous. He unwrapped his long legs and aimed a kick in Bernard’s direction. ‘You could have stayed in a hotel you know,’ he hissed.

  Bernard was hit with a redoubled willingness to help Kate, and get out of reach of her boyfriend’s foot. He picked up the remaining plates. ‘Not with some unidentified hard man looking for me.’ He backed out of the living room, with Maitland still glaring at him, and shouted back. ‘For all I know Alessandra Barr’s boyfriend wants to kill me. I mean we’ve both seen the photo of what he did to her.’

  The living room held its silence.

  ‘Alessandra,’ said Kate. ‘Is that Spanish or Italian?’

  Maitland pushed past Bernard and helped himself to a beer from the fridge. ‘We shouldn’t be talking shop.’

  ‘It is Italian, I think,’ said Bernard, ignoring him. ‘Which is interesting, now that I come to think about it. We haven’t really explored that angle. Maitland, do we have any contacts in the Scottish-Italian community that might know her? And it’s OK, I didn’t want a beer.’

  ‘It’s OK, you weren’t being offered one.’ He took a long drink. ‘Hmm, tasty.’

  ‘Maitland!’

  He shot a sulky look at Kate, but opened the fridge. Bernard quickly retrieved a bottle of Bud before Maitland ‘accidentally’ shut his head in the door.

  ‘Italian-Scottish.’ Maitland’s expression changed to one of grudging acceptance. ‘Well for once, Bernie, I think you’ve come up with something that’s not totally a bad idea. There’s a guy I worked with when I was a cop who was Italian. Well, of Italian descent anyway. Jimmy Rossi. Give me two minutes.’

  Bernard and Kate installed themselves in front of the TV. She flicked through the channels, but kept the sound muted, which Bernard took as a signal that she was really after conversation. ‘Sorry for ruining your date night.’

  She patted his knee. ‘There will be plenty other date nights. Maitland would never have forgiven himself if anything had happened to you tonight.’

  Bernard wondered, not for the first time, if Kate had an entirely accurate picture of her boyfriend. He also wondered how someone as intelligent as Kate – who was, according to Maitland, on course for a First in her degree – could possibly be gullible enough to swallow Maitland’s nice guy persona. Maybe the fact she was studying Divinity was something to do with it. She was probably pre-programmed to see the good in everyone, even Maitland. He forced his lips into a smile. ‘Well, he is very considerate.’

  Kate settled on the TV news, and current affairs took up all of Bernard’s attention. The Virus was not the first item, which was good because there were obviously no heightened threats. It was also bad, because it meant that the Virus had slipped from being the lead item to being routine news to be fitted in between cabinet rebellions, trade talks and the And Finally heart-warming closer. Virus news coverage had passed from acute to chronic.

  The ad break came on and he realised that Maitland hadn’t reappeared. From the way she was staring at the door, Kate seemed to have the same thought. ‘Is Maitland still on the phone?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll go and see.’

  He knocked gently on the bedroom door. ‘Maitland?’

  His colleague was sitting on the end of the bed, his phone in hand. ‘I think we’re in trouble.’

  Bernard felt a sudden weakness in his legs. He sat down heavily beside Maitland. ‘Oh, God. Why?’

  ‘I’ve just had a very detailed family history of the Barrs. Apparently they’re a big Glaswegian drug family . . .’

  ‘How could you not know that? You were in the police!’

  ‘Yeah, for a whole eighteen months before I got seconded to the dead-end street of the HET. And I was based in Edinburgh. I could have told you who was dealing in Leith or Craigmillar but expecting me to know the ins and outs of the West Coast suppliers is a bit much.’

  ‘OK, sorry. I’m just feeling a bit nervous. I don’t like the thought of a major bunch of drug dealers visiting me at home.’

