In Place of Death (10 page)

He sighed. Danny would drag it out of him anyway so he may as well get it over with.

‘It might come to nothing but that twat Baxter had me into his office to give me a bollocking and dropped very heavy hints about me losing my job.'

Danny's eyebrows rose but his expression didn't change. ‘They're going to fire you?'

‘No. Not this time. The suggestion was that I'd be made redundant. “The review of all services is continuing” was how he put it but he couldn't have laid it on
thicker if he'd stabbed me with the trowel he was using. And he was enjoying it, obviously.'

‘Obviously. Pompous arse. You think he's serious?'

‘It's certainly possible. I probably shouldn't have been there for a few years now. The SOCOs can do what I do. Not as well but they do all their forensic shit too so they come
in much cheaper. It will make sense to accountants and it's them that are running the show now.'

Danny nodded soberly. ‘You've told Rachel this, I take it?'

‘Nope.'

‘And you think that's a good idea? Because I don't. Something like that doesn't work well as a surprise. Flowers or a weekend away - that's the kind of surprise
women like. You need to tell her, son. You'll be hard pushed to marry her if she's killed you.'

Winter hesitated just long enough for Danny to pounce on it. ‘Now, I was just joking but I didn't hear a denial or a piss off, which I'd have expected. You thinking of making
an honest woman of her? Because you won't do any better, believe me.'

Winter laughed. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dan. But I'm not about to drag her up the aisle, even if she'd let me. But . . .'

‘But what?'

‘But I'm ready to . . . I want more. I'm fed up of hiding this. I want us to be like normal people. A couple. And you know, I think she is too.'

‘You think?'

‘Danny, you know what she's like.'

‘Pretty great, I'd say.'

‘Yes, pretty great. Amazing. Fabulous. But she is also capable of being stubborn, contrary and argumentative. If I suggest it, she's as likely to dump me as say yes. It's
trying to find the best time to talk about it. I'm not sure being landed with this kind of murder case is the best time.'

‘This
kind of murder? They're
all
this kind, son. Dead body and dead ends. If you're going to wait till things are nice and quiet, you'll both be on
Zimmers. If you want my advice - and I'm guessing that's why you're going to buy me coffee and one of those big pastries – then you need to grow a pair and ask
her.'

‘Aye, maybe.'

A beep called from inside Danny's jacket pocket. He pulled out his mobile phone and read the text. Whatever it was, it seemed to amuse him.

‘Looks like I'm in demand today. We'll need to wrap this up.'

‘Hot date?'

‘You could say that.' He typed a reply and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He picked up his coffee mug and looked at Winter over the rim.

‘Here's what I think. You can listen or not, up to you. Rachel is the best thing that's happened to you and whatever you decide to do, get it right. And not just right for you,
for her too because that lassie's got enough on her plate without you making it worse. If you upset her and she decides to kill you then I'll not be helping you. I'll be holding
you down so she can do it. Got that?'

‘Yes, Uncle Danny. I've got it. Loud and clear.'

‘Good.'

Half an hour later, Danny was still sitting in the same chair with a fresh coffee steaming gently in front of him. He'd had no more than two cautious sips at it when he
heard the door open and looked up to see Narey walk in, her collar turned up against the wind.

‘Rachel.' He got out of his seat and hugged her. ‘Good to see you.'

She'd known Danny for almost as long as she'd known his nephew. There was a shared respect and a closeness between them, him being an ex-cop, and his knowledge and experience had
been of help to her in the past.

She looked around at the café and nodded approvingly. ‘Nice. Didn't think it would be your kind of place though.'

He half laughed, half groaned. ‘Too trendy for me, do you think?'

She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Not at all. Looks like you started without me. You want a pastry to go with that?'

The waitress had appeared beside them and looked at Danny as if to say did he really want
another
one. Patting his stomach like a man who'd been caught having a midnight feast,
Danny politely said no thanks.

‘So you said you wanted to pick my brains?

