Blindside Page 10

‘I said I didn’t know,’ she told him, aware that he was reacting this way because he was upset – probably unsure how he felt himself about hearing Penny’s voice again.

  He didn’t respond. She closed her eyes and rubbed at them with her free hand.

  ‘Listen, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘If I’d known about the message of course I would have talked to you about it first.’

  He sighed.

  ‘We can talk about it later,’ she said. ‘I’ll call when I get home, like I said.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Click

  Was there any other word in the English language so often used to mean something entirely opposite to its meaning as fine? She didn’t think so.

  She called Armstrong again, still pissed off at him. Got his voicemail and left a short message that she would go and see Suzie Murray on her own and he could meet her there if he liked.

  She put on her jacket, grabbed her bag and headed out of the building.

  Way to stay out of trouble.

  3

  Irvine stood outside Joanna Lewski’s building in Bridgeton. It was on the corner, three storeys built in red sandstone with a charity shop at street level and flats above. The sun was sinking in the sky and it glowed red-orange.

  She looked at the address she had scribbled on a piece of loose paper. Lewski’s flat was on the top floor, back right. She went to the entrance door and was looking for the buzzer for the flat when she noticed that the door wasn’t locked. She pushed at it and it swung into the common hallway. She wasn’t much of a fan of the red and yellow paint job in Logan’s building, but this one had bare plaster walls in charcoal grey. She could barely see the stairs at the far end in the murky light cast down from the grimy window on the landing.

  For a moment, Irvine thought about going home. This was something she could do tomorrow when Armstrong was with her. If he was happy to leave it tonight, maybe she should be as well.

  Nothing to do with the less-than-inviting interior, of course.

  She pushed the piece of paper into her bag and stepped into the hall.

  ‘Get on with it,’ she whispered.

  Halfway along the hall she was startled by the sound of her mobile ringing.

  ‘Hey,’ Armstrong said. ‘Where are you? I thought we were going to see this Suzie Murray together.’

  Irvine closed her eyes.

  ‘Before five you said. It’s now …’ she checked her watch – ‘nearly seven.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that. Had a bit of a domestic.’

  ‘You’re married?’

  ‘Why so surprised? But, no. It’s my girlfriend. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at Murray’s building now. I was going to see her on my own.’

  ‘You want me to come too? I can be there in ten minutes.’

  ‘Do what you want. But I’m going up to her flat to get started. It’s late enough already.’

  ‘Go ahead. I’ll be there.’

  Irvine put her phone away and walked to the stairs at the end of the hall. The dirty grey walls continued up to the next floor and, if anything, it looked even darker.

  She started up the stairs and heard a noise above – like shouting. A male voice. She strained to hear but it had stopped and she wasn’t sure where exactly it had come from. It could have been at the end of the first floor hall or higher up. Sound echoed off the walls and down the stairs, distorted from its origin.

  She waited for a moment and started up again when there was no further sound. The stairs were old stone, polished by the foot traffic that had passed over them since the place was built over a hundred years ago. The centre of each stair was dimpled where the heaviest traffic had worn it away. Irvine was careful to look where she was walking, one hand on the rail screwed to the wall for support.

  As she neared the top of the stairs leading to the second floor she heard more noise. This time it was like a thump, followed by someone choking back a sob. It sounded like it was coming from the far end of the hall. Where Suzie Murray lived. Where Joanna Lewski had lived.

  Irvine stepped up into the hall and looked along to the door of the flat. There was a narrow window seeping dirty yellow light from the streetlights outside.

  She waited, straining to listen for any more sounds from down the hall. She thought she could hear whispers, but couldn’t be sure. There was another thump, this time definitely emanating from the flat she was going to visit. Irvine stepped back, wondering if maybe it would be a good idea to wait for Armstrong after all.

  She turned to look back down the stairs, didn’t see the door to Suzie Murray’s flat slowly open, revealing the black interior of the flat.

  She heard a slow creaking sound behind her as the door to the flat opened all the way, turned and saw the silhouette of a man against the light from the window. His face was indistinct in the gloom of the hall.

  She heard what sounded like a woman crying.

  The man didn’t move.

  Irvine reached into her bag and took out her warrant card, holding it up.

  ‘I’m a police officer. DC Irvine, Strathclyde Police CID.’

  Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. That’s how they taught you – got to sound like a cop, even if you don’t feel it.

  The man turned his head and looked inside the flat. She saw him in profile – long hair with a prominent brow and a boxer’s flat nose. Realised now that he was tall and wide.

  Wished to Christ she’d waited for Armstrong.

  The man turned back to look at her.

  ‘Bad timing,’ he said, and walked towards her.

  4

  Irvine held her ID out in front of her, as though it would act as a shield. The man continued to advance on her. She stepped back, felt her foot slip on the edge of the top stair – nowhere to go but down.

  He was close now, ten feet from her. She pushed her other hand into her bag and grabbed the canister of pepper spray, pulled it out and pointed it at him.

  ‘Stay where you are or I’ll use this.’

  She said it loud and it was enough to stop him. Still couldn’t make out his face. She smelled alcohol and aftershave.

