Текст книги "In Place of Death"

Автор книги: Craig Robertson

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter 12

Monday afternoon

It sometimes occurred to Winter that his uncle, Danny Neilson, had never changed in all the time he’d known him. Danny had seemed old to him when Winter was a kid. Old but big and strong, patient and wise. None of that had altered. Danny was one of those people who grew into his age. Being in his sixties seemed to suit him. He’d filled out into what he should always have been.

He’d done his thirty years in the police, mainly as a sergeant, and he still worked a beat of sorts. He spent his nights as a taxi-rank superintendent keeping part of Glasgow safe and the other part in order as best he could. The drunk had not yet been stewed that Danny couldn’t keep in line.

Danny was Danny. Solid. Always there when he was needed, gruff, tough and rough but capable of being as gentle as a summer breeze. And the smartest man that Winter had ever known.

When Tony had called wanting to speak, Danny had suggested they meet for a lunchtime coffee in Lola & Livvy’s under the Hielanman’s Umbrella – the glasswalled railway bridge that carried Central Station’s platforms across Argyle Street and was historically a meeting place for Highlanders relocated to the big city. The café was fronted in the green and gold of the Umbrella’s refurb, and inside it had a Mediterranean vibe with tiled floors, exposed walls, whitewashed wood and red-leather sofas.

‘This place is a bit trendy for you, isn’t it?’

Danny shrugged and lifted his mug as evidence. ‘Great coffee. Great cakes as well. What do I care what the décor’s like?’

‘Fair enough. Wasn’t trying to suggest you weren’t a man of refinement.’

‘Yes you were. So how have you been, son? Haven’t heard from you in a month or two. Everything okay?’

‘Sure. Rachel’s enjoying her promotion. Working like a slave but loving it. She’s picked up a new murder case and that’s always guaranteed to make a girl happy.’

‘The body pulled out of the Molendinar near the Great Eastern?’

Winter nodded.

‘Odd one. Saw it on the news. Did you do the photography?’

‘Yeah. The body had been there for at least a month so it was in a right state. Hell of a place to work in as well.’

‘Sounds right up your street. You’ll have been in stranger places than that.’

Winter didn’t rise to it, seeing the gleam in Danny’s eye and hearing the tease.

‘Anyway, I asked how you were, not how Rachel was. So what aren’t you telling me?’

He sighed. Danny would drag it out of him anyway so he may as well get it over with.

‘It might come to nothing but that twat Baxter had me into his office to give me a bollocking and dropped very heavy hints about me losing my job.’

Danny’s eyebrows rose but his expression didn’t change. ‘They’re going to fire you?’

‘No. Not this time. The suggestion was that I’d be made redundant. “The review of all services is continuing” was how he put it but he couldn’t have laid it on thicker if he’d stabbed me with the trowel he was using. And he was enjoying it, obviously.’

‘Obviously. Pompous arse. You think he’s serious?’

‘It’s certainly possible. I probably shouldn’t have been there for a few years now. The SOCOs can do what I do. Not as well but they do all their forensic shit too so they come in much cheaper. It will make sense to accountants and it’s them that are running the show now.’

Danny nodded soberly. ‘You’ve told Rachel this, I take it?’

‘Nope.’

‘And you think that’s a good idea? Because I don’t. Something like that doesn’t work well as a surprise. Flowers or a weekend away – that’s the kind of surprise women like. You need to tell her, son. You’ll be hard pushed to marry her if she’s killed you.’

Winter hesitated just long enough for Danny to pounce on it. ‘Now, I was just joking but I didn’t hear a denial or a piss off, which I’d have expected. You thinking of making an honest woman of her? Because you won’t do any better, believe me.’

Winter laughed. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dan. But I’m not about to drag her up the aisle, even if she’d let me. But . . .’

‘But what?’

‘But I’m ready to . . . I want more. I’m fed up of hiding this. I want us to be like normal people. A couple. And you know, I think she is too.’

‘You think?’

‘Danny, you know what she’s like.’

‘Pretty great, I’d say.’

‘Yes, pretty great. Amazing. Fabulous. But she is also capable of being stubborn, contrary and argumentative. If I suggest it, she’s as likely to dump me as say yes. It’s trying to find the best time to talk about it. I’m not sure being landed with this kind of murder case is the best time.’

‘This kind of murder? They’re all this kind, son. Dead body and dead ends. If you’re going to wait till things are nice and quiet, you’ll both be on Zimmers. If you want my advice – and I’m guessing that’s why you’re going to buy me coffee and one of those big pastries – then you need to grow a pair and ask her.’

