Still dark william lorim.., p.15
Still Dark (William Lorimer Book 14), page 15
‘Nearly there,’ Kirsty told them, turning into the car park next to the city mortuary. She had to remember that what to her was becoming a routine was a new and upsetting event in the life of the woman who was scowling in the back of the Honda, probably full of nervous anticipation at what lay within these grey stone walls.
The family liaison officer took Ida Gemmell’s arm as they walked through the building to the viewing room.
‘Mrs Gemmell?’ The three women turned at the sound of the Irish voice. It was Dan, the pathologist.
‘Sorry, Dr Fergusson can’t be here to see you. Off sick, I’m afraid.’
Kirsty raised her eyebrows, wondering what had happened to make the director of the department take time off. Rosie was never ill.
Dan escorted the woman towards a small window. ‘No need to go into the room where he is,’ he said gently. ‘You can see everything you need to on this TV screen.’
Ida Gemmell looked up at the older man and sighed, her relief almost palpable.
‘Thank God fur that,’ she muttered. Then, as though it had been a slip of her tongue, she crossed herself and nodded, ready to take a look at the cousin who had been reduced to living on the streets.
The pathologist pressed a switch and the curtain moved back, revealing a television screen and the image of a man lying still on a white bed, the sheet pulled up to his chin.
‘Aye,’ Ida said shortly. ‘That’s oor Gordy.’ She shook her head and then wiped away an invisible tear from the corner of her eye. ‘Looks a sight better in death than ever he looked when he was alive, pair bugger.’
Kirsty and the family liaison office exchanged glances behind the woman’s back. What a way to be remembered!
The rest of DC Wilson’s day passed in trying to piece together the time between Gordon Smith’s eviction from his old address and the day that his body had been discovered. How had he spent his days? And how on earth had that bearded man managed to appropriate the identity of a down-and-out? The bogus hospital orderly had certainly never lived there, that fact confirmed by every neighbour they had spoken to. All sorts of questions were turning around in Kirsty’s mind as she made the connections between the thief who had taken all these drugs and the man lying in the mortuary.
She closed her eyes for a moment, images from the previous year’s case swimming into her brain. Her first job as a detective constable under the mentorship of DS Len Murdoch had not been without its surprises. The gruff DS had given Kirsty lots to think about back then.
Suddenly she remembered. Tam McLachlan! She knew where she had seen the man before. That old pub in the East End of the city, what was it called? The Big Yin, that was it. He’d been one of DS Murdoch’s informants, an old alkie who’d been only too happy to give them information for a few drinks. Dear Lord! How that old man had fallen into bad company since then. He was out on the streets now, in that half-world where men and women shifted from hostel to hostel, sleeping rough when they had to, sharing needles in darkened derelict rooms… No wonder she hadn’t recognised him! And yet the old man had come forward to identify his friend, not afraid to talk to police officers. And now Kirsty understood why that was.
Was it possible that she could find him again? And would he open up to her the way he had with DS Murdoch during last year’s case?
Lorimer stood up from the edge of the bed where he had been sitting and looked out of the window, the mobile phone still warm in his hand. Be careful, he’d told Kirsty. Don’t let yourself be caught between doing your job and keeping me in the loop. Not that I’m ungrateful, of course… He’d added that in case she had thought him harsh. But in truth he was concerned for the young woman. She knows what I’m up to, he thought, a grim little smile softening his mouth. The case back in Glasgow simply concerned the detection of a thief who had stolen a quantity of morphine from their biggest hospital, not the pursuit of the ringleader of Quiet Release who had escaped their clutches. But, if he could make them see that this person was one and the same, would the case be reopened after all?
DCI Niall Cameron had advised Kirsty that there was not the will to do that and she had passed this on to him. Lorimer knew enough about the working of Police Scotland to recognise that there were more constraints than mere budgetary considerations at work here. Someone didn’t want him meddling in the case again. And, as he stared out at the expanse of white covering every feature of the gardens, the detective superintendent began to wonder why.
If there was any particular point that he could identify as making a change it had come during the Pilates session, he thought later. Had it been the need to focus on his breathing? Or the way the class simply relaxed at the end, encouraged by the visualisation exercise? That might remain a puzzle unless he simply asked the female instructor about it but in some ways having the question answered wasn’t as important as knowing that a difference had been made. It was funny to think that he’d actually felt taller as he’d walked along the corridor to the treatment room afterwards for his next appointment.
And he’d felt happier, less anxious about talking to the other officers or, indeed, to the therapists themselves.
