by Anna Smith
They sat for few moments, Rosie processing the information, wondering if there was a small chance that Molly would talk to the police.
‘Molly. Once you get to Spain, all going well, Timmy gets arrested along with your husband and Finn. Will you testify against them?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t see anything, so I can’t.’ She paused and looked away. ‘I only overheard the conversation.’
‘You’d still be a crucial witness – about the slaves and the beatings – even just to confirm that the Ukrainian girl did stay at your house.’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know.’ She gathered her bags. ‘Look, Rosie, I’m leaving here now. If I ever want to contact you I will, but if you alert the police to the fact that I’m leaving, I’ll make you out the biggest liar and fantasist that ever was. Do you understand me?’ Her face hardened.
Rosie looked at her as she stood up. ‘Can I use what you’ve already told me?’
Molly thought for a moment. ‘When I’m out of the country, you can say what you like. Nobody will find me unless I want to be found.’
Rosie stood up stretched out her hand. ‘Good luck, Molly. Thanks.’
‘Aye. Good luck to you too. And remember what I said about the McMahons. Don’t be a hero.’
Rosie watched as she made her way through the tables and towards the stairs at the top of the cafe. She never looked back.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rosie knew McGuire would not be impressed by her plan, so it was no surprise that he was pacing up and down in front of his desk, ranting.
‘Honest to Christ, Rosie! Are you not in enough danger with this nutcase Boag stalking you? Why would you want to walk into some kind of travellers’ enclave and put yourself at risk? What do you think they do in these places? Sit around reading cups and smoking pipes, spinning yarns about the good old days making clothes pegs for a living? There are criminal bastards among them who would cut your head off. You’re crazy even to suggest it.’
‘But, Mick,’ Rosie protested, ‘we wouldn’t be diving right in among them. We would be watching Timmy over a couple of days and seeing what he’s about, getting pictures of him – things we wouldn’t be able to do if we just phoned the cops and told them what Molly O’Dwyer told me. Once they know that, they’ll arrest him and that’s the last we’ll get.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re going all that way and then not planning to approach Timmy? Don’t bullshit me, Gilmour.’
Rosie couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. McGuire in this kind of mood was hard to deal with, but it was entertaining.
‘Well, if I did approach him, I wouldn’t just be barging in. I’d wait til the time was right. Maybe if we could get him on his own somewhere. Matt’s looked at the area online and it’s at the edge of Blackpool, not that far from the town. I also talked to a contact in the local paper about the traveller site and she said that the travellers are well known in the area. She said her paper tried to investigate claims that they run organised dogfights, but they got nowhere. They’re into this illegal bare-knuckle boxing too, but it’s all hush-hush. So I’m not expecting to waltz in there and get anything. I’m aware of the dangers. I don’t even know if Timmy will definitely be there, but I’m sure if he is, we’ll find him. And we’ll have Adrian with us for back-up. Honestly, I’m sure we can be in and out quickly and come back with something great. This Timmy character is key to the investigation up in that field. His mother told me she overheard him confessing to his father that he killed the young couple, and also the woman and baby. If we do get to him and he bursts, then we’ll get the father and the other son for the murder of Bo. It’s too good not to try.’
‘And too dangerous.’
‘Come on, Mick. It’s more dangerous for me in bloody Glasgow right now, with Boag skulking around, ready to cut my head off. I’m a nervous wreck and that’s the truth. I’ll be glad to get out of the place.’
The editor gave her a long look and let out a heavy sigh as he sat down behind his desk.
‘Right. Okay, Gilmour. Here’s the deal. You can go, but two days is all you’re getting. If you sense any kind of shit about to kick off, or have any suspicion they are onto you, I want you back into the car and right on the motorway. And if you do get anywhere, then I want you to call the cops immediately and bring them in. Are we clear about that?’
‘Of course.’ Rosie smiled. ‘I’ll bring you back a stick of rock.’
