‘Was he jealous you were seeing Bobby?’
She offered a shrug. ‘Haven’t seen Chick in months.’
‘How many months?’
‘Two, maybe three.’
‘Did he know about you and Bobby, though?’
‘Not many people did. We were discreet.’
‘Not easy in a city of a million eyes. So is there any reason you can think of why someone would want Bobby dead?’
‘Apart from the fact he worked for a gangster?’
‘How about the Parlour — did he ever take you there, or mention it?’
She shook her head. She was dressed in black slacks, her feet bare, and she had begun to pick at a toenail, as if seeking a distraction.
‘Is there anything you can tell us about Bobby?’ Laidlaw persisted. ‘Anything that might help us catch his killer?’
‘He just seemed like every other lawyer. A bit quiet, a bit boring, truth be told. But I knew part of his job was storing other people’s secrets. You always felt he was working hard at not letting anything slip.’
‘And these secrets, did you get any inkling where he was storing them?’
She saw that Laidlaw had misunderstood. ‘Up here,’ she explained, tapping her forehead.
Bob Lilley cleared his throat, signalling that he had a question of his own. ‘Are you sorry he’s dead, Jenni?’
‘Of course I am. Can’t go weeping and wailing, though, can I?’
‘You left a bunch of flowers behind the Parlour, didn’t you?’ Laidlaw added. He watched her nod slowly. ‘No name or card... I’m guessing Bobby was a secret kept between you and your mother?’
Jennifer Love looked around the room she was sitting in. ‘Dad would have hit the roof.’
‘There’s no way he could have found out?’
‘I’d know all about it if he had, believe me.’
‘But supposing he had, he would be far from best pleased?’
‘He’s a hard man to please at any time.’
There was the sound of a stifled sneeze from the other side of the living room door.
‘We’re almost done, Mrs Love,’ Laidlaw announced, raising his voice. ‘You can come in if you like.’
By the time he reached the hallway, however, Jenni’s mother was back at the kitchen sink and refusing to lift her eyes from whatever lurked in her washing-up bowl.
‘You’ll find whoever killed him?’ Bob Lilley was being asked.
‘Don’t you worry about that,’ Lilley replied in practised tones, before following Laidlaw to the front door.
Seated in Lilley’s Toledo, Laidlaw got a cigarette going. ‘Archie Love?’ Lilley speculated.
‘We’ll take it to Milligan — go see him together. Jenni, Whiskies and Archie Love. We’ll give him the lot.’
‘Including Chick McAllister?’
Laidlaw considered for a moment. ‘Maybe keep that to ourselves for the time being.’
‘Because you want to be the one to question him?’
‘Are you asking to be put on the guest list?’
Lilley’s mouth twitched. ‘Why did you ask about the flowers?’
‘Cam Colvin removed them. No need for Jenni to know that, but it tells me something.’
‘He knew about the pair of them?’
‘Probably guessed that’s who they’d be from.’
Lilley nodded his understanding, then reached into the side pocket of the driver’s door. The sheet of paper he held up listed the addresses they were supposed to be doorstepping. Laidlaw took it from him and pretended to peruse it for a moment, before ripping it in half and tossing it onto the back seat.
‘Let’s go see if what we’re about to tell Milligan gets us a Cub Scout badge.’
‘Hard to imagine you in the Cubs, Jack.’
‘Boys’ Brigade all the way, Bob. We used to shit on the Cubs from a great height.’
‘Metaphorically, I hope.’
‘Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. Any chance of you getting this jalopy started? Red carpet waiting for us at Central Division when we bring them the news.’
14
They felt it as soon as they stepped inside the police station. It was as if an electric current had been run into the building. Everyone seemed to be in movement, and those movements became more frantic the nearer Laidlaw and Lilley got to the crime squad office. Laidlaw was eventually able to stop one detective constable in his tracks by dint of planting his feet directly in front of him, blocking any escape.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘A knife’s been found. DI Milligan reckons it’ll be the murder weapon.’
‘Found where?’
‘A kid was waving it around in a park. Don’t ask me which one.’
‘Why not? Aren’t you supposed to be CID?’
The young officer’s neck began to redden. He squeezed past Laidlaw and strode towards his destination.
Lilley was in the office by the time Laidlaw caught up. Every available telephone was turning hot in the grip of the shirtsleeved detectives. The room was stifling. Milligan stood beside his murder wall, barking orders. He wanted a fingertip search of the area.
‘Grab as many uniforms as you need. This takes priority. And get me a map of Springburn Park!’
Springburn Park meant Balornock, not far from Stobhill Hospital. Laidlaw could visualise the old clock tower that greeted you as you drove towards the main building. He seemed to remember that the park wasn’t big but boasted a bowling green, bandstand and maybe a football pitch. He was almost in Milligan’s flushed face before the man recognised him.
‘Change of plan. You’ll be doorstepping in Springburn and Balornock.’
‘Are you sure it’s our knife?’
‘Kid says he found it hidden in bushes. He was waving it around so we got a call. The officer who caught up with him noticed some blood on the hilt.’
‘A bloodied knife dumped in Glasgow? Probably only happens a dozen times a day.’
Milligan glowered at him. ‘If you engaged your brain as often as your mouth, you’d know there’ve only been three stabbings since Bobby Carter, and each time we caught the culprit and seized the weapon.’ He paused for a breath that was probably intended to be calming. ‘Somebody’s drawing up an initial list of streets we need to visit. And by “we”, I mean you.’
‘I couldn’t be more thrilled. Has the knife gone to the lab?’
‘Screws are being turned as we speak — I want a match by the end of today.’
‘The kid’s prints will need to be eliminated.’
Milligan nodded distractedly. ‘Where’s that map?’ he called out to the room at large.
‘Donald’s off to buy one,’ a voice replied. Laidlaw moved so that he was back in Milligan’s eyeline.
‘Can I help you?’ Milligan enquired.
‘Is the kid giving a statement?’
Milligan nodded again, then moved past Laidlaw in search of fresh prey.
Lilley was standing by his desk, holding up the revised list of addresses. Laidlaw replied with an approximation of a frown and walked out of the office, heading for the station’s two interview rooms. The boy was in one of them, seated next to a woman who could have been a relative or some sort of social worker. The detective across the table stopped writing on his pad at Laidlaw’s arrival.
‘Tell me what you’ve told everyone else,’ Laidlaw said to the boy. He was ten or eleven, clear-eyed but scruffy. He’d probably already given up on school, preferring to take his lessons from the street.
‘Found it in the bushes. I was just playing with it. I didn’t mean anything.’ His tone strived for a studied indifference his twitching limbs could not match.
‘And you didn’t see anyone toss it?’ Laidlaw watched the boy shake his head. ‘Was it well hidden or easy to spot?’