‘Well, I wouldn’t say no to it being a bit warmer to be honest. I’m not exactly keen on the cold.’
‘You said we all knew what this was about. Well, I don’t.’ Deans held his arms wide to emphasise his claim.
She laughed.
‘Come on,’ she mocked.
‘Sergeant,’ he snapped, then lowered his voice. ‘What is it that you want?’
She smiled again. Round two to her as well.
‘Laurence Paton. Adam Mosson.’
He didn’t respond but that was more of a giveaway than if he had. He knew the names were coming; he must have done.
‘Sorry?’
‘Are you?’
‘I mean… What is this? I’m not playing your games. You either tell me what it is you are talking about or you leave my home. Now.’
‘Okay,’ she nodded, conceding the point. ‘You know both Laurence Paton and Adam Mosson. Is that correct?’
‘I went to Jordanhill with them, yes. Long time ago.’
‘Uh huh. What was it they called you back then? Dixie, wasn’t it?’
There was more of a reaction this time. She saw in his eyes he hadn’t expected her to know that. His leg was teetering before her and she was ready to boot him over.
‘Yeah, that’s it,’ she said. ‘Dixie Deans, Laurence Paton and Adam Mosson. Oh, and Paddy. We can’t forget Paddy.’
Deans looked back at her stony-faced. He had regained control and registered nothing at the mention of the fourth name.
‘You know they’re dead, don’t you?’ she asked.
He gasped but something in the opening and closing of his mouth didn’t ring true.
‘I heard about Adam,’ he told her. ‘It was terrible. Poor guy.’
‘But not Laurence?’
‘No.’
‘Fell off a ladder. Cracked his skull open.’
‘That’s… It’s been a long time since we knew each other. But that’s very sad.’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘Laurence? Not since we were at Jordanhill.’
‘And Adam Mosson?’
‘I’ve bumped into him a few times over the years. Our schools aren’t that far apart. But I haven’t seen him in a year or two.’
‘Hm. And what about Paddy?
‘I’m not sure who you mean. I don’t think I remember a Paddy.’
‘No? Maybe I should ask your wife if she remembers him. Maybe she can help jog your memory.’
Deans’ face tightened and she saw anger chase panic across his features.
‘I don’t think there’s any need for that.’
‘Not if you can remember on your own, no. Can you?’
‘No.’
Narey got up from her chair and began to make for the door.
‘No problem. In that case, I’ll just have a quick word with Mrs Deans.’
‘No. Stop.’
She turned, barely bothering to hide the smirk on her face.
‘Well?’
Deans hesitated, his eyes burning angrily into Narey’s.
‘Well, it could have been Peter Bradley, I suppose.’
‘You suppose?’
‘It was probably him, yes. He was called Paddy because he was such a big Celtic fan. There weren’t many of them on campus. He even called himself it after a while.’
Narey took her seat again, perching on the edge of it so she was nearer to the man.
‘Tell me about Mr Bradley.’
Deans drew his hand across his face, wearily rubbing at his eyes.
‘There’s not much to tell. We were at college together. I haven’t seen him since we left. He was from… East Kilbride, I think. Somewhere like that.’
‘Okay. And do you know where he teaches?’
‘No. I don’t even know if he still does.’
Narey turned to look at Winter, shrugging at him.
‘Do you think he knows?’ she asked him.
‘I think he probably does.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ she replied before turning back to Deans. ‘We think you do.’
The man’s face reddened, not with embarrassment but with the flush of anger.
‘Don’t come into my house and call me a liar. I haven’t seen Laurence or Paddy in nearly twenty years and I haven’t seen Adam in ages. I can’t help you and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’
Narey didn’t budge.
‘What did you tell your wife when she asked why the police were here?’
‘Not that it’s any of your business but I told her the little I knew: you wanted to speak to me but hadn’t told me why. She knows I wouldn’t be involved in anything… untoward.’
‘No?
‘No.’
‘Well, in that case, maybe you have reason to be worried.’
She received a hard stare from him.
‘Is that a threat?’
‘Not from me, no. But two of your friends have met with very unfortunate accidents. They do say that things happen in threes.’
‘It certainly sounds like a threat.’
‘It’s a warning, Mr Deans, an entirely different thing.’
Deans got up out of his chair, put his hands in and then took them out of his pockets before crossing his arms defensively in front of him.
‘I’ve already asked you to leave, Sergeant. Now I’m ordering you to go right now.’
Narey nodded. ‘Maybe I could have a word with your wife before I go, though.’
‘Absolutely not. She’s upstairs sleeping. I will not have her disturbed.’
‘Maybe next time. Because I will be back, Mr Deans. We both know that.’
Deans walked to the door and held it open until Narey and Winter followed him through it, leading them down the hall to the front door. A blast of icy wind greeted them as he pulled the door wide and ushered them onto the front step.
‘If you are coming back, Sergeant, then I’d suggest you bring a warrant with you. Otherwise there’s no way I’m letting you in to upset my family.’
‘Thanks for the advice. I’ll do that. Very protective of your family, aren’t you?’
‘I’d do anything to protect them.’
‘Anything?’
He didn’t answer but began to close the door.
‘Mr Deans?’ she interrupted his movement with the question in her voice.
‘What?’
‘You didn’t ask me why I was asking you about Paton, Mosson and Paddy. Have you received any interesting emails lately?’
The door was slammed in her face.
‘You leaving it at that?’ Winter asked her as they walked away, neither of them turning back.
‘Course not. It might be fucking freezing but I can still make him sweat. The man’s a bloody liar. He’s in this up to his neck and the only question right now is if he’s going to be a victim or tell us what the hell is going on.’
CHAPTER 34
The Bank turned out not to be a bank at all. It was a restaurant in Upper Craigs in Stirling, a two-storey sandstone Georgian mansion with a Doric porch of pillars and fanlights at the top of a flight of stairs leading up from the road. It was an impressive building from the outside and Narey cynically wondered if Detective Inspector Marty Croy’s ambitions extended beyond lunch.
Inside, it was surprisingly modern, with mood lighting and glass partitions a world away from the building’s façade. Croy was already seated when she was shown to a booth of plush leather seats and he got to his feet to introduce himself.
‘We could have done this at Randolphfield,’ he told her, inviting her to sit. ‘But from what I gathered from Kirsten, I thought you’d prefer to keep it away from HQ — for now at least.’
‘Yes, thanks. I’m grateful for that. We’ll need to go official when push comes to shove but I’d rather keep it between us for now, sir.’
‘No problem. Glad to help if I can. And call me Marty.’
Croy was around forty and in very good shape, Narey noticed without a hint of guilt. He had thick, dark curly hair and a roguish glint to his blue eyes. He was a good-looking guy and she reckoned it was at least some small compensation for the generally shitty turn of recent events.