Songs by Dead Girls

by Lesley Kelly

  ‘Leith, please.’

  Bernard had the taxi drop him off at the Shore. It would be easier to walk the last few yards to the Women’s Centre rather than let a taxi manoeuvre through the narrow streets. He ran the last few metres, and pulled up short at the sight of a police car parked outside the building. Was he too late?

  He crossed the road and walked cautiously toward the centre.

  ‘You can’t go in there, sir.’ A very young-looking PC stopped him, stepping in between him and the front door.

  ‘Why? What’s happened here?’

  ‘There was a fire here yesterday evening, sir. It’s all under control now though.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Bernard’s stomach flipped. ‘Was anyone hurt?’

  ‘I suggest you wait for the evening news, sir. I’m sure all the details will be in there.’

  Bernard pulled out his ID. ‘I’m from the HET. One of our Defaulters was last seen here.’

  ‘Sorry.’ The PC relaxed a little. ‘I was worried you were the press nosing around. There were a couple of the tabloids here earlier trying to make something of it. You know how much they love a good story about prossies. Probably make their day if one of the girls set fire to the place while high on drugs.’

  ‘So, was anyone hurt?’

  ‘No fatalities, thank God, but the project manager hurt herself trying to escape.’

  ‘Do you know how badly?’

  ‘Walking wounded – I think she hit her head, and obviously she’d inhaled some smoke.’

  ‘Do you know where she is now? I need to speak to her quite urgently.’

  ‘I think they took her to the Royal. She might still be there, but I don’t know that she’ll be fit for visitors.’

  Bernard nodded. ‘Sorry, one last question. Was the fire set deliberately?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to establish. Between you and me,’ he lowered his voice, ‘I reckon the girls got caught in the middle of this drugs thing. Hope you guys are treading carefully.’

  He wished he could say that they had been. ‘Thanks for your help.’

  He walked round the corner and hailed his second taxi of the day.

  ‘I’d like to know which ward Annemarie McDougall is on please.’ He held up his HET ID in one hand, and his Green Card in the other.

  The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a dour expression, glanced from one card to the other, and failed to look impressed at either of them. ‘Are you family?’

  ‘No, I’m—’

  ‘Then I can’t give that information out.’ She looked past him to the next person in the queue.

  He took a sideways step, back into her line of vision. ‘I’m from the Health Enforcement Team. I am seeking a Health Defaulter, and this woman is a witness. You are obliged by law to give me that information.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I am.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. It’s the law! Do none of you people go on training courses?’

  ‘Don’t raise your voice at me, young man, or I’ll have security remove you.’

  Bernard tried to put a lid on his anger. ‘I’m sorry. Can you please phone your boss or someone to authorise it?’

  She sighed, and looked pointedly at the queue that was forming behind him.

  ‘The quicker you phone, the quicker I’m out of here.’

  His persistence seemed to have worked because she picked up the phone. Keeping her eyes firmly on him, she repeated his apparently ludicrous suggestion that he was entitled to know the whereabouts of a patient merely because he had a HET ID card . . .

  ‘I’m a Health Enforcement Team officer!’ he said loudly in the direction of the phone.

  She waved away his intervention, and continued to listen to the person on the other end of the phone, before replacing the receiver rather more heavily than was necessary. ‘Ward 73,’ she said, sourly.

  ‘Thank you so much for your help,’ said Bernard, trying to make up for his earlier assertiveness. The woman did not return his smile, deliberately looking over his shoulder at the first person in the very long queue that had formed behind him. He sighed and set off to look for the ward.

  There was another police officer standing outside one of the single rooms. He flashed his ID at the officer. ‘I need to speak to Annemarie McDougall about a Health Defaulter.’

  The policeman gave his ID the once-over, and fortunately, seemed better informed than the receptionist. ‘HET? No chance it can wait? She’s not looking too clever in there.’

  ‘Sorry – you know our work is pretty urgent.’

  ‘Well, it’s all right by me, if you can get a nurse to OK it. ’Scuse me.’ He waved over Bernard’s shoulder at a passing nurse. ‘My colleague here needs a quick word with Annemarie. Is that OK?’

