‘Aye, you get a wee place on the Med and we’ll all come for holidays,’ Colin joked, glancing from one girl to the other, eyebrows raised in surprise. But the Swedish girl’s smile was back almost at once, her sweet expression belying the vehemence with which she had spoken.
‘Come on, let’s go back to the flat,’ Eva said, getting up and looking for the pink cardigan that had slipped off the back of her chair and was lying on the ground.
‘Here.’ Colin scooped it up and wrapped it around her shoulders, a simple gesture that would have impressed Kirsty but that Eva only acknowledged with a faint smile as though it were her due.
‘Five go to Merryfield Avenue,’ Colin murmured as he fell into step with Kirsty, Eva and the others already several paces ahead of them.
Kirsty looked at him sharply. Did he think they were kids playing some sort of a game? Well, if that’s what he really thought, he was happy enough to take part in it, wasn’t he? Or was his remark directed more towards Eva? Kirsty followed her flatmate’s wistful gaze. There was no doubt in her mind that Colin Young was well and truly smitten and for a moment she felt sorry for him.
‘C’mon,’ she said, linking her arm in his. ‘I’ll stick the kettle on and make us all a cuppa. Okay?’
Colin grinned at her suddenly. ‘Know what, Kirsty Wilson? You’re going to make someone a great wee wife one of these days.’
CHAPTER 1
Detective Sergeant Alistair Wilson drained his mug of tea and gave a satisfied sigh.
‘Good day?’ Betty asked with a smile.
‘Aye,’ her husband replied, leaning back on the kitchen chair. ‘Just like old times,’ he murmured.
‘Fancy having Lorimer back in the division again,’ Betty remarked. ‘You were all pleased to see the back of Mitchison when he got his transfer, but I bet none of you ever guessed who his replacement would be.’
‘No. Thought Lorimer would be up in Pitt Street for a good while longer when he made detective super. Cutbacks.’ Alistair shrugged as though that single word explained away the myriad changes within the Strathclyde Police. He picked up his empty mug.
‘Another cuppa, love?’ Betty asked.
‘Aye, why not,’ the detective sergeant nodded. ‘Hear anything from our Kirsty today?’ he asked.
Betty Wilson shook her head. ‘She’s awfully busy. All these assignments. Wasn’t like that in my day. We had a lot more practical stuff to do.’ She wiped the table top idly with a flick of her cloth, folded it neatly then laid it across the side of the kitchen sink.
‘Well if she turns out to be half the cook you are, pet, she’ll be doing fine.’ Alistair patted his wife’s ample bottom affectionately as she passed his chair.
‘Don’t know if that’s what our Kirsty wants,’ Betty replied. ‘Think she has her sights set on something more to do with the hotel trade.’ She bit her lip. Kirsty had been glowing with enthusiasm on her last visit home, telling her mum all about the opportunities for graduates that lay overseas. Although it was still only October she had already applied for summer jobs next year in hotels as far apart as Mallorca and the Channel Islands. It was something she hadn’t told Alistair yet. Kirsty was his darling, their only child, and the thought of her spending months away from Scotland would hit him hard, she knew.
‘Well, she works all hours at the weekends in that hotel to pay her rent, doesn’t she?’ Alistair replied. ‘And look at the tips she gets from some of those visitors!’ he added, a note of pride creeping into his voice. ‘Ach, she’ll do well, will Kirsty, wait and see.’
‘Penny for them,’ Maggie Lorimer said, looking at her husband who was gazing into space as they sat on either side of the kitchen table, the remains of their Sunday dinner between them.
‘Just thinking that it was good being back amongst the old crew, actually,’ Lorimer said, stretching his arms behind his head and yawning. ‘You don’t realise how much you’ve missed them till you go back.’
‘And they welcomed you with open arms,’ Maggie chuckled. It was no secret that her husband was popular with the other officers in the division.
‘I think so,’ he said lightly. ‘Anyway, now that the posting’s been confirmed that’s them stuck with me.’
Maggie Lorimer picked up the newspaper she had been reading, the smile still on her lips. His promotion had been well deserved even if his career path had been somewhat circuitous.
After serving in his divisional HQ as a DCI, William Lorimer had been promoted to detective superintendent and seconded to the Serious Crimes Squad at police headquarters for the first half of the year. However, massive changes to the structure of the force and budgetary constraints had resulted in the decision to mothball the unit, and he had waited for several anxious weeks to find out if he was to be posted back to his old division in place of the outgoing detective superintendent, Mark Mitchison.
I’ll see what I can do, was all that Assistant Chief Constable Joyce Rogers had told him. But it had been said with a knowing smile and a tap to the side of her nose. Och, it was as good as his, Maggie had insisted, back in the summer when they had taken their annual trip up to Mull for a much needed break. And she had been right.
Now he was back in Stewart Street it was as if he had never left the place.
Maggie thought about the city centre police headquarters for a moment; a squat low-level building huddled amidst tower blocks yet standing out with its bright blue paint and that customary chequered strip. It was close to the motorway on one side and to the top of Hope Street on the other, yet Maggie Lorimer had never once set foot inside A Division, preferring to meet her husband after work in one of the small bistros that were a short walk away. You don’t want to see what goes on, Bill had said to her once when a high profile prisoner had been detained there. And he was right: Maggie listened to what her husband told her, accepting that there would always be a lot left out of any story involving serious crime and glad that she saw a different side to the man who dealt with criminals in his working life.
What neither the detective superintendent nor his schoolteacher wife could have guessed at that moment was the effect that one particular crime would have on them both.
CHAPTER 2
July: three months earlier
Twenty-four Merryfield Avenue was not considered an especially prestigious address, yet it was still unusual for a student flat to be found within its red sandstone walls. The avenue was too close to the bustling street around the corner to have any real cachet as a leafy residential area, yet once it had been the residence of the well-to-do, many of whom were still there, living out their twilight years, remembering better days. The tall fair man stood with his hand resting gently on his daughter’s shoulder as they gazed up at the top flat. The large bay windows twinkled in the afternoon sunlight, their lower panes still retaining the original yellow- and amber-stained glass that dated from a different century.
Henrik Magnusson took a set of keys from the pocket of his fine suede jacket and held them out for a moment. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s all yours, Eva.’ Then he smiled his slow smile as the girl’s face lit up.
She clasped her father’s arm, her face brushing the soft material. ‘Best dad in the world,’ she murmured, pulling away again and trying not to grin as she looked up at the top storey of the building once more. Then, turning back, Eva took the keys from his outstretched fingers and together they walked across the road and entered the narrow path marked out by hedges on either side. As she stepped up to the front door, the girl’s attention was caught by a pale cream-coloured cat sitting on the window sill of the ground floor flat. It was looking at them intently, its golden eyes curious at the arrival of strangers. Then, as if it had come to a decision about them, the cat slipped noiselessly from its perch and was at the girl’s side, rubbing its soft fur against her leg and purring loudly. Eva smiled and nodded, acknowledging the gesture as though it were a good omen, a welcome from this feline resident.