softened.
‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to shout at you. It’s just been . . . difficult lately.’
Winter nodded. ‘How’s your dad?’
Her face fell. ‘Not good. He’s gone through a bit of a bad spell.’
‘And how are you?’
She shrugged but he could see the pain behind her eyes. He wanted to hug her yet knew he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help . . .’
His hand edged cautiously towards her across the table. Rachel stared at it, seemingly considering the offer. ‘Tony . . . I want to . . .’
Her mobile phone rang and vibrated on the desk, slicing through whatever was passing between them. Rachel looked at the screen and mouthed an apology. She hit the answer button on the phone but didn’t have the chance to say as much as hello before the voice on the other end began blaring through. Even from the other side of the table, Winter could tell it was Addison. His own conversation was over.
Narey put the mobile to her ear but just as quickly had to take it away again and hold it a foot away as Addison ranted down the other end. ‘Yes, I’ve seen it,’ she eventually managed to say. ‘I’ve got a copy of it in front of me now. No, I don’t know. Of course it bloody wasn’t me! Yes, I know you think it was him. Yes, maybe but—’
Addison continued his tirade, an angry buzzing bouncing off the wooden panels of the booth. Narey grimaced at the noise and made several stuttering attempts to butt her way into the onslaught before finally managing to bring the DI to a halt.
‘Look, sir , I’m not exactly Toshney’s biggest fan, as you know. No . . . no . . . Let me finish. Everyone at the scene heard you hammer Toshney for that. As soon as you did that . . . Hang on . . . As soon as you did it gave everyone else a free hurl at blabbing it to their friendly local journo, knowing full well that Toshney would get the blame. Or even just mentioning it to someone else who then told the paper. No . . . no, I’m in the Hyndland Café. No, I’m on my own. Right, okay, see you soon.’
Winter raised his eyebrows questioningly at Narey as she hung up, but she shrugged unapologetically.
‘The more Addy ranted that it was Toshney, the more I felt inclined to defend the twat. Anyway, I’m right. Everyone at the scene at the Necropolis heard Toshney make that stupid Cinderella joke. It could have been any of them. It could have been you.’
Winter just looked back at her, his face impassive. ‘I thought we were going to have a chat.’
She sipped on her coffee, eyes closed. ‘Sorry. We can’t. I’ve got to go. Now. Addy wants a brainstorming situation. Which is ironic, given that he’s already doing my brain in.’
‘Bit of a bad mood?’
‘He could probably run his car on the steam that’s coming out of his ears.’
‘Yeah? I’ve had better starts to the day myself.’
‘Sorry.’
In moments she was gone, swept through the front door in a bustle of coat, leaving him sitting alone in the booth. Winter pushed aside the bacon roll, appetite disappeared, and stared at the space where she’d sat.
Five minutes later, he left the café, trying his best not to look as crestfallen as he felt and headed back to Partick station to get the subway into town. He still had a while before he was due to start work but he decided to head into Pitt Street early. God knows, there was enough for him to do.
He cut through a housing estate on his way to Crow Road, his head full of questions about relationships and shoes and tattoos and young women lost in the night. The camera in the bag on his back still held images taken in the two cemeteries, and a bit of him itched to take it out and go through them. A more rational part resisted and he left the camera where it was, weighing down on his shoulder like a nagging conscience.
At the foot of Crow Road he turned left onto Dumbarton Road and hoofed it the rest of the way to the station. The Glasgow underground was the third oldest in
‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to shout at you. It’s just been . . . difficult lately.’
Winter nodded. ‘How’s your dad?’
Her face fell. ‘Not good. He’s gone through a bit of a bad spell.’
‘And how are you?’
She shrugged but he could see the pain behind her eyes. He wanted to hug her yet knew he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help . . .’
His hand edged cautiously towards her across the table. Rachel stared at it, seemingly considering the offer. ‘Tony . . . I want to . . .’
Her mobile phone rang and vibrated on the desk, slicing through whatever was passing between them. Rachel looked at the screen and mouthed an apology. She hit the answer button on the phone but didn’t have the chance to say as much as hello before the voice on the other end began blaring through. Even from the other side of the table, Winter could tell it was Addison. His own conversation was over.
Narey put the mobile to her ear but just as quickly had to take it away again and hold it a foot away as Addison ranted down the other end. ‘Yes, I’ve seen it,’ she eventually managed to say. ‘I’ve got a copy of it in front of me now. No, I don’t know. Of course it bloody wasn’t me! Yes, I know you think it was him. Yes, maybe but—’
Addison continued his tirade, an angry buzzing bouncing off the wooden panels of the booth. Narey grimaced at the noise and made several stuttering attempts to butt her way into the onslaught before finally managing to bring the DI to a halt.
‘Look, sir , I’m not exactly Toshney’s biggest fan, as you know. No . . . no . . . Let me finish. Everyone at the scene heard you hammer Toshney for that. As soon as you did that . . . Hang on . . . As soon as you did it gave everyone else a free hurl at blabbing it to their friendly local journo, knowing full well that Toshney would get the blame. Or even just mentioning it to someone else who then told the paper. No . . . no, I’m in the Hyndland Café. No, I’m on my own. Right, okay, see you soon.’
Winter raised his eyebrows questioningly at Narey as she hung up, but she shrugged unapologetically.
‘The more Addy ranted that it was Toshney, the more I felt inclined to defend the twat. Anyway, I’m right. Everyone at the scene at the Necropolis heard Toshney make that stupid Cinderella joke. It could have been any of them. It could have been you.’
Winter just looked back at her, his face impassive. ‘I thought we were going to have a chat.’
She sipped on her coffee, eyes closed. ‘Sorry. We can’t. I’ve got to go. Now. Addy wants a brainstorming situation. Which is ironic, given that he’s already doing my brain in.’
‘Bit of a bad mood?’
‘He could probably run his car on the steam that’s coming out of his ears.’
‘Yeah? I’ve had better starts to the day myself.’
‘Sorry.’
In moments she was gone, swept through the front door in a bustle of coat, leaving him sitting alone in the booth. Winter pushed aside the bacon roll, appetite disappeared, and stared at the space where she’d sat.
Five minutes later, he left the café, trying his best not to look as crestfallen as he felt and headed back to Partick station to get the subway into town. He still had a while before he was due to start work but he decided to head into Pitt Street early. God knows, there was enough for him to do.
He cut through a housing estate on his way to Crow Road, his head full of questions about relationships and shoes and tattoos and young women lost in the night. The camera in the bag on his back still held images taken in the two cemeteries, and a bit of him itched to take it out and go through them. A more rational part resisted and he left the camera where it was, weighing down on his shoulder like a nagging conscience.
At the foot of Crow Road he turned left onto Dumbarton Road and hoofed it the rest of the way to the station. The Glasgow underground was the third oldest in
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