The doorbell rang. Thoroughgood had to admit Sara suited black, as he drank in her appearance framed in the dim glow of the lightbulb.
Tight black trousers with a sort of shiny stripe splitting the fabric, and a black leather jacket. She wore her hair loose, and he immediately missed the hat she’d had on at Firhill. Acutely aware that she was under the gaze of the most candid of assessments, she spoke, smiling:
“Well, are you going to ask me in or let me freeze to death out here?”
“Freeze to death out there of course!” he replied leaning forward to kiss her on the lips and enjoy a lungful of her perfume—what was it anyway?
Thoroughgood led her through to the flat lounge and introduced her to Morse:
“Sara I’d like you to meet a friend of mine from work, Gerry. He’s staying here for a short time while he’s having some work done on his house.” A white lie never hurt anyone.
“Pleased to meet you, Gerry; are you one of Gus’ copper chums then?” An innocent question, but a bloody awkward one for the wee man to field.
“Eh, well, you could say that, Sara. How do you do?”
The chat was superficial and pleasant and when Sara complimented Thoroughgood on his choice of music, Morse nearly choked on his Bacardi and Coke. By eight p.m. they were saying their cheerios and heading down Hyndland Road.
“So where are you taking me tonight, Gus? Chinese again is it?”
“No, I thought you enjoyed our Italian lunch so much the last time, we’d try a little place I’ve been going to for years, just off Partick Cross, called La Riviera.”
“Very nice. I’ve heard a lot of good things about it,” admitted Sara.
Fifteen minutes later they were pulling up seats inside La Riviera and enjoying the view out across its red terracotta roofs and blue skies; at least, those of the painted backdrops providing the restaurant’s famous colourful interior design.
Starting to feel good about himself, not least the prospect of spending a pleasant evening in Sara’s company, Thoroughgood ordered a bottle of Barolo. The arch in Sara’s eyebrows he took for a seal of approval. She looked lovely all right, in a jewel-encrusted black top which accentuated her curves; she playfully tapped the inside of his ankle with her foot in a cute little manoeuvre that boded well for later on in the evening.
They were just about to begin with the bruschetta when Thoroughgood was transfixed by the couple coming through the restaurant door. Declan Meechan and Celine Lynott had just entered La Riviera. It didn’t take a genius to work out something was wrong, as Thoroughgood’s small talk all but dried up. Sara leaned across the table and spoke:
“Look Gus, I know something is the matter and I don’t know whether I’ve done anything to upset you. Has it anything to do with that couple who have just come in and are sitting down to our right?”
Thoroughgood finished his bite of bruschetta and washed it down with a generous mouthful of Barolo.
“I guess you could say it does, Sara. It just makes me sick that I can’t seem to go anywhere in this city where my work doesn’t get in the way.”
“What do you mean, Gus? I don’t understand.”
After his discussion with Morse earlier in the evening, Thoroughgood knew that if his relationship with Sara was to stand any chance of success, then honesty was not only the best policy but the only one.
“I’m afraid, Sara, that the man is almost certainly the person behind the seven killings which have happened in the city in the last week. The female is his fiancée. Less than a week ago I had to interview them after there was an attempt on their lives in George Square.
“He is probably the most powerful criminal in Glasgow right now, although he does his best to cover it up with a string of legitimate fronts. Underneath it all he is absolutely without scruples; he will, and does, have anyone who gets in his way removed. Ten years ago he very nearly managed to do that to me.” Thoroughgood required another deep draught of Barolo.
“So that’s Declan Meechan? I’ve seen his picture in the Evening Times but he looks a lot bigger in person. I don’t like these eyes of his, though. They’re cruel,” said Sara.
“Oh, Meechan is cruel all right, cruel and brutal and his ambition knows no bounds. It stretches from bribing council officials into allowing planning permission for his huge West End multiplex project. It includes hiring a hitman dressed as a priest to cut the throat of one of his gang members who wanted out and was ready to squeal on him …” Thoroughgood’s tirade was interrupted by the approaching sound of footsteps.
