‘Will you stop looking at my scar, you sick fucker?’ Addison demanded.
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it. I’m not an exhibit on your freaky Wall of Death. I’m the one with the scar but you’re the one who needs your head examined, wee man. You have serious problems between those ears.’
‘Aye, okay. I said I was sorry. It’s just a bit… magnetic.’
‘Only for a sicko like you,’ Addison blustered. ‘And the chicks, of course. They love it. Actually, talking of the ladies… Narey’s up to something as well. I don’t know what it is yet but I’ve got a bad feeling the silly cow is getting herself into bother over something.’
Winter tried not to seem too interested. If anyone suspected he and Rachel were an item, it was Addy. It would be just like him to be fishing in the hope that Winter would bite.
‘Yeah?’ he replied as casually as he could. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘I probably shouldn’t say but she was out in Stirling — Stirling of all places! Poking her nose into some old case that was none of her business. Now she’s taking random days off for no apparent reason. There’s something going on but she’s not telling me what. You and her are pretty pally… you any idea what she’s up to?’
Winter shook his head.
‘Nope. No idea. I’ll keep an eye on her though.’
‘Yeah, I bet you will,’ Addison teased. ‘No hardship in that, eh?’
The DI held Winter’s gaze, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, defying his mate to challenge him. Tony couldn’t get a read on what Addison did and didn’t know. The sod liked playing games and Winter was going to do his damnedest not to get dragged into this one. Salvation from Addison’s silent interrogation was at hand in the shape of Winter’s mobile beeping in his back pocket. He knew right away it was work because of the alert tone and might not have bothered to check it there and then if it didn’t offer an easy escape from Addison’s stare. He hauled the phone out of his pocket, ignoring Addison’s look of disgust.
Winter saw it was a text signalling to him that the R2S had been updated on the Cambuslang case. Addison’s games could wait and so could his pint. There was no way he was going to be able to resist a quick look at what had been added on the headless guy. He tapped his way through to the system and brought up the highlighted area where the new information had been placed. As he read it, his eyes widened and he felt a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He instinctively brought his pint to his lips and drew down a large mouthful of the Guinness as he reread what was in front of him. Drawing his hand across his lips, he pushed himself to his feet.
‘Addy, I need to go outside. I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘I take it it’s a woman,’ Addison jeered behind him. ‘One text from her and you jump. You’ve got to let her know who’s boss, wee man. Treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen. It’s the way they like it.’
Winter wasn’t at all sure that the call he was about to make was the way Rachel would like it. She answered on the third ring as he stood outside the pub, his mind racing and his feet shuffling in a vain attempt to keep warm.
‘Hi. It’s me.’
‘So I see,’ Narey laughed at him. ‘You do know that your name comes up on the screen on these newfangled mobile phone things, right? I seem to remember someone making fun of me for saying the same thing.’
‘Aye, very funny. Listen, there’s something you need to know. It might be nothing but…’
She sensed the tension in his voice.
‘What is it?’
‘I told you about that suicide I photographed yesterday, the one at Cambuslang station? Well, they’ve just ID’d him. His name’s flashed up on the R2S. He’s a guy named Adam Mosson.’
‘And?’
‘It’s his occupation. Rachel, the guy was a school teacher.’
A loud silence came back at Winter from the other end of the phone.
‘Two school teachers. Dying in suspicious circumstances,’ he continued. ‘Maybe I’m being…’
‘No, you’re not,’ she interrupted. ‘And of course it’s his name too. Tony, one of the other three names the blackmailer emailed along with Laurence Paton was…’
‘I know. Adamski something or other.’
‘Yes. Jesus. Adamski was Adam Mosson.’
CHAPTER 25
The easy thing, of course, would have been to ask Tony to go to Derek Addison and use the old pals act to get her on the case, explain to him what had being going on and convince him of the truth behind the apparent suicide. The easy way wasn’t an option, however, and it was, of course, her fault for keeping their relationship secret. Naturally, Tony hadn’t been exactly slow in pointing that out.
It would also have been a hell of a lot easier if she understood just what was going on. Ever since Tony had called on Saturday night, she’d known it was too much to think that Adam Mosson’s death was the suicide it seemed. If he’d walked in front of that train, then Narey was sure someone, probably the blackmailer, had driven him to do it. If so, how bad had things been for Mosson that he saw it as the only way out? Of course, the other possibility was that it wasn’t suicide at all. The little that had been gathered in the way of witness statements said it was but she could see they didn’t carry much weight.
The platform had been busy with commuter traffic waiting for their train into Central and no one claimed to have seen Mosson actually step in front of the express. A couple of them had turned in time to see the impact, including a traumatised middle-aged woman who had thrown up not long after. There was a whole lot of screaming and general chaos, pushing both towards and away from the point where the train had struck Mosson. No one there could have been sure who had done what to whom — far less why — which made it harder for her to persuade Addison it was worthy of her time.
She knocked on the door of his office and was immediately greeted with a gruff roar that didn’t bode well for her chances. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
The DI was sitting with his feet up on the desk, determinedly lobbing scrunched up bits of paper into a bin in the corner. Narey stood bemused and watched as he successfully landed three in a row right in the wastebasket.
‘Paperwork,’ Addison said without taking his eyes off the bin. ‘This is the only kind that doesn’t send me completely fucking mental.’
The next effort hit the edge of the bin and joined a collection of others on the floor.
‘Fucksake. Now see what you’ve done. What the hell do you want anyway?’
‘A few minutes of your valuable time would be good, sir.’
‘Less of the fucking sarcasm. I’m not cooped up in here through choice. Right, talk.’
Addison swung his long legs off the desk and reluctantly assumed some vaguely professional position in his chair. It was blindingly obvious he wasn’t in the best of moods and Narey considered making her excuses and trying her luck another time. However, she knew it might be a warm day in Whiteinch before he was actually in a good mood so she decided to take her chances.
‘You’ll have heard about the suicide at Cambuslang railway station,’ she began.
‘No. Next.’
‘A commuter supposedly stepped out in front of an express,’ she persisted. ‘Body parts thrown to the wind.’
‘Okay. So?’
‘So, I have reason to believe it wasn’t a suicide.’
Narey saw a light go on in Addison’s eyes and, even though he tried to cover it with a bored expression, she knew he was curious. The bad-tempered bastard was going stir-crazy, and she was suddenly confident he would bite at the lure of an interesting case. She just had to make him think it was all his idea.