Shit. Have to shake that gnawing. Stomach all over the place. Maybe a glass of Jack would sort it.
They were saying that Sinclair was the worst one yet. Just married. Said surely if killer had known that he wouldn’t have done it. How could anyone do that? they asked.
Pour another glass.
Might not make work. Don’t want to hear them talking. Could phone in sick. True enough anyway. Sick in the stomach. Sick in the head.
Sarah was off school for nearly two weeks with chicken pox once. Poor wee thing was covered in spots and had the cough and a really bad headache. Plenty of fluids and calamine lotion. Don’t scratch.
Taxi passengers been boring into my head. Harder and harder to shut them out. Why couldn’t they just shut the fuck up?
Not going in. Decided. Need to phone before having another glass. Keep voice together. Cammy doesn’t sound best pleased. Feels sorry for me though. Know that. Still not happy.
No work though. No passengers. Why do they keep asking if I have heard anything? Just because you drive a cab doesn’t mean you get loads of gossip. No, heard nothing. Shut the fuck up.
Seemed to be more people taking taxis. No one wanted to walk anywhere any more. People were scared. Even in Glasgow.
Did I put the light off in the hall? Sure I’d checked that already.
Sat back down. Last Jack.
Still got to plan. Still lots to do. Dice move next.
Maybe not best time to plan. Mind full of Jack. Mind full of Sarah. Mind full of Sinclair.
I keep hearing Sarah’s voice. Always been the way. Would hear her in shopping centres or calling to a pal in the street. Would be sure it was her. And every time I remembered it wasn’t, couldn’t be, it was like her dying all over again. But now I hear it without anyone talking.
She was talking through Jack. I was thinking through Jack.
Man gave me a ten-pence tip last week. Fare came to?6.95 and he handed over seven pounds and a five- pence piece. Why do they bother doing that? I threw the coin out the window behind him. Shouldn’t have done that.
Jesus, my guts were churning. Not nerves, just everything. All the shit rolled together. Should have been at work by now. Should have been on the street. Couldn’t now even if I wanted to.
Not going to check that light again. Know I’ve checked it.
I miss you. I say it out loud. I really miss you. Am I saying it out loud to prove it in case she’s listening? Don’t know. Shouldn’t have to prove it. She knows I love her.
Don’t feel guilty. Doesn’t matter how many people say how bad it all is. Just because he was recently married. So what? Random. Way it has to be.
The woman who was crying was doing so for herself. Not for the widow. Her own fear of being alone. Selfish bitch.
Glasgow was full of fear. Could smell it from them. All their talk, all their gallusness meant nothing. All worried about their miserable little lives. Five fucking deaths and their front disappears like snow off a dyke. Could see the strain in their eyes, hear it in their voices. Smell it, see it, hear it, taste it, touch it.
Can’t make plans with all this Tennessee firewater in me. Drunk plans are bad plans. Need to do things right. Owe it to her to do it properly. Getting caught would blow everything. Shame her. Shame both of them. Can’t do that. Can’t have that.
Need control.
Put half glass of Jack aside. Not finishing that.
Rachel Narey is suspicious. Maybe she is just suspicious of everyone. Maybe half of Glasgow thinks she suspects them. They had nothing to hide though. Nothing to protect. She is getting a hard time on telly and in the papers. Scared people demanding answers. Police getting called for everything in taxis and on the street. Feel sorry for her. Not her fault. Their Cutter is too clever for them.
A wee bit more of the Jack. Just what’s in that glass though. No more after that.
Wonder what the cops really think. Must be saying lots they aren’t letting on to the press. Must have theories. Must have leads. Must be fucking furious that the piss is being taken out of them. Must be doing so much that I haven’t got a clue about.
Getting tired.
Sarah once said she wanted to be a policewoman. And a lawyer. And a pop star. And a nurse. And look after old people. She was really bright. And so kind. A warm heart.
She and her pals found some kittens in the river when she was about seven. Some farmer had tried to drown them in a sack. She took the two surviving ones from house to house for hours until she found a home for them. It didn’t matter how many times people said no, she just moved on to another house with big eyes and a soft sell until the cats had good homes.
Last drops of Jack clinging to the side of the glass. The rest deep inside me. No more.
Tired.
Just going to close my eyes for a second. Rest them. Need rest.
Sarah. Narey. Sinclair.
Traffic lights. Traffic jams.
Wallace Ogilvie. Ogilvie. Ogilvie.
Fighting back.
Car door slamming shut somewhere. Black dog barking.
So tired.
Is the light switched off in the hall?
So very tired.
CHAPTER 31
The Daily Record. Wednesday, 25 March 2010. Page 1.
CLUELESS
‘CSI’ psychologist admits Cutter cops are baffled
EXCLUSIVE by Keith Imrie, Chief Reporter. The forensic psychologist assisting Strathclyde Police with The Cutter murders has admitted that the force have ‘no worthwhile leads’ in their hunt for the killer. Dr Paul Crabtree, a consultant on US drama CSI, said that officers were out of ideas and resorting to ‘hoping that something would turn up’. A week on from the vicious murder of Cutter victim number five, Inchinnan dentist Brian Sinclair, the revelation will be seen as a devastating blow to the police investigation. Criticism has continued to mount against the police as the hunt goes into its thirteenth month without any tangible success. There are believed to be deep rifts within the investigation team and there are widespread rumours of officers from an outside force being parachuted in to ‘assist’ with the case. Speaking exclusively to the Daily Record, Dr Crabtree gave a remarkable insight into the profile he has drawn up for officers as well as a depressing assessment of their progress. ‘I am firmly of the opinion that this killer is striking randomly and that there is no discernible pattern to either when or who he strikes,’ he said. ‘That makes him extremely dangerous and, by extension, extremely difficult to apprehend. However there are certain characteristics that we can confidently assign to him and these can form a basis of elimination as well as inclusion. ‘I believe that the killer is a man, aged between 18 to 50 and with his own car. He seems to have issues with men rather than women and may well have close ties to a female figure in his life, probably his mother. This has manifested itself in deep-rooted hatred of men and it may be that his significant female figure may have been significantly abused or hurt by a male figure. ‘It may be too that he has a grievance against the city of Glasgow and that is an avenue worth exploring. ‘He is also likely to have issues with authority as he seems to be taunting the police over their inability to catch him. He sees himself, quite wrongly of course, as omnipotent and far smarter than the police. Indeed I fear he is possessed of what we term Roman Emperor Syndrome, the quest in the killer for something even beyond omnipotent control, for the complete subjugation and slow destruction of others. ‘The sending of the victim’s finger to police is a clear indicator of his belief in his own