Now it was Friday and he was heading to his second session with Christine, the patient adviser to whom he had opened up about the Blackburn case. That had upset him at the time and he had shifted the blame onto the woman when, thinking back, she had actually deflected his reliving of the trauma. Hadn’t the upset actually come from his own attitude about it? His anger and frustration that he’d been unable to save the little girl? Had he blamed himself? That was a question he was more able to face today, Lorimer realised. The patient adviser had focused more on where he was now and what he wanted for his future. She’d be pleased, he thought, to find how far he had come on his journey from the sad and weakened man who had walked through the door at Castlebrae.
The past few days had made him calmer and the nightmare had not returned again. So far, a treacherous little voice reminded him. And he felt physically stronger too. Swimming lengths in that magnificent pool and putting himself through a strict regime in the gym was beginning to pay off. Perhaps, he thought with a faint smile, the simple equation between exercise and better sleep was all that it had taken to make him feel this good.
Christine Russell smiled at the man sitting beside her. This second session had been more than she could have hoped for. His whole demeanour told her more about his state of mind than any words. Lorimer was relaxed, one leg crossed over his knee, sitting back in the armchair, a mug of instant coffee in one hand. Gone were the heightened shoulders, the tension so apparent around his neck area, the tired lines around his eyes.
‘So, you’re looking forward to leaving us later on today?’ she teased.
‘Ach, if I could stay on and spend time in the gym and the pool then I’d not be in a hurry to get back to work,’ he laughed, gazing at her frankly with those amazing bright blue eyes.
‘And none the worse for Monday’s adventure?’
Lorimer smiled at her and ducked his head modestly. ‘Oh, I just happened to be the right person at the right time, that was all.’
Christine raised her eyebrows a little but said nothing. He’d arrived back soaked through and exhausted after having hauled the old woman out of her snowbound vehicle. And yet he’d made no fuss about it whatsoever.
‘May I ask how you feel about yourself now, Lorimer?’ she asked, though the question was surely academic. It was easy to see the change in this man. He was even quite a dish now that he had lost that haunted look. Lucky Mrs Lorimer!
‘Much better, thanks,’ he replied. Then he paused and tilted his head a little, as though considering what to say.
‘I have to be honest and tell you that I didn’t really give myself much hope when I first came here.’
Christine nodded slightly. She’d heard that so many times before but for this man as for the others it was a new experience.
‘I thought there was no way I’d be so eager to get back.’
‘To work?’
He nodded and smiled a lazy smile that made the patient advisor feel a warm glow of satisfaction.
‘There’s a particular case I’m anxious to resume. Nothing to do with the incident on New Year’s Eve,’ he added, the smile slipping a little. Yet his voice was firm as he spoke and there were no telltale signs from his body language that gave her grounds for concern. No, this one was going to be all right.
‘That’s what we aim to do here,’ Christine reminded him. ‘Try to return you fit and well for active service. And, we hope, to give you a better future. After all, I think you’ve learned quite a lot about managing stress and the relationship between your physical and mental fitness.’
She stood up and smiled at him. ‘I’d be happy to see you again any time, you know, but somehow I think we won’t meet again.’
The woman turned away for a moment, one hand up as though to prevent his leaving. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ she apologised, bending down and rummaging in a capacious bag. ‘There’s something I wanted you to have.’
She thrust a red parcel into his hands and smiled. ‘Call it a belated birthday present. You can open it when you get back home. Take care, now.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘Kirsty rang,’ Maggie told him once she had disentangled herself from his embrace. ‘She sounded quite excited. Any idea what that might be about?’ She watched her husband’s expression.
‘Not sure, but I’m hoping it’ll be about the Quiet Release case. Sorry,’ he added as Maggie made a face. It still rankled that her own cousin had been a victim too.
‘Go on, call her back. I’ve got stuff to do in the kitchen. Lasagne.’ She threw him a smile over her shoulder, gratified to see his grin at the mention of one of his favourite meals.
‘DC Wilson?’ Lorimer asked as the familiar voice gave a tentative ‘hello’.
‘Yes, is that you, sir? Are you back home? How are you?’ The young detective’s questions came tumbling out in a breathless rush.
‘I’m an awful lot better, thanks, Kirsty. The folk in that place really do know their stuff. If anyone ever asks you about it, tell them it’s worth every penny of the pittance taken out of our salaries.’
‘You sound different, more like your old self,’ Kirsty answered cautiously.
‘Well, let’s hope so. I’m going back to work on Monday,’ he said with a laugh.
‘That’s good news, sir,’ she said.
‘Was that all? Did you just ring to see how I was keeping?’
‘No, it’s just… I was worried that I ought to have told someone about Tam McLachlan.’
