Alex Gray - A Pound Of Flesh

In a split second of understanding the girl knew just what he intended.

As the sound of a heavy vehicle approached them Lily turned and ran.

It was the first morning that Professor Brightman had felt any warmth from the morning sun as he crossed Kelvingrove Park and headed towards the university. Tilting his head upwards, Solly enjoyed the brightness and his heart lifted as he paused. Smiling to himself, he walked on, glancing at the base of the trees. His smile broadened as he caught sight of clumps of snowdrops and the first tentative buds of yellow crocus. He might still have to wrap his long striped scarf around his neck, but these first signs of spring meant that the long nights of winter were nearing their end.

His smile faded as though a dark cloud had blotted out the sun when he thought of the cases that Lorimer had entrusted to his care. Would that they were also at an end, he thought. Much still needed to be done to create a proper profile of each of the killers; a woman, he believed, who had shot dead three men and some psychotic person, almost certainly male, who had dispatched these street women to their deaths. His disquiet following that visit to the west end sauna had continued late into the night; the fear those two women in Govan had revealed and the angry dismissal he had received yesterday spoke volumes about the person or persons behind that organisation. It was well known, of course, that saunas tended to be fronts for nothing more than brothels and the police had little time to make raids on such establishments unless there was something seriously criminal going on behind the scenes. Helen James had spoken about the saunas as though they were places of safety for her street women and so they probably were, but there was something wrong with those two particular establishments.

The psychology professor had tried Googling the name, Andie’s, but had come up with nothing more than a list of retail outlets and restaurants. It was, he felt, time to hand over the investigation to police officers who could make searches into companies and the like. Besides, hadn’t he been smartly warned off? Told that if the police wanted to see the owner they would have to come in person? Solly gave a sigh. Lorimer had plenty on his plate right now and an additional detail like the psychologist’s unease might prove quite unwelcome. Yet something, perhaps his own fright at the treatment he had received yesterday, made Solly decide to contact his friend at Pitt Street.

‘I need to speak to Mr Lorimer, please.’

‘Lorimer speaking.’

‘You said to call if I needed … ’

Lorimer sat up immediately. ‘Is that you, Lily?’ he asked, his voice suddenly more gentle.

‘Mr Lorimer. Something bad happened last night. The gritter man said I had to tell you about it. A man …’ The girl’s voice cracked and Lorimer caught the sound of a muffled sob. ‘He came at me. He was, he was goin’ to kill me,’ she whispered.

‘Where are you now, Lily?’

‘At a flat. I sleep over here with some other girls. You can’t come here, though!’ The girl’s voice rose in alarm.

‘I would like to see you, though, Lily. Can you come into town? Meet me at the drop-in centre in Robertson Street, perhaps?’

‘Well …’

Lorimer heard the doubt in her tone. Had that been a bad idea?

‘Could I meet you in the bookshop?’ she asked.

‘Waterstone’s? Sauchiehall Street? The one opposite Marks and Spencer?’

‘Uh-huh. I can be there in about a quarter of an hour. Downstairs in the coffee bit,’ she added.

Lorimer looked at the clock on the wall. He could be there and back within the hour, he supposed; time enough to see the girl before his daily meeting with the press.

‘I’m sorry he’s not available at the moment, may I take a message?’ the woman asked.

Solly paused, wondering. Then, ‘To whom am I speaking?’ he asked.

‘It’s DC Knox,’ the voice replied.

‘Ah,’ Solly nodded to himself. He remembered this enthusiastic member of Lorimer’s team. And surely he could entrust a little thing like this to her?

‘Well,’ he continued. ‘It’s like this.’ And the professor told Barbara Knox all about his two visits to Andie’s Saunas and his unsatisfactory results.

‘Want me to check up on them for you?’ she offered.

Solly beamed, though there was nobody to see his sudden relief. ‘Would you? That would be a load off my mind, DC Knox. Don’t really want to bother your boss, you know.’

The psychologist put the telephone down and immediately turned his mind to his next tutorial session. The subject of dreams had come around once more, he realised with a sigh, remembering a similar session the previous year that had resulted in the strangest and saddest of consequences. A student with red hair, a hit man on the loose and a throwaway remark had all combined to form one of Lorimer’s more notable cases.

Solly raised his glasses on to the top of his dark curls and rubbed his eyes as though to erase the memory. These were different students and he owed it to them to be as objective about the subject as possible.

Barbara Knox sat quietly, thinking about the task she had offered to undertake. The professor had sounded a little uncertain. It was strange how you could always tell how a person was feeling from their voice. A psychologist, especially, would agree with that. She really ought to have permission to tackle this, but, what the hell! Barbara grinned to herself. She was good at showing initiative and besides, if what she had heard about the demise of this unit was true then she needed all the brownie points she could get for her career to maintain its upward trajectory. It would be easy enough to find out what the professor wanted to know and then to dig a little deeper.

Lorimer could hear the hiss of the coffee machine and the undercurrent of chatter as he rounded the balcony. His eyes roved across the customers seated down below until they lighted on the girl. She was sitting hunched up on one of the deep leather armchairs, her head turning this way and that, obviously searching to see if he would come. Lorimer stepped swiftly down the main staircase and strode over to where she was sitting.

‘Oh,’ she said, clutching the arms of the chair with her tiny white hands. ‘You’re here!’

‘Of course,’ Lorimer replied lightly. ‘What can I get you? Coffee?’ He looked more closely at the girl, noting her thin, pale face. Had she even eaten today?

‘Or,’ he continued, smiling his best avuncular smile, ‘how about breakfast?’

He nodded as her eyes lit up. ‘Right, breakfast it is.’

Lorimer sipped his black coffee watching the girl as she wolfed down her food. He’d spent a few quid, wouldn’t miss it at all, but he guessed that for Lily this was a feast. Fresh orange, a large cappuccino and a plate full of pastries disappeared in minutes, the girl’s attention totally taken with assuaging her desperate hunger.

‘Better?’

She nodded, eyes on him now, wiping a few flakes of croissant from her lips. ‘Thanks, Mr Lorimer.’

The detective shrugged. ‘That’s okay, Lily. Now. You wanted to tell me all about this man?’

She nodded, hunching over once again as though to protect something painful deep within her body. Lorimer read the signs, knowing that whatever hurt this girl was more mental than physical.

‘I was out on the drag last night,’ she began.

Slowly the story unfolded: the waiting by the kerb; the white car crawling along; the strange-looking man and then his attempt to catch her. Lorimer listened without interrupting, taking in each shudder as Lily recounted her experience. A look of pained relief crossed her face as she told how the gritter lorry had stopped and the driver had jumped down from his cab, catching her in his arms as she fled. The big man with the scarf had turned and disappeared back down the lane, but the lorry driver told her afterwards that he had got a good look at his face.