by Anna Smith
‘I know, and don’t think I’m knocking what we’ve got. It’s brilliant, Gilmour, but it’s got danger stamped all over it. Especially now that he’s saying some psychos are chasing him down. How are we going to protect him if he goes out on the street? We can’t keep him locked up. Especially if he’s a heroin addict.’
‘He’ll probably stay in the flat. His mate can go out—’
Rosie stopped. She didn’t want to say that the mate could go out and score some smack for them, but the look on McGuire’s face said it all. He put his hands up.
‘Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Right. Get Marion to sort out a one-bedroom job for them, and get the paperwork done. I’ll deal with the questions. But why do I always get this sense of impending doom when you come in here with a good story?’
‘It’s all part of the fun,’ Rosie said, and stood up.
There was a knock at the door and Declan appeared, his hand up apologetically to the editor. ‘Sorry to interrupt. Rosie, I’ve got someone on the phone saying they want to speak to you urgently. She’s says she’s got information on Millie Chambers.’
She glanced at McGuire, who spread his hands in submission. ‘I have to take this, Mick.’
She headed for the door, rushed across to her desk and picked up her phone. ‘Hello?’
‘I’m looking for Rosie Gilmour,’ a voice said.
‘Who’s this?’ Rosie asked, glancing at Declan.
‘Are you Rosie Gilmour? I have some information about Millie Chambers. Can I speak to Rosie?’
‘Yes. This is Rosie.’
‘Hello,’ the voice said. ‘I won’t tell you my name just yet, but I have some very important information. Millie has asked me to pass it on.’
Rosie felt her heart skip a beat. ‘Millie Chambers asked you to pass it on?’
‘Yes. Your name was on the front page of the story that she was in the hotel in Madrid – the night that young model was killed.’
The accent was Irish, and she sounded like an older woman. She was well spoken and to the point. She was either a fantasist who had read the paper or she was the real deal. It was hard to tell on the phone.
‘That’s correct. That was my story. Look, rather than talk on the phone, can I meet you somewhere? I’m free now, if you are?’
‘Well, I’m in the south of England so I’m quite far away. I’m in East Sussex – Eastbourne.’
Rosie knew the Post went into some London newsagents and at the airport, but it wasn’t generally available. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘How did you get the Post in Eastbourne?’
‘Well, I couldn’t find it, but I did see it on breakfast television this morning.’ She paused. ‘Listen. This is genuine. I’m no crank caller, please don’t think that.’
‘Of course I don’t think that, not for a moment. I can come to Eastbourne, but can you tell me a little more? Do you know Millie Chambers?’
‘I do.’
‘Really? Are you a friend?’
‘Only a recent friend. But I can see how troubled the woman is. I . . . I’m a nurse. But, please, you mustn’t tell anyone that. I’m trying to help her.’
‘A nurse? Are you a nurse in the hospital where Millie is after being hit by the car?’
‘I work at that hospital, but Millie isn’t there any more. She’s been moved.’ She paused. ‘To a private psychiatric hospital. She . . . she’s been sectioned.’
Rosie felt a little punch of adrenalin. There had been no statement about Millie Chambers other than that she was being released from hospital. ‘Sectioned? Under the Mental Health Act? Are you sure?’
‘I am. Rosie, I spoke to Millie today.’
Rosie’s heart sank a little. Christ! She could be talking to a psychiatric patient in the next bed to Millie Chambers and she’d come up with some story. But she had to play along with it. ‘Is she all right?’
‘No. She’s far from all right. Can you come and see me? I need some help here to expose what’s going on. Millie Chambers has asked me to go to the police with the letter—’
‘What letter?’
‘The letter she wrote before they took her away. She gave it to me, pleaded with me to take it off her. It tells everything. She saw that model girl being murdered.’
Rosie wondered how fast she could get to Eastbourne. Even if this woman was a nutcase, she had to see her.
‘I have the letter. It’s signed by Millie. Please, you have to believe me.’
‘I do, I do,’ Rosie said quickly. ‘But you must understand, this is an incredible claim you’re making. I need to know your name. It won’t go anywhere else, I promise. Of course I’ll come down and meet you.’ She could get the five o’clock flight to Heathrow. ‘I can be there later today. But I need to know your name, for my own peace of mind. Do you understand?’
