In Place of Death (23 page)

She could feel the anger rising in her.

‘Did you report it to the police?' She knew it was stupid even as she said it.

He laughed. ‘Aye, right. No offence, hen, but just how was that going to work? Do you think your lot were going to listen to me? Even before I got put out on the street, I was a drinker.
That housing mob just put enough money in my pocket to make me float in it. No, that's no right, it was enough for me to drown in.'

‘Who were they, Walter? The ones that talked to you?'

‘No, lass. Forget it. Even if I remembered names, I wouldn't want to tell you them. The ones that talked to me weren't the ones that ran the show. They were just the thugs that
did the dirty work. The kind that make the real money, they keep their hands clean.'

‘Okay, Walter. I understand. But I'm looking into this company anyway. I've got a friend in the insurance game. He'll want to know what they're up to. I'll
not drag you in though.'

He shrugged. ‘Up to you, hen. I can't stop you. And if you can pin something on them then good luck to you. Why are you trying to help an old soak like me, anyway?'

She smiled and, as she did so, she knew how sad it looked. ‘Let's just say you remind me of someone.'

They'd walked round in a circle and were back almost at the Rosewood. She tried to palm another twenty-pound note into the old man's hand but he wasn't having it.

‘No thanks, love. I'll feel a lot less like a grass if I don't take your money. Anyway, the way my head's feeling you wouldn't be doing me any favours.'

‘You could buy aspirin.'

He laughed loudly. ‘Aye, I could, hen. And I could be the next winner of
The X Factor.
It's just as likely.'

As they approached the steps of the Rosewood, Narey saw a tall, broad man standing at the entrance. It was one of the dosshouse's two owners, Thomas Kilgannon.

‘This is harassment. My lawyer will be making a complaint to your superiors.'

‘Be my guest, Mr Kilgannon. There's plenty of them to choose from but I doubt you'll find one that will agree with you.'

The man glared at her and did the same to Walter. The old man tipped his head towards Narey then slipped past Kilgannon and into the building. The owner watched him every step of the way.

‘A friend of yours, is he? He'd do well to remember who owns this place and puts a roof over his head.'

Narey walked right up to him and put her head close enough to his to smell the cheap aftershave that clung to his pores.

‘Listen carefully to me, Mr Kilgannon. You'd better take special care of that man. Because if he so much as cuts himself shaving then I'll be coming after you. Do you
understand? And I'll be coming with everything I've got.'

Thursday evening

Remy was nervous. Seven of them, assuming everyone turned up, were going to walk the length of the old line to the abandoned railway station at the Botanic Gardens in the West
End. The afternoon had been dry but a wind had picked up now and there were brooding dark clouds threatening overhead. It suddenly didn't seem a very good idea. Maybe it never had.

He couldn't even swear that he knew what his idea was. He needed to know what had happened in the Molendinar and the Odeon. He needed some way of ridding himself of the sights and smells
and fears that were constantly replaying in his head. And maybe in some deluded moments, he thought he might just be able to uncover a killer.

His message to them had been clear enough but there was a message to one of them in particular.
Nothing too difficult, not the Molendinar or anything
stellar like that,
he'd
written. It was bait and Remy's biggest hope and fear was that someone would take it.

The plan was to meet at the site of the former Kirklee station which was the next stop on the line to the Botanics before both were closed just before the start of the Second World War. There
were blocks of apartments over the site now but the platforms were still there, even though they were completely overgrown. If you didn't know any better, you'd miss them but anyone
who'd done any exploring in Glasgow could tell you where they were. If marijuana was a gateway drug then so was the Kirklee to Botanics line.

Gabby said she'd meet him there and sure enough there she was, standing on the old platform next to a tall, slim, younger guy with shoulder-length dark hair. He was wearing a blue-collared
fleece zipped up to his neck and looking down at Gabby with more interest than Remy liked and she seemed to be laughing at his jokes.

They were on the part of the platform where the old bridge used to be. It was now bricked up and covered in vivid graffiti. Weeds sprouted by their feet and trees grew where the tracks once lay.
Nature had reclaimed this for herself.

