Narey had her mobile to her ear and her other arm wrapped round herself for warmth as she impatiently circled while waiting for her call to be answered. The doctor had eventually ushered them out, saying that Deans needed to rest. Narey hadn’t disagreed but had told Deans he could expect to hear from her very soon.
The DI sounded typically grumpy as he barked into the phone — not exactly filling Narey full of confidence but not putting her off either.
‘Where the hell are you?’ he demanded on recognising her voice.
‘The Western. A man named Greg Deans was seriously injured in a fall and I…’
‘A fall? Why the fuck would you be interested in a fall? And who the hell is Greg Deans?’
‘Well, I don’t think it was an accident and Deans… Deans was a student at Jordanhill with Paton and Mosson. He was…’
‘Jesus Christ. Not this teacher bollocks again. If you haven’t got anything better to do with your time, then I can find you something.’
‘No, sir. This is serious. I think we’ve got two murders on our hands and an attempted murder.’
‘We’ve been through this, Narey. Even if Paton was murdered, he isn’t on our books; he’s on Central’s. And you still haven’t told me what the fuck makes you think there’s anything going on here at all.’
‘Look, if you could just trust me on this for now and get a uniform to watch over Deans, then I’ll explain the rest at the station. The link between these guys is concrete. I’m certain about this, boss.’
She knew the silence on the other end of the phone was Addison trying to think of another reason to argue. The longer he went without saying anything, the surer she was she’d persuaded him. He was as argumentative and confrontational as they came, but she was confident he respected her judgement — even if he’d never tell her that.
‘You’d better be not just certain but fucking right,’ he finally growled. ‘Do you know how much those pencil-pushing pricks will bust my balls if I can’t justify the man-hours spend of even a single woodentop? If there’s anything I can’t stand in this world, it’s dealing with fucking accountants. They’ve got the personality of cheese but they’re vindictive bastards.’
‘I am right,’ she told him. ‘Get me a uniform out here and I’ll come straight in and tell you the lot.’
‘Fucksake. The sooner I get out from behind this desk the better. You lot are doing my head in.’
The line went dead and Narey knew that was going to be as close to agreement as she was going to get. She’d wait until the constable arrived, then go to see Addison. Obviously she wouldn’t tell him everything — just the part she felt would be enough. Addy had been round the block often enough to know that information came from all sorts of places you might not want to share with your superior officer.
As she was putting her phone back into her pocket, Narey looked up to see two women rushing to the hospital entrance. They were clearly agitated and the younger of the two was wiping tears from her eyes. As they brushed past, she saw that Winter knew who they were and raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.
‘That’s Deans’ wife and daughter,’ he told her. ‘I recognise them from the photos in their house.’
‘Poor cows,’ Narey muttered. ‘They’re in for a nasty shock about Daddy.’
‘So you’re going to tell them?’
‘Of course I am. It’s only a question of when. At the moment it gives me leverage over him so I’ll keep that while I need it.’
‘You’re all heart. What did Addy say?’ he asked her.
‘Your pal isn’t exactly happy but then he never is. He’s sending someone over to keep an eye on Deans. I’ll stay here till he arrives. What are you going to do?’
Winter looked up at the grey skies, which had a hint of pink, suggesting yet more snow could be on the way.
‘I’m going to go over to The Rock. I want to get some pics from the scene.’
Narey swore under her breath and looked at her watch.
‘Shit. You’re right. I’ll need to go there too. You go ahead. I’ll join you as soon as the cavalry arrives.’
‘Didn’t I hear you telling Addy you’d be going straight to Stewart Street?’
‘What are you, his bloody secretary? I’m going to The Rock and Addy can wait. That place is being treated like the scene of an accident but it’s a crime scene.’
Winter grinned at her and she knew he’d been winding her up.
‘Piss off,’ she laughed. Her smile quickly disappeared, however, and was replaced by a serious frown.
‘So…’ she began. ‘Our man Bradley may be living as a gypsy traveller.’
‘Didn’t see that coming. It was all I could do not to let my mouth fall open like a halfwit when Deans said it. What the hell’s going on, Rach?’
‘No idea. You’re the gypsy expert, you tell me.’
‘I can ask some of my new friends, I guess. But I already know they aren’t exactly keen on sharing things with out siders. Which reminds me: if what Deans says is right, then the “gypsy bride” rumour is a load of crap. Danny and I have been chasing this Sam Dunbar guy for nothing.’
‘Not for nothing,’ she disagreed. ‘It’s too much of a coincidence. There’s some link we’re just not seeing. It looks like we’ll need the help of your pal Tommy Baillie to find Bradley. That might mean sorting out this Dunbar character. I might need to get Addison to put someone on this.’
Winter shook his head.
‘No. The last thing that Baillie wants is the cops involved in this. If we want his help, then we have to keep them out of it.’
Narey exhaled noisily.
‘Christ. I’m being asked not to do my job a hell of a lot these days.’
‘Well…’ he hesitated, although perhaps not for as long as he should have done. ‘You are not doing your job quite a lot these days.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Rachel, you’ve been out on a limb for so long you’ll be getting splinters in your arse. You’ve been doing too much stuff that isn’t authorised and you need to watch it before you get into trouble.’
She stared hard at him but couldn’t muster up any real resentment because she knew he was right.
‘You let me worry about that. Right now, we have other things we need to bother about.’
‘Like who is Peter Bradley? Our blackmailer, our killer or the next victim?’
She shook her head.
‘Yes, but it doesn’t matter which he is. Not right now. Whichever of those things he is, we need to find him as quickly as possible.’
The Rock was surrounded by residential housing, most of it of the high-ceilinged, corniced, spacious Victorian and Edwardian variety. As such, the low, flat-roofed white pub with its beer garden spilling onto the street was an oddity for that part of the west end. Whether it was a rock, an oasis or a sore thumb rather depended on your point of view. Winter had, inevitably, had a drink in it a few times, on his own and with Addison to watch football, and he quite liked the place.
He knew the short cut to the side entrance from the Dowanhill side, the one Greg Deans had taken down from the car park on Crown Terrace wasn’t the kind of route that appealed on a dark night, particularly to women, as it wasn’t overlooked and was poorly lit.
Winter parked up above the pub and followed Deans’ route to the steps. Blue and white tape had been tied across the top to stop anyone else venturing down but there was no sign of Murray or Boyle. Winter’s heart sank as he saw the number of footprints in the snow around the car park and at the area at the top of the steps. The only bonus was the crisp snow, which meant the prints that hadn’t been trodden over stood out nice and clear. He laid down a black photo scale and photographed the footprints as best he could, cursing the number that had been crushed down by another boot, leaving patterns that were all but useless.