Alex Gray - The Riverman

Well, he for one wasn’t going to hang around and do nothing. Tony Jacobs had paid the price for being stubborn and pig-headed over the merger. Duncan had stumbled on the whole sorry mess almost by accident, with disastrous results. But it had been the death of Jenny that had upset him most. The memory of her head on his pillow made Graham West stop for a moment, his resolve wavering. Should he simply tell them everything he knew? There was no future for him here any more. But maybe he could start again somewhere else? Canada, or Australia perhaps? His fingers strayed automatically to his inside pocket where he’d put his passport. Just in case he had to get out in a hurry. There was plenty he’d regret leaving behind and it might be difficult to convert his real estate into ready money. That bastard had all but cleaned out his partnership account.

How to disappear was not something Graham West had ever had to contemplate and it was proving more difficult with every passing day. It would make him seem like the guilty party, of course, but that simply couldn’t be helped. His reputation was going to be in as many shreds as these files before much longer. But losing his reputation was a mere shadow compared to the threat that hung over him. If he didn’t make a move soon, his very existence could be in doubt.

Cindy stretched until she felt her hamstring begin to hurt, then slowly she eased her body back into an upright stance. That was better. A few limbering exercises and she could banish the aches that always resulted from sitting too long in the van. They’d been on the road for weeks now and the tour would be finished after today. Then, joy of joys, a whole month with nothing to do but compose more songs, rehearse every other day and see her mates whenever she wanted.

The ringing telephone interrupted her thoughts and she walked over to the large desk that was at present doubling as a make-up counter.

‘Hey,’ she spoke into the phone. Cindy never ever gave her name. You just couldn’t tell who’d seen her the night before and bribed the hotel staff into letting them have her number.

‘It’s Josh. How are you, kid?’

‘Hi.’ Cindy twirled on her toes, her smile widening at the sound of his voice. ‘I’m great. How’re you?’

‘Fine, just fine. Listen, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Remember the night we were up in Glasgow? Had two nights’ gigs back-to-back?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘See the second night after the Armadillo gig, d’you remember us looking out your bedroom window?’

Cindy giggled. The memory of her night with Josh Scott wouldn’t easily be forgotten but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to tell him that yet. ‘Maybe,’ she began coyly. ‘How come?’

There was a pause on the line that made Cindy’s smile slip a little. Had she been just a tad over-enthusiastic? Was Josh going to spoil things already?

‘Remember that guy we saw staggering into the bushes?’

A sense of relief swept over Cindy. It was nothing to do with their burgeoning relationship. ‘Course I do. He was so out of it. Just as well he’d someone to help him up when he fell over.’

‘Cindy,’ Josh’s voice was serious now and she found herself drawing out a chair to sit on, ‘that guy was drowned a bit later on the same night. I’ve just had a call from the Crowne Plaza Hotel. The Glasgow police are appealing for any witnesses. Well,’ Cindy heard a sigh as he paused again, ‘we’re witnesses, aren’t we?’

*

‘Cindy Heron and Joshua Scott,’ Andrew Wotherspoon told him. ‘They were the last guests I managed to contact. And you did ask specifically for anyone whose rooms looked out over there.’ He turned and nodded down towards the Finnieston side of the river.

Lorimer swung back on his chair. The Crowne Plaza manager had the beginnings of a smile around his mouth as if he were not entirely sure of Lorimer’s reaction.

‘It took us longer to locate them because they’re on a concert tour of the British Isles. Currently in Bognor Regis,’ he added.

‘Well done.’ Lorimer nodded. ‘Any time you fancy swapping your present job, Strathclyde Police would be interested.’

Andrew Wotherspoon reddened at the unexpected compliment. ‘Well, you did ask for a list of all guests and it was mostly easy to obtain, but those particular people took a bit longer. Being on the road, you see.’

‘And you asked them to contact us here, I assume?’

‘That’s correct, Chief Inspector. I’m sure they’ll be telephoning you some time today. I just wanted you to know that we had located all of our guests now.’

Lorimer nodded. ‘And they think they saw something?’

‘Mr Scott wants to speak to you about that. He and Cindy Heron believe that they may have seen Mr Forbes after he left the party.’

Lorimer sat up. This was something entirely new in a case that had become bogged down in a lot of conjecture. A proper witness to the victim’s last movements, if not his actual murder, might make a great deal of difference. Between this and the investigation into the bookies maybe they would hit on a proper lead.

‘Cindy Heron? I went to see her last time she was in Glasgow,’ Cameron said. ‘At King Tut’s.’

‘When was that?’

Cameron paused. ‘Two nights before this case began. Must have been the night before Duncan Forbes died. I was off duty for a change.’ He grinned at Lorimer, sensing a change in his boss’s manner.

‘Fancy interviewing her, then?’ Lorimer smiled back. ‘She’ll be here the day after tomorrow.’

Cameron nodded and shrugged, both gestures belying his inner excitement. ‘Aye, why not?’

‘See they’ve got a witness to that first murder,’ Rosie told him.

Solly looked up.

‘Seems some pop star was staying at the Crowne Plaza and she and her road manager saw what might have been Duncan Forbes with another man,’ she continued.

‘Yes,’ Solly said with a nod. ‘That’s good.’ He turned his attention to the pile of papers on his lap.

Rosie Fergusson sighed. This looked like a real breakthrough for Lorimer and yet the man who sat by her side seemed almost indifferent. If you didn’t know him better you’d think he didn’t care, she told herself. Solly could wrap himself in layers of concentration, taking hours to come out of whatever project he was working on. He’d said little about a profile. Instead his attention seemed to be focused on the areas around the river Clyde. Rosie had seen him poring over that dog-eared map he’d drawn and her questions about it had only elicited a twinkling smile and a nod. When he was ready to tell her anything he’d found then he would. Until then she would have to rein in her curiosity.

‘Damn!’ Maggie skidded to a halt outside the front door. The rain, from lowering clouds that had threatened all afternoon, was coming down like stair rods. It was only a quick hop from door to car but she’d become soaked at the far end. With fifth year parents’ night there was always a huge turnout and it usually filled their staff car park. Still cursing under her breath, Maggie made a dash back to the sanctuary of the house, ready to grab her umbrella from the stand near the front door. The rain rattled against the windowpanes, masking the sound of her key in the lock.

There was a familiar voice coming from upstairs. Bill on the phone, she thought, then paused to shake her hair back from her face and tuck it inside her coat collar before leaving again. Then she heard words that made her freeze on the spot.

‘Can we still do it, Jo?’

Maggie listened in the ensuing silence and started as her husband’s voice proclaimed, ‘You’re a darling!’

Not waiting to be discovered dripping inside the hallway, Maggie rushed blindly into the night, pulling open the car door. Despite her trembling fingers she turned the key in the ignition and put the car into gear.