The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter (Glasgow Trilogy) (26 page)

They’re doing the living room now – nothing there. Tom is still sitting in the kitchen, his head in his hands. He’s called his sister, but she hasn’t arrived yet.

‘I don’t understand any of this,’ he keeps saying.

‘You’re not under any suspicion, sir,’ Matheson tells him for the third or fourth time. ‘If you could please move into the living room so that we can search the kitchen,
we would appreciate that. I know this is difficult for you, but any help you can give us we would be grateful for.’

‘I don’t know what I can do,’ Tom’s saying, moving mechanically from the table to the doorway.

He’s one of those people who thinks that criminals aren’t like him. He can’t understand that a friend might have been involved in something terrible. Sheltered lives.
They’re pulling everything out of the cupboards, getting in under the sink. Pulling apart cereal packets and emptying biscuit tins. Messy business, but they’re never the ones who have
to clean it up. Serious business, though. Looking for anything that might be incriminating. Anything at all. Nothing. What a boring little flat. It’s rare that you go through a place like
this, owned by two young men, and don’t even find a bit of weed.

‘Okay, Mr Shields,’ Matheson is saying to him, ‘we’ve finished our search. We’re sorry that we had to be so disruptive, but you can understand that this is a very
serious crime and requires a very thorough investigation.’ He pauses, waiting for a response. Tom’s looking up at him from the couch with a desperate look on his face. He’s not
going to say anything. ‘Okay then,’ Matheson nods. ‘We’re heading back to the station. We have a few possessions of your flatmate’s that we’re going to take with
us; nothing of yours. I expect there’ll be someone round to question you more thoroughly about your flatmate in due course.’ He was supposed to thank him for his cooperation, but the
boy had done nothing to help and clearly just wanted them to leave.

Back at the station. Shift over. In the changing rooms, getting out of uniform.

‘Fisher’s still upstairs, still calling the shots on this one,’ Matheson says casually.

‘I dunno why he’s got such a bee in his bonnet about the woman and the guy we arrested tonight. Neither of them were involved. Winter was a dealer; the killer will have been working
for another dealer.’

‘Aye, true. Still, Fisher’s the sort of mad bastard that’s gonna catch a killer like that.’

‘Mad?’

‘The guy’s obsessed. Obviously doesn’t have a life away from the job – he’s always here.’

‘Well, I do,’ Higgins is smiling, ‘so I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Higgins is back in his own flat, but he can’t sleep. There are things he feels he has to do. He owes people. Young warned him about Shug Francis. It was a warning. He told him about Shug,
and then this happens with Winter. Winter’s killing doesn’t make a lot of sense until you throw people like Shug and John Young into the equation. Winter was smalltime. He was a nobody
in the grand scheme. You needed people like Shug and Young to make Winter important. But which one of them was Winter working for? Usually he would have said almost certainly Young. But now? Young
had warned him about Shug Francis because of this.

Higgins is picking up his phone. An emergency number. He looks at the display for thirty seconds before he presses dial. It rings. It rings some more. He glances at a clock. It’s after
midnight. He doesn’t want to do this, but he has to. The danger of doing nothing is that Young takes action. Ruins his career. Ruins his life. He warned Higgins about Shug Francis to force
him to help. To make him more active. This is the price you pay for the favours you’ve received, and the ones you may request in the future. You don’t have to like it, but you do have
to live with it. The phone’s still ringing. Maybe he won’t answer. Maybe you’ll have a get-out: I called and called, but I couldn’t get through to you.

‘Hello?’ Slightly confused. Still half-asleep. Definitely Young.

‘John, can we meet at the flat? I have something to tell you.’

‘Okay. Be there in ten minutes. I’ll be there in twenty.’ He sounded awake by the time he finished that sentence.

Already Higgins is regretting it, but these are the consequences. So you have to suffer a little – that’s too bad. You took their help when you needed it, and you know you’ll
need it again. Your family needs help. Not the sort of help you can give them. You will need Young again. You have to make a good impression. He has to feel that you’ve earned the help you
intend to ask for. So make a good impression. Get to the flat.

