Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

‘Is Solly around?’ he asked.

‘Ah, I see. After my other half, are you?’ The note of amusement came across and Lorimer could hear her calling, ‘Solly! Phone for you!’ as she turned away from the telephone.

‘Hello?’

‘Solly. How are things?’

‘Lorimer,’ the voice on the other end of the line sounded relieved, ‘thought it might have been one of my postgraduate students. Some of them are particularly needy at this stage in their work,’ he sighed.

‘Well, sorry to disillusion you but I wanted to pick your extensive brains just as badly.’

There was a silent pause while Dr Solomon Brightman considered this. The DCI was well used to Solly’s long pauses, although they could still irritate him whenever he was looking for a particular response.

Dr Solomon Brightman had come into Lorimer’s life one spring day when he had been at a loss to solve the murder of three young women whose bodies had been dumped in a Glasgow park. From being resentful of an expertise that he’d not fully understood, Lorimer had come to admire the behavioural psychologist whose skills had been useful in helping to solve those multiple murders. And the forensic side of Dr Brightman’s work was not simply a tool that Lorimer lifted and laid without thought for the man himself. Solly was a Londoner who had embraced the city of Glasgow as his permanent home and had become as much a friend as a colleague. Not only had the psychologist’s initial involvement brought him into close contact with Strathclyde Police, but it had introduced him to Rosie.

‘The Nancy Fraser case?’ Solly ventured at last.

‘Got it in one.’

‘Not the happiest sort of investigation for you,’ Solly remarked.

‘You can say that again. I’ve just been with the mother making a public television appeal. Grim,’ Lorimer heard himself sigh. ‘Anyway, we’re following several lines of inquiry, one of which is to investigate the possibility that the girl’s been taken by someone who may recently have lost their own child. We’ve got a few documented cases from way back though I have to be honest they were all babies, not kids as old as Nancy. I wanted to run that idea past you to see if you would come up with any aspects of that sort of female behaviour that could give us something to go on.’

The silence at the other end might make anyone else wonder if the line had been cut off, but Lorimer knew that Solly was taking his usual ponderous time before replying.

‘I could certainly give you some case studies on the subject,’ the psychologist replied at last. ‘If that’s what you want.’

Lorimer ran a hand through his hair. At this point what he wanted was for someone to come forward and tell them where Nancy Fraser was. But any pointer in the right direction would help.

‘Okay. Thanks. But if you wanted to have a wee chat about the case, I’d be happy to see you. Unofficially, of course,’ Lorimer added. The costs of this case were already spiralling and his superintendent was making noises about financial effectiveness. Paying for the services of a forensic psychologist just wasn’t on unless events dictated otherwise.

‘Can you spare some time this evening? Bring Maggie up?’ Solly suggested. ‘I’m sure Rosie would be delighted to see you both.’

‘See what I can do. Call you later. Thanks,’ Lorimer replied, hanging up as a familiar figure entered his room.

Detective Superintendent Mark Mitchison shot a questioning look at his DCI then let his eyes flick over Lorimer as though inspecting his appearance. Whatever he’d hoped to find (and possibly criticise) just wasn’t there. Lorimer had taken extra care with his formal suit and had worn a sober tie that was the right side of funereal.

‘This morning’s appeal. No problems?’ the Detective Superintendent asked in a tone that suggested that his confidence in Lorimer handling the media was less than complete. It was true that certain journalists had rubbed Lorimer up the wrong way in the past and he’d had his own way of sorting them out, but an occasion like a public appeal for a missing child would never be one of them. A meeting with the Assistant Chief Constable was the only thing that had prevented Mitchison from doing the appeal with Kim Fraser himself. He wasn’t averse to pulling rank in a case even when the DCI was Senior Investigating Officer.

‘None whatsoever,’ Lorimer replied smoothly, swinging in his chair in a manner deliberately calculated to annoy. There was no love lost between the two men and many officers still grumbled about the decision that had promoted Mitchison over Lorimer. Still, a decent working relationship was usually maintained by Lorimer’s strategy of avoiding his senior officer whenever humanly possible.

‘Right.’ Mitchison paused as if he wanted to say more then turned away abruptly, his jaw tight with tension.

Lorimer let out a sigh of relief once the door was closed. Some days he’d have happily upped sticks and transferred to another division. He’d even seriously considered a vacancy in the recently formed cold case unit but the thought of leaving behind a team of officers who regarded him as much more than just their boss made him realise what he’d lose in the process. If promotion came, then fine. Right now he had far more immediate concerns, in the shape of a missing child.

Rosie smiled as she felt his fingers caress her hair. ‘Anything interesting from the big man?’ she asked.

Solly bent down and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her gently on the lips. ‘Just wanting to talk about a case,’ he murmured.

‘Anything gory enough for my taste?’ she replied, laughing.

‘If you mean is it a murder case, well. .’ Solly tailed off, a crease appearing between his dark eyes.

‘It’s not the Nancy Fraser case, is it?’

‘Why is it that a beautiful woman like you brightens up at the mention of serious crime when her lover is trying to distract her?’ Solly gave a mock sigh, twirling a lock of Rosie’s blonde hair around his finger.

‘It is the Nancy Fraser case! What’s Lorimer’s take on it?’ she asked, sitting up and snuggling against Solly’s shoulder.

‘I think he’s hoping for a happy ending,’ Solly replied quietly.

Rosie looked at his face. He had turned away from her but even so she could read the pain etched around his mouth. Her darling man, she thought suddenly. All of his training had led him to conclude that, statistically, this little girl was probably dead already. And such knowledge hurt someone as sensitive as Dr Solomon Brightman.

‘Come here,’ she whispered, shifting nearer to him. She couldn’t change what was happening out there, where small children disappeared from their own doorsteps, but perhaps she might just be able to change that expression on Solly’s face.

It was one of those days when every period seemed to last an eternity, Kyle thought to himself. Why he’d thought of taking Geography last year simply defeated him. The teacher’s voice droned on and he’d long since lost the thread of the lesson. The prospect of lunchtime and then double PE last thing was all that kept him awake. At last the sound of the corridor bell galvanised him into motion as the entire class scrambled towards the door, heedless of the teacher’s instructions: ‘Walk don’t run.’

Everyone belted down the corridor, Kyle grinning as if he knew his taller frame and turn of speed would keep him out in front and near the head of the dinner queue. As he sped past Samantha Wetherby he could heard her swearing at her mobile phone. And at Julie. Pounding along the corridor, it crossed Kyle’s mind to wonder just what Sam’s best pal was up to. ‘Too feart tae show her face,’ one of their classmates had declared loudly at registration that morning. Mrs Lorimer had looked up at that but hadn’t said a dicky bird, probably just as well. None of the teachers would be on Julie’s side, would they? He agreed with them, but only just. Had there been anything going on at SU camp? Eric Chalmers was a big heart-throb to loads of these impressionable wee lassies. Had he taken advantage of her? There was plenty of speculation going on in the Year areas, much sniggering about Chalmers playing away when his missus had been up the duff. But did anyone really believe that? Was it not all daft talk?