Dead Won't Sleep (27 page)

Rosie was praying that Quigley would turn up. He’d sounded so edgy on the phone that she’d had to drop everything to go and meet him immediately. She had been sitting in McGuire’s office with Hanlon, going over the events of the night before, when the call came through on her mobile.

On the way to the East End, Rosie reflected on how bullish McGuire had been over the fact of her arrest. He was certain it was a set-up and it further strengthened his resolve to get the story in the paper. He told her that he had actually been in the company of the divisional commander of Glasgow Central police station when Rosie’s call came that she had been arrested. McGuire said he had hinted to the commander that he believed his reporter was being set up because of an investigation into a top policeman, and it was the commander who mentioned the name Gavin Fox. He said he’d heard on the grapevine that Fox was about to come a cropper,
and he wasn’t sorry. They had been enemies for a long time. He had wished McGuire well with his investigation, and told him he’d be in touch in the next few days, then he made the phone call to his division to get Rosie released. Rosie had told McGuire it was lucky he was in the right place at the right time. He replied that you make your own luck. He had read Rosie’s copy and was planning three days of revelations. He was as buoyed up as she had seen him in a long time, and she was even more keen now to get the story out.

She had woken up this morning to headlines in the newspapers that she was facing drugs charges. The broadsheets were fairly matter of fact about it, but the
Post
’s two rival tabloids had a field day. Her picture was on the front page, leaving the police station with Hanlon. TJ had tried to make light of the picture when he’d brought the newspapers into her bedroom earlier, but Rosie was fuming. She had gone back to her secret flat after she was released by the police, and phoned TJ to come and join her. She fell into his arms when he arrived. They drank a bottle of wine and TJ took her to bed. It had been a very long day and she had barely slept, but she was fired on adrenaline.

Rosie was relieved when she saw the shabby figure of Quigley coming towards her car. He was breathing hard as he opened the door and sat down beside her.

‘I’ve got it.’ His hands were shaking. Rosie could smell alcohol on his breath.

‘Have you listened to it?’ she asked, as he handed her the tape recorder and microphone.

‘No. I was scared in case I pressed the wrong button and scrubbed it. I just spoke to him in his office an hour ago and as soon as I got what you wanted I left and phoned you. I went for a quick drink first because I was shitting myself.’

Rosie prayed that the tape had worked. She put in the earpiece and rewound the tape. It was perfect. Quigley even had the sense to say ‘Mr Davidson’, when he was talking to his boss so that the man was identified. The conversation was clear as a bell, and Davidson had hung himself out to dry. He told Quigley there was a meeting planned for Lord Dawson’s house later that night, and to organise some of the kids. Jesus, Rosie thought. He even named the judge. He said to make sure there were no problems, and not to pick any kids that were whingers. And even more damning, he also said that he would be talking to him next week about another location. Some of the men at the big house wanted to have something at another place. It was to do with filming, but he would be told nearer the time. It might mean more money, Davidson had said.

Rosie was ecstatic. She felt like doing a lap of honour round the car. The tape was pretty damning evidence to have as part of the investigation. It might not guarantee the story would make it into the newspaper, but the lawyers would certainly feel a little more comfortable.
She knew they weren’t ready to publish just yet though. She still had work to do. McGuire might want them to photograph the kids one more time, leaving the children’s home again to show they went to the judge’s house not just once but at least twice. With the taped evidence, and Quigley’s own evidence when they first met, she knew they were nearly there.

The big problem would be when they put it to the judge, and any of the others they identified, that the newspaper was about to expose them. Then pressure would be brought to bear from the very top level. That was when Rosie might lose control of the whole story . . .

She enquired how Gemma and Trina had been since they’d gone missing, pretending to Quigley that she was only interested because it had been a news story. Quigley smiled.

‘You know, the wee buggers had everyone in a flap,’ he said. ‘Nobody could believe it. It was obviously that Trina’s idea to slip out and go to Stirling. It’s her ma that’s in the jail. I mean, that wee girl Gemma would have never thought of anything like that. She’s a great wee kid. Her ma was a prostitute, you know, and she got done over.’