‘My name is Bridget Casey. I’m a staff nurse at a hospital in Eastbourne. The District General. But if it comes out anywhere that I’ve helped Millie, I’ll be in trouble. I’ll get fired. Are you going to help, or will I go to the police?’
‘No,’ Rosie interrupted. ‘Don’t go to the police. We can talk about involving them when I get there. Just keep the letter safe and I’ll be down this evening. Keep your mobile on, if that’s the number you’re phoning from. I’ll meet you anywhere you want.’
‘I live just outside Eastbourne.’ She gave her address and Rosie wrote it down.
‘That’s fine. I can be there by this evening.’
‘I’m scared, but I’m telling you the truth. I’m already too far in. I was too far in from the moment I took the letter from Millie.’
‘Don’t be scared. Can you just tell me what she says in the letter?’
‘I have to go in a second as I’m due back on the ward. She says she saw the girl being thrown off the roof. She says she was in Madrid to commit suicide herself and was going to do it. She was on the roof when it happened, and she also says things about a sexual-abuse ring and children years ago, that certain dossiers were destroyed by her husband.’
Rosie held her breath. Dossiers shredded by the Home Secretary? His wife in Madrid to commit suicide? She’d heard enough. ‘Okay, Bridget. Don’t be afraid. I’ll be in Eastbourne by around eight tonight. I’ll call you.’
Rosie wanted to ask her to fax the letter, to find some way of taking a photograph of the contents, of the signature, or anything that would make her feel it was authentic before she headed all the way to London on what might be a major wild-goose chase. Yet something told her the woman was genuine. But her story was so far-fetched that she knew she’d practically have to hold McGuire down to make him agree to let her go to Eastbourne in the middle of everything else she was doing.
‘Okay. I’ll be waiting for your call. But please don’t think I’m a nutcase.’
She can read my mind, Rosie thought. ‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘I’ll call you when I’m in Eastbourne.’
The line went dead. Rosie turned to Declan. ‘I need you to put a call in to Eastbourne District General Hospital, and ask for Bridget Casey. Just ask if she’s available, that’s all. I’ll tell you about it in a few minutes. I only want to know if she exists, okay?’
Declan nodded, writing the name on his notebook as Rosie headed back to McGuire’s office.
Chapter Fourteen
Dan wrapped both hands around the paper cup of steaming hot tea to take the chill off his fingers. Despite the mid-morning March sun bursting through the clouds the bitter wind would cut you in two. The stone wall felt cold on his backside and he shivered, hoping Mitch would be back soon with some kit. He sniffed and shuddered, beginning to feel the tremors of a junkie needing a hit. He hated that feeling, and wished more than anything he could get off the rollercoaster before it killed him.
Especially now with Bella gone. One of the last things she’d said to him on the phone was that she was going to get him better. ‘I promise,’ she’d said. Those were her words. She’d had enough of all this s
hit too, and she hated the fact that she was doing more and more coke than ever. But she was ready to do something about it. They’d pull each other through it, she’d said. Now he was on his own. He’d vowed to himself that he’d get better for Bella, but such promises were always made under the comforting blanket of heroin, when everything seemed manageable. But when he woke up, felt the chill and the need for more smack, the only thing in his mind was how soon he could get it.
Dan wasn’t ashamed of it – he was well past that – he was just sick of it. He wanted his life back. Whatever was left of him, he just wanted to have it back. He sighed and lit a cigarette. He really liked Rosie Gilmour. She seemed as if she actually cared about him, and he hadn’t met anyone like that in his entire life, except his Bella – maybe Mitch too, but he knew that Mitch would still dip his pockets if he needed the money. He smiled: his junkie pal had just been up the town shoplifting and had headed down to Shettleston to offload the stolen goods in return for enough smack for a couple of days. Rosie was going to put them up in some flat.
He thought of that psycho Ricky coming looking for him and glanced over his shoulder, even though he didn’t think he’d be out on the street searching for him, but you never knew. Paranoia was all part of the addiction. Dan’s mobile rang and he took it out of his jeans pocket. There was no number. He put it to his ear, but didn’t speak.
