Death Trap: Rosie Gilmour 8

by Anna Smith

  ‘Here we go,’ she whispered.

  The door opened a little, and she could see a blonde woman, heavily made-up, with the glazed eyes of someone who has recently had a hit. She hoped she was spaced out enough not to be concentrating.

  ‘Hi,’ Rosie said brightly. ‘I’m here to pick up Ava? Finn sent me.’ She put her foot in the door.

  The woman looked at her sleepily. ‘Ava busy right now. Come back a half-hour.’

  Rosie caught a glimpse of a little boy toddling around the hallway – he looked up at the door with big wide eyes. She could sense Adrian making the slightest move at her side.

  ‘But Finn says it’s urgent . . .’

  The woman puffed out a sigh, and was about to turn around and shout something, when Adrian burst past Rosie on the step, almost knocking her off her feet. He grabbed the woman, turned her around and put his hand over her mouth. He motioned Rosie inside, and she stepped over the threshold, taken aback by how swiftly Adrian had moved. He walked along the hallway, and Rosie suddenly saw him reach into his pocket and bring out a revolver. Christ! She braced herself for one of the doors to burst open any second, but the place was silent.

  ‘Where is Ava? Tell me,’ Adrian whispered in the woman’s ear as he put the gun to her head.

  The terrified woman jerked her head in the direction of a room at the end of the hallway. Adrian walked her along, Rosie behind, her heart thumping in her chest. The little boy stood watching. Then suddenly a door opened and a big, burly guy came out in a tight T-shirt, steroid muscles bulging.

  ‘What the fuck!?’

  ‘Don’t move.’ Adrian raised the gun and pointed at him.

  ‘Don’t fucking worry, pal,’ the man said. ‘They don’t fucking pay me enough money for this shit. What do you want? Take anything you want.’

  ‘Ava. Where is Ava?’

  ‘Ava? The wee man’s ma? She’s in there, mate.’ He put his hands up. ‘Listen, mate. I don’t want any trouble. I’m only the bouncer in case any of the punters get nasty. Just fucking get on with it. I didn’t see anything. You know what I mean, pal?’

  He looked beyond Adrian at Rosie.

  Adrian jerked his head towards Rosie.

  ‘Go.’

  Rose squeezed past him and the gorilla, and went to the door of the room, dreading what was behind it. She pushed open the door and was met by the orange glow from a bedside lamp. A fat naked man stood at the side of the bed as a woman was stripping, taking her bra off and stepping out of her pants.

  ‘Ava!’ Rosie said her voice more of a whisper. ‘Ava! Quick! We must go. Get dressed. Tadi is waiting for you.’

  The woman turned, her face screwed up, bewildered.

  ‘Tadi?’

  ‘I’m helping him. You are in danger. We’ve come to get you. To take you to him, but you must hurry.’ Rosie picked up her clothes and handed them to her.

  Ava quickly threw on her T-shirt and skirt, then picked up clothes and stuffed them into a small bag.

  ‘Please. You are not police? You are not going to hurt me? My son. Where is my boy?’

  ‘He’s there. In the hallway. Hurry.’

  ‘What the fuck is this?’ the naked man spat. ‘I paid good money for her. Get fucking back here.’

  ‘You’re time’s up, pal. If I was you I’d get out of here before the cops come.’

  The man’s face fell, and he was into his shirt and trousers in a second.

  Rosie and Ava came into the hall, and she quickly scooped up the little boy.

  ‘Mama,’ he said.

  ‘Come, Jetmir. Quickly. We go to Papa.’

  ‘Go. Hurry.’ Adrian still held the gun, pointing it towards the woman and the bruiser with his hands in the air as though he was under arrest.

  Rosie opened the door and rushed them downstairs.

  ‘Who are you?’ Ava asked as she opened the front door.

  ‘I’ll tell you in the car. You’re safe now. We’re taking you to Tadi.’

  ‘But where is he?’

  ‘Don’t worry. Come. Hurry. We have to go.’

  Matt’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw them come down the stairs, and he leapt out and opened the back door.

  ‘Fuck me, Rosie! That was quick. Where’s Adrian?’

  ‘He’ll be here in a second.’

  Rosie got into the passenger seat. Then the front door opened and Adrian came rushing out and climbed into the back seat.

