Evelyn shook her head and looked hard at Paddy. “Mark didn’t murder Vhari. They stayed pals afterward. He was a soft guy, Mark, you know? Not a man to lift his hands.”
“I went to see Diana. She said Mark was mugged outside here on Tuesday.”
Evelyn coughed in surprise and exhaled a stream of acrid smoke at the table. “What?”
“Outside of here. In the car park. He went home all wet from being knocked over in the rain and his nose was burst.”
Evelyn tried to remember Tuesday. “I waved to him at his car. He was just getting into it. It wasn’t even very dark when we left.”
“At six?”
“Yeah. It was getting dark.”
“Did you see Mark drive away?”
She tried to remember. “No, now I come to think of it, I didn’t. I wait at the bus stop and he passes going the other way. He usually waves to me but I didn’t see him that night. It was raining awful heavy and my feet were getting wet. I never saw him come past.”
“Was anyone in during the day? Was anyone hanging around the office?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Can ye think of anything from Tuesday? Were there any cars parked outside or in the car park?”
Evelyn shook her head but stopped. “There was a car. It’s unusual. There aren’t a lot of cars around here. It was black. Shiny. It was new.”
“Any idea of the license plate?”
“No.”
“Any idea what kind of car it was?”
Her eyes searched the table for a moment. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t drive. Don’t know anyone who drives. I’m not interested in cars.”
TWENTY-FIVE. THE RED FORD
I
Paddy stood at the top of the stairs. A midnight wind lifted thin wafts of dust from the empty road and sand brushed her cheek, threatening her eyes and making her hair feel gritty. She fitted her notepad into her pocket and tripped down to the street.
Sean must have been watching the door for her and already had the engine started. He pulled the car to the curb at the bottom of the steps to meet her and she bent down to his window.
“Was there a call?”
“Eh?”
“Did an important call come through?”
He looked at the radio, nonplussed, and then back at her. “No. I don’t know. Was there?”
He was pulling up to the curb because he was monster keen, not for any other reason. “Never mind.” She opened the passenger door and climbed into the backseat. “Ye were listening to the radio, though, eh?”
“I listened for police cars being called to anywhere,” he said, repeating her instructions word for word. “Nothing.”
“’Kay. Well done. Now we’ll go to Partick Marine station.”
He looked at her ablank. Paddy tried to think where it was. She never had to bother before. “Go to Partick Cross and I’ll direct you from there.”
“Okay.” He smiled at her. “You’re the boss.”
Sean was being subservient and helpful. It was quite eerie. He was delighted to get the job, however temporary it might be, and she had a definite feeling that when the paper got a copy of his driving license and found out that he’d only passed two days ago they’d get a replacement, someone older who wasn’t going to cost them his wage again in insurance. Still, for the very near future Sean had a job with great money, he was making nearly as much as Paddy, and she knew the wages went up the longer he stayed.
It was a newer car than the one Billy used to drive her in, a silver car with an empty tin-can feel. The molded metal inside was covered in plastic but the frame was visible through it; it shuddered along the road and all the instruments on the dash looked far away from each other and essential. She found herself feeling for the broken handle of the door and the small rip in the padded door of Billy’s car, missing the rhythm of his flawless, smooth driving.
Sean stopped suddenly at lights, turned stiffly around corners, and swore under his breath when he came across anything untoward on the road like a pedestrian or a bus. She was glad she was the first passenger he’d had; his style didn’t exactly disguise his lack of experience.
He edged through the town, stalling and swerving his way to Partick Cross, where she directed him off the main drag to the dark station and asked him to pull up outside.
“Just wait here and like before, listen out for any calls coming over the radio.”
“Okay, Boss.”
Her fingers were on the handle. “Stop calling me that. It’s doing my fucking head in.”
“Whatever you say, Boss.”
She stepped out of the car and was almost at the big door when she looked down the street and saw it: parked quite near the station, not bothering to take a nearby street or hide in the shadows, was the red Ford.
She staggered to a stop and a sudden, horrifying thought occurred to her. Sean was defenseless in the car. Heart pounding, she bolted back and yanked his door open so fast she almost fell over. Sean barely had time to look startled before she dragged him out by the arm, letting go when he was kneeling on the road.
“What the fuck…?”
“Car,” she panted, pointing up the road. “That car’s following me.”
Sean stood up, brushing the dirt off his knees. “Take a breath and tell me.”
“The car-” She spun him around and pointed. “The red Ford was parked outside last Friday and before, I’ve seen it before then as well.”
“Those cars are everywhere.” Sean dipped at the knees and looked into the cabin. “Well, there’s no one in there now.”
“He’s probably being questioned in the station.” She pulled him over by the arm. “Just come with me.”
The waiting room was quiet; the resigned midnight calm of a clockwork night shift had descended on the station. She pointed Sean to a seat at the back of the room and he took it, but gave her a resentful look as he shuffled over to it, left like a dog at the doors of a supermarket. Murdo McCloud spotted her and raised a hand in greeting.
“Oh, pet,” he called over, “I heard about your driver and what happened. Are you well?”
“Murdo, who’ve they got in being questioned at the moment?”
“Oh, now.” He shook his head at the question. She knew he couldn’t answer that. Being questioned was a delicate matter that had to be kept confidential if the police were ever to squeeze useful information from anyone. Revealing the fact that a rogue had been in for questioning was the final threat the police had over people. If word got out that someone had been in talking to the police and they had anything important to tell, there was a good chance that the guy might never make it home again.
“Don’t worry, it can’t be a snipe,” she said. “The car’s parked right outside. Whoever it belongs to doesn’t care who knows it.”
Murdo wobbled his head, wavering. “Well, I don’t know.”
“It’s a big red Ford. It looks like a sports car. It’s right outside the door.” Murdo thought about it for a minute, his eyes sliding sideways to listen to the noise of the station. He nodded her toward the door.
“Right, well, come on now.” He stood up, jogged noisily down the three wooden stairs to the floor of the waiting room, and hurried across it in an old man run, elbows high, strides hardly wider than a walk would have been. “As long as we’re quick.”
They hurried to the door, opened it, and Paddy stood in the street and pointed at the car while Murdo hung out and looked at it. He nodded happily and ran back in, holding his fists up to his chest, scurrying as if the elves were after him.
When Paddy got back inside he was standing behind his desk, grinning and breathless, a little excited at having broken a rule.
Murdo panted, “That’s not a crim’s motor.”