Whispers of the Dead, page 16
‘And if the killer knew Jason from his past here in Scotland,’ Rhona said, ‘he wouldn’t have made the mistake of torturing and killing the wrong man.’
Chrissy nodded thoughtfully. ‘But if he only had a photograph, it would be easy to mistake our victim for the guy all of TikTok was looking for.’
‘And are still looking for,’ Rhona reminded her.
Going back to their individual tasks ended their discussion. Work always brought Rhona a sense of peace, even though the circumstances that led to it were often violent.
When the woman in the Lilias Centre had asked how she could deal with dead bodies all the time, she’d replied by saying she thought of them not as bodies but as people, with stories and sometimes secrets to tell.
Their latest victim, the man they at present thought had been mistaken for a brother, perhaps one Lewis McLean never knew he had, was still a man of mystery.
He’d been in his twenties, handsome and in good health according to Dr Sissons. They’d found no clothes in the room that he might have been wearing, but Rhona suspected they would have been of good quality. His nails had been trimmed. His hair styled. No rings or watch, which they’d assumed had been taken by his assailant.
The police had issued a description of him, of course, minus a live photograph, but as yet no one had come forward. Someone, somewhere out there, knew their victim. A lover maybe. A workmate or neighbour. And, of course, parents. One person both brothers must have shared, even if only for a short while, was their mother.
Had she raised either of the boys herself? Or had she given both up for adoption?
Just as I did with Liam.
Rhona stopped there. She no longer blamed herself for doing that and now had contact with her son, who had sought her out as a teenager, just as she’d begun to look for him. Reconciled now with one another, they met up once or twice a year, when he wasn’t travelling the world.
Thinking about parentage brought Marnie Aitken and Tizzy to mind again. They hadn’t made a formal request to run Tizzy’s biological father’s DNA through the national crime database, because as far as the police were concerned, the case was closed, and they had nothing to argue against that. Apart from Marnie’s attempts to gain their interest.
We should go to Kilcreggan, as McNab suggested, she thought, and speak to Marnie face to face, now that we know where she is.
Perhaps she would be ready to reveal more now. Tell them the secrets she’d been keeping for the past six years.
At this point, Rhona glanced towards the doll that sat nearby. Chrissy had taken pity on the little Highland dancer and, having freed its eyes and mouth, had stitched it back up and looped the lock of hair over its right hand.
Rhona decided in that moment to return the doll to its owner.
If the doll was free to tell them her secrets now, so might Marnie be.
37
The club was called the Red Dragon and, arriving at its entrance, a thick door buried in a sandstone wall, McNab was struck by its resemblance to the sex club featured in the movie script.
This time, however, neither the fictional Detective Boyd nor himself required a battering ram to gain entry. Instead, a press on the buzzer was sufficient to bring a swift response from the manager, a tall and well-built guy in his fifties who introduced himself as Michael Russell, and suggested McNab might call him Mick.
Entering the main area of the club, he indicated that McNab should take a seat at a nearby table.
‘Can I get you a coffee, Detective Sergeant? I just made some fresh for myself,’ he offered.
When he received a ‘yes’ in reply, Russell disappeared through a swing door into what McNab assumed was the kitchen.
Meanwhile, he took in his surroundings.
The Red Dragon motif was everywhere, its scaly red presence eyeing him from behind the bar and replicas of it swirling round the walls.
The centrepiece of the large room was, of course, a rostrum with three shiny red-and-black-striped poles arising from it, their dragon heads breathing red lights like replica fires.
Around the stage were black tables with the dragon motif repeated, just like the one he currently sat at. And, finally, plush red alcoves lined the outer walls under the eyes of the dragons, where he assumed the private lap dancing offering took place.
The manager set McNab’s coffee on the table in front of him. ‘I saw your request on social media and I thought the TikTok guy had been in here before he went missing. We don’t cover the inside for obvious reasons, but when I looked at the security footage from outside the entrance, there he was,’ he said, looking quite pleased with himself.