‘And to see you,' Narey assured him. ‘But yes, I could do with some help. I need answers that I'm not going to get from Google. I've got a case
that—'

‘The Molendinar?'

‘Yes. How did you know?'

‘Lucky guess.'

‘Yeah, sure. But that's exactly what I mean. I need some answers from the kind of smart-arse that knows everything.'

He grinned. ‘Then you've come to the right place. What do you need to know?'

‘The Molendinar. Everything you've got.'

He spread his arms wide. ‘Sit comfortably, my child, and I shall begin. History lesson first. In the beginning, God created heaven and earth and Glasgow. But before he created Glasgow, he
created the Moldendinar Burn. The Clyde was too big and unmanageable and the land around it was too low and marshy so they built along the Molendinar. The city could never have grown without it but
in the end, the burn just got in the way and they covered it over and built on top of it. It's the city's own time capsule. Buried and forgotten. Most folk don't even know
it's there.'

‘And now it's where the bodies are buried. One of them anyway.'

‘So what are you thinking?'

She exhaled hard. ‘It's the one thing I can't get away from. Why would someone be in the Molendinar? Whether it's to kill or be killed or to play tiddlywinks. Why there?
Who would go in there now?'

‘People
do
know it's there. Not many but some for sure. Locals will all know it, kids probably played in or around it. Anyone with any knowledge of local history will know all
about it. Engineers will be down there, keeping it clear. The council will have responsibility for it, probably have maps of it. Urbexers would probably see it as a challenge. Teenagers might walk
it as a dare. I guess it could be used to stash stolen goods or even drugs. And I'd say it would be a good place to hide a body.'

‘Urbexers
?'

‘Urban explorers. They like to go places they shouldn't.

Abandoned buildings. Old places. Tall places. They go in, without breaking in, and photograph what's there. Old schools, churches, factories, tunnels. That sort of thing. There's
websites if you want to know more.'

‘Maybe . . .' She sounded doubtful. ‘And how – apart from knowing everything – do you know about urbexers?'

He shrugged casually. ‘I know someone who used to do it.'

‘Okay. You really think someone would see it as a good place to hide a body?'

‘Not now they wouldn't. Now it looks a pretty stupid place to use. But before . . . you'd think it might never be found.'

‘So my suspect list is locals, kids, historians, council workers, engineers, urbexers, serial killers and teenagers. Have I forgotten anyone?'

‘That probably covers it. Can't think what else to tell you.'

‘It helps, Danny. Thank you.'

‘Any time. Come back if there's more I can help with. What about you, kid? How are things with you and my nephew?'

‘Good. Very good, actually. He's behaving himself, not bugging me, generally doing what I tell him. The training is paying off at last. I think I might keep him.'

Danny raised his coffee mug. ‘I'll drink to that. So where do you think you two will go from here? You just going to keep playing at secret boyfriend and girlfriend for
ever?'

She gave him a warning stare for a moment or two but it melted. There probably wasn't
anyone
else she could talk to about this.

‘Maybe not. Probably not. It's maybe time to become adults, Dan.' She said it with a smile.

‘Adults, eh?' he mocked gently. ‘You sure you're ready for this?'

‘No,' she laughed. ‘But I can feel us changing. For the better. That time we had apart made me think a lot about what I wanted. Now, I'm pretty sure I know. I love him. I
still have my dad to think about, of course, but there's probably room in my life for two men.'

‘Three surely?'

‘Ha. Of course, three. No show without punch, Uncle Dan. I need to sit down and talk to him about where we go from here. It's difficult though, I need to make sure
I—'

‘Find the right time?'

‘Yes. Exactly. This is serious stuff, Dan. This could go either way. It really could.'

Tuesday afternoon

‘Hold your horses. I just want a last look around before we total the place.'

‘What for? It's a dump.'

Jackie Doran sighed and not for the first time he wondered about the philistines he had to work with. Okay, so if he'd wanted to have profound conversations about the art deco movement or
the meaning of life then he shouldn't have got into the demolition business. It wasn't exactly choking with philosophers. It still got on his tits though that guys like Murray Inglis
just didn't see what was around them. All they wanted to do was knock the place down and get to the pub.