Gabby and the guy both looked up at his arrival and their chat stopped. She seemed pleased to see him though. ‘You found the front door then?'

‘You guys know each other?' asked Mr Tall and Athletic before Remy could answer.

‘A bit, yeah. This is Remy. He organized this.'

‘You're Magellan? Oh right. I'm Finlay Miller. My forum name's Astronut. How you doing, man?' He walked over to offer a handshake that Remy returned.

‘Fine. Thanks.'

‘Good, good. I was just saying to Gabby that this should be a nice wee stroll. I haven't done any tourist venues for a while.'

Tourist venues. Remy disliked the guy already. Gabby saw it – he could tell by the smirk that was spreading across her face as she stood behind Miller. She was teasing him, daring him to
respond.

‘Finlay works in an art gallery,' she told him, obviously trying to annoy him more. ‘And he helps support emerging talent through a foundation. Isn't that
great?'

‘Really? That's interesting.' He'd done his best to make his voice suggest it was anything but interesting.

They were joined by three more people before anyone could reply. Voices back on the path made them look up to see a stocky, shaven-headed man in his thirties alongside a pencil-slim, younger
woman with curly fair hair, both in denims and trainers. They turned out to be Ally Aitchison and Lorna Jessop, a.k.a. PencilPusher and NightLight. A few yards behind them was another man, a
six-footer wearing a black beanie hat and crew-neck jumper. He was David Haddow, forum name Spook.

While they were all still introducing themselves, a young ginger-haired guy came running into the clearing, a checked shirt open over a white T-shirt. The latecomer was Gopher and preferred to
be known as that rather than Donald, a name he admitted he wasn't very fond of.

‘A couple?' NightLight was laughing. ‘Me and Ally? No. We just met on the walk here and got chatting. Do you guys all know each other?'

‘Gabby and Magellan know each other,' Miller jumped in, smiling at her. ‘They're not a couple either though. Seems we're all young, free and single. Right, should
we get going?'

‘No!' Remy was louder than he'd meant to be. ‘Not yet. We're still waiting on a couple of people. I think we should give them a few minutes yet.'

Miller shrugged amiably. ‘No problem, man. It was just a suggestion. Let's wait, guys.'

They stood, mostly in silence, for five long minutes. Miller looked round at the group every now and again, shrugging his shoulders. Remy stared back at the path, willing the others to appear.
He'd just about had enough when a guy in his mid-thirties appeared on the path.

He was about six foot tall with dark brown hair and had a backpack slung over one shoulder. He was looking round the group as he approached, as if he wasn't sure he'd come to the
right place.

‘You guys walking the line to the Botanics station? I'm Tony.'

Ally Aitchison stepped forward, smiling, his hand out. ‘Hey, mate. Metinides, right? Good to finally meet you. I'm Ally. PencilPusher. Glad you could make it.'

‘Hey, Ally, how you doing? Hi, everyone. Sorry I'm late. I hope I didn't hold you up too long.'

‘No problem. Tony, this is Remy, he organized it all. Remy, this is the guy I invited along. He's been off the scene for a while.'

Remy waved hello.

‘Metinides? Where does that come from?' David Haddow seemed confused.

‘He's a Mexican photographer,' the newcomer replied, fishing a nice bit of Nikon kit out of his backpack as if to explain. ‘I like his work and it seemed as good a name
as any.'

‘I think we should get going,' Remy announced. ‘If anyone else appears then they can catch us up in the tunnel or the pub.'

They all seemed happy with that and the group made their way to the tall metal fence topped with barbed wire that would have barred the way into the mouth of the Botanics tunnel but for the fact
that it wasn't padlocked. They passed through the gate, leaving it ajar behind them, and strode into the brick mouth of the tunnel.

It was pitch black inside but they walked for a while without using torches, the way backlit by the last shards of daylight filtering through from the entrance. Remy looked back over his
shoulder and saw the curve of the walls seemingly tinged with green, the reflection from the foliage outside. They had to pick their way carefully as the remains of the line were strewn with bricks
and wood and various bits of junk. There were hollows too and the odd puddle of water.

