Betrayed (25 page)

‘Oh. Do I sound worried? Sorry if I alarmed you. I’m just keeping my head down. I didn’t even talk to you. But fuck’s sake, Rosie!’

‘Okay, Don. I get the picture. But apart from that, Mrs Kennedy, how was your trip to Dallas?’ Rosie tried to lighten the mood with the standard joke journalists used when the shit was hitting the fan.

‘Aye. Very fucking funny. You should be in here. It’s hysterical.’

Rosie could hear his tone relax a little.

‘Just keep your head down. Seriously, though, anything
new on the story itself? Any new lines? It must be the talk of the steamie by now.’

‘Nah. Well, nothing I can talk about.’ He hesitated. ‘In terms of who did it, I don’t think we’re going to get a lot of people lining up to spill their guts. It’s got all the hallmarks of a punishment beating, so the guy must have done something pretty bad.’

‘But you must have an idea who specialises in shocks to the bollocks and stuff? It’s like something out of the Krays.’

‘You’d be surprised the kind of shit your average middleranking gangster gets up to. They get their ideas from the movies.
Pulp Fiction
and all that stuff. We’ve got wee neds from the schemes who think they’re in
Goodfellas
. Thing is, they’re so coked up all the time, they’re actually playing out the roles of these fuckwits in the movie, and we have to pick up the pieces.’

‘I know. But has the victim not said anything helpful?’ Rosie chanced her arm. She’d known Don long enough to sense that he was holding out on her. ‘Anything at all?’

‘Not really. All he can tell us is that he was taken to a garage somewhere in the boot of a car. He was blindfolded but he said he heard what sounded like a roller shutter going up, and then he was dragged out of the boot by two guys in balaclavas. Said he could smell oil and stuff. Like he was in a garage.’

‘Does that not give you any ideas?’

Don hesitated. ‘One or two. But I’m not about to tell you that right now. Can’t do.’

‘Okay, I understand. But I’m guessing you’ve a good idea whose fingerprints are all over this, if you know what I mean.’

‘Aye. We’ve an idea. But not a scrap of fucking evidence. And we never will have, if it’s who we think it is.’

‘You mean you have a face?’

‘Jesus. You don’t give up, do you? I mean we’ve got a shitload of work to do yet. C’mon. Give me a break.’

Rosie was silent for a moment while she decided, then she spoke.

‘Listen. Totally between you and me, the next couple of days out here are going to be crucial for me. You know what I’m saying?’

‘Er … Well, what I
think
is that you’re not on hooligan watch and never were. You got something big on the go out there? If you have, I hope you’re going to give me a heads up if it’s something we need to get involved in.’

‘That depends.’

‘Depends on what?’

‘Are you holding out on me over the tortured baker guy? I feel you’re not telling me something.’

‘The last thing I bloody told you was all over the fucking front page this morning.’

‘Come on, Don.’ Rosie paused and glanced at Javier and Matt. She took a deep breath. ‘Right. I’ll tell you something.
I’m not on hooligan watch, as I’m sure you know. I’m on something mega. And I promise you, that as soon as the time is right, I’ll let you know. In fact I might even need your help. And believe me, this is something the police will want to know about. But I can’t say any more.’

Don went quiet. Rosie knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist getting a tip-off that would impress his bosses.

‘Right, okay. I’m going to tell
you
something, and I know that this can’t come from any other source but me, so if it ends up in the
Post
, then you and me are finished. You understand?’

‘Come on, you don’t even have to say that.’

‘Yes. But if this goes in the paper, you will fuck up a major murder investigation.’

‘A murder investigation?’ Rosie was bursting to hear it. ‘To do with the tortured guy?’

‘Yep.’

‘But how?’

‘Christ! If this comes out, I’m right in the shit. But we’ve got a real mystery here. Remember the two drug-dealing wankers dragged out of the quarry?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, we found something in the baker’s wallet that links him to one of them.’

‘You’re kidding? How? I mean, what did you find?’

Don’s voice was almost a whisper.

‘A fucking bank card belonging to one of them.’

‘Jesus!’