“Detective Sergeant Thoroughgood, we meet again for the second time inside of a week. We really must stop bumping into each other or people will start to talk, especially in the present climate,” spoke Declan Meechan, towering over the couple.
Thoroughgood said nothing, his set jaw made words redundant. Sara looked up at Meechan nervously and for the second time that evening she could feel eyes, callous and spiteful orbs, coolly appraising her.
“Well, Detective Sergeant, you are a lucky man tonight. Please introduce me to your lovely lady here.”
“Why would I want to introduce any friend of mine to a murdering piece of sewage like you, Meechan? No, I think you’ve said enough, and now it’s time for you to toddle back off to your fiancée and stop polluting the air around our table.” Thoroughgood was barely able to keep his mounting anger in check.
Meechan’s smile was sweetness and light:
“Ah, typical policeman, no manners, no class but interesting to hear you know Celine and I got engaged. How does it feel to know the woman you did,” Meechan turned his smile on Sara as he spoke, “or is it still, love, has agreed to be my wife, Detective Sergeant Thoroughgood? The bottom line is you’re a loser at work and a loser in play and Celine would never choose a loser. I hope you manage to enjoy your evening, young lady, despite the company you keep.”
With that Meechan turned round and made his way back to Celine; sitting down at his table he turned back to look at Thoroughgood and Sara, flashing a quick wave of his hand before taking Celine’s in his and allowing the giant diamond to sparkle on her finger.
This time it was Sara who took a giant slurp of her wine.
“I think you have some explaining to do,” she said.
Thoroughgood shrugged his shoulders at the hopelessness of it all.
“Where do I start, Sara?”
“The beginning is the best place,” she said without the slightest hint of humour.
“Roughly ten years ago I was a young beat cop in Partick who was desperate to get my CID Aide. To do that I had to impress my superiors by clearing up housebreakings, get information that would allow me to pull in neds for robbery and other stuff. I managed, with the help of a tout, to talk a prisoner from Peterhead high security prison who was on the run, to give himself up. At the time the criminal underworld in Partick and the West End was run by a man called Jimmy Gray. By the time I got into the CID on my aide, I tried to cultivate a ring of informants that would allow me to cause Gray as many problems as possible. One of these informants, or touts as they were called, was Celine Lynott.”
Thoroughgood reached forward and picked up the bottle of Barolo, refilling both of their glasses with the last drops of the rich red. Signalling over to the waiter, he ordered a second.
“That may be a bit presumptuous, considering the conversation we have just had with Meechan, Gus,” said Sara.
“I’m taking a chance on you staying for the steak au poivre. If my company is no longer required, at least don’t rob yourself of experiencing the best sirloin in the West End.” Thoroughgood did his best to bring some levity to the conversation and detected a slight rise in the temperature from the other side of the table, but still no smile.
“You were just about to tell me about you and Celine, Detective Sergeant, or at least I hope you were or I’ll be missing the best sirloin in Glasgow, won’t I?”
Thoroughgood cleared his throat nervously.
“At the t
ime Celine was a croupier on the Riverboat Casino and I fell for her, plain and simple. That also coincided with the arrival of Declan Meechan, fresh on the scene from Belfast and full of brash ambition. From nowhere he started to climb the ranks of Gray’s empire, and of course he met Celine and decided he wanted her for himself.
“When he found out that she had been seeing me, he arranged a little accident for me by way of a hit and run. It took twelve hours of reconstructive surgery and a mechanic’s box of nuts and bolts to put me back together. Meechan had also been filling Celine’s head full of lies about me using her for information and sex and treating her little better than a cheap whore. She never came to visit me in hospital and it took a year of rehab and physio up at Castlebrae, the police rehab place, to get me back to work.”
