‘Serves you right for deserting the shop floor, Malcolm,’ Clarke said, blowing him a kiss and striding from the room.
Tommy Oram was working on a flat just off Abbeyhill. The previous tenant had been a nightmare. It had taken a couple of Gaby’s men to convince the guy he wasn’t getting back in and he could whistle for his deposit. Just the two broken ribs he’d ended up with. Tommy had given the place a lick of paint and replaced some of the fittings. A rug covered some of the cigarette burns in the carpet — cheaper than replacing the whole thing — and the locks had been changed, just in case the nutjob had made copies of the keys. Earlier someone had buzzed the intercom looking for him. They’d sounded spaced out to Tommy, and he’d told them to get lost.
So when he heard the door to the flat begin to open, he feared the spaceman had somehow blagged his way in. He grabbed a screwdriver and walked into the hallway. Gaby Mackenzie was closing the door behind her.
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ she announced.
‘You’ve got a key?’
She dangled one from her finger. ‘Dad uses the same code on every key box — didn’t you know that?’ She walked towards him, following him into the living room. ‘It’s freezing in here.’
‘Cut off for non-payment. Be a few more days before it gets fixed.’
She was studying her surroundings. ‘Not too far from the club. Maybe it’ll come in handy, if you and Mum aren’t using it.’
‘Don’t start that again, Gaby.’ He had begun wiring a lamp to one of the walls.
‘Well, she’s hardly likely to be wooed by that lock-up of yours.’
‘Last time I checked, the lock-up was yours rather than mine.’
‘Your name on the lease, though — you must remember signing it. So if anything ever goes wrong...’
He stopped what he was doing and turned towards her. ‘What are you telling me?’
‘I’m just saying we all need to watch out.’ She paused. ‘I was sorry when my mum chased your dad away — I hope you know that. I told her she shouldn’t have.’ She did a circuit of the room and checked the view from the small double-glazed window, not that there was much to see other than an identical low-rise across the street.
Oram’s phone signalled an incoming message. He swore under his breath as he read it. When Gaby turned towards him, his eyes were burning into hers.
‘Did you know?’ he asked, a slight tremble in his voice.
‘Know what?’
‘The lock-up’s been turned over.’
‘What?’
‘They chased the guy the length of Calder Road, but he got away.’
‘Christ.’ Gaby dug her own phone out, switched its speaker on and placed a call, which was eventually answered. ‘About bloody time,’ she shouted into the device. ‘I’ve been taking cabs all morning — where the hell have you been?’
Oram recognised Crosbie’s voice. ‘I’ve been stuck in a cop shop,’ he spat. ‘That favour I did for your pal has come back to bite me on the arse.’
‘How come?’
‘They tagged the car on CCTV. Can’t prove anything, but that won’t stop them digging.’
‘Why didn’t you nick a motor?’
‘Maybe if I’d had time, but your pal said it had to be done pronto.’
‘You’re a fuck-up, Crosbie, you do know that, don’t you?’
‘Maybe I am and maybe I’m not.’
‘We’re finished, you and me. I’m done with you.’
‘Are you sure about that, Gaby? Because if I’m going down, I might want some company.’
Gaby was staring at Oram. He watched her features soften in front of his eyes, mouth almost forming a smile.
‘You’re right, C. I’m sorry — got carried away in the moment. We’ll be behind you a hundred per cent. Beth knows all the good lawyers; I guarantee you’ll get the best of them if it comes to it, which it won’t. Like you say, all they have is your car on a night-time street.’
‘When they ask, I was dropping you home, by the way. You won’t mind fibbing for a pal, will you?’
‘Of course not.’ Her lightness of tone belied the look on her face. ‘Now, are you able to come and pick me up, or should I call another cab?’
‘Where are you?’
‘Abbeyhill.’
‘Twenty minutes. You working tonight?’
‘As usual.’
‘And me?’
‘Wouldn’t be the same without you, C. See you soon.’ She ended the call and settled on the nearest chair. ‘Ever fancied a job as a driver, Tommy?’
‘Didn’t sound to me like there was going to be a vacancy.’
The smile she gave him was colder than any of the radiators. ‘I take it they got what they wanted from the lock-up?’
‘Sounds like. And I think I know the bastard responsible — name of John Rebus.’
‘What will he do with the stuff?’
‘Hand it to the cops?’
She shook her head. ‘Then why didn’t he just summon them to the lock-up?’
Tommy ran a hand through his hair.
‘Relax,’ she told him.
‘How the hell do I do that?’
She dug a small bag of pills from her pocket. ‘These will turn that frown upside down.’
He hesitated for only a moment before taking the bag from her.
They announced themselves at the intercom and watched the gates swing silently open. Cheryl Haggard opened the door to them. She looked as pale and tired as ever, but there was a spark of renewed light in her eyes.
‘Have you caught someone?’ But then she saw the expressions on their faces and her eyes became opaque again.
‘Just need to clarify a couple of points,’ Clarke said.
‘Okay, let’s go upstairs.’
‘Actually, it’s Stephanie we need — is she here?’
Cheryl gestured towards the staircase. Esson began climbing, Clarke pausing a couple of steps up when she saw Cheryl was planning to follow.
‘Maybe you could stay down here for a bit? We’ll give you a shout when we’re done.’
‘If it’s to do with Francis, shouldn’t I...?’
‘Like I say, just a couple of small things we need to clear up. I really would appreciate you leaving us to it.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Thank you.’ She managed a thin smile before starting to climb again.
Stephanie Pelham was seated by the large windows, her phone on the arm of the chair. She didn’t bother acknowledging that anyone had entered the room. While Esson closed the door, Clarke approached the chair.
‘Hello there,’ she said.
‘Hello.’
‘Want to hazard a guess why we’re back?’
‘Not particularly.’ Pelham reached down to the floor and picked up her glass. There was an inch of white wine in it, which she drained. Only then did she meet Clarke’s eyes.
‘You know Chris Agnew, don’t you?’ Clarke began.
‘Do I?’
‘You’re saying you’ve never met him?’ She watched the woman shrug. ‘So it’s just a phone thing between the two of you?’
‘We know each other,’ Pelham conceded.
‘I’m assuming you met through Francis?’
‘How else?’
‘And the two of you got friendly — friendly enough for lots of chats and texts?’ Clarke unfolded and held up the sheet of calls.
‘So?’
‘So he was — is — your lover at a time when you’re finalising your divorce?’
‘Did I say that?’
‘And according to witnesses, Agnew was no fan of Francis. I’m assuming that’s because of what Francis did to Cheryl — stands to reason Agnew would have sided with you.’
Pelham studied her glass and readied to get to her feet. Clarke held a hand out, telling her to stay seated.