‘What’s the point? I’ve already told you he’s not here.’
‘Then give me an address and I’ll be on my way.’
‘Is it to do with what happened to Bobby Carter?’
‘What makes you say that?’
She smiled to herself. ‘It is, though, isn’t it? Because Roy used to be married to Monica. I told him the police would be interested.’
‘Clever girl. Now about that address...’
‘He wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
‘You won’t, though, will you? You still need to talk to him?’
‘Unfortunately that’s the way things work.’
‘I’ve applied to join the police, you know.’
‘Want me to put in a word?’
‘That’s not how it’s done. I’m not daft.’
‘I’m well aware of that, even from this brief exchange.’
They stood in silence for a moment as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Then she spun round and headed to her office, sidestepping pots of paint and bottles of turps. Laidlaw followed her.
The shop’s interior had an inviting aroma. He wondered if it was coming from the wallpaper samples piled up on the room’s only table. Radio 1 was playing, the transistor perched on a shelf above the office desk. This back room was a cramped space, with a door off that gave a view of a toilet pan and washbasin. Anyone breaking in through the narrow and barred window to the rear would have to manoeuvre their way past the variety of ladders stored there. The girl was leafing through an old-fashioned ledger. Finding the address, she snatched up a pencil and jotted it down on a notepad for him, tearing off the sheet once finished and handing it over with a flourish.
‘I never caught your name,’ he said.
‘Janine.’
‘Any other career plans apart from the police, Janine?’
‘Art school maybe. I’ve done a bit of modelling and it looks interesting.’
‘Strikes me, whatever you decide to do with your life you’ll make a go of it. Is Roy a one-man outfit?’
‘It’s a big job, this.’ She nodded towards the scrap of paper. ‘He’ll have Gordy with him.’ She unwrapped a stick of chewing gum and popped it between her lips. ‘Is being a detective as exciting as it looks on TV?’
‘Never a dull moment.’
‘You’re saying that tongue in cheek, aren’t you?’
‘I’m saying I wish I was still an artist’s model. Thanks for the address, Janine.’
Kelvingrove wasn’t far from Partick if you were talking in terms of miles, yards and feet. On the other hand, it was an entirely separate world of grand nineteenth-century sandstone terraces plus the elegant park and busy museum. Laidlaw had last visited the museum with his kids, wondering why they hadn’t been half as keen on the Dali Christ as he was. The house outside which Roy Chambers’ van was parked had obviously already had a lot of work done to its facade. Laidlaw could tell where new stonework had replaced old. The front door gaped, but before heading inside, he stopped at the van, whose rear door was open, a young man seated there next to a flask of tea.
‘You must be Gordy,’ he said. The lad squinted up at him. He wore bespattered white overalls with a pale blue T-shirt beneath and didn’t seem to be feeling the cold. ‘I take it Roy’s indoors?’
Gordy merely shrugged and began rolling a cigarette.
‘How much time did you do?’ Laidlaw enquired.
‘Knew straight off you were polis.’
‘Same as I knew you’ve seen the inside of Barlinnie. A wee thin roll-up like that, not wanting to use too much precious tobacco, is a classic tell. Then there are the tattoos.’
Gordy examined his arms.
‘Somewhere between home-made and professional,’ Laidlaw went on. ‘I’ve seen more than a few in my time.’
‘I was a daft laddie,’ Gordy commented. ‘That’s all it boils down to.’
‘Picked up a trade while you were inside, though. That speaks of something. How long have you known Roy?’
‘Go ask him.’ Gordy poured the dregs of his tea onto the ground so that splashes hit Laidlaw’s shoes.
‘I intend to. How long have you been out?’
‘I’m done talking.’ The young man rose to his feet, closed and locked the van doors and headed up the steps to the imposing front door. It had been given several coats of black gloss paint and the Greek-style columns flanking it were both recent replacements. Beyond lay a black and white tiled floor, several doors off, and a sweeping staircase. Scaffolding had been erected in the middle of the floor, dust sheets spread beneath it. The stairs were similarly protected.
‘We’ve got company!’ Gordy yelled, his voice echoing in the vast space. A head appeared from one of the rooms on the first floor, peering over the stair rail.
‘The name’s Detective Constable Laidlaw,’ Laidlaw explained. ‘Wondered if I could have a word with you.’
‘Did Janine give you the address?’ The man was already descending the stairs. He was dressed in identical overalls to his junior partner, though the T-shirt beneath was black and dotted with smears of paint. The freckles on Roy Chambers’ face turned out, on closer inspection, to be spots of paint too. He wore socks with no shoes and Laidlaw noticed that, now he was indoors, Gordy had removed his own Doc Martens.
‘She did.’
‘She’s thinking of applying to the police.’
‘She mentioned it,’ Laidlaw said, while behind him Gordy gave a snort of derision.
Chambers had taken a rag from his pocket and was wiping his hands. His hair was short and russet-coloured, his frame tall and wiry. Laidlaw judged him to be a few years younger than his ex-wife; more Bobby Carter’s age, in fact.
‘I was talking to your daughter,’ Laidlaw went on, ‘and she said you’d been to the house. Since Mr Carter died, I mean.’
Chambers gave a thoughtful nod. ‘Cam Colvin was there, so I never got past the threshold, much like old times.’
‘Stella told me Carter didn’t take to you.’
‘Understandable, I suppose. That what this is about — I’m supposed to have done him in?’
‘Did you?’
‘No.’
‘Ever think about doing it?’
Chambers shrugged and stuffed the rag back into his pocket. ‘Monica and me still got on. Then there was Stella to consider. I wanted to be part of her life. At one point, she was thinking of moving into my flat.’
‘That didn’t happen, though?’
‘I think Carter put his foot down. And just when Monica’s shot of him, along comes Cam bloody Colvin.’
‘Colvin and Carter were close; it’s only natural he’d want to do right by the family.’
‘It’s not the family he wants, though, is it? It’s Monica.’
‘Now that Carter presents no barrier, do you think Stella might come live with you?’
‘That’s one of the things I wanted to discuss with her and her mum.’
‘But Colvin had other ideas?’
‘You don’t want to get on the wrong side of Cam Colvin,’ Gordy commented. Laidlaw got the feeling he’d given the warning to his employer more than once in the past.
Laidlaw made show of studying the pristine surroundings. ‘Whoever owns this place must have a few bob.’
‘Some professor at the uni,’ Chambers said, ‘yet teachers are always moaning about their pay. We’ve got until Friday to finish it.’ He glanced towards Gordy. ‘Few late nights still ahead.’
‘Maybe once you finish, you can take over the decorating at your ex-wife’s house,’ Laidlaw said, readying to leave. ‘Now that Bobby Carter’s not around to say no.’
Chambers’ eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. ‘She’s redecorating already? It was only done a couple of months back.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Mind you, I told her the paint choices were all wrong, and the firm Carter hired were absolute bloody cowboys...’