“So that explains why you and Celine split up, but if that was ten years back, why has it taken her so long to agree to become engaged to Meechan?” asked Sara.
“You don’t miss much, do you? Although the damage was done in terms of our relationship, a mutual friend made sure she knew Meechan was poisoning her against me, and it was all a pack of lies, so he could make her his own. When this friend ended up bobbing up and down in the Clyde she decided it was over with Meechan as well. I don’t know what’s brought them back together, you’d have to ask her.”
“But I’m not interested in her, am I, Gus? What I want to know is, is it over between you and her, never mind him, right now in the here and present?”
At that point the steak arrived.
“I don’t suppose I could wait until after the main course?”
Sara’s face said it all.
“To be honest with you, Sara, because that’s what you deserve, until I met you on Saturday, I didn’t know. I think I’ve been living in a bit of a timewarp and perhaps I haven’t moved on from what happened ten years back. Bearing in mind this is only our second date, I don’t want to go scaring you but I think maybe you are helping me to see, if I may quote, that ‘The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there.’”
At last Sara smiled and Thoroughgood could feel himself breathing again, even as he was fighting against the overwhelming desire to glance at Celine.
Chapter 31
By nine-thirty a.m. Thoroughgood had already finished his first round of toast when Morse slipped into the kitchen, putting on the kettle before informing the DS he’d sent a text inviting Celine for coffee. When a reply came in, Thoroughgood knew instantly from the smile on Morse’s face that the news was good.
Morse took the tube into the city centre and as the underground bustled along, he found himself wondering if he had any right to insert the type of doubt in Celine’s mind that may come between her and happiness. He’d realised when Thoroughgood had come in the previous night that however much the DS enjoyed Sara’s company, there was still something he carried deep inside his soul for Celine.
For everything Thoroughgood was doing for him, he had to do the best he could in return with Celine. The fact she was engaged to the man who had ordered the contract killing of his lover meant he would take deep satisfaction in driving a wedge between Celine and Meechan, much though he tried not to admit it to himself.
Soon he found himself walking down Buchanan Street, the rain pouring down on top of him and bouncing off in hundreds of tiny explosions of liquid. He pulled his Berghaus up to his chin, but the combination of the slashing diagonal rain and the chill April breeze made for a wholly unpleasant experience. Shoppers scuttled for the cover of shops while the usual street canvassers, ready with the most inane questions to ask the Glasgow public, did their very best to attract attention and stall the soaking pedestrians. The weather ensured that even with huge golf umbrellas held invitingly, they were not having much luck.
Morse continued down the pedestrianised street, one of the busiest shopping thoroughfares in the city, then turned into the teeth of the stinging rain, and Royal Exchange Square where, opposite the Modern Art Gallery, was situated Costa Coffee’s city centre shop. Quickly, he made his way inside and saw one of the window booths was vacant.
He stared out of the window, smiling at the obvious irritation of the dripping punters passing by. Scrutinising the Modern Art Gallery, a huge granite grey building which reminded Morse of some huge eighteenth-century church, he spotted Celine. Dressed in black leather boots and a cream raincoat; shuddering under a huge umbrella as she did her best to remain poised and elegant despite her obvious discomfort. She saw him in the window seat and gave a wave.
Five minutes later the two of them were enjoying a warming sip of the massive “regular” lattes, a house speciality. Morse reckoned it took another quarter of an hour to get the small talk out of the way and allow him to become comfortable enough to get to the bottom line. It was Celine who forced the issue.
“So Gerry, it’s been nice catching up with you and now I’ve shown you my engagement ring, I guess we can get down to the real reason you were in such a hurry to see me today.”
“You’re right, Celine, but it’s hard to know where to start.”
“Would it have anything to do with our chance meeting with Gus Thoroughgood and his new lady friend last night?” asked Celine in forthright fashion.