‘Dan? Is that you, Dan?’
Somewhere in Dan’s fuddled mind, he recognized the voice, but couldn’t remember where from.
‘Dan? You there? Is that Dan Mason?’
‘Who’s this?’ he said cautiously.
‘It’s Mervyn, Dan. Merv . . . How you doing, son?’
A chill ran through him. Mervyn. Fucking slimy bastard. Dan began to shake from his knees right to the hand holding the phone. His mouth was dry. What the fuck was he going to say to this guy? What the hell did he want? Bella had detested him. She’d told him all about Mervyn, but made him promise not to mention anything to anyone until she had gone to the cops.
‘Oh, right, Merv.’ Dan managed to get his tongue off the roof of his mouth to speak. ‘Hi, man. Yeah, it’s Dan.’
‘Dan, my boy! Christ, son! What can I say? I’ve been trying to get hold of you since . . . Since Bella.’
He paused and Dan waited, his mind a blur. Then Merv spoke again. ‘You must be in bits, son. We all are.’
Dan said nothing, rage rising as he heard the quiver of emotion in Merv’s voice. Faker. He took a breath and waited two beats until he knew he could get a sentence out. ‘Yeah, man. Shattered. I just don’t know what to do. I loved Bella. My heart’s broken.’
‘So is mine, Dan. Bella was like my own daughter. I’ve known her since she was thirteen.’
‘I know.’ Dan swallowed his rage. He wanted to say, ‘Sure. You’ve known her since you abused her at thirteen, you pervy cunt.’ But he composed himself, surprised at how he was managing it. He wished Mitch would hurry up and come back with some smack.
‘We haven’t even got poor Bella’s body home yet, so we can’t organize the funeral. I’ve been over this with the bloody Spanish cops. They keep saying it’s still under investigation. But for what? It breaks my heart, Dan, genuinely breaks my heart to accept that Bella took her own life, but that’s what happened, and we all have to get our minds around it.’
Dan said nothing. But something was happening inside his head, as though he could suddenly see clearer than he had in months. It was like he’d just been given a hit and his senses were firing on all cylinders. Or maybe adrenalin pumping that was making him sharper. If only he could feel like this all the time. He had to be on the ball for the bastard, he knew. Why was Merv calling him? Dan was the secret brother nobody knew about, nobody wanted to know about. The last person to want to involve him would be this parasite bastard.
‘You there, Dan?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I know this must be hard for you. Where are you, by the way?’
Dan took a short breath. That was it. He was looking for him. Big Ricky was looking for him. It felt like confirmation: what he’d thought was true. ‘I’m not really anywhere, man. Nothing permanent. Just dossing about.’
‘You in Glasgow?’
‘Nah,’ Dan lied. ‘Was for a few days, but I’m just moving around.’
‘It must be awful for you, but listen, Dan. I need to get together with you. We need to talk. About Bella.’
Dan waited a moment. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, there’s a lot to sort out. Bella was a very wealthy girl, as you know. We need to sort something out between us. Where are you so that I can come and see you?’
‘What do you mean, “sort out”?’
Silence, and Dan listened to Merv’s breathing. It seemed laboured and he could picture his puffy red face and his fleshy lips, which were always too wet.
‘I mean, I need to make sure you’re sorted, so you can have a decent life. I know Bella would have wanted that.’
‘Nobody knows about me and Bella.’
‘I know that, son, and that’s how Bella wanted it. I think maybe it would be best if we kept it that way, but she would have wanted to make sure you were set up.’
Dan didn’t answer. He hadn’t even given any thought to Bella’s money. It had never occurred to him that he was her sole heir, her next of kin. Everything had happened so fast in the past week, but the sudden realization that he was all Bella had had made him feel a little surge of emotion, of belonging. This bastard wanted to pay him off, that was for sure. His hands were shaking a little and he took a breath. ‘Yeah, maybe she would have wanted that right enough, Merv.’
‘Of course she would. Now listen, son. Where can we meet? Don’t worry about how you’re fixed. I know you’ve got a lot of problems, so I’ll come to you. We can get everything sorted and make sure you’re all right. Are you in Scotland?’