  His head cocked to one side.

  He ran at her.

  Irvine saw his face clearly for a moment and pressed the button on the spray.

  He ducked his head and held a big hand up to protect his face from the spray. Irvine tried to angle the liquid into his eyes.

  Then he was on her.

  He shoved his leading hand into Irvine’s face, cracking her face back on to the wall. She felt the impact on her eye socket and cheek, the whole side of her face going numb from the blow.

  She kept her finger on the spray and moved the canister rapidly from side to side hoping to catch him in the face. It worked.

  He shouted out and pulled his hand off her face.

  Irvine kicked out at his legs and felt the side of her shoe connect with his shin. She stepped up into the hall and swung her fist at his head, the canister of pepper spray still grasped in it. She caught him with a glancing blow and he staggered on to the stairs, grabbing at the railing with one hand and swinging the other one round at her.

  She saw the blow coming too late. His hand closed into a fist and hit her high on the head, just below her hairline. The force of it made her stagger and she fell back against the wall.

  The man rubbed at his eyes. Turned and ran, half falling down the stairs.

  Irvine leaned against the wall and listened to the sound of him running on the stairs and the main door crashing back against the wall as he went out on to the street.

  She slid down the wall and dropped the pepper spray, her whole body shaking. She felt on the verge of tears but forced herself not to cry, taking in deep lungfuls of air to slow her pulse.

  The side of her face felt hot and tight. She put her hand to it and felt swelling around her eye, pulled it away and saw blood. She wiped the blood on the wall, smearing it red.

  Irvine searched in her bag for a p
acket of tissues, pulling out a handful of them and pressing them to her face. She felt blood soak them almost immediately.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Irvine looked up at the sound of the woman’s voice. She was leaning against the doorframe of her flat staring at Irvine.

  ‘Did he hit you?’

  Irvine nodded and pushed herself up. She bent down to lift her bag and felt her head swim, light flashing in her vision. When it passed, she grabbed her bag and walked towards the woman, the wad of tissues still pressed against her face.

  ‘Are you Suzie Murray?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m a police officer. Can I use your bathroom?’

  Murray straightened and looked inside her flat. Her eyes darted furtively back to Irvine.

  ‘I don’t care what you’ve got in there,’ Irvine told her. ‘I came to ask you about Joanna Lewski.’

  As she drew level with the door of the flat, Irvine saw that Murray’s lip was cut and there was swelling to her jaw. She had been crying.

  ‘Did he do that to you?’

  Murray nodded but said nothing. Irvine thought that she looked to be in her mid-thirties, with a bad blonde dye job showing dark roots, but was probably five to ten years younger than that. Being in her line of work tended to age women rapidly.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Irvine asked, taking the tissues from her face and looking at the crimson stain on white.

  ‘What is it about Joanna?’ Murray asked, unable to look Irvine in the eye.

  It hadn’t occurred to Irvine that Murray would not know that her flatmate was dead. Had nobody told her?

  ‘Let’s go inside, okay?’

  Irvine went past Murray into the flat. She followed Murray’s directions to the bathroom, a narrow room at the far end of the hall. The bath was stained where the tap dripped constantly and clothes were strewn across the floor.

  She went to the sink and looked in the mirror, turning her face to see the damage that had been done. There was a half-inch cut running down past her right eye and the side of her face was already swollen and discoloured.

  Irvine took some more tissues from her bag and dabbed at the cut. Murray came into the room and took a box of Elastoplast from a drawer under the sink.

  ‘It’s all I’ve got,’ she said, handing it to Irvine.

  Irvine took them from her and said thanks. Murray left her alone as she tore the backing off two plasters and crossed them over the cut, pressing down and seeing a bloodstain rise where she had applied pressure.

  She was going to have some heavy bruising but there was nothing she could do about that for now.

  Murray was in the living room when Irvine came out of the bathroom. The place was a mess – dirty clothes and dishes all over the place and a single, stained sofa against the wall opposite a window which looked down on to the street outside. Irvine decided she would stand.

  Murray pulled her hair back from her face and looked at Irvine.

  ‘Place is a mess.’

  Irvine wasn’t sure what the correct response to that was. She said nothing.

  ‘You said this was about Joanna?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry but she died yesterday.’

  Murray looked away but otherwise did not react.

  ‘We found her body in the river. She was naked. Somebody stripped her and dumped her.’

  Again, no reaction.

  ‘You don’t seem surprised or upset, Suzie.’

  Murray shrugged.

  ‘Stuff like that happens to us, you know. Comes with the territory.’

  ‘How well did you know Joanna?’

  ‘Not that well. She moved in a month ago.’

  Irvine knew the score: getting any worthwhile information from Murray was going to be difficult. Her inherent distrust of the police.

  ‘Sounds like maybe you didn’t have a choice in the matter? Her moving in, I mean.’

  ‘I don’t own this place. Someone else does.’

  Her handler. Pimp. Irvine made a note to check the Land Register to see who the owner was.

  ‘Who was that man? The one who was just here.’