‘Yep. It all checked out. It’s definitely the card belonging to that little toerag bastard – not that he’ll be needing it. But what is a fucking quiet-as-a-mouse baker doing with it? That’s the mystery. Okay, we have it from a good source that he was shagging McGregor’s wife, but not a hint about drugs or anything else. Guy’s never put a foot wrong in his life. He’s got no real money to show, and has worked hard all his days. So how the fuck has he got the bank card of a small-time hood? He must have been leading some kind of double life. But that notion just doesn’t add up. He doesn’t fit the profile, and there’s nothing else in his life to suggest it.’

Rosie’s brain went into overdrive.

‘Could it have been planted on him by the guys who kidnapped him? Make him look guilty?’

‘Possible, I suppose. But right now, he’s barely wakened out of the coma and we’re about to tell him that he’s now a suspect in a double murder inquiry.’

‘Have you asked him about the card? And the affair with McGregor’s wife?’

‘Of course. He’s saying fuck all. Won’t talk about it. Says he doesn’t know how the card got there. And won’t open his mouth about the wife.’

‘Is that not worse for him? Makes him look guilty?’

‘Yeah. It does. My gut feeling is that he’s got nothing to do with the murder. But right now, he’s the only suspect
we’ve got, and the longer he says nothing, the more chance there is of him ending up getting charged. Plus it means that we’re going to have to take a look at McGregor’s wife. So her little secret is about to be blown.’

‘Christ! Some story!’

‘Don’t start. You’d better not write this. Seriously.’

‘Of course I won’t. Don’t worry. But it’s intriguing.’

‘I know. But I’d say we’ll get the truth out of him eventually – once he can sit up straight – the DCI will put the frighteners on him.’ He paused. ‘Look, I need to go right now, I’ll give you a shout if anything comes up.’

‘Cheers, Don. Same here.’ Rosie hung up.

She looked at Matt and Javier and puffed out her cheeks.

‘My cop pal is not a happy bunny about this morning’s paper. Sounds like he’s got a red-hot poker up his arse.’

‘Now there’s a surprise,’ Javier said.

Rosie looked across at Donna who had picked up the newspaper again, scrutinising it.

‘But I’ll tell you what, guys, he’s just told me something amazing that might give us a bit of leverage here.’

‘What?’ Matt said.

Rosie relayed the information that Don had given her, filling Javier in on the story of the two drug dealers.

‘Cops would be very surprised if he has anything to do with drugs. They think maybe it was planted by the kidnappers.’

The three of them sat for a moment, processing the information.

‘Or maybe the wife gave him the card,’ Javier suggested, spreading his hands.

‘What?’ Rosie said, confused.

‘Think about it,’ Javier said. ‘Two drug dealers are murdered and dumped in a quarry. Chances of them being shot and beaten by a mild-mannered baker are very remote, don’t you think?’

Rosie and Matt nodded.

‘So,’ Javier continued. ‘Unless McGregor’s wife is also a hitwoman when she’s not working at the bakery or fucking the baker, then who else just might have been behind the murders?’

‘McGregor?’

‘He’s had plenty of practice,’ Matt chirped.

‘Okay,’ Rosie said. ‘But how did the card get into the wallet of the baker? And how did the wife come by it – if she had it?’

Another silent moment as they all looked at each other, then across at Donna who sat staring straight ahead.

‘Only one way to find out.’ Rosie looked at Javier and Matt and smiled.

‘Shit, Rosie,’ Matt said. ‘What if she flips?’

‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ Rosie sounded confident but nerves were coursing through her.

‘It’s dangerous, Rosie. Matt’s right. Could blow everything.’ Javier puffed.

‘You got a better suggestion?’ Rosie asked, a little defiant.

‘No, I don’t. I agree with you. We’re going to have to put our heads above the … what do you call it?’

‘The parapet,’ Rosie smiled. ‘Above the parapet.’

‘Aye, well let’s hope we don’t get them shot off,’ Matt said.

‘Okay,’ Rosie said. ‘But before I do that, guys, talk me through what happened this morning.’

As planned, Matt and Javier had gone early to the hotel where McGregor and Donna were staying and staked the place out. Understandably, there was no movement in the foyer or anywhere else, as Rangers fans would still be sleeping off last night’s partying.

‘We were beginning to think we’d missed them, then we saw her coming down for breakfast. I left a copy of the
Post
at the entrance to the dining room, and she stopped and I saw her look at it. She stood for a moment and looked around her, pretty shocked. Then McGregor came and joined her and they went into the dining room together,’ said Javier. ‘I had a table far enough away, and could see she didn’t eat much, just picked at the food. He ate everything in sight. Then his mobile rang after a while and he went back upstairs, talking on the phone. He didn’t come back down. So I just sat until she was finished.’