  ‘Yes, as long as it is quick.’ She fixed her eye on him. ‘Ten minutes, tops.’

  ‘Best of luck,’ said the policeman, opening the door for him. ‘Every time we asked her a question she didn’t like she had a fit of coughing.’

  Annemarie was tucked up in bed, leafing through a magazine. One side of her face was swollen, a greyish-purple bruise blossoming on her temple. He wondered what other bruising wasn’t visible.

  ‘Thought I heard my name being mentioned out there.’ Her voice was raspy and hoarse from the smoke. ‘I know you, don’t I?’ She peered at him, then her face contorted as recognition hit her. ‘Jesus, have I not suffered enough without the HET coming to arrest me?’

  ‘We don’t arrest people, we only have powers to detain them.’

  ‘I’m pretty much detained already, seeing as I can’t walk the length of myself.’

  He sat down next to the bed. ‘Did you really do all this to yourself trying to escape the fire?’

  She sighed, and flung her magazine down on the bed. ‘What do you think, son?’

  ‘Do the police know what happened?’

  ‘They have their suspicions. I tried to tell them it was a toaster fire, but they know my reputation for pissing off the wrong people, so I don’t think they entirely believed me.’

  ‘Is Alessandra, or whatever her real name is, OK?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’d imagine she’s in better shape than me at this precise moment.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  Annemarie looked up at the ceiling of her room and laughed. ‘Remind me what your name is, son?’

  ‘Bernard.’

  ‘And are you married, Bernard? Got any kids?’

  ‘Married, no kids.’

  ‘Now you just let me guess what happened since I last saw you. Scott Kerr and his pals paid you a visit, and threatened your wife if you didn’t tell them where to find Alessandra.’

  He nodded. ‘You’re out on a few of the details, but your general thrust is correct.’

  ‘Aye, son, I’m seldom wrong.’ She stared at him, one eye big and bright, the other swollen half-shut. ‘So, now you’re here, looking for her last known address so you can get him off your back.’

  ‘No!’ Bernard was horrified. ‘I want to know she’s safe. I’m not about to offer her up as a sacrifice.’

  ‘Aye, son, of course not.’ She looked sceptical.

  ‘I give you my word. I’m here to try to help Alessandra.’

  ‘I wouldn’t entirely blame you if you were, son. As my current state of health shows, Kerr’s a nasty bastard. So was his grandfather, mind you, but I could work with old Og. I kept his girls healthy and out of the way of the police as much as I could, which was good for him because it kept them earning. Young Scottie doesn’t see it like that though. Too busy throwing his weight around to try and impress that Glaswegian lot.’

  ‘The Barrs.’

  ‘Aye.’ She started coughing. ‘Oh dear. The lot that gave poor Alessandra a kicking. You know, all these lassies think they are coming over here to be hairdressers or nannies. They don’t have a clue.’

  ‘Where is Alessandra actually from?’

  ‘Couldn’t tell you, son. One of them unpronouncea
ble ones that used to be the USSR. If you want to help, can you not do the lassie a favour, and just quietly stop looking for her?’

  ‘We can’t. Once she’s on the Defaulter List, we have to keep looking for her until she’s found, alive or dead. And it’s not us that you have to worry about finding her.’

  ‘I know. Scottie is like a dog with a bone. He’ll not give up until he finds her.’

  ‘So how do we stop him?’

  ‘We? Not me, son. I’m done. One kicking too many, I’m afraid. If the Women’s Centre does reopen, it’ll not be with me running it.’

  ‘So how do I stop him?’

  ‘No offence, son, but you’re not cut out for this. Take your wife and get out of town until all this dies down.’

  ‘But you do know where Alessandra is? You can tell me?’

  She started to cough. ‘That’s me poorly here, son. You’d better get the nurse for me. And close the door on your way out.’

  9

  Mona ran up the last few stairs to the office. She’d had two hours of beautiful, dreamless sleep at the flat, and now felt ready to take on the world.

  ‘Wow, it looks tidy in here.’ She surveyed the office. ‘Was it so quiet while we were away you decided to have a clear-out?’

