Garnethill by Denise Mina (4 page)

"The shoe cupboard?"

"Yes," said McEwan. "The small cupboard in the hall, the one with the shoe box in it."

"No, I didn't go in there. I saw the body and phoned you immediately."

' 'Immediately'? At the scene you told Detective Inspector Inness that you sat in the hall for a while."

"Well, yeah, I saw the body and sat down in shock and as soon as I was able to stand up I got to the phone and called you."

"How long were you sitting in the hall?"

"I don't know, I was in shock."

"One hour? Two hours?"

"Ten minutes, maybe. Twenty minutes at the longest."

"And where were you sitting in the hall?"

"What difference does it make where I sat?" she said impatiently.

"Just answer the question, Miss O'Donnell."

"I was sitting directly across from the hall cupboard."

"And the door to the cupboard was . . . ?"

Joe McEwan seemed to be trying to prompt her toward some meaningful statement about the state of the cupboard but she wasn't sure what it was. She shrugged. "I dunno, what? Broken?"

"Was it open?" asked McEwan. "Was it shut?"

"Oh, right, no, it was shut."

"Could you see into the living room from where you were sitting?"

"I could see some footsteps."

"How many footsteps could you see from there?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Two," she said. "I could see two but there were seven altogether."

McEwan looked at her suspiciously. "You seem very sure about that."

"I remember them because they looked odd. They weren't shuffled, there were no scuffs of blood at the heel, but they were too close together. It looked odd. Like someone had been walking funny."

"As if they were planked," said Inness quietly, looking at his notes.

His comment annoyed McEwan for some reason: he turned and looked at Inness. Inness realized his mistake and eyed McEwan a subordinate's apology.

"Why are you so interested in the hall cupboard?" asked Maureen. "Was there something in there?"

McEwan was evasive. "Never you mind what was in there."

Maureen ran her fingers through her greasy hair. "Would either of you have a cigarette I could blag?" she said.

She had come out of shock minutes before and was desperate for a fag. Her packet was in her handbag, on the bedroom floor.

Inness sighed and looked at McEwan as if to say Maureen was a chancer. McEwan didn't respond. With pronounced reluctance Inness took a packet of Silk Cut from his pocket and handed one to Maureen. He lit a match, holding it across the table. Maureen leaned over, sitting the cigarette in the flame. It crackled softly. She inhaled and felt the smoke curl warmly in her lungs, her fingers began to tingle. McEwan reached out suddenly, took a cigarette out of Inness's packet and leaned forward, lighting it from the ready flame. Inness seemed surprised. McEwan inhaled and grimaced. "Now," he said, looking at his cigarette accusingly, "I'm afraid we can't allow you to stay at your own house for a while. Is there anyone else you can stay with?"

"Oh, aye," said Maureen, "loads of places."

"I mean, we'll need the address you'll be staying at so we can find you if we need to."

"I might be able to stay with a pal in Maryhill but I'd have to check with him first."

"That would be handy," nodded Inness. "It's just up the road."

"Yeah," said Maureen, wanting desperately to see Liam or Benny or Leslie, or anyone familiar and alive. "Can I nip up the road to ask him?"

McEwan gave her a hard, determined look. "No," he said. "I'd prefer it if you stayed here."

"I really want to leave for a while and come back."

"I want you to stay. We'll be receiving information all the time and it may be important for me to check things out with you."

"I want to go," she said firmly. "I want to get some fags and something to eat and have a think."

"We can bring you food and cigarettes."

"I want to have a think."

"What have you got to think about?"

"I just want to get the fuck out of this building for a while," she said, becoming agitated. "The lighting in here is making my eyes hurt and I'm tired, all right?"

"I want you to stay," he said, leaning on the table and exhaling smoke slowly through his nose. "We can keep you here for up to six hours if we have some reason to suspect you've broken the law."

Maureen leaned forward. They sat head-to-head, each reluctant to sit back and relinquish the space to the other. "Are you arresting me?" she asked.

"I don't need to arrest you to keep you here."

