Alex Gray - Never Somewhere Else

Then the murders had begun. Lucy was strangled and Valentine pulled from the bushes in St Mungo’s Park. His disappearance and horrific death had raised all sorts of questions but one thing was certain. The killer must have known them both. And if he had been known to both Lucy and the old man, then who else in the world of the Art School had encountered him?

Martin slid a handful of coins into the Big Issue seller’s mittened hand then strode through the archway to Royal Exchange Square. Canopies over the smart shops and restaurants fluttered in the wind as he made his way round to the front entrance of GOMA. At one time the building had housed the Stirling Library, a reference library which had become a refuge for vagabond students and city derelicts alike. Right outside, the equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington was the butt of playful citizens who regularly crowned His Grace with an orange and white traffic cone. Now the area was pedestrianised and the neo-classical building was Glasgow’s home for the Gallery of Modern Art, its acronym part of the city’s vernacular. The exhibits had attracted much attention, and had polarised opinion at first, but now it was accepted as just one more facet of the city’s complex personality.

Jayne Morganti was waiting for Martin in the top-floor restaurant. She had chosen a table by the window and sat gazing over the city rooftops, one arm flung out across the back of her chair. Martin paused for a moment and grinned at the picture she made. She was striking a similar pose to Adrian Wisniewski’s mural figures whose elongated limbs created graceful arcs above the diners. Deliberate or subliminal? he wondered to himself, taking the stairs two at a time to the upper floor.

‘Darling!’ Jayne mouthed two large kisses in the direction of Martin’s cheeks as he bent his large frame over her. ‘Thank God it’s not busy! I can’t stand it when there’s a crowd of school children squishing these revolting little sachets of sauce over their chips!’

‘Ha! So much for taking art into the classroom, then.’

‘Oh, they’re welcome to come in and look around, darling, I just wish this place could be a bit more civilised at times.’

Martin glanced around at the brightly coloured walls and ceiling and thought there was something rather abandoned about the sprawl of figures whose youthful faces were turned aside as if hearing something in another distant landscape.

‘Maybe they should put up a sign: GROWN UPS ONLY.’

‘If only.’

As Jayne raised her eyes to heaven, a tall mini-skirted waitress appeared and took their orders for drinks. Martin settled his long legs under the table.

‘Well now,’ began Jayne briskly, ‘to what do I owe this lovely lunch invitation? I take it you want to pick my brains about something, mm?’ As she tilted her head to one side, her long silver earrings caught a sudden shaft of sunlight.

‘They’re nice.’ Martin’s finger circled his ear meaningfully.

‘Oh, them.’ A red fingernail caressed the silver. ‘My assegais.’

‘Your what?’

‘Assegais. You know. Tribal spears. That’s what they’re based on anyhow. Actually,’ she broke off to look Martin straight in the eye, ‘I wore them especially for you.’

‘Oh! Not trying to make a conquest of me, by any chance?’

‘Behave yourself. I’m not into toyboys any more, and anyway, you’re far too tall to suit me. No. I wore them because they were one of Lucy’s designs.’

Martin’s jaw dropped.

‘Lucy Haining? But how did you know …?’

‘… that you wanted to talk to me about her? Oh, a little bird told me. You know what newspaper grapevines are.’

Her dark eyes sparkled mischievously and Martin found himself impressed as always by the older woman’s vibrant sexuality. Maybe it was her Italian blood that gave Jayne Morganti such raw energy.

‘I’m right, then?’ she chuckled throatily but before Martin could reply the waitress returned with their drinks and took their lunch order.

‘Cheers! To your sleuthing.’ Jayne laughed merrily as their glasses clinked.

‘To my sleuthing. But how did you know, you horrible woman?’

‘Your little friend, Diane. She’s quite smitten, poor child.’

‘Oh.’

For a moment Martin wondered just how much the two women had discussed.

‘It’s all right. All your secrets are safe with me, darling.’

Jayne’s husky contralto voice was deliberately teasing. She took a sip of wine then flicked the earring once again.

‘About Lucy,’ Martin began, ‘just what do you know about her?’

‘Well, you know I presented the award last year and so, yes, I met Lucy at the Art School. What can I tell you? She was interesting. One of those very pale creatures with dyed red hair and lots of dark eye-make-up. Very Gothic without being spiky. I tell you what did come across. She was terribly ambitious. Knew exactly what she wanted to do and wouldn’t let anyone stop her.’

‘Someone did,’ Martin remarked quietly.

‘Yes.’ The light went out in Jayne’s eyes and suddenly Martin was aware of the wrinkled hands clasping her glass and the crepe-like skin on her throat not completely hidden by the devoré scarf. ‘Tell me, Martin, why do you want to know so much about Lucy? I mean, apart from more copy for these wretched murders.’

Martin hesitated.

‘I guess I fancy myself as Clark Kent.’ He spoke lightly, trying to recapture his bantering tone, then added in a drawl, ‘Which makes you my Lois Lane, of course.’

‘Oh, no. That won’t do at all. Diane would be most put out to hear you say that!’

‘Well, let’s just say I need to know as much about Lucy as you can tell me.’

Jayne looked away from him, staring over the city skyline as she spoke.

‘I remember thinking what extraordinary talent she had. Jewellery design is painstaking. The ideas can be large — immense, like landscapes — but the execution demands such attention to detail. Her whole approach was like that. She could see an overall picture then work laboriously on the details. I admired her. She’d a hard time of it, like a lot of art students. Materials are so damned expensive. I’m sure some of these kids would sell their bodies for their art. Lucy made extra money taking these children’s life-drawing classes. She was on a full grant. No parental contribution. In all senses. There was no backing from home at all. I gather mummy and daddy disapproved.’

‘Of what?’

Jayne sighed and turned her gaze back to Martin. ‘Lucy herself, I think. Certainly of her being an art student. They didn’t come up for the award ceremony. She said she wasn’t bothered but I think it hurt. Anyway, she had her little display in Princes Square and I bought these lovely things. She wasn’t making much from actually selling her jewellery. She’d cover her costs, I suppose. Wouldn’t use plastic when she could buy real gemstones.’

‘What do you know about her tutors?’

‘Ah. Now there’s an interesting lead for you to follow, darling. She seemed very cosy with one particular lecturer.’

‘Lecturer or lecher?’ Martin joked.

Jayne raised one skilfully pencilled eyebrow.

‘A lady lecher, actually, darling, but you never know, do you?’

‘Name?’

‘Janet Yarwood. Lucy’s advisor of studies. Actually , Lucy used to drop in to Ms Yarwood’s flat regularly. That’s who you should take out to lunch next, my dear. I’m sure she can tell you everything about Lucy you’d want to know. And lots you don’t,’ she added wickedly.

Martin raised his glass.

‘Thanks, Jayne, but let’s not tell the world all about this. At least for now.’