‘Is this the man you saw?’ McNab said, passing over his mobile.
The manager studied it before pointing at Jason. ‘Yep. That’s him all right,’ he confirmed. ‘Had a ringside seat when Moondance was performing.’
‘Moondance?’ McNab repeated, thinking he recognized the name from some song or other.
‘Our star pole dancer. The one most folk . . . men come to see,’ Russell explained.
‘And he was one of those men?’ McNab asked.
‘He was. Paid extra for the seat closest to her pole,’ Russell told him.
‘What about the other guy in the photograph?’ McNab pointed at the dark-haired man.
After a moment’s study, he shook his head. ‘It might well be him on the security footage, but as for inside here, I couldn’t say.’
‘So they weren’t together in here, then?’ McNab checked.
‘Definitely not. TikTok guy was alone and only interested in Moondance.’
‘Anyone else come over and speak to him while he was here?’ McNab tried.
‘Not to my knowledge. After Moondance performed, the two of them went and sat in one of the alcoves and had a chat.’
‘No lap dance?’ McNab said.
He shook his head. ‘No lap dance. That’s not a Moondance thing. She’s pole only.’
‘So when did he leave?’ McNab said.
‘Not sure, but the time’ll be there on the tape.’
‘This lady called Moondance,’ McNab said. ‘I’d like a word with her.’
His request brought the first cloud to cover Russell’s face. ‘She’s not here. We don’t open until nine o’clock,’ he said.
‘You have her contact details?’ McNab asked.
The facial storm was growing darker. ‘We’re not supposed to reveal those. Punters might . . . well, you know?’
‘I’m not a punter,’ McNab reminded him.
‘It’s just that the girls all have other lives they like to keep private,’ he said. ‘They only dance in the evening.’
McNab’s studied expression seemed to change his mind.
‘Okay. Her name’s Karen Bell. She works as a guide at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. That’s where she’ll be, I expect. This is her mobile number.’ He produced a card from his wallet with the name Moondance on it in red-and-gold writing and a number. ‘You’ll need to tell her I didn’t want to give it out, but seeing as you’re police . . .’
McNab didn’t react to his request. ‘As a matter of interest, did Ms Bell ever mention knowing Jason Endeavour before she met him in here?’
Russell shook his head. ‘Not to me, no.’
Back at the car, he checked in with Janice and told her the outcome of his visit to the Red Dragon club. She listened attentively, then asked if he was heading for Kelvingrove and did he want her to meet him there.
McNab considered this for a moment. ‘Can you spare the time?’ he said, thinking a female officer might be a wise move when approaching Moondance.
‘I’ll see you there in twenty minutes,’ she said and rang off.
On his way across town, McNab tried to piece together all the disparate bits of the Jason puzzle. Since the dead man definitely wasn’t the actor, they had to assume, until proved otherwise, that Jason was alive and most probably hiding somewhere in Glasgow. Either that or he’d skipped the country altogether.
He knew he was consciously separating Ally’s disappearance from that of Jason. Was that to save his sanity or because he was relying on his gut reading of the whole scenario, despite the fact the guy looking for Ally had also come looking for Jason?
Ollie had spent considerable time trying to identify the dark-haired bloke, but it seemed he had no prior convictions that they knew of, so wasn’t known to the police.
He’d also asked Ollie to check out former Conservatoire drama school graduates from six years ago, looking for Jason and the guy seen talking to him, in case they knew each other from back then.
As for the dead brother, they’d had no luck as yet in finding a next of kin for him, or even someone looking for a missing person that matched his description. Possibly because they had no photo of him alive and well and couldn’t openly promote the fact that he resembled TikTok’s missing star.
Reaching Kelvingrove, McNab pulled into the rear car park. Getting out of the vehicle, he could hear the roar of the River Kelvin sweeping away the remains of the melted snow and the heavy rain that had followed in its wake.