‘Aye, maybe.’

A beep called from inside Danny’s jacket pocket. He pulled out his mobile phone and read the text. Whatever it was, it seemed to amuse him.

‘Looks like I’m in demand today. We’ll need to wrap this up.’

‘Hot date?’

‘You could say that.’ He typed a reply and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He picked up his coffee mug and looked at Winter over the rim.

‘Here’s what I think. You can listen or not, up to you. Rachel is the best thing that’s happened to you and whatever you decide to do, get it right. And not just right for you, for her too because that lassie’s got enough on her plate without you making it worse. If you upset her and she decides to kill you then I’ll not be helping you. I’ll be holding you down so she can do it. Got that?’

‘Yes, Uncle Danny. I’ve got it. Loud and clear.’

‘Good.’

Half an hour later, Danny was still sitting in the same chair with a fresh coffee steaming gently in front of him. He’d had no more than two cautious sips at it when he heard the door open and looked up to see Narey walk in, her collar turned up against the wind.

‘Rachel.’ He got out of his seat and hugged her. ‘Good to see you.’

She’d known Danny for almost as long as she’d known his nephew. There was a shared respect and a closeness between them, him being an ex-cop, and his knowledge and experience had been of help to her in the past.

She looked around at the café and nodded approvingly. ‘Nice. Didn’t think it would be your kind of place though.’

He half laughed, half groaned. ‘Too trendy for me, do you think?’

She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Not at all. Looks like you started without me. You want a pastry to go with that?’

The waitress had appeared beside them and looked at Danny as if to say did he really want another one. Patting his stomach like a man who’d been caught having a midnight feast, Danny politely said no thanks.

‘So you said you wanted to pick my brains?

‘And to see you,’ Narey assured him. ‘But yes, I could do with some help. I need answers that I’m not going to get from Google. I’ve got a case that—’

‘The Molendinar?’

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘Lucky guess.’

‘Yeah, sure. But that’s exactly what I mean. I need some answers from the kind of smart-arse that knows everything.’

He grinned. ‘Then you’ve come to the right place. What do you need to know?’

‘The Molendinar. Everything you’ve got.’

He spread his arms wide. ‘Sit comfortably, my child, and I shall begin. History lesson first. In the beginning, God created heaven and earth and Glasgow. But before he created Glasgow, he created the Moldendinar Burn. The Clyde was too big and unmanageable and the land around it was too low and marshy so they built along the Molendinar. The city could never have grown without it but in the end, the burn just got in the way and they covered it over and built on top of it. It’s the city’s own time capsule. Buried and forgotten. Most folk don’t even know it’s there.’

‘And now it’s where the bodies are buried. One of them anyway.’

‘So what are you thinking?’

She exhaled hard. ‘It’s the one thing I can’t get away from. Why would someone be in the Molendinar? Whether it’s to kill or be killed or to play tiddlywinks. Why there? Who would go in there now?’

‘People do know it’s there. Not many but some for sure. Locals will all know it, kids probably played in or around it. Anyone with any knowledge of local history will know all about it. Engineers will be down there, keeping it clear. The council will have responsibility for it, probably have maps of it. Urbexers would probably see it as a challenge. Teenagers might walk it as a dare. I guess it could be used to stash stolen goods or even drugs. And I’d say it would be a good place to hide a body.’

‘Urbexers?’

‘Urban explorers. They like to go places they shouldn’t.

Abandoned buildings. Old places. Tall places. They go in, without breaking in, and photograph what’s there. Old schools, churches, factories, tunnels. That sort of thing. There’s websites if you want to know more.’

‘Maybe . . .’ She sounded doubtful. ‘And how – apart from knowing everything – do you know about urbexers?’

He shrugged casually. ‘I know someone who used to do it.’

‘Okay. You really think someone would see it as a good place to hide a body?’

‘Not now they wouldn’t. Now it looks a pretty stupid place to use. But before . . . you’d think it might never be found.’

‘So my suspect list is locals, kids, historians, council workers, engineers, urbexers, serial killers and teenagers. Have I forgotten anyone?’

‘That probably covers it. Can’t think what else to tell you.’

‘It helps, Danny. Thank you.’

‘Any time. Come back if there’s more I can help with. What about you, kid? How are things with you and my nephew?’

‘Good. Very good, actually. He’s behaving himself, not bugging me, generally doing what I tell him. The training is paying off at last. I think I might keep him.’

