As he drained his whisky, his eyes fell on the telephone out in the hallway. Should he try to speak to Maggie? Best not, in case he woke the boy, he thought. His eyes closed and he let the glass slip from his fingers onto the carpet. Another minute and he would shift, just another minute.
Flynn saw the light on in the lounge and from the doorway of his bedroom he made out the sleeping form of the policeman curled into the sofa. Glancing back into the room he noticed the extra blanket that he’d tossed onto the floor.
As he draped the thick blanket over Lorimer, the policeman muttered something in his sleep and turned over. An unfamiliar feeling swelled up in the boy as he looked down at the figure under the blanket. He swallowed and blinked, staring at this man who had taken him into his own home. Then, with a sigh that seemed to come from his very soul, he switched off the table lamp and quietly tiptoed back to bed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jimmy Greer grinned with satisfaction as his fingers flew across the keyboard. There! That would fix the smarmy bastard! Weeks had gone by since his encounter with Lorimer but the event still rankled with the journalist. It had given him some little pleasure to see the lack of progress in the Concert Hall case although as time went on it was harder to find copy relating to the two murders. He pressed the print button as he reread his piece.
POLICE FAILURE TO MAKE CONCERT HALL ARREST
Despite the time and manpower spent on the recent murders of George Millar and his colleague Karen Quentin-Jones, Strathclyde Police have failed to make any significant progress in this case. Lack of concrete evidence seems to be the underlying problem, according to police sources, although extensive forensic testing has been under way since the first murder. Even the presence of Doctor Solomon Brightman, criminal profiler, has made no apparent impression on this case.
A senior Strathclyde officer insisted that reports that the Crown Office had insufficient evidence to arrest a prime suspect were not true.
‘There is no prime suspect in this case,’ acting Superintendent William Lorimer claimed. ‘The case is ongoing and there are many aspects still under investigation.’
What these aspects are Superintendent Lorimer refused to say but there is a feeling of disquiet within the force over the failure to make an arrest almost two months after the first murder. The two murder weapons, a percussion hammer and a harp string, are believed to be crucial to the investigation and sources close to the case believe that the perpetrator of the killings is still in the city. The victims were both killed in Glasgow Royal Concert Hall within days of one another and extensive police work was required in and around the area. George Millar, Leader of the City of Glasgow Orchestra, and Karen Quentin-Jones, his second in command, were well known figures to Glasgow concert goers and their loss to the city’s musical life has been immense. Despite the tragedies, the Concert Hall’s programme continues as normal and the Orchestra will be performing their usual Christmas Classics concert this Sunday.
Although several of the Orchestra members have been questioned by the police, it seems that Superintendent Lorimer, who continues to lead the case, is no nearer to finding the killer.
A source at the Crown Office claimed to be under pressure to release the bodies for burial with the result that the funeral service for Karen Quentin-Jones is scheduled to take place in Glasgow Cathedral this Friday.
Greer smirked as he picked up the newly printed page. That would be one in the eye for Lorimer! Lorimer was perfectly aware that the Crown Office had deemed it possible to release the body of Karen Quentin-Jones for burial before Christmas.
Of course cremation would have been out of the question given the circumstances of her death. It was three days since Greer’s piece in the
The only good thing about that, he thought to himself, was that he’d be able to take his holiday to Florida. Five more days and he’d be picking up Maggie’s mum and heading for the airport.
Lorimer felt in his pocket for the black tie that he’d folded this morning. The service was at two o’clock in Glasgow Cathedral and there would be a considerable police presence there, not just representatives from the investigating team but with uniformed officers providing security measures.
He’d made his peace with the Consultant Surgeon, thankfully. At first the man had been outraged at the Orchestra’s decision to carry on with their Christmas programme, demanding that Lorimer make them stop. Quentin-Jones had shouted at him, his anger reaching a peak then he’d broken down again. Now, with the revelations about Karen’s past and the seeming insensitivity of the Orchestra, he simply seemed exhausted by it all.
Lorimer was used to grown men weeping in his office, one of the more unpleasant aspects of this job. Sometimes emotional storms would result in a confession, just like on television, but that didn’t happen often enough in real life. He wondered briefly whose tears would fall today for Karen Quentin-Jones.
The clouds that had threatened rain all morning seemed to have shifted to the east letting a pale shaft of sunlight filter through the stained glass windows of Glasgow Cathedral. Lorimer heard the sonorous notes of the organ and felt its vibration through the soles of his shoes as he made his way forward. Glancing towards the Choir Stalls, Lorimer saw the members of the City of Glasgow Chorus. Someone had pulled out the stops for Karen’s funeral, he realised, wondering if Brendan Phillips’s hand was in this. He looked around, recognising several members of the Orchestra before taking a seat near the back.
Whether or not Karen Quentin-Jones had been a popular member of the community, the turnout at her funeral was certainly respectable. Most of the congregation were middle-aged or older but there was a row of youngsters near the front. Beside the Consultant Surgeon sat a girl with long dark hair falling down her back. As she turned her face towards Quentin-Jones, Lorimer saw the pale face with its firm jaw. Younger and perhaps even prettier, there was no question whose daughter this was. what else might Tina Quentin-Jones be feeling, apart from the obvious grief at losing her mother? Lorimer ground his teeth. There were so many victims never taken into account in a murder case; children, parents, friends, a whole gallery of suffering.
His eyes slid along the row to where an elderly lady sat, her face veiled from sight. She sat upright, hands crossed on top of a stick, staring straight ahead as if to blot out the murmur of conversation around her. Beside her a woman’s grey head was bowed in prayer. For a moment Lorimer thought he recognised Edith Millar then his view of the front row was masked by the arrival of the undertaker and the request for the congregation to stand.
He watched as the coffin was brought forward, noting that it was being borne by professionals in their black livery, not by family members. Then, as the coffin was laid across the trestles, a sound like deep organ pipes came from the Choir Stalls as the Chorus began their vocal tribute to the dead violinist. Lorimer listened, moved in spite of himself as they intoned Taverner’s ‘Song to Athene’. As the women’s voices reached the triumphant crescendo, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, then the Basses resumed their sonorous notes, letting the sound fade into darkness. There was a long moment of silence as the notes reverberated into the vaults. After the obligatory coughing and shuffling, the minister began his address.
Lorimer hadn’t intended to follow the funeral party to the hotel afterwards but professional curiosity managed to subdue any qualms about obeying protocol.
Quentin-Jones had booked a room at Lang’s, the upmarket hotel directly across from Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, much to Lorimer’s surprise. OK, it was the nearest decent place to the Cathedral, but surely its proximity to the murder scene was in poor taste? Or was the bereaved husband so consumed with grief that such niceties had been lost on him?