  ‘You’re fine. Stop worrying.’ His brusque reassurance was slightly undermined by him walking through to the hall and locking and bolting his front door. Bernard followed him but was shooed back into the room, and Maitland pulled the door shut behind them. ‘Kate doesn’t need to hear all this. Anyway, the Barrs. Or as they were originally, the Baresi family. Arrived here from the backwoods of Italy, and set themselves up in Glasgow back in the 1920s. The first thing Papa Baresi did was anglicise the family name, hence the Barrs.’

  ‘But Alessandra is a totally Italian name.’

  ‘I know. Old Man Baresi thought changing his name would make it easier to fit in, but from the sound of things their name was the only thing they changed. They kept all the Italian traditions, and later generations went overboard on the Italian first names.’

  ‘Why didn’t they change their name back to Baresi?’

  ‘I don’t know! This is all third-hand via my colleague; I’m not an expert on the history of the Glaswegian Italian community. But if I had to speculate, I’d say that because they did such a bang-up job of creating the Barr brand as being a bunch of nutters who would stab you as soon as look at you, they probably thought it was too good to waste.’ He stood up. ‘I’m just going to check that lock again.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Bernard sat down again on the edge of Maitland’s bed, and tried to breathe. ‘I’m not sure that this is making a lot of sense. I’m getting the impression from our investigations that Alessandra Barr is a prostitute, working in Edinburgh. Doesn’t really fit in with her being from a big Glasgow family. Or with her being a prostitute.’

  ‘But the Glaswegians were looking to move into the East Coast drugs market – there was a memo or something?’

  Bernard glared at him. ‘Yes, Maitland, apparently there is a memo.’

  ‘I’m going to have a look at that paperwork Police Scotland gave you as soon as I get back.’

  Bernard realised to his extreme dismay that Maitland had just picked up his coat. ‘Back?’

  ‘Yeah, don’t wet yourself, but I’m going to have to escort Kate back to her halls.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m not having her travelling back alone with these nutters out there. You’ll be fine here. Just be sure to lock the door behind us.’

  ‘Maitland, am I in danger?’

  Maitland paused for rather longer than Bernard would have liked. ‘Short answer, Bernie, is that I don’t know. We need to get rid of that mad bat Carlotta tomorrow, then as soon as she’s out the door we’re talking to Police Scotland. We’ve got a contact for them, haven’t we, on those sheets you gave me?’

  Bernard nodded.

  ‘We’re going to have to put your case on hold until they tell us it’s safe to proceed. Maybe they can get us some back-up, or something. Anyway, Paterson will be back soon and all this will be his problem.’ He stood up and shouted, ‘Kate, come on, I’ll see you home.’

  Bernard hovered in the hallway as Kate pulled on her coat. She looked anxiously at the two of them. ‘Is everything OK? You two were closeted away in there for ages.’

  ‘Fine, yes, no problem.’ He attempted a smile. ‘Just work stuff. Sorry again about ruining your night.’

  ‘And again – don’t be silly. Goodnight, Bernard.’ She threw her arms round him in a bear hug, provoking a look of outrage from Maitland which under any other circumstances would have delighted him.

  ‘Lock the door behind us, and stay out of my room.’

  Bernard nodded. ‘Be quick.’

  THURSDAY

  BREATHING DIFFICULTIES

  1

  Mona was losing grasp of time
. Once they’d left London and turned onto the motorway, the drive had grown increasingly monotonous, without buildings or landmarks to relieve the tedium. She felt like she’d been staring at the same dark nothingness for ever, but her watch showed 2am, which meant they’d only been driving for two hours. She wasn’t sure she could bear another five hours of this.

  Greg seemed to sense her boredom. ‘Feel free to fall asleep. I won’t be offended.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m too wound up.’ Her bones were weary and aching, but her mind was racing, struggling to process the events of the last two days. Some shut-eye would be good. At the moment the obstacles in their way seemed huge, and her mind was already worrying about the fallout of their trip once they were safely back in Edinburgh. Sleep, in her experience, tended to bring perspective; a couple of hours’ solid snoozing and she’d be ready to deal with whatever else this journey would throw at her.