‘I know.’ Rosie decided to say no more than that. ‘But how are the girls?’

‘They’re all right. They think they’re celebrities because their pictures were in the evening paper and on the telly, but they’re keeping a real watch on them now.’

Rosie wanted to say that it seemed a bit late to keep a watch on them, but it was best to leave it alone, quit while she was ahead.

‘So what happens now?’ Quigley asked. ‘I mean, you said I would get away before it went in the paper.’

Rosie looked at him, then out of the window.

‘I know. But we’re not there yet, Paddy. I’ll let you know before it all kicks off. You have to trust me on that.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I better go.’

He shook her hand and left the car, walking fast across the road and into the nearest pub. Rosie sighed, then played the tape again. She started up the engine and turned the car around, heading back to the office. McGuire would be delighted, but she knew he would also be worried. The cages they were about to rattle contained more dangerous and powerful animals than the head of the CID.

Rosie was awakened by the aroma of fresh coffee, and she stretched luxuriously in TJ’s bed. She blinked against the sun streaming through the window. She sat up and looked at her watch. It was already nine and she had to be at McGuire’s office by ten for a session with Hanlon and the boss of the law firm that the newspaper retained at huge expense. The lawyers would explain what would happen in the coming weeks if the cocaine charges were pursued by the Procurator Fiscal. Then they would go through the Gavin Fox investigation line by line.

The lawyers had had Rosie’s copy since yesterday, and Hanlon had already been on the phone asking her specific questions. She was pleased that he seemed positive. It was looking good, he said, but the lawyers were being typically cautious, asking if there was more backup that would nail Fox and his cohorts to the wall. They were told that everything they had was there. It was now their call and, ultimately, McGuire’s.

Over dinner the previous evening, Rosie thought she had detected a reticence in TJ. He had seemed quieter, preoccupied. She’d wondered if he was about to tell her it was all over, but by the time they finished dinner he was back to normal. When they went to bed they made love for longer than ever before, and fell asleep exhausted in each other’s arms.

‘Morning, darling.’ Rosie came into the lounge where TJ was sitting on the sofa, drinking coffee. She was wearing his blue bathrobe and rubbing her hair with a towel.

‘You look good enough to eat.’ He stroked her leg and she ruffled his hair as she walked past him to the kitchen.

‘Any time.’ She fetched a mug of coffee and sat beside him.

They drank in silence. Something wasn’t right. Rosie glanced at TJ. He looked pensive. She got up and went into the bedroom to get dressed.

‘I’d best be going soon,’ she said, as she came back in, fully dressed. ‘I’ve got to meet McGuire at ten. Could be a long day.’

TJ looked up at her and nodded his head.

‘Sit down, Rosie. I want to talk to you.’

So she had been right last night. Something
was
wrong. She sat down. She felt her mouth go dry and took a sip of her coffee.

‘Rosie.’ TJ sat forward and turned his body so he was facing her. He ran his hand through his hair. Rosie looked
at the grey flecks, like silver in the sunshine. She loved them.

‘Rosie.’ He looked nervous. She’d never seen him like that. ‘Listen. There’s no easy way to say this, sweetheart, but I’m going away.’

Her stomach fell. He was leaving her? She hadn’t even seen it coming.

‘Away?’ It was all she could say.

He took a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I want to go away from here, Rosie. This whole place. I don’t mean you. Of course not. The problem is, I want to be with you. I really do. But not like this.’

Rosie was confused. She swallowed hard. She didn’t know what to say.

‘These past few weeks . . .’ TJ said. ‘No, not just these weeks, I mean months, for a long time – even before we got involved like this – I’ve had real feelings for you. Feelings I didn’t think I would ever have again. And then, when we’re together, like last night, I feel that I really want that, to be with you. But not here. I just don’t think you’ve got any room for me here.’ He kept looking at her.

She didn’t want to lose him. She had better say something quick.

‘Course I’ve got room for you, TJ,’ she said, but her eyes flicked a glance at her watch. She saw him noticing and cursed herself.

‘See what I mean?’ TJ threw his hands in the air. ‘You’re
looking at your watch. You’re already somewhere else.’

