‘How are you feeling?’
‘Tired,’ Lesley whispered. ‘Sore.’
The sister glanced up at the drip that was attached to the patient’s hand.
‘If it gets too bad, press this,’ she said, indicating a red button a few inches up the plastic tubing. ‘It monitors the painkiller and will give you some relief.’ She paused, looking a little more closely into Lesley Crawford’s face. ‘Do you feel up to talking to the police?’
Lesley frowned then let her brow clear when a jolt of pain creased her temples. ‘Police?’
‘You were attacked, Lesley. The police need to speak to you, ask you questions. Are you up for that, do you think?’
Lesley turned her head away, remembering. Christmas Eve. She sighed and bit her lip, reluctant to let the memories return, to relive again the moment when it had happened.
‘I suppose so,’ she answered dully.
‘Good, I’ll let Detective Inspector Grant know. I think she’ll be in quite soon to see you.’
Lesley watched as the sister left the room. Then, letting her fingers work their way up the plastic tubing, she found the button and pressed it once, praying under her breath that the drug would quickly take effect.
The slim dark-haired woman who entered her room was not Lesley Crawford’s idea of a police officer. Her initial impression was of a young, pretty woman, the sort that Lesley would expect to see in one of the city bars she frequented after office hours. The injured woman’s gaze took in the fashionable skirt suit and the flat-heeled leather boots before travelling upwards where her stare was returned by eyes that held an expression of both warmth and sympathy.
‘Detective Inspector Grant,’ the police officer said, showing Lesley her warrant card before sitting in the grey plastic chair next to the bed. ‘The ward sister said you were told to expect me.’
Lesley stifled a sigh. Those keen eyes regarding her solemnly; what did they see? Another woman, like herself? Or a victim of crime? Suddenly she wanted to be left in peace but the policewoman had folded her hands on her lap as though she were waiting for Lesley to take the initiative.
‘What do you want to know?’ This time there was no masking the sigh that ended in a yawn.
‘Everything that you can tell me,’ DI Grant replied with a faint smile. ‘We need to catch the man who did this to you, Lesley. And we may be able to do that sooner rather than later with your help.’
The woman’s voice was firm but kind and Lesley knew there was no way she was going to be allowed to escape reliving the worst Christmas Eve of her life.
‘Where do I begin?’
‘How about telling me where you had been and what took you to the vicinity of the church car park,’ the detective suggested.
‘I was at a party,’ Lesley began. ‘That’s where it all started.’
The cafeteria seemed to be the best place to begin, Kirsty decided, following a string of students from the lecture theatre and along to a ground-floor snack bar. She took a deep breath and looked across at a table where some of them had congregated, bags and haversacks slung carelessly on the floor.
‘Hi, mind if I join you?’
‘Sure.’ A girl around her own age pulled out a vacant metal chair then shuffled around to make space for her.
Five pairs of eyes regarded her quizzically.
‘Haven’t seen you here before,’ a dark-haired lad with pencil-thin sideburns nodded at Kirsty, a faint smile on his face. ‘New to the course?’
Kirsty drew in a deep breath. Here goes, she thought.
‘My name is Kirsty Wilson. I live in the flat where Eva Magnusson was killed.’
There was a silence around the table as the five students stared at her. Then the girl next to her who had offered her a seat leaned forward and placed her hand on Kirsty’s arm.
‘You poor soul. That must have been awful for you.’
‘God, yes!’ a pretty Asian girl broke in. ‘Poor Eva. That was a terrible thing to have happened. A nice lassie like that, coming over from Sweden…’
‘You knew her, then?’ Kirsty asked.
‘Oh, aye,’ the first girl nodded. ‘Everyone knew her. I mean, you could hardly miss her, could you?’
There was a murmuring around the table and one of the boys coughed, reddening as he caught Kirsty’s glance.
‘Smashing girl. A real head-turner. Pure shame, really.’
‘Aye, a bloody waste of a young life!’ another lad with a Geordie accent exclaimed, thumping his fist onto the edge of the table. ‘Hope the bastard who did it gets life!’
Kirsty jumped a little at the vehemence in his voice.
‘Nobody’s guilty till a jury decides,’ she said slowly.
‘Oh, of course, it was a lad in your flat that did it!’ the Asian girl exclaimed.
‘Or maybe not,’ Kirsty said softly so that only the group around the table could hear her.
‘But I thought…?’ the red-faced lad began.
‘See, why I’m here is to try to find out if there was anyone Eva was hanging about with, or anyone who might have, well…’ She broke off, unsure how to continue. ‘Anyone who fancied her.’
‘Only the whole of the university,’ the first girl laughed suddenly. ‘Including the staff.’
‘Come on, she was a pure doll.’ The third boy, who had remained silent until then, broke in. ‘We all thought so the minute she arrived in class. They were queuing up just to speak to her. She could’ve had her pick of any of the men she wanted.’
Kirsty looked at the young man, listening hard. Was that an edge of bitterness in his voice? He was tall and lanky with dark curls that tumbled over his pale brow, a pair of rimless spectacles adding to the overall impression of keen intellect.
‘But who did she pick?’ Kirsty asked, looking at each one of them in turn.
The question was met with a silence, the girls looking faintly embarrassed, the boys turning away from Kirsty’s stare as though she had asked something way too intimate.
‘Look, my friend’s in Barlinnie,’ Kirsty rushed on, ‘and I honestly don’t think he did what the police claim…’ She had raised her hands in a gesture of appeal, making them all look her way once more. ‘See, if anyone else knew what Eva had been doing in the weeks before she was murdered it could help a lot.’
‘So why aren’t the polis here asking these sorts of questions?’ the lanky lad asked, shoving his specs further up his long nose.
‘They’ve arrested someone,’ Kirsty shrugged, mentally crossing her fingers as she spoke. ‘Why would they bother?’
‘Well I never saw her with anyone special, did you?’ the Asian girl asked, sweeping her glance over each of her companions in turn. Heads were shaken and murmurs of assent given.
‘Sorry,’ the girl said brightly. ‘But I think you’re wasting your time here. Nobody is going to tell you about a secret romance that never happened, are they?’
Kirsty was breathing heavily as she reached the brow of the hill on Montrose Street, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment. Stupid idiot! What did you think you were trying to achieve back there? She cursed softly under her breath, relieved to be heading back along to Caledonian University and her own comfort zone.
The sound of footsteps drumming behind her made Kirsty step aside for a moment, then she gave a cry as someone grasped hold of her arm.
‘Kirsty?’
The girl jerked free, spinning around to see the Geordie lad who had been in the cafeteria.
‘Look, sorry about that, didn’t mean to give you a fright.’ The lad glanced about as if to check that nobody was following him. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ he asked, turning back to look intently at Kirsty. ‘You see,’ he explained, coming closer to her and letting his voice drop into a whisper, ‘we weren’t telling you the whole truth back there.’
‘Okay,’ Kirsty said slowly. ‘So why did you want to follow me? And what’s your connection with Eva?’
The lad shot her a disarming grin. ‘Wish I’d had a connection! Lovely lass never gave me a second glance.’ He looked intently at Kirsty as though he were trying to gauge her reaction, then nodded and put out his hand.