  ‘I could turn the radio on if you like?’

  ‘Nah. Don’t want to disturb either of our sleeping beauties.’ The professor and Paterson were sound asleep on the back seat, their heads lolling from side to side as the car purred along the empty roads.

  ‘It’s been an eventful few days . . .’

  Mona sensed this was the start of a conversation, and felt grateful to Greg for making the effort. From his point of view, it must be bad enough having to drive them through the night, without having to keep her entertained as well. ‘Yeah. Thanks so much for your help. We’d definitely not have got this far without you, and I know you didn’t want to get dragged into all this.’

  ‘No, it’s all right. Doing things you don’t really want to do comes with the territory of being a cop. I’m more worried about Liz getting caught up in all this.’

  ‘Sorry. I really liked Liz. I take it she’s your girlfriend?’

  ‘Sort of. We’re very different, as I’m sure you saw. So we get along for a bit, then I’ll say something about the difficulties for the police of responding to the Virus and we have a huge argument, and it’s all off again.’

  Mona wondered if Greg was any less difficult to live with than his father. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re friends at the moment, because she did us a pretty massive favour.’

  ‘Yep. And she was happy to do so. As she said, she’s a huge fan of the prof.’

  ‘You didn’t know that before you took us there?’

  ‘No. I should listen more carefully to what Liz is ranting about.’ He laughed. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d have given it a miss if I’d known. Liz can be a bit of a nightmare when she’s on her soapbox. She’d get herself into all kinds of trouble just to prove a point of principle.’

  ‘What do you know about the Health Collective that she’s involved with? Is it all legal?’

  ‘Oh yeah, despite our words back there it is all legitimate trade union stuff. Are they not active in Scotland?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘Well, according to Liz, the Health Collective thinks the sun shines out of the prof’s nether regions. She gave me a pretty thorough run-down of his good points when she was shouting at me in the hall earlier.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said Mona, intrigued. ‘And what are they?’

  ‘Well, her agitator mates think he’s the only person who is actually admitting there is a problem. The politicians have agreed their consensus approach to the Virus, which is great in terms of letting the scientists and everyone get on with trying to tackle the problem, but it does mean that they all stick to the line that everything is under control. And the State of Emergency means there’s a limit to how much the unions and voluntary sector can do without getting into trouble. Liz is always complaining about the ban on demonstrations, for example, not even allowing immune people to gather in big groups. But she says Bircham-Fowler stands up and tells it like it is.’

  ‘Like it is? And what exactly is it like?’

  ‘Well, I’ll give you one example. Liz is always banging on about the monthly Health Checks being too far apart to do any good. And that’s one of Bircham-Fowler’s hobby horses. He’d have them weekly if it was up to him.’

  ‘He’s not wrong on that one. By the time someone ends up on our desk, assuming the referral doesn’t get lost in the system which it frequently does, it’s five weeks since they had a Health Check, then it can take us a couple of weeks to find them. That’s a long time for someone to be out there, possibly infectious. Add into that the fact that they’re sharing needles or sleeping rough . . .’

  ‘Yup, a health disaster waiting to happen. But where would the resources come from to increase the HET team four-fold to enforce a weekly regime?’

  ‘Is that the kind of thing you say to Liz that gets you into trouble?’

  He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Yes, that’s exactly the kind of thing that gets me into trouble.’

  Mona smiled. Despite the situation, Greg’s laughter was infectious.

  ‘I do love Liz, but sometimes I think she is so naïve. The government didn’t make up the State of Emergency with the sole mission of stopping dissent. There really is a Code Black emergency going on. But then I remember that she and her colleagues are right at the sharp end of all this. They’re the ones with people coughing and spluttering all over them, and people dying in their arms. And with the unions muzzled, no one’s speaking for them.’