‘You mean you didn’t pass that on?’
‘No, sir, I thought… well, I was anxious that it would be you taking charge of the case again…’ The girl’s vice tailed off, sounding miserable.
Lorimer stifled a sigh. It was important that Kirsty Wilson didn’t keep information like this to herself and by the sounds of it she was anxious that something positive would be done now that she had made this vital link. She needed to know how important it was to follow such matters up as quickly as possible. Time lost in the wake of a criminal incident could determine whether or not a culprit was ever caught.
‘Are you on duty right now?’ he asked, aware that his tone was a little sharp.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I’m in the Govan office till after six o’clock tonight.’
‘Well then, you need to talk to whoever is in charge of the Queen Elizabeth inquiry. Tell them you may have someone who might give us more information. Who’s on this case, anyway? Anyone I know?’
‘It’s DS McCrone, sir. And he’s already away out of the office. Long weekend because of the school half-term,’ she explained.
‘Anyone of DI level or above still there?’
‘We-ell, I could see who’s about.’ Kirsty sounded doubtful. ‘And, of course there’re always senior officers upstairs in the MIT.’
There was a momentary silence then he could hear her breathing hard. ‘Could I talk to DCI Cameron about this, sir? I already approached him when we saw the man on the TV last week so at least he knows about that.’
Lorimer thought for a moment.
‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘See if you can find Cameron. And let him know I’m home. I’d be happy to talk to him about this case if he wants.’
‘Right, sir. I’ll do that and have him get back to you.’
Lorimer ended the call and looked across the room to the open-plan kitchen where Maggie was busy grating cheese to stir into a sauce. It never really stopped, did it, he mused; the intrusion of crime into his life at any hour of the day or night.
‘You all right, darling?’ he asked softly, coming up behind his wife and encircling her waist with his arms.
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Maggie answered with a sigh. ‘Is that case being reopened then? Is that what Kirsty called about?’
Lorimer nuzzled the back of her neck. ‘Ach, it probably will be, but I might not have any part of it. Depends how things pan out,’ he said vaguely.
‘William Lorimer!’ Maggie turned and shook her head at him, the wooden spoon waving in her hand. ‘Do you really think I’m as daft as all that? You’re like a dog with a bone! You’ll never let this one go if you can help it, I know you too well for that!’ She made a face then began to laugh. ‘Go on, pour us both a drink. At least that will keep you from driving anywhere else tonight!’
Kirsty looked out of the windows at the car park. It was a dreich, cold Friday night and so many officers had headed for home. Would DCI Cameron be among them? she wondered as she headed along the corridor until she found his office. There was a light showing under the door and so she knocked and waited.
‘Come in,’ a voice commanded and she opened the door to see the detective chief inspector seated at his desk, apparently engrossed with some files on his laptop.
‘Ah, DC Wilson.’ Niall Cameron’s face broke into a smile as he rose and extended his hand towards her. ‘How nice to see you again. Or is it?’ His smile dropped to a frown as he looked at the girl. ‘Nothing wrong, I take it? Lorimer all right…? Here, sit down, won’t you?’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Kirsty sat on a plastic moulded chair opposite the senior detective. ‘I spoke to DS Lorimer a wee while ago and he said to tell you he’s back home and is starting work again on Monday. He sounds fine,’ she added.
‘I’m glad to hear that,’ Cameron replied with a sigh of relief. ‘So, what brings you to me this evening? Not just a social call to tell me how our mutual friends is faring, I guess?’
Kirsty smiled in spite of herself. He was a good detective, she realised, as the man gazed at her with interest. Like Lorimer himself, DCI Cameron had the knack of reading a person’s body language and hers probably told him that she was in a state of some excitement.
‘Well, sir, it’s like this,’ she began. ‘I think I may have found someone… I mean I should have told DS McCrone…’
Kirsty swallowed hard then told the man how she had come to recognise the old tramp after he had identified the body of Gordon Smith.
‘When did you make the connection, DC Wilson?’ he asked in a tone not unlike that which Lorimer had used.
‘Very recently, sir,’ she admitted in a small voice. ‘Detective Superintendent Lorimer told me that I ought to have taken it straight to DS McCrone, but I —’
‘You wanted to let Lorimer know first,’ Cameron interrupted her. ‘I understand,’ he told her, but one eyebrow was raised in a sign of disapproval, making Kirsty want nothing more than to sink into the carpet and disappear.
‘I should have…’ She bit her lip.
‘Well, maybe no great harm’s been done, as it happens,’ Cameron said smoothly. ‘Is DS McCrone available over the weekend, do you know?’