‘What then?’ Rosie asked. ‘Did she not go back upstairs?’

‘No. She just came out and crossed the street to the pedestrian area and walked in the direction of the shops. She wandered in and out of a few shops, then in a mobile phone shop she came out carrying a bag.’

‘Did you get snaps, Matt?’ Rosie turned to Matt who was stuffing a
bocadillo
into his mouth.

‘Mmmm, course,’ he said, throwing back some coffee. ‘That’s why I’m starved. I didn’t get a chance to eat this morning. But plenty of pics. They don’t mean much though. She’s just walking around.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I saw McGregor before I left, sitting with those other two, Dunlop and Mad Mitch. Them two looked like they were just up and eating sandwiches. I’m going back round there now, as we need to keep tabs on them.’ He drained his cup.

When he left, Rosie and Javier sat for a quiet moment and she was aware he was watching her. She sipped her coffee and psyched herself up.

‘So what you going to do, Rosie?’ Javier squinted in the harsh sunlight. ‘You got a plan?’

Rosie felt her chest tighten and tried not to take a deep breath. She didn’t have a plan. She had a gut instinct. From what Liz had told her, Donna McGregor was a decent enough woman, long suffering by all accounts, with a brute of a husband. It would be too much to hope that she’d just spill the beans on her man, but Rosie had to find a way to get close enough to her.

‘I don’t know exactly. I’m just going to go over and sit down at that table next to her, and start talking.’

‘And say what?’ Javier looked incredulous.

Rosie stood up, pulled her hair up a little to get some air
on the back of her neck. She looked at Javier and smiled, knowing that he’d seen through her gung-ho exterior.

‘That’s what I don’t know. But tell you what. I’m about to find out.’

‘Fucking hell.’ Javier lit a cigarette. ‘You want me to come with you?’ He grinned. ‘I can bring my charisma.’

‘No thanks,’ Rosie chuckled. ‘Keep your charisma fresh – I’ll give you a wave if I need you.’

‘Okay. But if this gets fucked up, let me know soon enough so I can get the hell out of here before I have to take any more bullets.’ He shook his head. ‘Good luck.’

‘Trust me, I’m a journalist.’ She squared her shoulders and walked away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The cafe was no more than seven different-coloured tables crammed onto a patio outside the main bar, and Rosie squeezed past a Spanish couple sitting with their kids. She got a table within touching distance of Donna and saw her glance in her direction when she took the
Post
from under her arm and put it on the table. The waiter approached and she ordered a mineral water. Donna sipped her second coffee. She removed her sunglasses briefly, and as she was cleaning them with a napkin, Rosie caught a glimpse of the anguish etched in her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and her skin a little blotchy. She pushed her glasses back on, and ran a finger across her bottom lip. Rosie’s water arrived and she swirled the ice around it, holding the glass for a moment then placing her cold hand on the back of her neck. Even in the shade, it was too hot to sit outside for very long. She took a mouthful of water, then made her move.

‘Donna?’ Rosie’s voice was quiet, but by the startled look on Donna’s face you’d have thought her name had come over a loudspeaker.

‘Donna McGregor?’ In a seamless movement Rosie was out of her chair and at Donna’s table sitting opposite her.

‘Sorry?’ Donna said behind her shades. ‘Do I know you? Can’t place the face.’

Rosie pulled her chair a little closer and slipped off her sunglasses.

‘You don’t know me, but I’d like to speak to you for a minute.’

It was hard to tell what Donna was thinking as Rosie couldn’t see her eyes, but from her body language she looked like she was jangling.

‘Me? How do you know my name? Sorry. I don’t know who you are. What’s—’

Rosie interrupted. ‘Donna, give me one minute while I say something … Please listen to me. I promise you’ll want to hear what I’m going to say.’

‘What the fuck? Are you one of these Jesus freaks or something?’ She was rattled.

‘Andy Brown.’ Rosie let the name hang in the air for two beats. ‘The front page of the
Post
.’ She pointed to the newspaper on the table. ‘I’ve got something to tell you about this. You need to hear it.’

‘Look.’ Donna glanced over her shoulder. ‘I don’t know
what the hell you’re talking about. But I need to go. You some kind of weirdo? I’ve got to meet my husband.’