Denise Mina - Still Midnight

‘Sure, come on.’ He made sure she was following him as he walked off through a doorway to the next building. They took the stairs up to the second floor and he opened the door to a large room, flooded with light through two long windows. A coffee machine as tall as a man stood next to a small table with a bowl of loose change. By the wall a corridor of purple leather Chesterfield chairs sat looking at each other.

‘This used to be the smoking room,’ he said.

In front of the windows a ten foot long mahogany table was strewn with notepads and stacks of law books on it. All of the seats were empty, bagsied with jumpers and jackets. The students were all missing.

‘Lecture?’ asked Morrow.

‘Lunch,’ he said, dumping his bag behind the door. He pointed at the coffee machine. ‘Drink?’

Gobby shook his head and Morrow wrinkled her nose. ‘Got one of them at our work. Leaves your tongue all gritty.’

‘Shall we sit then?’ asked their host.

Morrow took a Chesterfield and the boy sat opposite her. Gobby slid into a chair next to her, still keeping his coat on, self-consciously yanking the edges of it out around his belly as she took her notebook out.

‘OK, what’s your name?’

‘Lamont, James.’

‘Lamont, like the judge?’

He tipped his head in embarrassment and looked away quickly. She smiled kindly at him. The two great sources of shame: privilege and penury.

‘So, you know Omar?’

‘Not a bad word to say about him. Brilliant bloke.’

‘Who does he hang about with?’

‘His best mate’s Mo. He did Science, physics or something. Graduated at the same time. Those guys hung about together all the time.’

‘No real friends in Law School?’

‘Loads, but you know, towards the end of your degree everyone’s thinking about the next step and Omar didn’t want to go into practice-’

‘Even though he got a first?’

‘It’s not for everyone.’

‘What did he want to do?’

‘He started a business, I think, went into business. You know, like his dad.’

‘His dad owns a corner shop.’

He seemed surprised by that, and pleased as well, as if they had been a little competitive with each other and this was a point in James’s favour. ‘Really? I thought he had a few shops, that’s what Omar said.’

‘Hm, no, just one shop.’

‘Still his dad must’ve done pretty well with it.’ She could see him struggle, overlaying his win with more noble thoughts. ‘He’d seen the two boys through private school, didn’t he?’

‘Not his sister?’

James jerked his head sideways as if he’d just remembered. ‘Um, no. The sister went to Shawlands Academy.’

‘A comprehensive?’

‘Yeah, but I always thought that wasn’t about money. Omar thought it wasn’t about money.’

‘Was it because she was a girl?’

He shrugged, blushing a little at his implied membership of the patriarchy. She liked him more and more. ‘I dunno, I think she was the brightest of them, Omar said, I never met her. Really sharp, he said. Said she was a bit wild. So wild he wouldn’t introduce her to any of us.’

‘Wild in what way? Bad boyfriends? Drinking?’

‘No, no, just… I dunno… I got the impression she was contrary. He expected her to run off on her sixteenth birthday “like a greased rat”, he said.’ James smiled at that. ‘I remembered because of the phrase.’

She nodded, made a note to enquire at Shawlands about Aleesha. ‘Did Omar say his dad had a few shops?’

‘No. No, now that I think about it, he just seemed to have money. His business had been doing well. Had cash. He’s certainly got money now.’

‘What sort of business?’

James looked as if he’d never really thought about it. ‘I don’t know, I don’t think he said.’

She smiled warmly. ‘But he’s doing well?’

He reciprocated the smile. ‘God yeah, he showed me a picture of this car he’s buying. A fucking Lamborghini.’

‘Right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s blue, isn’t it?’

‘Is it? I thought it was yellow.’ He glanced at Gobby. ‘Banana yellow, I think.’

‘Oh yeah, where did he get it?’

‘Um…’ His brow had dropped. If Morrow had been the sort to give advice she’d have told him not to take up poker.

‘From the place in Glasgow?’

‘Out by the motorway…’

‘So, you’ve met recently?’

‘Yeah, we met a month ago.’ He kept glancing at Gobby, troubled by the sight of him sweating so heavily in his overcoat.

Morrow could see James withdrawing. Gobby looked like a policeman straight from central casting: pudgy, big, out of place in his formal overcoat and ill-fitting suit. She saw James realising suddenly that this wasn’t an innocent chat, that it was official.

A chasm opened up between them and James sat back in his armchair, crossing his legs. He caught her eye and smiled politely.

Warmth wouldn’t work now, she knew that from experience. ‘He told you about this car when you met a month ago?’

‘Um, I dunno, I think so…’ He was giving himself time to think.

‘Where was that?’

‘Um… where?’

She looked at her knees, straightening her skirt. She hadn’t slept for thirty hours and felt suddenly weak and sick. ‘Do you suspect Omar of something?’

‘ What?’

‘You seem defensive. Do you suspect him of something?’

‘God,’ he spluttered, sitting forward. ‘No, no, I don’t at all. Not at all.’

‘Hm.’ she smiled. ‘Right, well just tell us the truth then. Where did you meet him a month ago?’

‘At the Tunnel Club.’

‘The Tunnel Club?’

‘Outside, having a fag, he took out his wallet and showed us a photo of the car.’

‘Did he tell you how much it cost?’

‘No, but it was on the picture, the brochure, he’d cut it out so you could see the price. I thought it was weird, him leaving the price on. I mean, he’d cut it out, why leave that on? It was a hundred and forty grand, about.’

‘About?’

‘Well, you know, hundred and thirty-nine ninety-nine or something like that. About forty grand.’

‘Have you ever known him by any name other than Omar?’

‘Like what?’

‘Does he go to the Tunnel Club often?’

‘No.’

‘Do you?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘But not recently?’

‘Yeah, I was there last week.’

She stood up and James rose to meet her. He looked frightened.

‘Omar’s a good guy…’ he said.

‘You seem to suspect him of something.’

‘Is he a suspect?’

‘In what?’

They looked at each other for a moment.

‘What do you suspect him of, James?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Why are you being careful with what you say about him then?’

‘Am I?’

Morrow let him squirm for a minute and then nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s a hell of a lot of money for a car.’

‘It’s shit loads of money for a car,’ he agreed. ‘I mean, if he already had a car and was getting a slightly better car I could understand that, but to go from no car to that car, I mean, you’ve come into a lot of money really quickly, haven’t you? And you don’t care who knows it either, I mean, you’re not exactly being discreet buying a car like that, are you? Stands to reason you’ve got nothing to hide if you’re buying a car like that…’

‘Yeah,’ she said, picked up her coat and stood up.

His face was panicky. ‘Sorry. For rambling.’

‘This is my card.’ She gave him one from her handbag. ‘Would you ring me if you think of anything else?’

James’s eyes skirted around the floor, retracing the conversation, trying, she thought, to work out where it had got away from him. She made him shake her hand, showed him her teeth. Gobby brushed past him without saying anything.