‘Sorry.’ Rosie was sheepish. ‘I’m not, TJ, I’m listening. It’s just a reflex action with me.’ She smiled, trying to make light of it. ‘Come on . . . Of course I’ve got room for you, I love being with you – I want to be with you.’ She touched his hand. ‘More than you know.’

‘But Rosie,’ he said, ‘how can you ever get away from all this stuff? This job? It’s eating you up. I don’t think you can ever be anything to anyone unless you pull back from that.’

Rosie sighed. She had to make him understand.

‘Look, TJ.’ Her voice was pleading. ‘I can’t just give up work. I can’t. What am I going to live on? And anyhow, I like it, it drives me.’

She knew he was right. For too long the job had devoured her life and she had allowed herself to be devoured. There had been no need for anyone else. But now it was different.

‘Yes,’ TJ replied. ‘I know it’s important, but what about your life? What about doing some other kind of journalism? A freelance, or a travel writer. Anything. You could work anywhere in the world. You could write books. Just get away from this shit that’s pulling you down. You have to develop as a human being. You’re not just a journalist, that’s just your job. It’s not who you are.’

She resisted the urge to look at her watch again. She knew it must be getting close to ten, but she daren’t mention it.

‘Please, TJ, don’t go into all that soul stuff again. Believe me, I know you’re right. The other night when you told me about the way I run away from myself, I felt so close to you because nobody had ever seen me so clearly before. You were right, but I just don’t know if I’m ready to wait for my soul to catch up. How am I going to know, TJ? Tell me that. You’re sure of things, sure of yourself. I’m not. How am I going to know when I’m ready to stop all this?’

TJ took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes.

‘You’re not going to know, Rosie. You’re not going to be sure. That’s the whole point. You have to be prepared to take a chance. Are you prepared to take it?’ He let go of her face, but kept his eyes on her.

Rosie said nothing. She didn’t know if she could take a chance, but there and then she wanted it more than anything.

‘You’ll be late for work,’ he said. ‘You’d better go, Rosie.’

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. He kissed her briefly, then turned away.

‘Don’t be like that,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Come on, TJ. Let me get this stuff out of the way first. Give me some time. Please . . . ?’

He nodded, but said, ‘I’m going away, Rosie. Maybe Cuba, maybe New York. I want you to come with me. Think about it.’

Rosie stood up. Jesus. Right now, the idea seemed impossible.

‘I’ll call you tonight,’ she said, turning back to him at the door.

‘Sure,’ TJ said, not looking at her.

She closed the door quietly behind her.

The Big Man was not happy. He had been ranting for half an hour and his face was flushed. Foxy had called Jake Cox on his private mobile and told him they had to talk. Jake said he was too busy to see him, but Foxy insisted that it wouldn’t wait and Jake had to postpone his poker game for nearly two hours.

Now Foxy sat on the red leather sofa in Jake’s tacky office on the top floor of the nightclub he owned. He hated having to lower himself by coming here, but Jake had said there was no option. Foxy knew the Big Man loved to feel he had power over you. Useless bastard! He stayed sitting behind his desk so that he was talking at Foxy as though the cop was one of his minions who had messed up a drug deal. Foxy watched Jake’s mind turning over all the possibilities of what might happen.

‘This is not good, Foxy,’ Jake said, toying with the cigar in his fingers. ‘I mean, if this shit gets in the papers, hell will break loose. Cops investigating cops . . . We’ve
seen that before, but this one won’t be brushed away. They’ll bring some fucker up from the Met or something.’

‘I know, Jake.’ He squirmed in his seat. Bastard was talking down to him.

‘You see the thing is,’ Jake said, ‘I don’t want to fall out with you, Foxy. You’re my mate. Solid. But to tell you the truth, I blame you for letting this go so far.’

Foxy was startled. He sat forward. ‘What? Christ, Jake, how can it be my fault?’

Jake blew smoke across his desk. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have given me so much grief for getting that wee whore done over, then I wouldn’t have told my boys to lighten up when they were dealing with that fucker Prentice’s nutcase daughter.’

Foxy sighed. He had worried that Jake might pull something like this, but before he could reply, Jake carried on.