Denise Mina: Exile

"Neds," said Maliano, and looked accusingly at Inness. "Ye should be out stopping that sort of behavior instead of harassing her. I keep a diary of all your comings and goings up here"-he gestured to his spy hole-"so," he said, pointing at him, "just you watch it." Jim's bottle snapped and he blushed and scuttled back across the close to his own door, giving Inness a last warning look before he shut the door. Maureen knew he would be standing, watching. She shut her front door and darted into the living room, gathered up all of Angus's letters and held them to her chest. "These're mine," she said.

"We asked you about them," said Inness sternly, "and we're seizing them, so you can put them down. They're not even yours anymore."

"What gives you the right to break into my house?"

The fat guy in the dark suit stepped over to her. "Miss O'Donnell," he said, "where have you been since you got off the bus? We thought you were dead behind the door in here."

"I don't have to fucking tell you anything," she said.

"What happened to your neck?" asked the little blond woman, staring at it.

Inness stepped closer and Maureen could tell from the flush around his eyes that he was furious with her. "Those letters'll be going to the fiscal." He was trying to threaten her but in the past few days she'd been trapped in Parlain's, she'd been strangled by Toner and she'd made her home safe from the evil eye and had chosen her path. Inness couldn't frighten her with a mustache and a stare.

"Get out," she said, trying to shout but sounding strained and weak.

The fat guy was staring at the bruise around her throat. "What happened to your neck?" he asked.

"Get out," said Maureen.

He touched her arm gently. "Miss O'Donnell? I'm Arthur Williams from the Met?" His face was kind and nervous. "I understand that you have information about Ann Harris's murder."

Maureen was folding the letters, shoving them back into their envelopes, dizzy with the desire to be alone and home and safe. She ripped an envelope trying to shove a letter into it and that was enough. "Fuck it," she shouted. Her throat throbbed and stabbed with the effort. She dropped all the letters and kicked them out of the way. "Fuck it."

Inness was staring at her. "What happened to your neck?" he said.

The plump man stepped forward. "We really need to talk to you, Miss O'Donnell."

Williams insisted that Maureen have some tea to warm her up, and Bunyan made her a mug and brought it through from the kitchen. She hadn't put any cold water in it and Maureen managed to scorch her tongue, but the heat soothed her throat a little so she persevered and sipped at it anyway.

Bunyan lit a cigarette and shoved the packet across the coffee table. Maureen couldn't resist her hollow camaraderie. She lifted the packet and took one. She could have cried forever now she was home. Arthur Williams sat calmly, smiling dutifully whenever she looked at him.

"Have you charged Leslie and Jimmy?"

"Not yet," said Williams softly. "We might still – we'll have to see how this pans out."

"Did you go to Tarn Parlain's house?" asked Maureen.

"Yeah," he said. "We're questioning Parlain and Elizabeth Woolly."

"You found Elizabeth?"

"She was at his house when we got there. They've both been arrested on another charge, so we've got all the time in the world."

"What other charge?"

"Possession."

Williams watched Maureen looking downcast at the table, drawing on her fag. Her throat was a red and black mess; he wouldn't be surprised if she had broken something. She looked skinny and bedraggled, and judging from the letters in her house, life wasn't too sweet at all. He leaned over the table and tapped his fingers softly on the table in her line of vision. "Why don't you just tell us what happened?"

So Maureen sat and smoked Bunyan's fags and told them the story about Ann's big bag, the debts to the loan sharks and the attack at Knutsford, about the letter from the nonexistent law firm and Tarn Parlain's damp settee. She left out the troubling inconsistency of Moe and the benefit book, left out Mark Doyle because she still didn't know what to make of him. She was getting to the end, to Maxine and Hutton and the service station. She had just phoned Hugh and New Scotland Yard and 999 when Williams interrupted. "What was the story about the Polaroid?"

"It was a picture of Toner and her son. He sent it to her to flush her out of the shelter."

"But you don't have it?"

Maureen shook her head and reached into her pocket. "I've got something, though." She pulled out the photocopy she had made of the Polaroid in the copy shop in Brixton high street. Bunyan leaned in as Williams unfolded it and they looked down at Toner holding the small boy's hand.

"Nice bloke, isn't he?" said Bunyan, lowering her voice. "Did you get a fright?"

Maureen hung her head and drew on her fag.

"These people," said Bunyan, nodding gently, "are very frightening."

Maureen noticed that she was talking to her as if Maureen were a child, as if she could make it better with a glass of orange and a chocolate biscuit, but Maureen needed that certainty now and she responded to it. She nodded back. "I got a fright," she said.

"I'm not surprised," said Bunyan, leaning towards her. "I get a fright when I talk to these people."

Maureen looked at her. "Did you come all the way up to see me?" Her voice was high and nervous.

"Yeah."

"How did you know I'd be here?"

"Didn't know."

"How could you possibly know it was me that phoned?"

Bunyan tapped her nose playfully. "Copper's instincts," she said, and smiled a consolation.

Maureen smiled back. "Thank you," she said.

Williams sat back. "It's still possible that Jimmy Harris did it, you know."

"I know."

"He was in London."

"I know." She looked at Bunyan. "But you've spoken to Jimmy, you know how passive he is. I'm sure Tam did it. Why else would he wash a leather settee?"

Williams nodded at the floor. "But that's not evidence. We can't get a conviction on the basis that he mistreated his leather sofa, can we?" Williams smiled sadly again, and Maureen realized that nice, plump, nonthreatening male was his catch – they must send him in to question all the mental birds.

"We'll have to take you to Carlisle to interview you formally," he said.

"Why Carlisle?"

Williams sighed and looked very tired. "It's a long story," he said.

A soft knock on the door heralded the creeping return of Inness. Hugh McAskill was behind him, his gold and silver hair splitting the gray morning as he looked into the living room and caught Maureen's eye. For the briefest moment he looked very sad then dropped his eyes to the floor. He looked up again with a blank expression.

"Is this the officer you were trying to phone?" asked Williams.

"Aye," said Maureen.

Hugh stood in the living-room doorway and nodded solemnly at his feet. Williams and Bunyan took the hint, stood up and went into the kitchen with Inness to wait. Hugh watched them leave and turned to her, his china blue eyes suddenly lively. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," said Maureen, feeling like a hard case. "It's nice to be home."

"They taped the phone call from London," said Hugh. "They went around to Tarn Parlain's house and found bits of blood and hair under his settee. There's a superficial match with the hair from the body."

"Will they let Jimmy go?"

"He's out already," said Hugh. "They hadn't charged him yet."

"Right? What about Leslie?"

"She's out too. That Elizabeth woman's in a bit of a state. She's telling them everything on the promise of a methadone course."

"Yeah," said Maureen. "She told me everything for five hundred quid."