Morse knew then that honesty was the only worthwhile policy: “That’s part of it but there’s an awful lot more and it concerns your fiancé, Celine. If you forgive me for being nosy, why have you suddenly decided to agree to become engaged to Declan after all these years spent rejecting his advances?”
“That’s just it, Gerry, a lot of water has gone under the bridge and Declan has always been there, waited for me and let me know how much he wanted me. I guess when the stuff between him and Gus happened all those years back it freaked me out, but then you know that. When you’re a kid you think you have forever to find the right person, that there’s always someone better round the corner. I began to think that, despite rejecting his advances, Declan had shown me respect professionally by putting me in charge of his city business and letting me make my own decisions. What kind of man does that for a woman who is constantly denting his pride and telling him she doesn’t want him?”
Morse looked out the window thoughtfully, then shrugged his shoulders but said nothing.
“Well, it’s ten years on and no one better was round the corner, but Declan was still there and still letting me know how much he wanted me. Maybe he just wore me down, but there has always been something between us and eventually I just thought the time was right to say yes.”
Morse grimaced. “So, what about Gus Thoroughgood? Do you still feel something for him?”
Celine smiled. “Yes, to be honest I do, but I don’t want to be torn in two again like I was back then. I’ve been there and done that, and now I’ve made my choice I’m sticking to it, or haven’t you noticed this?” She flashed the diamond under Morse’s nose. “Do you think I would be wearing it if I hadn’t made my decision?”
Morse decided it was now time for shock tactics.
“What if I told you that two days ago your fiancé had the man I love murdered, his throat slit while he lay helplessly in a hospital bed? What if I told you your fiancé is behind the gangland killing of seven persons including my lover? What if I told you Declan has not finished his killing spree yet, and that he is importing massive quantities of coke and heroin into the city?”
Celine’s face clouded over with a mixture of hurt and anger. “And just what do you want me to do about that?”
Morse struggled to stop the surprise at her reaction showing on his normally unreadable features. It had been a response he had not expected.
“But surely you don’t want to promise yourself to the most vicious gangster in the city? You must know it will all end in tears one day and if you go through with this, Celine, it will be you who is left to pick up the pieces, even if you are a very rich widow.”
“I don’t know about what you have just said, but I’m not going to say it would be a surprise
if some of it was true. But I know Declan Meechan loves me and has spent so long proving just how much he does. Do you think the people you’re saying he is responsible for killing wouldn’t have killed Declan if they had got there first? You have a short memory if you’ve forgotten that I was with Declan when a taxi pulled up, someone leant out the window and fired three or four shots at us. What does that tell you about the type of people Declan is up against? I’m sorry to hear what happened to Gary and no one deserves to have their life ended the way he did, but can you say to me with any honesty that he wasn’t a player himself?”
Morse opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it when Celine put her hand up to warn him there was more. She lowered her voice before carrying on.
“I know there are some things I’m better off not knowing, but I am prepared to put up with that. In this life, Gerry, you only get one chance at happiness, and I thought mine had gone, so forgive me if I put myself first.”
Morse knew then he had probably overstepped the mark, but he had still failed to ask Celine if she would meet up with Thoroughgood. Before he cut to the chase he felt he had to have one last go at making Celine realise she’d chosen the road to ruin.
“Listen, Celine, we’ve known each other for the best part of fifteen years, since you were a teenager; when have I ever lied to you? Don’t you think I want you to be happy? Of course I do, but you’ve got to weigh up all the facts and not be selective in what you chose to see or hear. You and I both know what happened the last time someone got too close to you, and they ended up the victim of a hit and run. It took Thoroughgood over a year to make it back to work and he was bloody lucky he lived, never mind worked again.
“Now maybe Declan Meechan doesn’t actually pull the trigger or draw the knife but he’s the man who’s behind it, just like he’s the man flooding the city’s streets with gear and the clubs with coke. Is this the man you want to settle down with when there’s still at least one decent man out there who loves you, who you seem to have completely forgotten about?”
Parallel Lines Page 21