By the time he arrives at the flat Young has a bad feeling about it. He’s parked his car two streets away. He’s walking through the drizzle to get to the meeting place. A cop calls
you up and tells you he wants to see you. He calls you in the dead of night. He calls you because he has something important to say. He’s never called you before. Took Young an age even to
find the mobile that was ringing. Young has several, all for different people. He didn’t expect the one dedicated to Joseph Higgins to be ringing. Maybe the cop has decided to confess to his
superiors. Maybe he’s decided to set Young up. Or maybe he’s decided to do it a different way. When people are in your pocket, they sometimes try to fight their way out. Even a cop can
be dangerous.

In the door and up the stairs. At the door of the flat. Key in the door. A dull light inside; a lamp is on along the corridor in the living room. Follow the corridor in. Higgins sitting in a
chair alone, looking nervous.

‘Hello, Joseph, how are things?’ Young asks him, sitting opposite. Trying to sound relaxed. Make the boy feel at ease with the situation, because he’s clearly nervous. Then
again, he’s always nervous when he’s in this flat. Quiet and a little depressed. Trying to relax him is nothing new.

‘Things are okay,’ Higgins is saying, but it doesn’t sound like he means it.

He’s clearing his throat, as if he’s building up to something real important. This better be good, young man. This better be worth all the aggro.

‘I thought you would want to know that we’ve arrested someone in connection with the Lewis Winter death.’

Shock. Holy shit! Calum. He’s a good boy, he won’t talk. A big loss. Shit again.

‘The guy’s name is Macintosh. Stewart Macintosh. They don’t think he’s involved in the actual killing, though. They thought he might have been, but not since they
questioned him. He was there when it happened, but not to be involved. Seems like he was there to have sex with Zara Cope while Lewis Winter was asleep upstairs. They’re going to arrest Cope
too, for hiding drugs and money that had been in the house at the time.’

Relief. Huge relief. Calum is okay. The job went well. They’re arresting people on the periphery. That’s usually a good thing; means that they’re distracted from the actual
murder.

‘What about the actual killer? Any word on that?’

Higgins is shaking his head. ‘They have nothing. Seems to have been a real professional job. They have nothing to go on right now.’ He pauses. He’s not sure if this is the
right moment. If this isn’t, then when is? ‘I suggested to DI Fisher – he’s leading the investigation – that Shug Francis might be a name worth looking at. I was
careful. I told him I’d been tipped off by a contact that I didn’t much trust.’ He waits. He’s looking to see what Young’s reaction will be. A nodding head. Not angry.
That’s a relief.

Young’s not sure how to react. Is it too soon to be throwing Shug’s name at the police? No, never too soon. This is one of the reasons you brought it up. You need to put Shug on
their radar. You need them to start getting awkward with the bastard. The boy has done well.

‘I’m glad you brought his name up. It’s important that the police are aware of what a growing threat Shug Francis is. I think the man’s going to become a really big
problem for this city. I do hope you and your colleagues will be able to do something about it.’

‘We’ll be looking at him,’ Higgins is saying, ‘that’s something.’

‘What about you, Joseph, how is life treating you?’ Time to be nice and polite. Make sure he knows that you appreciate and care.

‘Things are going okay for me,’ Higgins is answering, nodding his head. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t expect that to last. ‘It can be a
challenge sometimes, though, looking after that family of mine.’ He says it with a smile, but the implication is clear.

‘You know, Joseph, any time your family needs my help, you only have to ask. Just let me know what might need doing, and I’ll be on top of it. I want to help you. You’ve been a
help to me, so it’s only fair.’

Higgins nods and says that there’s nothing right now. Fair enough. He needs to think about it. He needs to think about how much help he wants to ask for, and in what area. He’ll ask,
though. He’ll throw himself even deeper into the hole. Young knows he will. Young knows he has to. He knows why too. He knows because he’s been working hard to make it happen. Get the
family back into debt. Get the sister running around with another bad crowd. Get them into all sorts of trouble that they can’t hope to get out of without his help. He organizes the trouble.
He organizes the help. It’s part of his job. Keep valuable assets like Higgins dependent on you. It’s one thing to get them into your pocket; it’s another to keep them there.

‘Why don’t you head off home, Joseph,’ Young is saying. ‘I’ll stay behind. I have a phone call to make anyway.’