Danny raised his coffee mug. ‘I’ll drink to that. So where do you think you two will go from here? You just going to keep playing at secret boyfriend and girlfriend for ever?’

She gave him a warning stare for a moment or two but it melted. There probably wasn’t anyone else she could talk to about this.

‘Maybe not. Probably not. It’s maybe time to become adults, Dan.’ She said it with a smile.

‘Adults, eh?’ he mocked gently. ‘You sure you’re ready for this?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘But I can feel us changing. For the better. That time we had apart made me think a lot about what I wanted. Now, I’m pretty sure I know. I love him. I still have my dad to think about, of course, but there’s probably room in my life for two men.’

‘Three surely?’

‘Ha. Of course, three. No show without punch, Uncle Dan. I need to sit down and talk to him about where we go from here. It’s difficult though, I need to make sure I—’

‘Find the right time?’

‘Yes. Exactly. This is serious stuff, Dan. This could go either way. It really could.’

Chapter 13

Tuesday afternoon

‘Hold your horses. I just want a last look around before we total the place.’

‘What for? It’s a dump.’

Jackie Doran sighed and not for the first time he wondered about the philistines he had to work with. Okay, so if he’d wanted to have profound conversations about the art deco movement or the meaning of life then he shouldn’t have got into the demolition business. It wasn’t exactly choking with philosophers. It still got on his tits though that guys like Murray Inglis just didn’t see what was around them. All they wanted to do was knock the place down and get to the pub.

Jackie was older. A lot older. Maybe that’s why he appreciated it more. When you were sixty-four and seeing the end of your own working life looming up in the rear-view mirror then you had a feeling for buildings like this that were about to be smashed to bits. It was called empathy. Murray Inglis would probably think empathy was a rap star or whatever they were calling them now.

It was more than that though. He used to be a regular at the Odeon long before Inglis was born. His mum and dad, God bless them, used to take him when he was a kid. He remembered seeing his first movie there when he was eight. The 7th Voyage of Sinbad. He’d never forget being amazed at the size of the room. Nearly three thousand people in one huge auditorium. Tell that to the kids today and they wouldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t swear that he was impressed by the art deco then as much as he was by the movie. But he did remember the ceiling looking like it was fashioned in waves as it moved down over the balcony towards the screen. And at the sides of the stage itself were massive gold-coloured designs like the sides of great church organs, all latticed and glitzy. There was a tea room and ritzy foyers and lounges. It was some place, the old Odeon.

Of course he didn’t know or care back then that it had been built by Verity & Beverley, the company that built all the big luxurious cinemas in Britain. This was the only one they built in Scotland and it was a beauty.

Standing here now, inside with the doors long shut, he felt like he was part of it. Looking down on Renfield Street, seeing the world going past but being unseen behind the old building’s grimy windows, was exciting in a way that young guys like Inglis wouldn’t understand. It was like watching an old movie but in reverse. Like looking out from the screen.

The building on the other side of Renfield Street looked fabulous. It was true what they said about most people never looking up. They missed out on so much, especially in a city like Glasgow. The architecture was stunning. The place opposite had incredible stone balconies, statues and carved heads. Intricate scrolls, beautiful pillars, arches and stonework. All above a couple of modest pubs.

The building diagonally opposite was pretty incredible too. How many people walked past it every day and never noticed the terracotta turrets at the top that looked like they’d been pinched from some German castle above the Rhine? Maybe there was a princess locked up in one of them, or a dwarf. Maybe he’d watched too many movies.

‘Jackie, are you going to shift? We’re on a schedule here and I’m going out the night.’

Murray Inglis was going out every night. He didn’t know any other way to live his life. He would come in every morning with a hangover and go away every evening with an itch for another one. Jackie was too old for that nonsense. A few beers on a Friday night was his lot these days.

‘Son, I’m having a last look around. Deal with it. This building’s been standing here for seventy years. Another twenty minutes isn’t going to kill anybody.’

Jackie wasn’t Inglis’s boss. Not technically. But he’d been round the block often enough to get away with just about anything he wanted. They couldn’t sack him for it and they certainly weren’t going to promote him if he was a good boy. There were benefits in being a year from retirement and being a bolshie bastard was one of them.

Inglis disappeared, no doubt to tell the gaffer that the old bugger was being an old bugger again. That suited Jackie just fine. He could have a wander round in peace.

What else did he see here? Lawrence of Arabia. Peter O’Toole appearing through the desert on that big screen. Bonnie and Clyde. Dr Zhivago. Which everyone had raved about but which lasted over three hours and bored him. The Dirty Dozen. And dozens more.