Looking up at the university, he thought back to last night and the entertaining fiasco he’d been witness to. He was still convinced that Jamie McColl’s visit had been more than just to give news of a possible wedding. In fact, he thought McColl had come to check whether Rhona felt in any way the same about him as he obviously felt about her, before he decided to marry whatever her name was.
Join the queue, McColl, McNab muttered to himself as he headed for the back entrance to the Museum and Art Gallery.
Entering the impressive main hall, he made for the café section where he planned to order a double espresso. While at the counter, however, his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t as yet had breakfast, so he ordered a Caramel Log from the available biscuits, which immediately conjured up an image of Dreep’s face when he’d produced the packet of biscuits and the can of Irn-Bru.
‘Hey,’ Janice said on approach. ‘Something bad happen? Your face . . .’
He waved the remains of the Caramel Log at her. ‘The wee bloke Dreep likes these. Either that or he was half starved.’
‘Both may be true,’ Janice told him. ‘There wasn’t much in the way of food in the house. I gave his mother the address of the nearest food bank, but I’m not sure she’ll go. I suspect whatever money’s coming in, it isn’t a lot.’
‘Dreep said his brother only comes home when he’s run out of money,’ McNab said, remembering their conversation. ‘That’s probably where all her money goes,’ he added.
‘And I thought drug dealing paid well,’ Janice said.
‘Only for the ones at the top,’ McNab told her. ‘And I don’t think Darren’s up there.’
‘So,’ Janice said, ‘tell me about this Moondance.’
McNab related what he’d learned from Russell.
‘Okay, I’ll go and check if she’s about. Where do you want to talk to her?’ Janice said. ‘Maybe here over a coffee? Easy and relaxed?’
‘Good idea,’ McNab agreed.
When Janice went off towards reception, McNab settled down to wait and think about how they should play this. Judging by Russell’s expression when he’d left, McNab suspected that he may have already warned Karen Bell that they were going to turn up here. So there was always a chance she could have bolted. Then again, Russell would know if that did happen McNab would be straight back to the Red Dragon to confront him.
As he’d related their meeting to Janice, a number of things had crossed his mind. One of them being that this was all a set-up. That Russell had sent in the footage to the police so that he was in on their search for Jason. Maybe he, or whoever he worked for, was keen to locate the TikTok star too.
Not unsurprising, if the aim was the social media promotion of the Red Dragon.
But there was an alternative interpretation.
As he began to contemplate this, he spotted the two women crossing the mosaic floor towards him. They looked, if not pals, then definitely acquaintances. God, Janice was good at this part of the job, he thought, and not for the first time. Have the interviewee on side and you get, if not the truth, then closer to it.
Then again, if Karen had been warned of their coming, she would have her story ready.
The nearer she came, the more McNab began to appreciate how a guide at the museum might at night turn into Moondance. She was tall and dark and very pretty. In fact, he would put her in the beautiful bracket. Although it was her movement that proclaimed her as a dancer.
McNab composed himself and rose to his feet. ‘Ms Bell,’ he said, ‘good to meet you.’
She nodded and sat down.
‘You’re free to chat to us?’ he said.
‘I’m due my lunch break, so yes,’ she told him, her direct gaze meeting his own unflinchingly.
‘I’ll get our coffees,’ Janice said. ‘You need another?’ she asked him.
McNab found himself shaking his head.
As Janice joined the queue, he said, ‘Thank you for agreeing to speak to us.’
‘It’s about Lewis?’ she asked.
‘You knew Jason Endeavour as Lewis McLean?’ McNab said.
She nodded. ‘We were at the Conservatoire together. I did musical theatre. He was an actor.’
‘Tell me about him,’ McNab said.
She took a moment. ‘He was good, very good. But when we graduated, there wasn’t much work here. So he headed for the US, where a lot of Scottish actors had gone. It took a while, but he made it.’
McNab wanted to ask about her but didn’t have to.
‘I didn’t leave,’ she said. ‘So now I dance at night and work here during the day, and take part in amateur musicals.’