"I haven't done anything."

"It's not that simple," said Inness.

Joe McEwan was getting very annoyed, his eyes narrowed and his forehead creased indignantly. He must be very unused to being defied. Maureen thought about his ex-wife and wished her well. He stood up, shoving the chair away noisily with the backs of his knees. He leaned over and opened the door. The policewoman was standing outside: he ushered her into the interview room and left, slamming the door behind him.

"Have we got to wait for him to come back?" asked Maureen.

"Uh-huh," said Inness, fiddling with the Biro, tapping it softly on the table.

"How come there's always two of you?" said Maureen.

Inness looked up. "Corroboration."

"What's corroboration?"

"We can't use any evidence that's witnessed by one person. There have to be two officers present at all times in case we hear something important."

"Oh."

After an infinity McEwan came back in. "You can go," he said, looking disgusted and angry. "But I want you back here in two hours, is that clear?"

"Yes," said Maureen, pleased to be getting her way.

He leaned over the table and told the tape that it was eleven thirty-three, that the interview was being suspended and that he was turning it off. He flicked the switch and turned back to Maureen. "You know," he said, his voice louder than it need have been, "I really think if you wanted us to find the person who murdered your boyfriend you'd cooperate more fully."

"I appreciate that," she said, gracious in victory. "I'll do everything I can to help you but right now I need a break."

He looked at her disbelievingly and motioned for her to follow him as he walked out of the room.

Coming down the stairs to the main entrance she could see Liam sitting on a plastic chair in the lobby. He looked up and grinned when he saw her, wrinkling his nose. She shook her head softly and looked away, warning him not to speak to her. If McEwan saw Liam he'd recognize him as her brother and would insist on interviewing him right away. Maureen would have to wait for him.

"I'll be back by half-one," she said, distracting McEwan's attention. "I promise."

McEwan walked straight past Liam. He paused by the reception desk and patted it with the flat of his hand, telling her firmly that this was where she should report to when she came for their appointment. Maureen gave him an insolent look and left.

McEwan watched her walk through the glass doors and saw a young man with the same build and hair color follow Maureen O'Donnell toward the main road.

Liam caught up with her in the street. "He must be used to dealing with half-wits," he said.

"Naw, I think he was trying to patronize me. He's pissed off because I insisted on leaving for a while."

Liam's Triumph Herald was parked at the far end of the street. Maureen could see the rust patches from two hundred yards away. It was a rotten car, it broke down at least once a month but Liam said it was good for business: the police tended to stop young guys in Mercs, not mugs in shitey motors.

Maureen slipped her arm through his, something she hadn't done in years. "Did Mum tell you about Douglas, then?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Liam, keeping his eyes on the road and squeezing her arm hard.

"How long were you waiting for?" she said.

"Just about three-quarters of an hour. Not long anyway."

"Liam, they're going to have to speak to you. I didn't think and I told them you had a key to the house."

He flinched. "Oh, bollocks."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Would they know about your business?"

"Dunno, maybe," he said. "Auch, actually they probably don't. Where are we going, anyway?"

"Well, I want to ask Benny if I can stay there for a while. I'm not allowed to go home until they've finished looking through everything and I can't stay at yours, obviously. How's Mum?"

Liam looked shifty. "Mm, well, Una's with her."

"You mean she's pissed?"

"Umm, she might be," he said quietly. "She's very upset. Una's comforting her."

"For fucksake, this is going to turn into something that happened to her, isn't it?"

"You know Mum, she could scene-steal from an eclipse." He opened the passenger door for her and saw that she was winding herself up. "Getting pissed off won't make a sod of difference. You should know that by now."

Maureen got into the car. The windows were opaque with cold condensation. Maggie was sitting in the backseat. "Oh, Maggie," said Maureen. "Have you been here all that time?"

Maggie smiled politely and nodded.

"Why didn't you come inside? You must have been freezing."

"I didn't like to," she said vaguely.

Liam revved the engine. "Let's go and see Benito," he said, and pulled out into the Maryhill Road. "Benito Finite"

An unmarked police car followed the Herald at a discreet distance.

