ask.’
‘No way.’ The answer was clipped and resentful.
‘And previous boyfriends?’
Emma shrugged. ‘They seem so long ago. A boy named Keir Colvin lived in the next block of flats. But that was years ago and I think he moved to East Kilbride. There was another boy – what was his name, Mum? Lewis. Lewis . . . Jackson. I still see him around now and again and I think he and Hannah still talk to each other. Just friends like.’
Narey nodded, seeing Teven take a note of both names.
‘And has she ever mentioned anyone showing a particular interest in her? Chatting her up or pestering her, maybe?’
Emma shrugged again. Then a look crossed her face.
‘There’s Mr Grey. But, well, it’s probably nothing and I’d just be getting someone into trouble.’
‘Let me judge whether it’s nothing or not. Who’s Mr Grey?’
‘Just this guy who goes into the hairdresser’s where Hannah works. Worked. And his name’s not really Mr Grey. That’s just what Hannah called him. He was called Ronnie something or other.’
Narey leaned forward in her seat. ‘Tell me about him.’
Emma Healey wavered, cast another long look at her mother before speaking. ‘He was a perv, that’s what Hannah said. He gave her the creeps. He always went in there and asked for her even though he had to pay three times what he would in a barber’s. He spent the whole time looking at her in the mirror and she reckoned he was . . . well, playing with himself under the apron. She called him Mr Grey because of the colour of his hair and after the guy in Fifty Shades . A right perv, she said.’
The girl’s mother looked at her, puzzled by the sudden insight into Hannah’s life. ‘What are you saying, Emma? Who is this man?’
Emma’s face looked apologetic. ‘I maybe shouldn’t have said anything. He probably just fancied Hannah. It doesn’t make him a—’
She choked on the word but Andy Teven picked it up, speaking for the first time.
‘A killer? It might. You not think, DS Narey?’
Narey looked at the drained faces of the two women in front of her and nodded slightly. ‘Yeah. It might. Emma, tell me everything you know about him.’
Chapter 14
Monday morning
CINDERELLA KILLER:
SHOELESS GIRLS FOUND DEAD
The newspaper headline screamed at them from the billboard outside the corner shop next door to the Hyndland Café on Clarence Drive. Winter had got the subway to Partick and walked over while Narey had, unusually for her, shaken off the cobwebs by strolling there to meet him from her flat at the foot of Highburgh Road.
Their meeting had been billed, unofficially, as a catch-up. Winter wasn’t even sure what that meant but was fairly certain it meant something different to him from what it did to Rachel, just as he’d interpreted things differently when she’d said they’d have to take things slowly for a while, as she needed to concentrate on looking after her dad. He’d interpreted that as his being dumped and little had happened since to convince him otherwise.
She’d wanted to move her dad out of the care home and back into his own house or even in with her, but his condition just hadn’t allowed it. The Alzheimer’s had deteriorated such that Alan Narey simply couldn’t be left on his own. Rachel had decided that whatever spare time she had had to be dedicated to him rather than to Tony. He understood, sort of. But he didn’t like it.
They’d both cried, perhaps for the same thing, perhaps for something different. He’d gone back to his flat and she to hers, a mile and a half of loneliness between them. It occurred to him that although Rachel spent a lot of her time with her dad, she was even lonelier than he was.
This morning, she’d got to the café just before him and was standing staring at the board in all its shouting block-capitals glory. He could see her right foot tapping furiously and knew instinctively that she was angry. So much for the catch-up.
‘Jesus. Addy is going to go
‘No way.’ The answer was clipped and resentful.
‘And previous boyfriends?’
Emma shrugged. ‘They seem so long ago. A boy named Keir Colvin lived in the next block of flats. But that was years ago and I think he moved to East Kilbride. There was another boy – what was his name, Mum? Lewis. Lewis . . . Jackson. I still see him around now and again and I think he and Hannah still talk to each other. Just friends like.’
Narey nodded, seeing Teven take a note of both names.
‘And has she ever mentioned anyone showing a particular interest in her? Chatting her up or pestering her, maybe?’
Emma shrugged again. Then a look crossed her face.
‘There’s Mr Grey. But, well, it’s probably nothing and I’d just be getting someone into trouble.’
‘Let me judge whether it’s nothing or not. Who’s Mr Grey?’
‘Just this guy who goes into the hairdresser’s where Hannah works. Worked. And his name’s not really Mr Grey. That’s just what Hannah called him. He was called Ronnie something or other.’
Narey leaned forward in her seat. ‘Tell me about him.’
Emma Healey wavered, cast another long look at her mother before speaking. ‘He was a perv, that’s what Hannah said. He gave her the creeps. He always went in there and asked for her even though he had to pay three times what he would in a barber’s. He spent the whole time looking at her in the mirror and she reckoned he was . . . well, playing with himself under the apron. She called him Mr Grey because of the colour of his hair and after the guy in Fifty Shades . A right perv, she said.’
The girl’s mother looked at her, puzzled by the sudden insight into Hannah’s life. ‘What are you saying, Emma? Who is this man?’
Emma’s face looked apologetic. ‘I maybe shouldn’t have said anything. He probably just fancied Hannah. It doesn’t make him a—’
She choked on the word but Andy Teven picked it up, speaking for the first time.
‘A killer? It might. You not think, DS Narey?’
Narey looked at the drained faces of the two women in front of her and nodded slightly. ‘Yeah. It might. Emma, tell me everything you know about him.’
Chapter 14
Monday morning
CINDERELLA KILLER:
SHOELESS GIRLS FOUND DEAD
The newspaper headline screamed at them from the billboard outside the corner shop next door to the Hyndland Café on Clarence Drive. Winter had got the subway to Partick and walked over while Narey had, unusually for her, shaken off the cobwebs by strolling there to meet him from her flat at the foot of Highburgh Road.
Their meeting had been billed, unofficially, as a catch-up. Winter wasn’t even sure what that meant but was fairly certain it meant something different to him from what it did to Rachel, just as he’d interpreted things differently when she’d said they’d have to take things slowly for a while, as she needed to concentrate on looking after her dad. He’d interpreted that as his being dumped and little had happened since to convince him otherwise.
She’d wanted to move her dad out of the care home and back into his own house or even in with her, but his condition just hadn’t allowed it. The Alzheimer’s had deteriorated such that Alan Narey simply couldn’t be left on his own. Rachel had decided that whatever spare time she had had to be dedicated to him rather than to Tony. He understood, sort of. But he didn’t like it.
They’d both cried, perhaps for the same thing, perhaps for something different. He’d gone back to his flat and she to hers, a mile and a half of loneliness between them. It occurred to him that although Rachel spent a lot of her time with her dad, she was even lonelier than he was.
This morning, she’d got to the café just before him and was standing staring at the board in all its shouting block-capitals glory. He could see her right foot tapping furiously and knew instinctively that she was angry. So much for the catch-up.
‘Jesus. Addy is going to go
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