Higgins nods. He gets up from the chair, shakes Young’s hand. Always so polite. Christ knows where he got those manners. Not his infested, degenerate family, that’s for sure.
There’s no call to make, but there are things to consider. There are problems still to overcome. Good news that Shug is on the police radar. Get him implicated in drug deals. Link him to
Winter. It’s not the meeting with Higgins that he’s thinking about. It’s the hushed call from Frank MacLeod. A call that suggests the next step is about to be taken. The question
for Young – and, as strategist, it’s he who must find the answer – is who steps first?

Tempting to go after Davidson. A nice opportunity to slap down the enemy. But who do you use? Frank is out of action. It’s not safe to use Calum twice in quick succession. Not safe to
order two hits in such close proximity anyway, no matter who you use. Tempting to take the next step. Might be wiser to let the other side have a go. Let them make their move. Let them dig
themselves in even deeper. If they hit one of our men, it gives us carte blanche. There’s nothing that can’t be justified after you’ve been attacked. Easy to win support amongst
other organizations. Let people see that Shug is dangerous. Let the rest of the industry see that Shug is a threat to them too.

You might have to sacrifice someone to get that message across. That’s always a sad consequence. A horrible decision to have to make, letting someone on your own side fall by the wayside.
That’s life. You might have to sacrifice Calum. That would be a shame, but he’s worked for a few other people in the trade, so it would make a real impact. Well connected, well
respected. He would be a loss, at a bad time. Without Frank, you’d have to find someone else. Third choice. Calum was the best candidate. Still, could be worth it. Wait a little. Give
Davidson the opportunity to make a move on Calum. See what happens at the end of it. No need to give warnings yet. Sit back and let things happen.

Fisher bounds into the changing rooms. ‘Where’s the other one?’ he demands to know of Matheson.

‘Joseph? He’s away home. You just missed him.’

Damn! You need these young plods to feel like they owe you. You need them to think you’re including them in everything, doing them a favour. That’s how you get their loyalty.
That’s how you’re able to mould them into decent coppers.

‘Never mind. You can come with me, and find someone else to come along. We’re going to pay a visit to Zara Cope. I’ve got an arrest warrant and a search warrant.’

Matheson finds some other plod, another youngish-looking fellow. As long as it’s not Greig, Fisher doesn’t really care. They’re in the car, on the way to Cope’s flat. Put
the pressure on her there. See if she gives them the shoebox, without the need for a great search. She’ll be awkward. Fisher knows it. She’s the kind of cynical, smart, nasty human
being who will make life difficult. She’ll come up with sob stories. She’ll come up with subtle little lies. She’ll manipulate the information to her benefit. Finding a way to
incriminate her. Making sure she goes to jail. That’s the key to this. Then we find our killer.

That’s the depressing thought that’s settling on Fisher as they make their way into the building. None of this brings us any closer to finding out who killed Lewis Winter. How many
times does this happen? You set off on one investigation and get sidetracked by something else. Happens a lot with organized crime. All of the people involved are so immersed in criminal behaviour;
you can find all sorts of things to keep you busy. Fisher leads the two plods up to the flat’s front door. All familiar to him. Should have got a search warrant last time he was here. Would
have saved some bother. Saved some time. Didn’t know that at the time, though.

Knocking on the door. It would make life so much easier if Cope still had the gear. Brilliant bonus if she knows all about the killing. That’s the prayer. You have enough pressure to get
her to talk freely. She tells you she knows who did it. She knows why. She gives you everything you need. It can happen. Probably not this time. No answer. It’s late. Knock again. Knock
loudly. Knock until she answers. He’s thumping the door. His nerves are starting to fray a little. An investigation slipping away from him. Only a consolation prize. People will say well
done, you got two people for breaking the law. There’s still a good chance that you can catch the killer. Nope. The likelihood is running away. Unless something happens that you don’t
expect. Unless someone talks.

The door opens. A nervous face looks out. A young woman, eyes still adjusting to the light in the corridor. Clearly just got out of bed. Wearing a vest top and shorts, no make-up. Genuinely
scared. She doesn’t know who could be knocking on her door.