Alex Gray - The Riverman

‘How did you get on with Duncan Forbes?’

‘What a strange question to ask!’ Jennifer Hammond answered sharply, a look of annoyance on her face as if Lorimer had actually insulted her.

‘Maybe, but I’d like to know just the same,’ was his mild reply.

‘Fine. He was a good partner to work for. Everyone liked him. He’ll be a great loss to the firm, I assure you.’

Listening to her, Lorimer could hear not Jennifer Hammond, but the voice of a human resources manager. It was as if she were rehearsing a press release on behalf of the firm. The insincerity might be lost on anyone else, but DCI Lorimer’s ear was more finely tuned than most to take in all kinds of emotional nuances. She didn’t like him, he told himself. Then, I wonder why?

Perhaps that was something he might have to find out before much longer.

Inside the red-brick building of Strathclyde Police HQ, Lorimer left Jennifer Hammond to the attentions of the desk sergeant. Once her security badge was fixed on, he led her to an upstairs office where the tape recorder had been set up. It was a soundproof room with no windows. At once Lorimer felt his scalp prickle with unease, the old feeling of claustrophobia making itself manifest. He took a deep breath as if he were about to plunge underwater then exhaled slowly. Sitting just to one side so he could see her face, Lorimer waited while the sound engineer explained to Jennifer Hammond what was required and then fitted on their earphones.

As the caller’s voice began speaking, Lorimer could see the woman’s pupils dilate, then she swallowed hard. She blinked quickly a couple of times, almost as if she were trying to clear her vision.

She knows, Lorimer told himself, experiencing a sudden moment of triumph. He continued to study her as she sat, immobile, while the message continued.

‘… but I didn’t mean it to happen. Truly I didn’t.’ The pause allowed Jennifer Hammond a moment to respond but, apart from a sniff then a pursing of the lips, she remained silent.

‘He’s over by the Finnieston crane. Near the Crowne Plaza. Oh God … There’s something you should know about-’

Jennifer Hammond remained sitting still, as if expecting something more, then, hearing the click, she removed the headphones and looked questioningly up at Lorimer.

‘That’s it?’

‘Want to hear it again?’

The woman shrugged. ‘If you think it’s necessary.’

‘You recognize the voice?’

She shook her head, putting on the headphones again and deliberately avoiding his enquiring gaze. They listened together twice more, Jennifer Hammond not reacting in any way but simply concentrating hard as if just to fulfil her part of the bargain. She sat staring at the whirring machine as it rewound the tape then spoke without turning her head in Lorimer’s direction.

‘Sorry. No idea who that is. Certainly nobody at Forbes Macgregor. And I should know.’ She smiled and looked at the DCI at last, adding, ‘I know everybody.’ Then, tilting her head, she added, ‘Pity the phone line went dead. It sounded as if she was about to tell you exactly where to find him. Doesn’t it?’

Funny, thought Lorimer, she’s deliberately misinterpreting the final words of the message to make it seem as if they were totally innocuous. Whereas the reality was that the anonymous voice on the other end of that line sounded hysterical.

‘You’re quite sure you don’t recognize that voice, Miss Hammond?’ Lorimer asked, his tone serious.

She made an impatient gesture. ‘Looks like having me here’s been a waste of time, Chief Inspector.’ Jennifer Hammond was on her feet and gathering up her raincoat.

As they shook hands and he showed her out of the room, Lorimer was not so sure about that. She hadn’t identified the caller, but he was fairly certain that Jennifer Hammond knew quite well who the mysterious woman really was.

‘Solly?’

‘Mm?’

‘I think Lorimer’s stumbled onto something rather nasty,’ Rosie looked up from the floor where she was drying her hair in front of the fire.

‘What kind of nasty?’

‘Pond scum. Or rather something dredged from the bottom of the Clyde.’

Dr Solomon Brightman turned away from the screen of his laptop and regarded his fiancée silently. A few moments passed until Rosie made a face at him and he smiled in reply. ‘What do you want me to say?’ he asked mildly.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Just thought you might be interested. You see we’ve found traces of a date-rape drug in the victim’s bloodstream and there’s this weird tape of a phone call made hours after the guy landed in the river …’ she trailed off as Solly smiled his enigmatic smile and shook his head.

‘Did he jump or was he pushed? Is that the question?’ he teased.

Rosie sat up, running fingers through her still-damp hair. ‘Sort of. It’s one of those cases where the death is suspicious but there’s absolutely nothing to hint that the guy’s been murdered. He could’ve taken the GHB himself, after all. Or even if some idiot spiked his drink it could still have been an accident.’

‘What does the Crown Office think?’

‘It’s to be treated as a suspicious death, possibly a murder inquiry,’ she answered. ‘Lorimer was finding out about that today.’

‘And you say he has a bad feeling about this victim,’ Solly mused. ‘Do you think he’ll make a murder case on the strength of his policeman’s instinct?’

‘Actually, no,’ Rosie replied. ‘At the end of the day, I think a verdict of accidental death is the likeliest outcome.’ She moved over to Solly, her breath soft and warm as her lips brushed his dark curls. ‘But I wouldn’t mind if you were to take a wee look at the file. Just out of interest,’ she coaxed, her hand finding Solly’s own, winding his arm sinuously around her waist. For one delicious moment his grip tightened then he rewarded Rosie’s efforts with a playful pat on her bottom.

Solly extricated himself with a chuckle and turned back to his laptop. ‘No thanks. I’ve plenty to occupy myself right now, thank you. Another trip into the world of investigative psychology can wait until there’s real evidence of foul play.’ He glanced back over his shoulder. ‘Then I might be interested.’

Rosie gave a shrug and settled back towards the glow from the fire. There were plenty of times when a body had been brought in under suspicious circumstances and no action had been taken. The law stated that there had to be sufficient evidence of a crime before a thorough investigation could take place. But, as Rosie knew well, Lorimer usually followed his own instincts anyway. She was certain he had followed up the taped telephone message for a start. And she knew for a fact that he’d been asking some difficult questions of the victim’s family and friends. Routine, he’d tell them, but really a bit beyond the requirements of an accidental death. Sometimes they joked about Lorimer’s nose for trouble but he was invariably proved correct, a fact that disquieted the pathologist as she fluffed out her hair in a gesture of annoyance. Better for the poor widow to think it was an accident, wasn’t it? She looked across at Solly, that glossy black head that she loved so well bent over his computer. Who’d want to have the memory of their husband forever bound up with a murder inquiry?

Maggie Lorimer stretched her arms high above her head and yawned.

‘Time for bed?’ Lorimer asked.

‘I wish. Just let me finish this lot of S2 marking. If the wee blighters had just done what I’d asked them then I wouldn’t have all this correction to do!’ she moaned. ‘Some of them have written at least double the amount I asked for.’

‘You’re complaining about that? Thought it was like getting blood from a stone with your second years.’