He thought she might be sad about that, but if she was, it wasn’t apparent in her voice.
‘Tell me about meeting Lewis at the Red Dragon,’ he said.
Janice arrived at that moment with their lattes and Karen waited until she’d sat down.
‘I’d heard he was in town. I follow him on TikTok. I said “Hi” online and he turned up at the Dragon. Watched my show and then we talked,’ she said simply.
Before he could urge her on, she continued herself. ‘He wasn’t happy. Something about the script. Wasn’t sure it would work.’
‘Was he afraid for any reason?’ Janice said.
‘More concerned, but he didn’t say why exactly.’
McNab nodded at Janice to ask the next question.
‘Did you know Lewis has – had a brother?’ Janice corrected herself.
By Karen’s reaction she obviously didn’t. Either that or she was a good actor too.
‘He never mentioned a brother. He told me he was brought up in care from a baby. In and out of foster homes. Really shite.’ She hesitated. ‘I know he was in trouble as a teenager. Got in with a bad crowd.’
She looked at McNab as she said this and he had the strange feeling she could read his own history.
‘But he got out, did his degree and headed off.’ She switched her look to Janice. ‘You said has, then had a brother. Is he dead?’
It was McNab that responded. ‘The body found in Elder Park recently was DNA’d as Lewis’s brother.’
‘God.’ She covered her mouth in horror. ‘I thought the description sounded like Lewis, but when he was still reported missing, I realized it couldn’t be.’
‘We’re concerned the killer might have thought it was Jason Endeavour when he was attacked,’ Janice said.
‘But why would anyone want to kill Lewis?’ she said. ‘I know TikTok stars get stalkers but . . .’
McNab came back in. ‘It’s imperative we find Lewis, and as soon as possible.’ He held her gaze. ‘If you have the slightest idea where he might be hiding, or where he might have gone, you need to tell us.’
He watched as she struggled with this and he couldn’t decide if she knew something and had promised not to tell, or just wished she did.
‘He gave me a mobile number and asked me to keep in touch,’ she said. ‘But when I texted him, the number wasn’t valid.’ She shook her head. ‘I assumed he wasn’t interested now he’s a star so I just deleted the number.’
McNab brought out his mobile and showed her the photograph. ‘What about this guy?’ he said. ‘Do you know him?’ He enlarged it to focus on the dark-haired man.
She was taking the question seriously and her expression suggested she just might.
‘I think I’ve seen him before, but I’m not sure,’ she said finally. ‘A lot of men come into the Red Dragon,’ she added pointedly.
‘What about that night with Lewis?’ Janice tried.
‘No, not then.’ She shook her head.
‘Maybe back at the Conservatoire?’ McNab suggested.
Her brow puckered. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know.’
‘Okay,’ McNab said, handing her his card. ‘And thank you, Ms Bell. If you think of anything else, or Lewis makes contact, you’ll let us know?’
As she walked away from them, McNab said, ‘Let’s go,’ and headed towards the back entrance and the car park.
‘You’re not happy,’ Janice said as they descended the steps. ‘You think she’s lying?’
‘Not lying, exactly,’ McNab said. ‘Just not telling us the whole truth. My bet is that she’s in contact with Lewis McLean and is intent on checking with him first, before she says anything more.’
38
Marnie didn’t run away as she’d wanted to, but instead stepped inside as Tizzy had ordered.
There was no one in the room or, she knew instinctively and without checking, elsewhere in the house.
But there had been.
While in prison, she’d grown able to recognize the smell of everyone she’d shared a cell with. She’d realized that all humans have an individual scent that lies beneath the shower gel and the deodorant.
It was after she’d watched a TV programme in which a Syrian man, who’d written about human rights resulting in his imprisonment for eight years, had spoken about his seven fellow prisoners. Incarcerated in the dark for much of the time, he knew each one by their breathing, their footsteps and their scent, and did not need to hear their voices.