  ‘We must be quick away from here. Maybe they are phoning this man Finn by now.’

  Matt put his foot down and they sped out of the street, and were on their way through the town in seconds.

  ‘Jesus, Adrian. What can I say?’

  ‘Was nothing, Rosie. Was easier than I thought.’ He stretched out and squeezed Rosie’s shoulder.

  Ava was sniffing, shocked.

  ‘What is happening? Who are you? Please tell me. Is my Tadi all right?’

  ‘Yes. He’s fine. I’m a journalist, Ava. You know, from the newspaper? You understand? My name is Rosie Gilmour.’

  She nodded. ‘Y-yes, but . . . but how? What has happened?’

  ‘Tadi will tell you everything. He ran away from the farm, and so we had to get you out of there before they discover he is gone. He came to me.’

  Ava broke down. ‘I want to go home,’ she sobbed. ‘Please don’t tell Tadi what you saw.’

  Rosie turned to face her, as she hugged her little boy, a look of bewilderment and concern on his face. She reached over and squeezed her hand.

  ‘Don’t worry, Ava. I saw nothing. Don’t worry.’

  *

  Rosie watched Adrian as he took a long drag on his cigarette and sat back. He looked completely unfazed, as though barging into flats and holding people at gunpoint was all in a day’s work. Maybe it was. But she was grateful for his help. They’d come to the bistro close to Charing Cross where they’d spent so many times like this over the past couple of years, when Adrian had been called in to assist. And even when he hadn’t, they’d sat like a couple, sharing stories and smiles. Sometimes Rosie came here by herself, just to remember – even though she did question herself about doing that. She downed the remains of her first glass of wine and refilled their glasses. She was drained, but at least Tadi and his wife had been reunited. They had collapsed into each other’s arms when Ava arrived at Adrian’s friend’s flat, finding Tadi sitting in a bedroom, grey with worry. Rosie had told them they were safe now, but to stay in the flat, that they would be looked after until they decided their next move. Rosie glanced at Adrian, suddenly aware that he’d been staring at her.

  ‘You are in another world, Rosie. Like you are dreaming.’

  Rosie smiled. ‘I’m tired, Adrian. And kind of stumped as to what we do next.’

  ‘They want to go back to Kosovo. Maybe I could help take them there, but I think their passports would cause alarm at the border, because Tadi is illegal here now.’

  ‘I know. He really should go to the police and tell them everything.’

  Adrian shrugged. ‘Well, he is safe for the moment. My friends will look after him. I will be going back to Bosnia in a few days.’

  Rosie sipped her wine and put the glass back on the table. They fell into silence and she could feel the electricity between them.

  ‘Do you have to go back so soon?’

  Adrian looked at her, surprised.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I was going to ask if you could stay and help on the story. I’m not sure what our next move will be, but I think it would be good if you were here. These O’Dwyers are a hard bunch of people. I’d like to have you onside if I go to them.’

  Rosie sensed the disappointment in his eyes, and suspected he’d been hoping she was asking him to stay because she wanted him to.

  He looked at her. ‘If you need me, Rosie, I will be here. Always.’ He reached across and placed his hand over hers, and she squeezed his hand. Her mobile rang on the table and she could see it was TJ.

&nb
sp; ‘I have to take this.’ She felt a niggle of guilt as she put the phone to her ear.

  ‘You still working, Rosie? I was thinking if you’re not too late, we could go for a beer. I haven’t seen you in days.’

  ‘I know, TJ.’ She took a breath, could feel Adrian’s eyes on her. ‘I’m still tied up, though. There’s been a few developments in the story, so I’ll be late. Sorry. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow and we can have dinner.’

  ‘Okay, sweetheart. I miss you.’

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ she said, and meant it. She hung up.

  Rosie put the phone in her pocket. She felt awkward and guilty and slightly ashamed all at the same time. She took a drink of her wine.

  ‘Your friend,’ Adrian said, his eyes locking hers.

  ‘Yes. TJ.’ Rosie knew she couldn’t avoid his gaze. ‘He came back.’

  If he was in any way upset, his face showed nothing. He sucked in his lower lip a little and looked at Rosie for a second, then beyond her.

  ‘You are together?’