  She nodded. Like Greg, she could see both points of view. ‘So this thing with Liz, is it on or off at the moment?’

  ‘It was all off, and to be honest I thought she might tell me to sling my hook when I phoned up to ask a favour.’

  ‘Lucky for us she’s a forgiving sort.’

  ‘She’s great. And I think she was quite impressed to have the professor to stay, so maybe I’m back in the good books. Was my dad asking if Liz and I were together?’

  ‘I think he did wonder. I take it you haven’t mentioned her to him?’

  ‘Nope. None of his business.’ He looked over at her. ‘Do you think I’m being harsh with him?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. I’m still struggling to picture the Guv as somebody’s dad. What was he like when you were growing up?’

  ‘Absent a lot of the time, but you know what police work is like. Pretty strict when he was there. So, in classic bitter child of first family style, it irks me a bit when I hear about him playing football with his younger kids, and going to school concerts and stuff. My brother and I would have liked a bit more of that.’

  ‘He must have done something right. After all, you followed him into the force.’

  ‘I suppose. So, have you got it all sussed with your folks?’

  She laughed, softly. ‘Hardly. I’m the world’s worst when it comes to dealing with parents. I’ve only very recently got round to telling my mum that I’m gay.’

  There was the sound of spluttering from the back seat. Mona turned round and stared at her boss. Paterson’s eyes were still closed, and he was sitting perfectly still, not even apparently breathing. His impersonation of a sleeping man was fooling no one.

  Professor Bircham-Fowler’s head lolled to one side, and bumped against the side of the car. Mona thought she saw his eyes flutter, his eyelashes lifting for a second before returning to rest. A moment later a lengthy fart emanated from his direction. Paterson used this as a pretext to waken up, continuing to ham it up with some look-I’ve-just-woken-up stretches.

  ‘Think he’s starting to come to.’ Paterson gave him a gentle prod. ‘Professor?’

  There was no response. Bircham-Fowler’s head flopped back against the leather, and he started to snore again.

  ‘Try him again in half an hour, Guv. I’m sure I saw his eyes nearly open.’ She turned round, smiling, wondering if Greg had caught the charade on the backseat. To her surprise, he was staring at the road, his face creased with concern.

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘I think we’ve got company.’ He nodded toward the back of the car. She turned, and saw another set of headlights about twenty
feet behind them. It was the only other car in sight.

  ‘That car’s been keeping pace with us. It’s a pretty quiet road and I’ve been speeding up and slowing down, but it’s not shown any interest in overtaking us.’

  ‘Have they been following us ever since we left Liz’s?’ asked Paterson.

  ‘I don’t think so. It’s only about twenty minutes since I started noticing them.’

  ‘But we’re in an unmarked police car. If they haven’t been tailing us since Liz’s how would they have found us?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ His tone was defensive. ‘I deliberately didn’t use my own car in case they’d clocked it earlier.’

  ‘Someone could have told them.’ Paterson peered over his shoulder. ‘An inside leak?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone other than my boss knows about this little jaunt at my end. He was making noises about this being a discreet operation so I’m pretty sure he’ll have been warned not to discuss it.’

  ‘So, what do we do now?’ asked Mona. ‘Try and shake them off?’

  ‘Pretty much impossible if they already know where we are going.’

  ‘You could try putting some distance in between us and them.’

  Greg clicked his teeth as he thought about the options. ‘I don’t want to speed. If they are police it gives them a perfect excuse to pull us over.’ He looked again in his rear-view mirror. ‘In fact, I’m pretty keen not to find out what happens if we stop.’

  ‘You think they’d try to arrest us?’

  ‘Possibly, if “they” are the police. After all, all they need to do is keep the Prof detained long enough to miss his check, which is less than ten hours away now. Any copper worth his salt could come up with enough excuses to detain him for three or four hours at least.’

  ‘They wouldn’t have grounds to arrest him.’