Jackie was older. A lot older. Maybe that's why he appreciated it more. When you were sixty-four and seeing the end of your own working life looming up in the rear-view mirror then you had
a feeling for buildings like this that were about to be smashed to bits. It was called empathy. Murray Inglis would probably think empathy was a rap star or whatever they were calling them now.

It was more than that though. He used to be a regular at the Odeon long before Inglis was born. His mum and dad, God bless them, used to take him when he was a kid. He remembered seeing his
first movie there when he was eight.
The 7th Voyage of Sinbad.
He'd never forget being amazed at the size of the room. Nearly three thousand people in one huge auditorium. Tell that to
the kids today and they wouldn't believe it.

He couldn't swear that he was impressed by the art deco then as much as he was by the movie. But he did remember the ceiling looking like it was fashioned in waves as it moved down over
the balcony towards the screen. And at the sides of the stage itself were massive gold-coloured designs like the sides of great church organs, all latticed and glitzy. There was a tea room and
ritzy foyers and lounges. It was some place, the old Odeon.

Of course he didn't know or care back then that it had been built by Verity & Beverley, the company that built all the big luxurious cinemas in Britain. This was the only one they
built in Scotland and it was a beauty.

Standing here now, inside with the doors long shut, he felt like he was part of it. Looking down on Renfield Street, seeing the world going past but being unseen behind the old building's
grimy windows, was exciting in a way that young guys like Inglis wouldn't understand. It was like watching an old movie but in reverse. Like looking out from the screen.

The building on the other side of Renfield Street looked fabulous. It was true what they said about most people never looking up. They missed out on so much, especially in a city like Glasgow.
The architecture was stunning. The place opposite had incredible stone balconies, statues and carved heads. Intricate scrolls, beautiful pillars, arches and stonework. All above a couple of modest
pubs.

The building diagonally opposite was pretty incredible too. How many people walked past it every day and never noticed the terracotta turrets at the top that looked like they'd been
pinched from some German castle above the Rhine? Maybe there was a princess locked up in one of them, or a dwarf. Maybe he'd watched too many movies.

‘Jackie, are you going to shift? We're on a schedule here and I'm going out the night.'

Murray Inglis was going out every night. He didn't know any other way to live his life. He would come in every morning with a hangover and go away every evening with an itch for another
one. Jackie was too old for that nonsense. A few beers on a Friday night was his lot these days.

‘Son, I'm having a last look around. Deal with it. This building's been standing here for seventy years. Another twenty minutes isn't going to kill anybody.'

Jackie wasn't Inglis's boss. Not technically. But he'd been round the block often enough to get away with just about anything he wanted. They couldn't sack him for it and
they certainly weren't going to promote him if he was a good boy. There were benefits in being a year from retirement and being a bolshie bastard was one of them.

Inglis disappeared, no doubt to tell the gaffer that the old bugger was being an old bugger again. That suited Jackie just fine. He could have a wander round in peace.

What else did he see here
?
Lawrence of Arabia.
Peter O'Toole appearing through the desert on that big screen.
Bonnie and Clyde. Dr Zhivago.
Which everyone had raved
about but which lasted over three hours and bored him.
The Dirty Dozen.
And dozens more.

It wasn't just the movies either. The Beatles played there. The Rolling Stones too. He couldn't get a ticket for the Stones and hadn't wanted to see the Beatles. His cousin
George had seen the Stones though and talked about it for weeks.

The last thing he saw on the big single screen was
On Her Majesty's Secret Service.
The one with the Australian guy as James Bond where his wife gets killed at the end. That was
1969, just before they ruined the place. Every bit of the old interior, all the beautiful art deco stuff, disappeared. They made it into a three-screen complex and covered the front of the building
in dull grey corrugated sheeting. Maybe no one knew it then but that was the beginning of the end.