  ‘Hardly. And don’t move that partition over there or you’ll be crushed by an avalanche of crap.’ Maitland’s lack of smile suggested that this wasn’t a joke. ‘When is Paterson back?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Soon – today or maybe tomorrow at the latest.’ There was something strangely subdued about Maitland. He hadn’t been rude to her once and she’d been in the office for nearly three minutes. ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Nope, it’s all pretty far from OK . . .’ His explanation was interrupted by the arrival of Carole.

  ‘Bloody hell, what happened to you?’

  ‘Hi, ’ona.’

  ‘She got kicked in the face during a search for a Defaulter.’

  ‘I’ve ’ust ’een at the dentist. ’Eed two ’eeth out.’

  ‘That’s awful. It wasn’t that Alessandra girl that Bernard and I were looking for, was it?’

  ‘No, not Alessandra, but part of that investigation,’ said Maitland.

  ‘Well, I hope it’s on hold until it’s been risk assessed?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s under control, but—’

  ‘And the Guv will be in soon and things can get back to normal.’ She walked over to her desk, and realised that her colleagues were still staring at her. ‘What?’

  ‘There’s more. Some bloke turned up at Bernard’s new flat looking for him, and assaulted his flatmate. Now he’s stormed out of here and won’t answer his phone.’

  ‘Oh good God.’

  ‘And . . .’

  ‘And? You mean there’s yet more? Jesus Christ, Maitland, we were only gone two days.’

  ‘Just shut up and listen. Carlotta Carmichael paid us a visit . . .’

  ‘Here?’ Suddenly the unusual tidiness of the office made sense. ‘What did she want?’

  ‘She’s got a bee in her bonnet about both you and the Guv being on leave at the same time, and she seems to think the Guv is up to something, and, by the way, I agree with her. I’d really like to know what was so important you and Paterson had to rush off and leave me here with all this mess . . .’

  She glared at him, and he moved on, sulkily. ‘Anyway, she was in here this morning complaining about every single thing we do and, well, the upshot of her visit is that she’s decided we need to have our own inspectorate.’

  ‘Christ, Maitland. Two days. Two bloody days. How on earth are you going to explain all this to the Guv?’ She stood up. ‘Right, until the Guv is back in his office, I’m in charge. And the first thing we’re going to do is track down Bernard.’ She pulled out her mobile, and pressed on Bernard’s name. The faint sound of ringing could be heard.

  ‘Where’s it coming from?’

  ‘It’s getting louder.’

  ‘Hello.’ Bernard appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘’E ’ere ’orried.’ Carole gave him a rather cautious hug, which involved making contact with her arms, but keeping her face as far away as possible.

  ‘I’m sorry, I know you were. Mona, I’m really glad you are back, but I’ve got some bad news. We’re in trouble.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mona. ‘Maitland told me.’

  ‘No, this is new stuff. We’re in even more bother than we thought.’

  ‘Seriously?’ said Maitland. ‘How can we possibly be in more trouble?’

  ‘I am never, ever leaving you two alone again,’ said Mona. ‘OK, Bernard, what now?’

  Having been given the floor, Bernard suddenly looked nervous. ‘Actually, I need to talk to Carole in private.’

  From the look on Carole’s face she was as surprised as Mona by this. She made a sound that was probably ‘why’.

  Bernard continued to look worried. ‘In private?’

  ‘’Ust ’ay it.’

  ‘OK. All right.’ He leaned against the edge of a desk. ‘Now, where to begin?’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Bernard, get on with it!’

  ‘OK, when I left here to go to the corner shop for milk, I was grabbed by two guys who pulled me into a car and took me to Scott Kerr’s house. For those of you not up to speed with the latest memos on drug dealing,’ he shot a look at Maitland, ‘he’s an Edinburgh-based drug dealer, who is in the middle of a feud with the Barrs, who are drug dealers traditionally based in the west, but are looking to move on to his territory.’

  ‘Oh, God, are you OK?’