Hillhead Comprehensive's catchment area covers a middle-class area and a profoundly deprived one. Benny came from the latter. He had been expelled in third year for setting fire to a toilet but Maureen and Liam stayed in touch with him because he was mental and a good laugh.

Benny drank like his father. Consequently his early life was a series of Dadaesque adventures: he woke up in a meat factory, he got engaged to a woman whose name he couldn't remember, he fell into a quarry on a Saturday night and didn't manage to get out until the men came to work on Monday morning. When he was twenty he said he was sick of getting his face kicked in all the time and started attending Alcoholics Anonymous and got sober. He was homeless at the time and Maureen let him sleep on her bedroom floor at home. He talked about nothing but the joy of AA for two months. Winnie came to hate him.

His alcoholic family disowned him when he moved in with Maureen's family and got sober. He did some exams at college and got into Glasgow University to study law. His family owned him again. He was in senior honors studying corporate law and had a series of traineeship interviews lined up with high-flying companies. His bank manager kept writing to him, asking him to take out more loans.

THEY DREW UP INTO Scaramouch Street. It was short, only four closes long, with bollards blocking off the end from the Maryhill Road. The street used to be a handy cutoff before the lights. When the bollards first went up several drivers, thinking they'd be cute and save a couple of minutes, swerved straight into them and wrote their cars off. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked. Benny opened the door. He wasn't bad-looking: he was dark with long eyelashes and kind gray eyes, six foot something tall, and had a solid muscular frame, but his close association with Liam and the rest of her family made Maureen squeamish about fancying him. He looked Maureen up and down and burst out laughing. "What the fuck are you wearing?" he squealed. "You look like a ned!"

Maureen pushed her way in through the door. "I've had a bit of an eventful day," she said, and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Benny was a dirty bastard: the kitchen was filthy. Dishes, bits of food and packaging were sitting on the work tops and table, the sink was full and smelled faintly of mildew.

She could hear them in the hall, Liam mumbling the story in a monotone and Benny whispering exclamations back. Liam called to her that he was going to drop Maggie home and would be back in half an hour.

Benny stayed in the living room for a few minutes before coming into the kitchen. His face was gray. "Jesus, Mauri," he said, "Jesus. I don't know what to say."

Maureen dropped into a chair and covered her face with her hands. She wanted to cry but nothing seemed real. Benny sat next to her, putting his arms around her, holding her close and kissing her hair. He was trembling. "Oh, Mauri," he whispered, "Jesus, Mauri, it's so shockin'." She sat up and asked him for a fag. "Haven't you got any?" She explained what had happened to hers and he insisted that she take his packet.

He gave her a lemonade and an ashtray and sat at the table with her, leaning close and listening intently. She told him about the cagoul and the shoes and the rope. How could they get into the house, she kept saying, how could they get in the front door without making a noise?

"Did Douglas have his own key?" asked Benny.

"Aye."

"And there was no sign of forced entry?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Well, Douglas must have let himself in and, either then or later, let in the person who did it. Unless they picked the lock. What kind of locks have you got?"

Maureen described them.

"They'd have to know what they were doing," he said. "Chances are he let them in so ye can conclude that he knew them."

"Aye." She was impressed by the logic of his deduction. "Aye, that'll be it. You're good at this."

"This is awful. I suppose they think it was one of his clients from the clinic. Or could it be the woman he was living with?"

"Elsbeth?"

"Yeah, Elsbeth. It's kind of poetic, killing your unfaithful man in the other woman's house."

"It didn't look very poetic," said Maureen.

"Oh, fuck, I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry, it's hard to take in."

"I know," said Maureen. "It's so shocking it almost isn't." Her bum was numb again. She stood up and rubbed it with her palms. "I've had a very fucking strange day," she said, as if the fact had just occurred to her.

"How're ye fixed? Did you leave your wallet at home too?" He took a tenner out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand.

"I don't need any money, Benny. I'll get my wallet from the police."