Rough Cut: Rosie Gilmour 6 by Anna Smith

hand. Still, at least they had a photograph of them, which Matt was sworn to secrecy about. She knew she’d be in trouble when she had to spill all this out to McGuire in the morning. But, for now, she had to concentrate on whatever Don was about to tell her. If he mentioned anything more about diamonds, she’d have to keep her face poker straight.
    *
    ‘What a hoor of a night,’ Don cursed as he came into the bar, his hair soaked, red-faced from the cold.
    ‘I know. I just made it in before that heavy shower. You look freezing. Where are your gloves?’ Rosie motioned him to sit down in the wall seating, where she’d found a space in front of the flickering coal fire. ‘It’s cosy in here. I love this place. Old-fashioned. Nothing’s changed for generations.’
    Don rubbed his hands together vigorously and held them in front of the fire.
    ‘Gloves are for poofs.’
    Rosie smiled and stood up.
    ‘Pint?’
    ‘Aye. Dying for one.’
    Rosie returned with a lager for Don and her first glass of red wine of the evening.
    He went into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a piece of A4 paper
    ‘Wait till you see this,’ he said, triumphantly unfolding it and placing it on the table, smoothing it out. He glanced over his shoulder, but the bar was almost empty, apart from two old punters playing dominoes.
    Rosie leaned forward and immediately recognised Julie in the grainy CCTV picture. She hoped her face was impassive.
    ‘Is this from the Albany?’
    ‘Yep. From the foyer.’
    ‘It’s packed. Must have been some kind of do on.’ She pretended she was peering through the crowd.
    ‘Yeah. A sales conference. Loads of reps were gathered in the foyer for the champagne reception. But look closely at the two girls walking through that throng around the podium, going towards the exit. See them?’
    He made a ring with his finger around the women. Rosie kept up the pretence, narrowing her eyes.
    ‘Yeah. I see them now. One of them’s carrying a case. Is that the girls you think were in the room?’
    ‘Well, we don’t know that. But one of them, the more hefty-looking girl, the one who isn’t carrying the case . . .That’s the girl who’s lying up in the Royal with her arm mutilated. That much we can be sure of.’
    ‘Christ! You’re positive?’
    ‘Sure enough to be hovering around the ward waiting for the consultant to give us the go-ahead to speak to her.’
    ‘What about the other girl? Is she the friend from the phone you were telling me about?’
    ‘We think so. But we don’t know for definite. We’re busting our arses trying to find her.’
    Rosie looked beyond him. She felt a twinge of guilt that she was keeping up the charade, but what else could she do? She couldn’t tell Don that she’d just been sitting with this very girl in a car down at the Broomielaw. She took a large gulp of her wine and swallowed, feeling it burn all the way down.
    ‘Do you have a cigarette?’ Rosie asked.
    ‘Sure.’ Don scanned her face. ‘Stressed out?’
    ‘Yeah, a bit.’ Rosie sucked in the smoke as Don flicked the lighter. ‘So, are you any closer to finding what this is all about?’
    ‘A bit. Number one, we’ve been told that some heavy people are going apeshit over the missing case. The word on the grapevine is that there were passports in it. Probably faked.’ He leaned closer. ‘But, listen . . . The tip that there were diamonds is growing; we’re as sure as we can be that he was delivering rough diamonds. Smuggled diamonds.’
    ‘What?’ Rosie sounded surprised enough to convinceherself that she actually
was
surprised. ‘Rough diamonds? Up here? But who wants rough diamonds up in Glasgow? It’s hardly the gem capital of the world! Are you sure about that?’
    ‘Well, we can’t be sure. It’s coming from our mates down south at Scotland Yard that this guy was used by some crowd who are smuggling diamonds in from Africa. A Pakistani crew, apparently. It’s part of an international