  She knew the answer should have been yes. She was sleeping in TJ’s bed and he in hers. They were spending evenings and some weekends together. Though neither of them had put down any lines, she couldn’t deny it was a tacit understanding that they were together. So why couldn’t she just say it?

  She took a breath sighed. ‘I think so. It’s hard to say really. But we see a lot of each other. I . . . I . . .’ Christ, she was stammering like an idiot.

  Adrian waved his hand dismissively, then to her surprise stretched across and held her face.

  ‘I understand, Rosie. You don’t have to explain.’ He paused, took her hand. ‘You will always be my friend. You mean so much to me. Please always know that. Are you happy?’

  She took his hand and held it, then gave him a wry smile.

  ‘Happy? I’m not good at happy, Adrian.’

  She’d got away with making light of it, but his words were stinging in their sincerity, and she sensed disappointment in his voice. On top of that, she had an overwhelming feeling that she wanted to reach across and kiss him, feel the strength of him in her arms. But it was wrong. Wrong on so many levels for her, for him, and unfair to TJ. Nobody screwed things up like her. Her mobile rang again. It was McGuire.

  ‘What the Christ’s going on, Gilmour? I’ve been waiting for your call? Have you made a decision?’

  ‘Well. Yeah, Mick. I did. Listen, I didn’t want to phone you because it all happened so quick . . . and I knew you’d be busy with the paper tonight.’

  ‘Aye, pull the other one, pal. What have you done?’

  ‘Okay. The subbed version is that Tadi is with his wife Ava and their kid, in a flat in Glasgow. Everything is fine.’

  ‘Fuck me! How did that happen?’

  ‘My friend Adrian helped me. Ava was in a flat. And now she’s not. They’re safe. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Christ! Is anybody dead?’

  ‘Thankfully, no.’

  ‘Well. I need you in here in the morning, because we now seriously have to work out what we do with this guy.’

  ‘I know. I’ll be there. But I’ll go to the flat first and get pics of Tadi and his family. I’ll get Matt to hook up first thing.’

  ‘Fine. But you should have phoned me. You’re a pain the arse, Gilmour.’ He hung up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rory O’Dwyer watched the television news, his guts churning with tension. Of all the fucking things to happen! Weeks could pass down here and you hardly saw a fucking car, and now suddenly it was like a circus with coppers and bastard newspapers and television all over the shop. He’d sensed trouble from the moment they’d started digging around the field, because he knew what was in there. But there was nothing that could ever come back to them with that stupid drunken hoor Bo who he’d put a match to. If they dug him up, he was confident they wouldn’t be looking in Rory’s direction. The cops would think it was some drug deal or some other shite that had gone wrong, and the body happened to be buried out here. It was the kind of thing that happened from time to time, a body buried in a shallow grave, turned out to be some gangster who had grassed. But now this. Two fucking dead students dug up from the same spot. And their dog. Then more fucking bodies. He knew things might start heating up a bit, but he was confident that the Kosovan guy knew to keep his mouth zipped shut. But the big shock to him was that police had uncovered the remains of a woman and a newborn. Who the fuck would dump a woman and child? A patch of his land was now beginning to look like a fucking burial ground. He could put his hand up to one dead body, not that he ever would, but where the Jesus were the rest of them coming from? On top of everything else, that Tadi bastard had disappeared. He’d got the call last night from the flat where he kept his wife working, telling him that some bastard had come in with a gun and taken her and the kid away. Something was very wrong. Who was this Tadi bastard in tow with? He hadn’t turned up this morning, and when he sent Finbar out to his flat in Twechar, everything was gone – clothes, bags, the lot. Bastard had done a runner. The problem was that he knew too much about the robbery and Bo’s murder. He had to be found, but Rory knew there was little chance of that. On top of everything, Finn had told him that Timmy was behaving strangely, nervous as shit, and couldn’t get a word of sense out of him. He’d been drunk for three days. So he’d summoned both of them to see him. Not for the first time, he wished he’d drowned that halfwit runt at birth. The door opened and Finbar came in with a sheepish-looking Timmy at his back.

  ‘What is wrong with you, sir?’ He glared at Timmy. ‘You look like a bag of shite. You’ve been drunk for the past three days. What the fuck’s going on?’

  Timmy shifted nervously from one foot to another and looked at his brother for support.