It wasn’t just the movies either. The Beatles played there. The Rolling Stones too. He couldn’t get a ticket for the Stones and hadn’t wanted to see the Beatles. His cousin George had seen the Stones though and talked about it for weeks.

The last thing he saw on the big single screen was On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. The one with the Australian guy as James Bond where his wife gets killed at the end. That was 1969, just before they ruined the place. Every bit of the old interior, all the beautiful art deco stuff, disappeared. They made it into a three-screen complex and covered the front of the building in dull grey corrugated sheeting. Maybe no one knew it then but that was the beginning of the end.

They added more and more screens and took away more and more of the magic. He wasn’t even sure of the last picture he’d seen there. It might have been Wall Street or maybe Rain Man, something like that in the late 1980s. Long time ago now. Seemed like another world.

And now he was part of the team that was going to blast the Odeon into smithereens. He didn’t exactly feel good about that but he was just the hangman: someone else had been the judge and jury. Just following orders, the oldest excuse in the book.

The front façade would be kept, safe from the other ravages, and would form the centrepiece of a new ten-floor office development. Nobody seemed to give a flying fuck for the rest of it though.

He walked through what was the main foyer, images of usherettes in tartan dresses and male staff in dark suits tumbling through his mind. The stairs rose from here to the old upper foyer where there had once been a bar, a walk he’d made a hundred times but never like this. This time, the likelihood was that no one would ever make it again.

He walked further back into the building, his torch-light leading the way down memory lane. Jackie had been in a few times since it closed in 2006, including before it had been stripped out. Since then it had lain dormant and such a waste, bang in the middle of the city centre and nothing happening to it.

It was so quiet back here. Only the occasional creak of the building and the distant scurry of rodents broke the silence. He liked that though. It gave it an atmosphere it deserved.

The rooms were all bare but he’d been there when the floors were still covered in dark blue carpets, dotted dirty grey where the chairs had been and marked with the sticky stains of old popcorn and spilled juice. The stage was for ghosts now, the old screens long since taken away and sold off.

There were no numbers on the rooms any more but he still knew which was which. The rooms got smaller as the numbers got bigger. Something great had been chopped up into little bits of something ordinary. Cinema 1 had still been a good size but by the time you got down to what had been Cinema 9 then it was pretty claustrophobic and banked steeply from back to front. It was the space that had been 9 that he went into now, breathing in fifty-plus years of his own thoughts.

He stood and listened, closing his eyes and remembering. It was so small and dark that you could almost hear projectors whirring, reels clacking and people shushing each other. You could feel that buzz, the one you got when the whole crowd felt the same thing at the same time. Fear and amusement and sadness and relief. He could imagine dust whirling in the light of the projector and dancing through it were glimpses of car chases and Westerns and custard pies.

He could still smell popcorn and hairspray, hot dogs and sickly orange juice. He could smell sweat and hope and teenage troubles. There was something else though, something newer and yet older. It was the stench of decay. Maybe the smell of the old place finally about to breathe its last.

Jackie wandered down the steep bank to where the screen would have been, seeking one last bit of nostalgia before he left. He’d always wanted to be up there; not that he’d ever dared tell anyone for fear of them laughing at him. He’d imagined himself in a shoot-out with Clint Eastwood or a punch-up with The Duke. Maybe in a love scene with Sophia Loren. Jeez, his pals would have wet themselves if he’d told them that.

He was up there now though. The silver screen. Even if it hadn’t been so much silver as dusty grey. The walls to the side a shabby, peeling blue. Jackie gave a little soft-shoe shuffle, like Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire, and put his hands out like it was show business.

He even gave a little bow to the ghosts and turned as if to walk off into the screen. That’s when he saw it. That’s when he realized that the smell of decay wasn’t just from the building.

It was tucked into a little recess to the side of where the screen would have been, partly covered by a sheet of plywood. There was a foot sticking out though. An ashen-white foot that barely seemed real but he knew that it was.

Jackie really didn’t want to look any further. He backed away then stopped himself, breathed hard and went forward again. He took hold of the plywood and lifted it, the stench flooding his nose as he did so. All at once he saw the rotten corpse of a woman, naked and eaten, her flesh chewed and decomposed.

This time, he backed away with his mouth open for three steps until he tripped over the lip of the small, raised stage. He was on his knees when he threw up.

Jackie got to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, not daring to look at the body again. He hadn’t seen anything like that on the big screen, not once. With his back to it, he ran as fast as his overweight body could take him, up the slope and out of what had been Cinema 9.