  Murray rocked back and stood, walking over to the window and wrapping her arms around herself. Irvine couldn’t tell if it was because she was scared or trying to avoid talking about him.

  ‘Suzie?’

  ‘I don’t know his name.’

  ‘That’s not really an answer.’

  Irvine heard her sigh.

  ‘He sold us some stuff.’

  ‘Drugs?’

  She nodded, still looking out the window.

  ‘Have you used any of it?’

  ‘No. He came here with Joanna the other night. Said they were going to party.’

  Irvine looked around. Not much of a place for celebrations.

  ‘Did they?’

  ‘What, you want the details?’

  Irvine said nothing.

  ‘They didn’t stay here long. They went out.’

  ‘And they took the stuff with them?’

  Murray nodded.

  ‘Had he sold you drugs before?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘He showed up a couple of weeks ago with Joanna. She was the one who knew him. Said he had better stuff than anyone else.’

  ‘And he didn’t take cash from Joanna for it?’

  ‘You want a prize for figuring that out?’

  There was a knock at the door. Murray looked at Irvine, her eyes wide with fear.

  Another knock, louder this time.

  5

  Irvine held her hand up, telling Murray to stay where she was. It didn’t sound like whoever was out there had gone away.

  Irvine’s mobile rang. It was Armstrong.

  ‘Where are you?’ he said.

  ‘I’m in Suzie Murray’s flat. Someone was here. I think it might have been the guy who dumped Joanna Lewski’s body. And I think maybe he’s come back.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, I mean, I’m standing outside her door waiting for someone to answer and I’m the only one here.’

  ‘That was you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Irvine ended the call and went to open the door. Armstrong looked at her face and winced.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Irvine almost shouted. ‘Why didn’t you say anything when you knocked?’

  ‘It’s not something I’m in the habit of doing.’

  ‘Wait here.’

  Irvine went back to the living room and gave Murray one of her cards. Told her to call if she could remember anything else that might help. Asked if she had anywhere else to stay in case he came back.

  ‘What do you care?’ Murray said. ‘And, anyway, there’s nowhere else.’

  ‘I’ll have someone call in on you. Take a full statement.’

  ‘Look, lady. No offence, right, but I’m not telling you any more.’

  Irvine stared at her.

  ‘Want to know how I keep out of trouble? I don’t get involved. You’ll have to sort it out without me.’

  Irvine wanted to say more, couldn’t work out what might help.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Armstrong said, from the hall outside the flat.

  Irvine turned to look at him.

  ‘She’s said all that she’s going to say,’ Armstrong told her. ‘That’s the end of the story.’

  Murray shrugged at Irvine.

  ‘Unbelievable,’ Irvine said, stepping out into the hall and closing the door to the flat.

  ‘Where to now?’ Armstrong asked.

  ‘You’re taking me to the hospital to get this looked at,’ she said, pointing at her face.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

  Irvine stopped at the top of the stairs, looked around and kneeled to lift the canister of pepper spray from the floor.

  ‘Was lucky I had this.’

  Armstrong looked at her and shrugged.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Irvine turned and went down the st
airs without waiting for him.

  6

  Logan was sitting at the Cahills’ dining table when he heard the phone ring through in the study. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after nine. Wondered why Becky hadn’t called yet.

  Cahill got up and went out to answer the phone. Noises sounded from upstairs where Ellie had gone to play with the Cahill children. Sam looked up at the ceiling and then at Logan, smiling.

  ‘How’s she doing? Ellie, I mean.’

  ‘Pretty good. We haven’t been to the counsellor for a while and she’s not quite as raw now when we go to Penny’s grave.’

  ‘She’s awful grown-up now.’

  Logan nodded.

  ‘You’re doing a good job. I mean, of bringing her up.’

  ‘I hope so. But how can you tell, really?’

  ‘Ask me that again in twenty years’ time.’

  It was Logan’s turn to smile.

  Cahill came into the room holding the phone to his ear and motioned for Logan to follow him. They walked briskly to the study where Cahill activated the speaker on the phone base station.

  Logan heard a woman’s voice before Cahill cut across her.

  ‘Melanie, I’ve got you on the speaker now with Logan. He’s the lawyer who’s coming over with me.’

  They exchanged brief greetings before Cahill spoke again.

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘I don’t know if it’s anything. But you said it didn’t matter how small it was.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘It’s just this one thing. I went through Tim’s stuff and couldn’t find anything. Then I remembered that I hadn’t checked our e-mail account since, you know …’

  No one said anything.

  ‘Anyway, I logged on and found this e-mail which Tim sent from his phone. It’s timed just before the flight. He must have sent it here in a hurry.’

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘It says “D. Hunter, Denver”. That’s all.’

  Cahill looked at Logan and shook his head.

  ‘Does it mean anything to you?’ Melanie asked.

  ‘No. What about you?’

  ‘Nothing. I never heard the name before. You think it might be connected?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Cahill said. ‘The timing is certainly interesting. Like he was sending himself something that he thought was important. And also maybe that he wanted someone else to see if anything happened to him. Can you forward that e-mail to me?’