Hamish then went into the office and studied the phone bills. There was a message from Fiona on his answering machine, demanding why he had not phoned to report progress. Hamish repressed a sigh. Such as the inspector would never understand Hamish’s brand of policing, which was to help members of the public whenever possible.
He then settled down to check the phone numbers for the month preceding Gloria’s murder.
He underlined five calls to a Strathbane number, picked up the phone, got through to the operator, and started the trace. He prayed the calls would not have come from a throwaway mobile. At last he was told the number belonged to an M. Hartford, 201 Bevan Mansions, in Strathbane.
Hamish was delayed from setting out by Lugs banging his food bowl on the floor and Sonsie trying to climb up him. He gave them tins of animal food and they both stared at him accusingly. “Oh, stop sulking,” he said. “I’ll get you fish-and-chips on the road home.”
He felt uneasy on the drive to Strathbane. He should really inform police headquarters. Before he reached Strathbane, he pulled over to the side of the road and called Jimmy Anderson. It took some time to fill Jimmy in, but when he had finished, Jimmy said, “I’ll meet you there. Let’s hope this is our lad.”
When Hamish drove up to Bevan Mansions, a seedy tower block down by the docks, it was to find not only Jimmy but also several police cars.
“If he looks out o’ the window and sees this lot,” complained Hamish, “he’ll scarper.”
“Stop bitching,” said Jimmy, “and let’s get on with it.”
The lift didn’t work and so they toiled up the filthy stairs. The walls were scarred with graffiti. Sounds of blaring television sets, crying children, and shouting voices assaulted their ears. “He’s got form,” said Jimmy.
“What for?”
“Drugs possession, carrying an offensive weapon, and drunk and disorderly. Malky Hartford. Lowlife.”
“Whoever designed these flats should be shot,” said Hamish, as they emerged onto the top-floor balcony. A biting wind blew discarded debris against their legs.
Jimmy knocked at Malky Hartford’s door. Nothing but silence. Then the letterbox opened and two eyes stared out at them before closing it again.
“Police!” shouted Jimmy. “Open up!”
He put his ear to the door and heard scuffling sounds from inside. He signalled to a policeman behind them with a battering ram who moved forward and crashed the door open.
“There’s a fire escape,” shouted Hamish. He and Jimmy rushed through to the open window and looked out.
“Oh, my God!” yelled Jimmy. The rusting fire escape with Malky clinging to it had detached itself from the building. In the orange glare of the sodium streetlights below, they watched appalled as the whole huge fire escape swayed back and forth like some iron monster with Malky screaming and clinging to it, then went crashing down onto the roof of a disused warehouse opposite.
“No use rushing down,” said Hamish. “There won’t be much of him left.” He could make out the crushed body of Malky under twisted pieces of rusty iron.
“I’ll bag up that computer,” said Jimmy. “And his mobile. I’ll get the pathologist and the procurator out o’ bed. We’ll go back to the station and see if there’s anything on the computer.”
“Silly sod hasn’t even encrypted the thing,” said Jimmy at headquarters. “Let’s get into his e-mail and see if we can find anything. By God! E-mails to none other than Gloria. Listen to this one, Hamish. ‘I need a cut when you marry the old bugger. I paid Willie to find out the best mark. Didn’t I tell you what to wear and how to get at him? Meet me down at the gates on Sunday…’ We’ve got our man, Hamish. The e-mail is dated for the night o’ her murder.”
“What else?”
“‘If you don’t show, I’ll let the polis know you was pinching drugs and flogging them through me.’”
“Go back to the earlier ones,” said Hamish. “No, go to the in-box. Look, there’s some from Gloria.”
Jimmy read out: “‘I paid you in drugs, Malky, so consider yourself paid off and get out of my life. It was fun while it lasted, but I’m heading for the big time and I don’t want you round my neck. Remember, I’ve got the goods on you and can shop you anytime I feel like it.’”
“No, she couldn’t,” said Hamish. “Not without Malky telling us about her.”
“I ’member, Malky was pretty thick. He wouldnae think o’ that.”
“I wonder if she had a fling with him?”
“Could have,” said Jimmy. “He was a good-looking fellow. Curly black hair and big blue eyes.”
“If he’s got family around,” said Hamish, “they’ll be able to afford a grand funeral after they sue the council over that fire escape.” He sighed wearily. “Let’s print it all off. Check the mobile for texts and I’ll let the inspector and Daviot know in the morning.”
“I’ll let them know, laddie,” said Jimmy. “I’m your senior officer.”
Hamish gave him a hurt look. “I’ll give you credit,” said Jimmy. “Honest.”
“Then do the report yourself!” said Hamish furiously.
“No, no. Calm down. Start typing and explain what put you on to Malky.”