night, the late shift taking over from the day. The case involved a mountain of work, sifting through interview coverage, CCTV footage, lists of recorded assaults against prostitutes and reports from the general public. At least fifty officers, looking for a needle in a haystack. In reality, they were all just waiting for the next body to be found.
When Rhona reached the jazz club, she found a queue leading to the entrance. Dave the doorman waved her past, eliciting some caustic comments from those left outside.
‘Health and Safety’ll have our guts for garters if I let any more in,’ he growled at them. ‘It’s like sardines in a tin already.’ Hearing the bad news, the waiting group decided to call it a day, heading off down Byres Road to look for fun elsewhere.
Three young women on saxophone and a male guitarist were easy on the eye and the ear. It was no wonder the place was packed. The barman spotted Rhona looking around for Sean and motioned her towards the back office, looking worried. Rhona wondered if it was the three-deep crowd at the bar waiting to be served that was the problem, or something else entirely.
She soon found out.
‘Jesus Christ!’
Sean winced as though her raised voice were another blow on his bruised face. He removed an ice pack to reveal a fast-swelling eye.
‘Come on. I’ll take you to A and E.’
‘No thanks.’ He shook his head, wincing at the pain that generated. ‘It looks worse than it is,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘Who . . .’ she began before he cut her off.
‘Two guys wearing balaclavas. The back door was open because of the heat. They were looking for Sam.’
‘Sam?’
‘Seemed to think I knew where he was hiding, somewhere in Glasgow.’
‘Sam’s alive?’
‘He won’t be if they find him.’
Rhona pulled out her mobile. ‘I need to tell Bill.’
‘Leave Bill out of this.’
She shot Sean a curious glance.
‘We don’t want the police looking for Sam too.’
Rhona’s joy that Sam was alive was tempered by fear that his life might still be in danger.
‘The men who attacked you, they don’t know about Chrissy?’
‘They knew Sam had worked here. That’s all.’
Rhona hoped that was true. If the thugs got hold of Chrissy . . .
‘We’d better warn Pastor Achebe.’ The Nigerian Church of God in Maryhill had been Sam’s second home. Rhona couldn’t imagine Sam not making contact with the pastor, if he really was in Glasgow.
‘I’ve called Achebe already. If Sam’s meant to be in Glasgow, only God knows where.’
‘So what do we do now?’
Sean rose to his feet.
‘You take me home and treat me nice.’ The smile he attempted gave him the look of a punch-drunk boxer.
‘I hope at least one of them looks as bad as you.’
‘Difficult to tell under a balaclava.’
They left by the back door, so as not to frighten the customers. The sensation of being watched stayed with Rhona all the way to the flat. Sean kept his good eye on the rear-view mirror. Once or twice he ordered her to turn off the route and double back just in case, but it was obvious no one was interested in them. The Suleimans’ men could come to the club any time they wanted, a good reason for asking for a police presence. But Sean wouldn’t hear of it.
When they reached the flat, Sean went straight for the whisky bottle and poured a large measure. He knocked it back, grimacing as the alcohol stung his cut lip. Then he poured one for each of them and sank down on the sofa.
‘You’re sure they don’t know about Chrissy?’ said Rhona.
‘They didn’t mention her.’
‘But they did say Sam was alive?’
‘They seemed pretty sure he was in Glasgow. How, I don’t know.’
Sean laid his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes.
‘If he’s here he’s bound to get in touch with Chrissy. I have to warn her,’ said Rhona.
This time Sean didn’t argue.
Chrissy’s mobile rang unanswered, then went to voicemail. Rhona paced up and down,
When Rhona reached the jazz club, she found a queue leading to the entrance. Dave the doorman waved her past, eliciting some caustic comments from those left outside.
‘Health and Safety’ll have our guts for garters if I let any more in,’ he growled at them. ‘It’s like sardines in a tin already.’ Hearing the bad news, the waiting group decided to call it a day, heading off down Byres Road to look for fun elsewhere.
Three young women on saxophone and a male guitarist were easy on the eye and the ear. It was no wonder the place was packed. The barman spotted Rhona looking around for Sean and motioned her towards the back office, looking worried. Rhona wondered if it was the three-deep crowd at the bar waiting to be served that was the problem, or something else entirely.
She soon found out.
‘Jesus Christ!’
Sean winced as though her raised voice were another blow on his bruised face. He removed an ice pack to reveal a fast-swelling eye.
‘Come on. I’ll take you to A and E.’
‘No thanks.’ He shook his head, wincing at the pain that generated. ‘It looks worse than it is,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘Who . . .’ she began before he cut her off.
‘Two guys wearing balaclavas. The back door was open because of the heat. They were looking for Sam.’
‘Sam?’
‘Seemed to think I knew where he was hiding, somewhere in Glasgow.’
‘Sam’s alive?’
‘He won’t be if they find him.’
Rhona pulled out her mobile. ‘I need to tell Bill.’
‘Leave Bill out of this.’
She shot Sean a curious glance.
‘We don’t want the police looking for Sam too.’
Rhona’s joy that Sam was alive was tempered by fear that his life might still be in danger.
‘The men who attacked you, they don’t know about Chrissy?’
‘They knew Sam had worked here. That’s all.’
Rhona hoped that was true. If the thugs got hold of Chrissy . . .
‘We’d better warn Pastor Achebe.’ The Nigerian Church of God in Maryhill had been Sam’s second home. Rhona couldn’t imagine Sam not making contact with the pastor, if he really was in Glasgow.
‘I’ve called Achebe already. If Sam’s meant to be in Glasgow, only God knows where.’
‘So what do we do now?’
Sean rose to his feet.
‘You take me home and treat me nice.’ The smile he attempted gave him the look of a punch-drunk boxer.
‘I hope at least one of them looks as bad as you.’
‘Difficult to tell under a balaclava.’
They left by the back door, so as not to frighten the customers. The sensation of being watched stayed with Rhona all the way to the flat. Sean kept his good eye on the rear-view mirror. Once or twice he ordered her to turn off the route and double back just in case, but it was obvious no one was interested in them. The Suleimans’ men could come to the club any time they wanted, a good reason for asking for a police presence. But Sean wouldn’t hear of it.
When they reached the flat, Sean went straight for the whisky bottle and poured a large measure. He knocked it back, grimacing as the alcohol stung his cut lip. Then he poured one for each of them and sank down on the sofa.
‘You’re sure they don’t know about Chrissy?’ said Rhona.
‘They didn’t mention her.’
‘But they did say Sam was alive?’
‘They seemed pretty sure he was in Glasgow. How, I don’t know.’
Sean laid his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes.
‘If he’s here he’s bound to get in touch with Chrissy. I have to warn her,’ said Rhona.
This time Sean didn’t argue.
Chrissy’s mobile rang unanswered, then went to voicemail. Rhona paced up and down,
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