jogged towards the front door of the tenement building. Two officers from across the street started to move in their direction, another police car was parking up further down the road.
Brennan turned to Collins as they waited for the uniforms, ‘No, if this nut-job of yours wanted to make this Mickle girl look like the others, he had to have another reason.’
‘Like what, sir?’
Brennan shrugged, ‘If I knew that, Collins… I’d have nothing to learn.’
The uniforms caught up with the officers, nodded towards the DI and stood patiently awaiting instructions. Brennan pressed the intercom buzzer, said, ‘Police.’
The door sprang open.
On the stairs Brennan pointed one of the officers to the back door, said, ‘Wait in the green… And keep an eye on the windows, eh.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Brennan led the others up. He felt his thighs aching as he ascended the steep staircase at pace; he knew there was a time when he could run up and down Leith stairwells all day and never feel so much as a twitch, but he also knew those days had now gone. On the landing he rested a palm on the banister, looked towards Collins, ‘Which one?’
The DS nodded down the hallway, ‘Door on the end, there.’
Brennan waved the uniforms towards the door, told one to wait at the top of the stairs. ‘Right, knock away,’ he said.
Collins banged on the door with the heel of his hand, ‘Open up, police!’
There was no reply.
He tried again, ‘Open up, police!’
Silence.
‘OK, knock it in,’ said Brennan.
Collins and the DI stepped out of the way to let the uniforms kick into the door; it took only two swift pelts before the rotten wood behind the Yale lock gave way.
Brennan entered first, called out: ‘Police!’
He checked the doors, left and right, a cupboard and a grimy bathroom. At the end of the narrow hallway was a dark room; he flicked the light switch and a bare bulb burned in the centre of the ceiling. He saw a filthy mattress in the middle of the floor, and a doorway leading to a small kitchen. He nodded Collins towards the kitchen, ‘Check it out.’
Brennan looked over the mattress, it was stained and worn; empty condom packets and cigarette stubs lined its edges. He shook his head.
‘All clear, sir… Stinks of disinfectant.’
‘Oh, really…’ The DI walked towards the kitchen; it looked scrubbed, quite a contrast to the rest of the flat. ‘Get the SOCOs up here, Collins.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The DS removed his radio.
One of the uniforms had moved from the stairwell to the living room of the flat, he walked to the edge of the mattress and addressed Brennan. ‘Sir, there’s an old dear out here says the girl hasn’t been in today.’
‘That would be because she’s up in Straiton, son.’
The uniform lowered his head, looked at his shoes.
‘I’ll have a word with her.’
Brennan followed the uniform back to the landing, the door to the flat next door stood open now. A woman in her bad sixties stood with a tabby cat in her arms, stroking its back. The cat purred like a Geiger counter.
‘Hello, I’m Detective Inspector Brennan.’
The old woman’s voice was reedy and high, ‘Are you here about the noise?… Oh, the noise from that place was unbearable… I told them, you know.’
‘Them?’
‘The pair of them… Her and her fancy-man.’
Brennan put his hands in his pockets, tilted his head towards the open door he’d just walked through. ‘There were two occupants of this flat?’
‘Well, originally there was only the one, the girl.’
‘That would be Angela Mickle?’
‘I’ve no idea what her name was; she had a foul mouth, we never spoke.’
‘And the other… The fancy-man?’
The woman removed her hand from the cat’s back, raised a finger, ‘Ah, now he was called Henderson. I know that because there was a tremendous scuffle on the landing outside the flat one day and he was bellowed at by another man… I think it was over money.’
‘Henderson, that was the name he used? You’re sure about that?’
The cat opened its eyes and stopped purring; it was a cue for the old woman to recommence the stroking of its back. ‘Quite sure, Inspector.’
Brennan confirmed the uniform had taken a note of the name, returned his gaze to the woman, ‘And when did this Henderson fellow move into the flat?’
‘Oh, not long ago… Hardly any time at all. But my goodness, the rows, day and night.’ She thinned her eyes, squinted beyond Brennan’s shoulder, ‘Has there been some sort of bother?’
The DI removed his hand from his pocket, touched the old woman’s elbow, said, ‘Thank you very much, love… That’ll be all. If you could just give your details to the officer, I’d appreciate that a great deal.’
Brennan edged back towards the flat. Collins was putting away his radio as he entered the living room. ‘Well?’
‘Get back on that…’ said the DI.
‘What for?’
‘Ask the station to check on any ex-cons called Henderson released in the last few weeks.’
Collins removed the radio again, held it before his mouth, but spoke to Brennan. ‘Who’s this, boss?’
‘Likely our man… He was staying here,’ Brennan waved a hand over the carnage of the room, ‘I don’t think you could call it living.’
Collins spoke into the radio, relayed Brennan’s request and then held the hand-piece clear of his ear whilst he waited for a reply. ‘So, he’s a scrote?’
‘By the sounds of it… A scrote that owes someone money too.’
‘Money?’
Brennan looked around the room, picked at the peeling plaster on one of the walls. ‘According to the neighbour there was a scuffle on the stairs… Sounds like Henderson was being noised-up for money.’
The radio crackled; Collins spoke into the hand-piece: ‘Go ahead.’
The operator’s voice came through a cloud of static: ‘Only one… Neil Henderson released from Saughton; in for aggravated assault.’
Brennan nodded, ‘That’ll do us.’
‘Thanks,’ said Collins. ‘Can you pull the files and drop them in Incident Room One?’ He clicked off, turned to face Brennan. ‘So what now, sir?’
‘We punt Neil Henderson’s face to the wooden tops…’
‘And what about us, sir?’
Brennan started to fasten his coat, walk towards the open door. ‘Well, you’re coming with me. To check a few traps?’
Collins called out, ‘Come again?’
‘He’s in hock…’ said Brennan. ‘And I don’t think it’s to the Royal Bank, do you?’
Collins smiled, ‘I hear you.’
Brennan’s quick footsteps made a steady repeating beat on the stone steps as the officers descended the stairs. A number of doors that were being held slightly ajar were closed tight as the officers came into view. Brennan smiled to himself and allowed a note of optimism to seep into his thoughts. He had a lead, a name. He’d been there before though, nothing could ever be taken for granted. But something told him that he now held information that was useful. The DI couldn’t quite see where this Henderson character fitted into the overall