‘Yeah, right. Now get out of here before I change my mind. By the way, you’ll have to tell the cops protecting you that you’re going out of town on a secret assignment, otherwise they’ll be tailing you all the way.’
Rosie stood up. ‘Sure. I’ll sort it with the cops.’
*
It was early evening by the time Rosie, Matt and Adrian arrived in Blackpool. They drove along the seafront, taking in the view of holidaymakers and day-trippers making their way off the beach and heading to cars, buses or cafes. A raft of teenage memories ran through Rosie’s mind as she recalled her first summer holiday down here from Glasgow, on a bus run with the relatives she’d been staying with after running away from the children’s home. It had been a week of abandon, being able to go to bars and discos, unbridled kissing against walls with horny sixteen-year-old boys from the north of England. The headiness of teenage years, growing up, believing anything was possible. She’d considered hiding and not going back on the bus, back to the mundane, unsafe Glasgow tenement where nobody was ever happy, and every day was more like an existence than living. It was her first taste of being away from whatever passed for home at that age, and looking back, she decided it was there and then that she must have made up her mind that she had to get out.
*
Marion had managed to get them rooms above a pub at the edge of town, where they wouldn’t look out of place among the salesmen or travellers. Matt had established – from chatting up the barmaid – that the open street market was tomorrow, which was the busiest day of the week in the town. She’d told him it was popular with people from outlying villages and the odd tourist, but there were sometimes problems in the evening because a rough crowd from the travelling site nearby came in and spent the afternoon at the market and the evening carousing in the pubs. It usually ended in a punch-up. She moaned that when she grew up here it had been an idyllic little place, but now it had been ruined by the travellers and all they brought with them.
Once they’d eaten in the bar, the three of them walked down to one of the pubs close to the North Pier.
‘I’ve always liked this town,’ Matt said. ‘It speaks to me of crazy teenage years on bus runs from Glasgow.’
Rosie turned to him and smiled.
‘Really? You too? Must have been a rite of passage for any self-respecting Glasgow kid to go to Blackpool, get drunk in the Bier Keller on the promenade, and snogged in the dance hall.’
‘Yep. That was me. But I liked it so much I came back about three years running. Before I discovered Benidorm.’
Rosie chortled. ‘Yeah. Blackpool – Benidorm with rain.’
Adrian smiled, not really knowing what they were talking about as he watched the door and studied the men who’d just walked in.
‘The men who’ve come in, Rosie. Do they look like locals or maybe from the traveller site? What do you think?’
Rosie glanced up. Three big bruisers, one with at least two bellies under his shirt and the other two built like fridges. They were talking loudly and one of them slapped the other on the back, a bit too hard, as they ordered a drink. Rosie listened to their voices. She could detect the accent of the traveller.
‘I’d say they were travellers all right.’
She watched as the men stood at the bar, knocking back half of their pints in long deep chugs. A few minutes later, the door opened and a tall skinny man came in and went across to them. One of the men turned around and shouted at him.
‘Timmy, you cunt! What the fuck took you so long?’ He was joking a
nd the others laughed. He turned to the barman and ordered another pint.
Timmy walked to the bar. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and picked up his pint from the bar.
‘Took me ages to find the fucking place. Then I’d to wait for the cunts to turn up.’
‘Did you drop the dogs?’
The man lowered his voice. Timmy nodded, without taking his mouth from the pint.
Rosie, Matt and Adrian exchanged glances.
‘Shit,’ Matt said. ‘That’s got to be him.’
‘Looks like it. But we’ve no real way of knowing, as I don’t have a picture of him. We’ll just have to wait and see.’
Adrian finished his drink and got up. ‘I’ll go to the bar and buy the drinks. Maybe I can hear what they are saying for a moment.’
Rosie looked at Matt.
‘Sure.’
She didn’t have to tell Adrian to be discreet.