  ‘Completely physically unharmed, yes. So, Stephen McNiven is Scott Kerr’s cousin, and it was McNiven’s girlfriend that booted you in the mouth, Carole. Kerr seems to think it’s all a bit inconvenient to have this assault charge hanging over his family, so he wants Carole and me to have a bit of a memory lapse about what actually happened, and to say that with hindsight we think we didn’t handle the situation well, because the woman in question was obviously a vulnerable drug user.’

  ‘Vulnerable?!’ said Maitland. ‘Vulnerable enough to give Carole a kick in the jaw that’s going to keep her in dentist’s visits for the next six months! No way are you two spouting that guff. The bitch is going down for what she did, isn’t that right, Carole?’

  Throughout the whole discussion, Carole hadn’t taken her eyes off Bernard. She looked like a woman waiting to hear bad news, though what that news could possibly be was beyond Mona.

  ‘Carole, I’m so sorry,’ said Bernard.

  ‘’S Michael?’

  He nodded.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Mona.

  ‘You guys remember Carole’s son, Michael, who had the Virus a few months ago? Well, Kerr set Carole’s son up. He’s had him dealing drugs.’

  Carole’s head was in her hands. ‘’O ’tupid.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ said Bernard, hastily. ‘They’ve deliberately targeted him because Carole is a HET officer.’

  ‘Are you sure about this, Bernard?’ asked Mona.

  ‘I’ve seen pictures. There was a girl that he liked . . .’

  ‘Addison,’ said Carole, a weary tone to her voice.

  ‘Yes. Maddison. Kerr’s sister-in-law.’

  Carole started to cry. In between sobs there was a stream of largely undecipherable ranting, although the words ‘hate’ and ‘job’ were clearly to be heard. She lifted up her head, and with a great effort enunciated two words. ‘I resign.’

  ‘It’s not that easy to resign from the HET,’ said Mona. ‘I’ve tried.’

  ‘It also may not be enough. We’re all going to be worried about the impact of our actions on Michael, whether you’re here or not. And, unfortunately, that’s not all that Kerr wants from us. He also wants Alessandra Barr handed to him on a plate.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because “Alessandra Barr” is the name of a daughter of the Barr clan who died as a young child
. The McNivens foolishly used this name to get a Green Card for a prostitute they’d trafficked into the country.’

  ‘I bet that went down well with the Barrs.’

  ‘It went down every bit as well as you might expect. The Barrs gave “Alessandra” a beating, then she disappeared. She’s an embarrassment now to Kerr, so he’s got to get rid of her somehow. Now, maybe his business empire can facilitate the relocation of a prostitute from one city to another, or maybe he’s planning to buy her a plane ticket back to her country of origin, but there remains a very good chance . . .’

  ‘That he’s planning to kill her,’ said Mona.

  ‘Yes, but discreetly, before the Barrs kill her and dump her on his turf as a great big message to the world that Kerr is no match for the Barrs.’

  ‘But we don’t know where she is?’

  ‘We don’t, but Annemarie McDougall does.’

  ‘So, what do we do?’ asked Mona.

  ‘Well, I think Carole and her family need to take an enforced break from Edinburgh.’

  She stood up, and without a word to anyone picked up her bag and walked out.

  ‘Poor Carole,’ said Maitland. ‘This whole thing sucks.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mona. ‘And what do we do about Alessandra Barr?’

  Bernard shifted from foot to foot. ‘I have a plan.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘We kill her ourselves.’

  10

  ‘You’re leaving?’

  Annemarie looked up from tying her shoes. ‘You again?’ She broke into a chorus of coughing. ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here, son, but I’d be happier if you just left me in peace.’

  ‘Where’s the policeman on the door?’

  ‘They stood him down. Couldn’t find anything to suggest that the fire was caused by anything other than a faulty toaster, which I could have told them.’

  ‘But you know that it was started deliberately.’

  ‘I don’t know anything, son, other than now that PC Plod has been removed I’m free to make a run for it.’

  ‘You can’t leave!’ Bernard’s inner health professional asserted himself. ‘You’ve had a very traumatic experience, not to mention the physical effects of smoke inhalation. You are really in no fit state to go home. Has a doctor signed you out?’