‘ What? ’ Addison was stuck like Winter had never seen before. ‘What the fuck is going on?’
‘Who’s at the scene?’ demanded Shirley.
McConachie blinked. ‘Three cars and two fire engines and more cars on the way. They’ve got the square cordoned off but they can’t get near the van.’
‘Why not?’
‘One of them tried and a shot was fired at his feet. From a distance.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ recovered Addison. ‘I don’t suppose the van is registered to either of your men here by any chance?’
‘Nope, but one of them might well have been driving it till an hour ago. DVLA say it’s Malky Quinn’s.’
CHAPTER 15
The call from Joanne Samuels had been left on Narey’s answering machine and hadn’t left much room for manoeuvre or much time to get there.
‘Rachel, it’s Joanne. I hope you get this soon. I’ve managed to talk to one of the women who knew Melanie quite well. Be at the Criterion Cafe at the beginning of the Gallowgate at two o’clock. She’s very jumpy so if you’re late then I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep her there. Criterion Cafe. Two o’clock.’
It was nearly one-thirty when Narey, still fuming from the bombshell at the morning conference, picked up the message and she didn’t have much time to get across the city centre to the east end. She jumped in her car and battled her way across Cowcaddens Road and George Street before crawling down High Street, cursing the traffic and the never-ending succession of red lights. As the digital clock on her dashboard shifted ever nearer to two, Narey became less convinced that she would make it on time. With just two minutes to the hour, she spotted a space near the Tolbooth Steeple and braked sharply, ignoring the horns that complained at her, and threw her car into the opening so she could run the rest of the way.
At last the powder-blue sign and low roof of the Criterion were in view. Surely the woman wouldn’t have left yet, surely Joanne could keep her there that long. With thirty yards to go, she slowed to a walk in order to get her breath back, knowing she would now be able to see anyone leaving the cafe. As it happened, no one came through the door by the time she reached it and as she pushed her way inside she saw Joanne at a corner table, sitting with her back to her. Opposite her sat a young woman with short, spiky dark hair who was nervously fidgeting with a napkin and looking around anxiously.
Narey didn’t take the chance of asking if she could join them, instead just pulling back the chair next to Joanne and sitting down. The girl continued to look round the room as if worried that someone would see Narey with her.
‘Sorry I’m late, Joanne. Hi, I’m Rachel,’ she said, holding her hand out to the girl opposite. No handshake came back though, the girl holding on to the napkin and twisting it below the table where a cup of coffee had been barely touched.
‘This is Pamela,’ Joanne explained. ‘She was a friend of Melanie’s.’
As Narey looked at Pamela she could see that her nervousness wasn’t just down to meeting a cop. The girl was an addict. The paranoia went way beyond their meeting; Pamela jumped every time the door opened or someone at another table laughed. Her bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils might have been many things but Narey knew what they really were. With barely any make-up on, the dark circles under her eyes were as obvious as the sour smell from her breath. When she finally spoke, there was a noticeable tremor in her speech.
‘I’m doing this for Melanie, right?’ she slurred. ‘It’s the only reason I’m here.’
‘Okay,’ Narey nodded. ‘I understand that. Did you know her long?’
‘Long enough,’ the skinny girl said quietly. ‘A year maybe.’
‘Did you meet her on the street?’ Pamela’s eyes briefly flickered with resentment.
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay, what can you tell me about Melanie, Pamela? Anything you know could help us find out who did this to her.’
The hooker looked at Joanne for reassurance and must have got it because after another fretful look round the cafe she leaned in towards Narey.
‘She was awrite. Some people didn’t like her ’cos she could get a bit full-on when she was high but she was awrite really, know what ah mean? Never did me any harm.’
‘Where was she from?’ Narey asked.
‘Like where did she come from, you mean? Glasgow, south side somewhere, I think. She didn’t talk ’bout it much. I think she fell out with her mum and dad.’
‘Can you remember where on the south side?’
‘No. Told you. She didn’t like talking about it.’
‘And she was living somewhere in Maryhill?’
‘Aye. She had a room there in the high flats in the Valley.’
‘You know the address, Pamela?’
‘It was the big block in Collina Street but ah cannae remember the number. She hudnae been there that long.’
‘That’s okay. Did Melanie have any children?’
Pamela looked at the table then the door.
‘Aye, she had wan. A wee girl. She’s six.’
Narey and Joanne swapped a quick glance.
‘Where is she now?’ Joanne asked.
Pamela was twisting the napkin furiously now, her interest seemingly taken up by her shoes.
‘Where is Melanie’s wee girl?’ Narey repeated anxiously.
‘The wean’s wi her dad,’ Pamela answered quietly.
‘And who’s her dad?’ Narey pushed.
Pamela just shook her head, still staring at the floor. Her anxiety levels had just rocketed.
‘Please, Pamela,’ Joanne Samuels broke in. ‘It could be important, pet. I think if you know then you should tell her.’
The girl’s hands went unconsciously to her face, wiping under her nose.
‘He’s trouble. A real bad bastard,’ she hissed. ‘He’d kill me if he knew.’
All Narey’s senses were telling her that this was a name she had to know.
‘He won’t know, Pamela,’ she assured the girl. ‘No one will know except the three of us round this table. Melanie was your friend and I think she deserves for the person that killed her to be caught.’
Pamela was tilting her head to one side and repeating the gesture: anxious, thinking, afraid. ‘Tommy Breslin,’ she whispered.
‘Okay. Tell me about Tommy,’ Narey pursued.
The girl repeated her head-tilting routine and nibbled on the inside of her cheek.
‘They call him T-Bone. Or he calls himself it, anyway. He was Melanie’s boyfriend. Sort of. Thinks he’s some kind of gangsta but all he is is an arsehole dealer.’
She looked up suddenly, remembering who she was talking to. ‘It’s okay, Pamela. He’ll never know we’ve spoken to you. This is between us. How did this T-Bone treat Melanie?’
She shook her head bitterly.
‘Like shit. Like a piece of shit. He was always laying into her for nothing. He broke her arm once and was always leaving marks on her. Kicks and punches. And he was the bastard that got her onto the shit in the first place.’
She looked up at them fearfully again but the thought of what Breslin had done to her friend gave her some steel.
‘He was her dealer too. And mine.’
Narey nodded, grateful for the girl’s information.
‘Do you think he could have done this to Melanie?’