Rosie and Matt watched as Adrian went across to the bar. He stood next to the men. He had that way about him that men would never say to him he was in their space because, by instinct, they could sense the danger in him. She noticed one of the men glance at him and then look at his mate as Adrian stood at the bar. He ordered the drinks and lit up a cigarette.
‘Awright, big man?’ One of the men turned to him. ‘Not from around here, are you?’
Adrian looked down at the shorter man for a moment, then shook his head. ‘No.’
The other three of them glanced at him, then at each other. Adrian put his cigarette down on the ashtray and carried drinks over to Rosie and Matt. He came back to the bar and took a drink from his pint.
‘Where you from, big man?’
Adrian looked at him and said nothing.
‘Your accent, I mean. I heard your accent. You foreign?’
Adrian turned to them squarely. ‘I am from Bosnia.’
‘Oh, right,’ said one of the men. ‘One of them refugee blokes?’
Adrian looked at them and said nothing.
The other man piped up. ‘You don’t say much, do you?’
Rosie could see that Adrian’s pale face was deadpan.
‘My English is not good. I am learning.’
‘So where you headed?’
Adrian shrugged. ‘Not sure.’
‘You with them people? That your bird?’
Adrian didn’t look across at the table.
‘No. I only met them earlier.’
‘You looking for work?’
Adrian shrugged. ‘What work?’
‘Bit of labouring.’
One of them reached out and touched Adrian’s shoulder.
‘Looks like you’re built for hard work, mate.’ Adrian flinched but half smiled.
‘I used to box. Back in Bosnia.’
The three men looked at each other and their eyes brightened.
‘Seriously, mate? You a fighter? A man like you could make a shed load of money. Fuck that working lark. How long you here for?’
‘Not sure. Maybe couple of days. Maybe more.’
Adrian picked up his pint and stubbed out his cigarette.
‘I go back to my friends now.’
The man touched his shoulder again.
‘Hey, listen, mate. Here’s my number. If you’re interested in a bit of work, let me know. By the way, I’m Pat, this is Johnny and Martin. And this skinny cunt is Timmy. He’s a Jock. If you want a drink, come and join us later.’
‘Thank you,’ Adrian said, putting the piece of paper in his jeans pocket.
He came back to the table and sat down.
‘Okay,’ he said quietly. ‘We must not look like we are big friends. Did you see me talking to them? They ask me if I was with you, and I said I only met you a little while ago here.’
‘Good,’ Rosie said. ‘I heard some of what they were saying. You were great, Adrian. Did I hear you say you were a boxer? Christ! Did that just come out of the air?’
His lips moved a little to a smile.
‘It was like the light going off in my head. I just said it to see what happened. They are interested in me. Offered me some work.’
‘Aye, but they might want to put you in a bare-knuckle fight. Imagine being in some brawl with one of them fat bastards up there. What if they sat on you?’
‘They are not fighters. Maybe they were one time. But now they are fat. Strong, but fat. Easy meat for a fighter.’
‘Adrian,’ Rosie said. ‘Listen. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. If these people are who we think they are, then let’s not get involved. It’s good that I think we’ve established that Timmy is there, so what we need is a picture of him and then we can see.’
‘They said he was a Jock. That means Scottish, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Rosie replied.
‘This Timmy,’ Adrian said, his eyes growing dark. ‘He is the one who killed the woman and the little baby?’
‘Yes. So his mother says.’
Adrian nodded and was quiet for a moment.
‘What do you think will happen if the police get him?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe he’ll confess and grass up his father and brother. His mother says he’s a bad lot.’
Adrian looked at Rosie, then down at the table.
‘How did he kill the mother and baby? Do you know?’
‘The mother was killed by a blow to the head, from what the police told me. Same for the baby. Evil bastard.’
Adrian said nothing more and they sat silently watching as the men at the bar ordered more pints with whisky chasers.
After an hour and one more drink, Rosie could see the men at the bar getting more and more drunk and pushing each other, laughing. The bar was also getting busier.