‘Not right now,’ Dan lied. He had to talk to Rosie. He didn’t know where to turn, but if this fucker was pushing him like this, it wasn’t because he wanted to look after him.
‘You’re not in Scotland?’ Merv sounded surprised. ‘I thought you lived there.’
‘Yeah, I did for a while, but you know how it is. I keep moving around. Trying to find a good place to be. Since Bella died, I’ve been in bits, man.’
‘I know. But look. Tell me where you are and I’ll come and see you. We can put you up in a hotel, somewhere nice, then get everything sorted for you.’
‘Listen, Merv. My battery’s out of juice,’ Dan lied. ‘I’m going to get cut off. Can you give me a bell tomorrow? I’ll need to get this charged up.’
‘Sure. Go and get your phone charged up and I’ll call you. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll come to you, and we’ll look after you. I mean that, son.’
‘Aye, right. Okay.’ Dan hung up.
He felt like throwing up. He needed a hit and fast, but somehow, somewhere inside, he didn’t want it. He needed to be in some kind of state to deal with this bastard. He needed his wits about him and, most of all, he needed to get off the fucking street. He dialled Rosie’s number.
*
Rosie checked the time on Matt’s dashboard clock as he raced through the traffic on Broomielaw and out towards the East End. She had a maximum of two hours to pick up Dan and Mitch, take them to the flat she’d organized for them, then head to the airport. She was glad to see them standing smoking across from the High Court.
‘Thank Christ they’re waiting,’ Rosie said. ‘Dan sounded a bit spaced out when I talked to him on the phone. Let’s get them holed up in the flat and, hopefully, they’ll still be there in the morning. Marion has already been up and put some stuff in the fridge for them.’
Matt grinned. ‘Like some hash?’
‘Don’t even go there Matt. My bum’s already twitching.’
‘Aye. It’ll be a laugh if all you find when we go up in the morning is the bare floorboards and couple of fag ends.’
‘Christ. Don�
�t, Matt. They’ll be fine.’
Rosie gave them a wave as Matt pulled into the kerb. She hadn’t even told McGuire about Dan’s phone call half an hour ago – that this Mervyn character had called Dan for a meeting. Whatever he wanted, she was sure it wasn’t to give Dan a sympathetic hug. She’d already had Declan check as much as he could on Mervyn Bates. She knew the name, knew he was a big-time manager for models and other celebrities. But he was never in the limelight: he stayed in the background and pulled all the strings. If what Dan had said about him was true, he was one sick bastard. Proving it was another matter.
‘All right, guys?’ Rosie chirped, turning to face them as they got into the back.
‘Not really, Rosie. Shitting myself is more like it. I didn’t get time to phone you, but just after we talked and I told you about Merv, Mitch arrived. He says some geezer’s been asking about me.’
‘Really? Where?’
‘Just asking about,’ Mitch said.
Rosie glanced from one to the other. They’d both had a recent hit and looked a little spaced out.
Mitch sniffed. ‘One of the boys I know told me while I was getting some gear down London Road. He was in a hostel last night and said there was a big bloke asking did he know Dan. My man twigged straightaway that he was some kind of nut-job, and he told him that he knew a guy called Dan but he left last week. The guy gave him a tenner for the information and said there would be a lot more if he could find Dan for him.’
‘Jesus! Did he say what he looked like?’
‘Aye,’ Dan said. ‘Mitch says he had bleached-blond hair. It’ll be that fucker who’s after me. Guaranteed.’
‘Will the guy he spoke to dob you in?’ Rosie asked.
‘Dunno. Hope not. He doesn’t know where I am anyway,’ Dan said.
‘I don’t think he will,’ Mitch said. ‘But you know what it’s like. If this big cunt comes up with a right few quid to hand over to a junkie, he might tell him anything. I wouldn’t bet my house on it . . . if I had one.’
Rosie smiled, even though her insides were churning. ‘Don’t worry. Talking of houses, I’m taking you to a great wee flat we’ve got organized for you, but as I said to you last night, lads, please don’t screw this up in any way. I’ve stuck my neck right out here with the editor, and said I want to look after you – and I do. But you’ve got to meet me halfway on it. I can keep you safe and secure up here, but you can’t bring anyone back or any shit like that. You need to respect the place. You understand?’