  ‘Sit down, for fuck’s sake,’ O’Dwyer spat. ‘You too, Finn.’

  He looked at Finn first.

  ‘What are we going to do about that cunt Tadi? He could be fucking anywhere. He could be sitting in the fucking police station telling them every bastard thing that’s gone on.’

  ‘I know, Da, I can’t believe it. The boys have got feelers out all over Glasgow. He must be somewhere. They know a few of the homeless and the immigrants, so hopefully he’ll turn up.’

  ‘But what if he goes to the fucking cops?’

  ‘He won’t do that. He was part of the robbery, and he got rid of Bo. He’ll not go to the cops.’

  O’Dwyer let that thought sink in for a moment, then looked at Timmy.

  ‘Right, you. What the fuck’s going on? Ever since the cops came round the fields and started digging you’ve been a nervous wreck. Why are you getting pissed all the time?’

  Timmy swallowed and shook his head. He looked jittery from last night’s drinking. They sat watching him for a moment, O’Dwyer exchanging glances with his son. Then he got up and crossed the carpet to Timmy and grabbed him by the hair.

  ‘I’ll give you two fucking minutes to tell me what’s on your mind, you fucking halfwit. What do you know? What’s going on?’

  Timmy said nothing. O’Dwyer slapped his face hard, drawing blood from his nose. Finn winced and looked away.

  ‘Have I to fucking beat it out of you?’

  He raised his hand to strike him again, and as he did, Timmy put his arms up to protect himself and fell to his knees.

  ‘Oh, Da. Oh please, Da, don’t.’ He buried his head in his hands. ‘I’ve done something terrible, Da.’

  O’Dwyer looked at Finbar, bewildered.

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ He grabbed him by the hair again and made him look at him. ‘What have you done?’

  They watched as Timmy buckled, sobbing now, snot and saliva everywhere. He started to retch.

  ‘Ah, for fuck’s sake, boy, what the fuck? You better not be sick here. Get fucking up. You’re a fucking man.’ He slapped him and pulled him to his feet.

  Timmy stood cowering.

  ‘Oh, Da, I’m so sorry. I killed them.’

 
O’Dwyer glanced at Finbar, frowning in bewilderment.

  ‘What? Killed who? Fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘Them students, Da. I killed them.’

  O’Dwyer could feel the colour drain from his face, and his legs felt suddenly weak.

  ‘Aw, Jesus, Mary and fucking Joseph!’ He turned to Finn who was standing with his mouth gaping.

  O’Dwyer looked at Timmy weeping and writhing, sweat on his forehead, and he had never seen such a pathetic sight. Surely to fuck he was making this up.

  ‘What the fuck are you saying, Timmy? Sit the fuck down and talk to me.’

  ‘Aw, Da, don’t hit me any more. Please.’

  ‘Tell me!’ He tried to make his voice gentle, but he was seething inside.

  ‘I killed them. I was drunk. I came home that way and saw the tent. And then I saw the dog, digging in the place they buried Bo. I was scared, Da, I was scared. I just stabbed the dog, and I had to do the guy, Da. And her. I had to. What if they’d seen it? I didn’t mean to kill them. It just happened.’

  O’Dwyer shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. For a second he felt light-headed and thought he was going to pass out.

  ‘Holy fucking mother of God, Timmy. You killed them two kids? Jesus wept!’ He sat down, his head in his hands.

  They went silent but for the sobs and sniffs of Timmy. Then Finbar spoke.

  ‘Timmy,’ he said, glancing at his father. ‘Timmy. You know the police have found two other corpses in that place. A woman and a baby. You know that, Timmy?’

  O’Dwyer took his hands away from his face and looked up at Finbar. An image suddenly came to him of the Ukrainian girl who worked for them at one stage. Timmy had been following her around like a dog after a bitch in heat. And then she mysteriously disappeared. But that was nearly two years ago. Surely not! Surely to fuck not!

  ‘Aw, Jesus, Timmy! Please tell me that’s got nothing to do with you.’

  Timmy collapsed on the floor, wailing.

  ‘I’m sorry, Da. I’m sorry. I . . . She was taking money off me all the time. Blackmailing me. Keeping coming back with the baby and asking for money. It was my baby. She said she was going to tell you and Ma. I was scared.’