‘I think we should hit the road soon,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to be around here too long in case these plonkers come over and start talking to us.’
Adrian nodded. ‘I think when you and Matt go, I stay for one more drink as I don’t want to leave with you. I told them I am alone . . . I’ll see what else I can get from them, then I’ll come to the bar in the place we stay in about half an hour. Maybe I can find out a bit more about this Timmy. Make sure he is who we are looking for.’
Rosie could see by Adrian’s face that this wasn’t up for discussion. He knew what he was doing, and if anyone could gather more information in a situation like this, it was him.
‘Okay. Good plan.’ She got up. ‘Come on, Matt. You can buy me a nightcap in our place. Put it down as a pull,’ she joked.
‘Sure, boss. Let’s do it.’ He turned to Adrian. ‘But if you get into a fight, Adrian, don’t be bragging you’ve got a mate who’ll come down and sort these guys out. Get my drift?’
Adrian almost smiled, but not quite.
Chapter Thirty
Rosie sat in the passenger seat as Matt drove them out towards the traveller site on the outskirts of Blackpool. They passed the North Pier, the rows of terraced B&B houses that used to pack in Scottish holidaymakers during the summer. Now some had been turned into flats and bedsits, and the town looked tired and run-down. The site wasn’t hard to find, stuck on the edge of a field with rows of caravans, and some static bungalow houses – kit jobs with apex roofs, made of fibreglass or metal. Kids played among tied-up ponies, and acrid black smoke rose from a bonfire. A couple of older men sat outside their caravans smoking, but most of the others were either arriving in pickups or leaving.
*
Adrian’s decision to hang around the bar the previous night proved to be useful. As the travellers proceeded to get increasingly drunk, they’d become slack-mouthed and asked him if he fancied coming to a dogfight the next night. He said he wasn’t sure, but would think about it. They offered him a bare-knuckle fight – a hundred quid to knock a man out, but he declined. Another time, he told them. But the dogfight was where the money was made, and betting men came from around the area – not just travellers but punters and gangsters. It was well protected. Rosie had seen the televi
sion documentaries before, and attempts by journalists to get close to it, so she didn’t expect, or even want to be any closer than she needed. But it would be a bonus if they could get a picture while they were trying to snatch one of Timmy. They hadn’t seen him around this morning, so their only hope was that he would be around the town in the afternoon, once the market kicked off.
Her mobile rang and Don’s name came up.
‘Rosie. Where are you? The guys told me you slipped your leash.’
‘Hey, Don. I was going to phone you, I just said to the guys that it was a top-secret job I’m on. I should be back tomorrow. And if I get lucky, I’ll have some great information for you.’
‘I hope you’re not doing anything daft.’
‘No. Well, not yet.’
‘Are you in Scotland?’
‘No. Down south. Looking for someone. What’s happening back there?’
She heard him sigh. ‘It’s all getting worse by the day. They’re talking about bringing an outside force in to help in the hunt for this fucker Boag. I can’t believe we haven’t had a sniff of him. I mean you’ve been the bloody closest to him – he’s even fucking phoned you on your mobile, yet we can’t get near him.’ He paused. ‘You’re not there tracking him, are you? Because that would be totally stupid.’
‘No, course not. I’m looking for someone else. I know how frustrating it must be for you guys with Boag running around there. He’s a clever bastard, he really is. But he’ll make a mistake – I just hope it’s soon, because to be honest, I’m scared witless now every time I go out of my house in Glasgow – and even when I’m in my bloody house. Have the press got hold of the outside force line yet?’
‘No. It might not happen. The bosses are trying to resist it. I know it looks bad from our point of view, but to be honest, I don’t give a shit who comes in. We really need to find this guy before he does anyone else in.’
‘Exactly. Listen, I have to go. But I’m serious about what I’m doing. It might be big information for you, if it works out.’