Remy got himself next to Ally Aitchison and drew him into conversation. ‘So if you're PencilPusher, that mean you work in an office?'

The man nodded. ‘Wouldn't be my choice really but yes. Don't judge me but I'm an accountant.'

‘Not judging. I work in Tesco. I can see why you'd need to get out for a bit of fun though. You done this before then? The Botanics, I mean.'

‘Maybe six years ago. It was probably the first explore I did. Me and a couple of mates did it on a Sunday afternoon after talking about it in the pub the night before. We nearly did it on
the Saturday night but had the sense not to.'

‘And you got the bug?'

‘Yeah. My mates enjoyed it as well but that once was enough for them. I got the bug and have been doing it ever since. I go out maybe a couple of times a month. What about you?'

This wasn't about him. ‘Much the same. Few times a month. So do you just go on your own then if your mates aren't into it? Or do you know other people in the city that
go?'

‘No. Don't know anyone else really. That's why I was keen to come along today. Meet some other nutters that did the same thing. Swap some war stories.'

Remy drifted away from Ally not long after that. Not much point in talking to him if he didn't know anyone else. That meant he didn't know Tunnel Man from the Molendinar. Instead, he
sidled over towards the young guy, Gopher.

‘You just made it today then. Saw you running in.'

‘I'm always late for stuff,' he grinned. ‘I couldn't get away from work in Dennistoun till five. I didn't want to miss this though so caught the bus over then
jogged the rest of the way.'

‘You been doing this for long?'

‘Since I was sixteen. I'm nineteen now, so three years. I love going into these old places. It's a sin when they demolish them or let them rot. At least we get to go in and see
them though.'

‘You know any of the others?' He nodded at the rest of the group.

‘Not really. I've seen the big guy before. Finlay. Seen him around. And I've swapped messages with a few of them on the forum. I only really know them from on there.'

‘Anyone else you've chatted to on OtherWorld who isn't here today?'

Gopher shrugged in thought. ‘One or two. There's CardboardCowboy. He's never off the forum. He's posted quite a few explores and takes good photies.'

‘Do you know him?'

‘Nope. Never met him.'

‘There's also someone called Ectoplasm. You know him?'

The boy laughed. ‘He's a she. I've never met her, like. But I remember commenting on one of her photographs and she told me. I think I said “Great picture, man” or
something like that. Said thanks but she wasn't a man.'

‘What about JohnDivney?' A shrug. ‘Don't know that name at all.' They were getting towards the other end of the tunnel now, another green semicircle of quickly
fading light just a hundred yards or so away. He could see Gabby ahead chatting to Finlay Miller but couldn't make out what they were saying. Their voices just mixed with everyone
else's, a hum that reverberated round the tunnel walls.

By the far wall, two of the others were talking. Tony whatever his name was and Ally Aitchison. Remy wanted to split them up and interrogate each in turn. Interrogate. Listen to him. Really,
what the hell did he think he was doing?

Winter caught the young guy Feeks looking over again and couldn't help but notice how nervous he seemed. He was jumpy, chatting to everyone in turn and moving around the
group. Maybe it was just his nature, maybe it was something else.

They were an odd mix but that was the nature of it, he guessed. He'd never explored with anyone other than Euan Hepburn but knew enough about the type of person likely to do it. Youngish,
mostly single, adventurous, fit, loners sometimes, sociable others.

David Haddow had told him he was in sales. Kitchens and bathrooms. He was maybe mid-thirties with something slightly flash about him that probably came with his job. He seemed friendly enough
though and happy to chat.

‘So what do you do? That camera for work or just a hobby?'

‘Bit of both. This one's just for play but yes, I'm a photographer for my day job.'

‘Yeah? What sort of stuff?'

Winter paused just long enough to sound casual. ‘Weddings mainly. Some portrait stuff.'

‘Don't think I'd have the patience for that. Arranging whole families into position, getting them all to smile, trying to make the bride look good. Must be a load of kids to
deal with too. Doesn't sound like fun.'