got shot in the café at King’s Cross, so I stuck around there for a couple of days.’ She sipped her drink. ‘Are your guys looking at this? Given that it was Eastern Europeans who bumped him off?’
Rosie decided to keep her powder dry. She studied Don’s face for a flicker of knowledge. Tom Mahoney’s murder was a top-level investigation so she guessed the SCS might have been briefed by the Met. If he knew anything, his face didn’t show it.
‘Don’t think so. It’s a Met investigation. Leave it to them. They’ll maybe get in touch when they’re looking for help. As usual.’
Rosie changed the subject.
‘So what do you make of the Malky Cameron murder? Bit of a coincidence with him and his old partner in crime, Rab Jackson, getting done in the same way within a few days of each other. Old scores?’ Don nodded.
‘Looks like it. But although they were supposedly retired – Rab was in Spain for years – they were still well enough respected by the arseholes running the show these days. And Rab was still a player. Jackson and Cameron were old school. None of these pricks here would bump them off. We’re pretty sure of that.’
‘But are the two murders connected?’
‘Have to be.’
‘Any hints?’
Don took a long drink and offered Rosie a cigarette. She declined, and he lit his, taking a lungful of smoke then blowing it upwards, watching it swirl as though it were a look he’d perfected over the years. It went well with his craggy, slept-in looks and five o’clock shadow.
‘Something
has
shown up on our radar actually. I don’t know if you know the history of Jackson and Cameron.’
‘Bit before my time,’ Rosie said. ‘But I know they were evil bastards. Pimps, armed robbers and into hard drugs. Back in the early days it was all extortion and protection money from all the places in the city. They controlled everything. Anyone who didn’t play ball with them ended up in a shallow grave.’
‘That’s right. But one of the older guys in the squad was telling us that detectives questioned them about twenty-five years ago over the death of a woman in Glasgow. A hooker, Jackie Reilly. She worked from her flat up in Maryhill, and she had to pay Jackson and Co. in kind for not forcing her on to the street. They wanted a free shag, they went there. She had two kids. Girls. Then one night she gets burned to death in a fire in the house. The kids were rescued. The wee one, Ruby, managed to pull the big sister out. Amazing story at the time, apparently. You should check back the cuttings’
‘I will,’ Rosie said. ‘Jackie Reilly . . . Ruby.’ She memorized the names. ‘What was the other girl’s name?’
‘Judy. She was the older one. Thing is, when the cops arrived, no bastard had seen a thing. Usual shite. Everyone looked the other way. But my pal says that the cops found out from a wee snitch that Jackson and Cameron had been up there just before the fire. The word was they started it.’
‘Really? Why? Surely she wasn’t going to refuse
them
sex?
‘No. Wasn’t that. Word is that she passed information to the cops on a case they were working on. Think she must have got rumbled by Jackson, so it was payback time. He was that kind of bastard. Didn’t matter if it was a woman. You stepped out of line, you were history. Even with two weans.’
‘What happened to the girls?’
‘Don’t know. One of them had been raped. The older one. The injuries showed it. She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Just a poor wee lassie. Went into some kind of shock and didn’t utter a word to anyone. The wee one got taken into care. So they got split up. My pal said they heard later that the older girl died – Judy. Poor wee bastard. But Jackson and Cameron got away with it. They knew they were safe as long as everyone kept their mouths shut.’
‘That’s awful. So what do you think?’
Don sniffed and swallowed.
‘Don’t know really. The only person with a grudge who wasn’t a gangster was
Rosie decided to keep her powder dry. She studied Don’s face for a flicker of knowledge. Tom Mahoney’s murder was a top-level investigation so she guessed the SCS might have been briefed by the Met. If he knew anything, his face didn’t show it.
‘Don’t think so. It’s a Met investigation. Leave it to them. They’ll maybe get in touch when they’re looking for help. As usual.’
Rosie changed the subject.
‘So what do you make of the Malky Cameron murder? Bit of a coincidence with him and his old partner in crime, Rab Jackson, getting done in the same way within a few days of each other. Old scores?’ Don nodded.
‘Looks like it. But although they were supposedly retired – Rab was in Spain for years – they were still well enough respected by the arseholes running the show these days. And Rab was still a player. Jackson and Cameron were old school. None of these pricks here would bump them off. We’re pretty sure of that.’
‘But are the two murders connected?’
‘Have to be.’
‘Any hints?’
Don took a long drink and offered Rosie a cigarette. She declined, and he lit his, taking a lungful of smoke then blowing it upwards, watching it swirl as though it were a look he’d perfected over the years. It went well with his craggy, slept-in looks and five o’clock shadow.
‘Something
has
shown up on our radar actually. I don’t know if you know the history of Jackson and Cameron.’
‘Bit before my time,’ Rosie said. ‘But I know they were evil bastards. Pimps, armed robbers and into hard drugs. Back in the early days it was all extortion and protection money from all the places in the city. They controlled everything. Anyone who didn’t play ball with them ended up in a shallow grave.’
‘That’s right. But one of the older guys in the squad was telling us that detectives questioned them about twenty-five years ago over the death of a woman in Glasgow. A hooker, Jackie Reilly. She worked from her flat up in Maryhill, and she had to pay Jackson and Co. in kind for not forcing her on to the street. They wanted a free shag, they went there. She had two kids. Girls. Then one night she gets burned to death in a fire in the house. The kids were rescued. The wee one, Ruby, managed to pull the big sister out. Amazing story at the time, apparently. You should check back the cuttings’
‘I will,’ Rosie said. ‘Jackie Reilly . . . Ruby.’ She memorized the names. ‘What was the other girl’s name?’
‘Judy. She was the older one. Thing is, when the cops arrived, no bastard had seen a thing. Usual shite. Everyone looked the other way. But my pal says that the cops found out from a wee snitch that Jackson and Cameron had been up there just before the fire. The word was they started it.’
‘Really? Why? Surely she wasn’t going to refuse
them
sex?
‘No. Wasn’t that. Word is that she passed information to the cops on a case they were working on. Think she must have got rumbled by Jackson, so it was payback time. He was that kind of bastard. Didn’t matter if it was a woman. You stepped out of line, you were history. Even with two weans.’
‘What happened to the girls?’
‘Don’t know. One of them had been raped. The older one. The injuries showed it. She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Just a poor wee lassie. Went into some kind of shock and didn’t utter a word to anyone. The wee one got taken into care. So they got split up. My pal said they heard later that the older girl died – Judy. Poor wee bastard. But Jackson and Cameron got away with it. They knew they were safe as long as everyone kept their mouths shut.’
‘That’s awful. So what do you think?’
Don sniffed and swallowed.
‘Don’t know really. The only person with a grudge who wasn’t a gangster was
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