Topley unclenched his fists, then closed them in a white-knuckled crush.
Gilchrist pulled the door shut. His stomach churned. He should not have mentioned Maureen, but he had caught an image of her turning, dismounting from Watt, and the words had slipped from his lips before he could stop himself.
Outside, Nance said, “He’s lying through his back teeth. There’s no way Maureen would let him touch her with a barge pole. And what’s with the gold fillings? Did you see them?” She shivered her shoulders. “Was it true about the red wine?”
Gilchrist nodded.
“So, what’s he up to?”
Gilchrist had no answer. Topley’s hatred had been revealed to him with such intensity that he felt the man had to be holding some grudge. He might have served time in Barlinnie, but as far as Gilchrist knew their paths had never crossed.
But one thing Gilchrist did know.
His daughter was in grave danger.
Chapter 21
GILCHRIST WAS ABOUT to step into Babbity Bowster when his phone rang. It was Dick.
“That mobile number you asked me to do a reverse check on,” Dick said. “It’s listed to a Peggy Linnet.”
“Got an address?”
“That’s where it gets complicated. According to the company’s records she lives in Dundee. In one of those high-rise flats. But the council has it belonging to a Jerry McPhail, who works as an engineer in Saudi-”
“And he hasn’t been in the country for months, right?”
“First time.”
“Renting it out?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you have someone in the Office check it out for me, Dick? Let’s try to find this Peggy Linnet.”
“Will do.”
Gilchrist hung up. Who was Peggy Linnet? And why did Watt call her at such odd times of the day and night? He could confront Watt, have it out with him, then thought it better to have some facts first.
At the bar, he removed a passport-sized photo from his wallet. A young woman, fiercely attractive, the fire of defiance burning her dark-brown eyes, looked as if she was daring the camera to take her picture.
He held it out to Nance. “Maureen with her hair short.”
“She looks angry.”
“She has Gail’s temperament.”
“Ouch.”
Gilchrist offered the photograph to the barman. “Have you seen this woman in here recently?”
The barman glanced at it. “I’m only part-time.”
“That’s not what I asked. Take a good look.”
The barman eyed the image, shook his head.
“What about the others?”
The barman turned to a skinny guy stacking glasses. “Hey, Brian. Someone wants to speak to you.”
Brian slid the last of the glasses onto the shelf and walked from behind the bar, drying his hands on his apron. A silver ring in his left eyebrow looked tarnished. He eyed the photograph and nodded. “She’s a regular.”
“Define regular.”
“Comes in every other day or so. Mostly early, doesn’t stay long.”
“Like after work?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Sometimes she’s with someone.”
“Male? Female?”
“Both.”
Gilchrist exhaled. He was getting nowhere, confirming only what he already knew, that Maureen had the occasional after-work drink in one of her local pubs, sometimes by herself, sometimes with a work associate, male or female.
“When did you last see her?” Gilchrist asked.
Brian shook his head. “Couldn’t say.”
“Have a guess.”
“Last week, maybe.”
“But not since?”
Brian shrugged. “She could have been here and I might not have noticed.” He stared at Gilchrist for several seconds, then said, “Look, I’m sorry. I get paid to work here. Not eye the talent. When this place gets busy, it’s heaving. Know what I’m saying?”
Gilchrist was about to slip the photograph back into his wallet, when he said, “Do you know Chris Topley?”
“Who doesn’t around here?”
“What’s he like?”
“Spends cash like it’s going out of fashion.”
“Wealthy, is he?”
“Loaded.”
“And?”
“And he shows off. Fancies himself as the brain of Britain, too. Always giving his opinion about this and that. But he’s thick as shite. Don’t tell him I said that.”
“Did you ever see him with Maureen?”
“With who?”
“The girl in the photograph.”
“I thought you didn’t know her name.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“He’s her father,” Nance said.
“Did you ever see her with Chris Topley?” Gilchrist pressed.
Beads of sweat glistened on Brian’s forehead. He blinked once, twice, as if his brain was having trouble coming up with an answer.
Nance flashed her warrant card.
“You’re police?”
“Why don’t you let us ask the questions?”
“Is she in trouble?”
“You’re not listening.”
Brian’s lips tightened.
“She’s missing,” Gilchrist said.
“That’s why we’re asking the questions,” Nance followed.
“Look,” Brian said. “I only know Topley because he comes in here now and again. He’s Mr. Big around here. His friends come and go. You don’t see them for months on end, then in they come, all grins and cash and fancy cars.”
“From out of town?” Nance said.
Brian sneered. “Try Barlinnie.”
“You know that for a fact?”
“That’s the pub scoop.”
Brian ran the back of his hand under his nose, then sniffed. And that simple action told Gilchrist what Brian’s problem was. He took drugs. And Topley supplied him.
“Did Maureen ever take drugs?” he asked Brian.
Brian tried to hide his surprise, but failed. “No.”
“I thought you didn’t know her.” It was Nance.
“I don’t.”
“But you know she doesn’t take drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
Gilchrist and Nance said nothing, just waited for Brian to continue. It worked.
“She doesn’t look the kind,” he continued. “Know what I’m saying?”
“What kind does she look like?” Nance again.
“She’s classy.” He risked a glance at Gilchrist. “She’s way above the likes of Topley and his hangers-on.”
Hearing those words sent pride surging through Gilchrist. Maureen did not do drugs and was perceived as classy, and someone who would not associate with the wrong kind of guys. Which did not explain why she was employed by Topley. Was it for money? Over a hundred thousand pounds a year kind of money? Plus a flat as a perk? Surely she could not know about his criminal past. And once again, he felt as if so much water had passed under the bridge of his daughter’s life that he was left standing high and dry on the banks of the memories of her life.
“Look,” said Brian. “I’ve got work to do.”
“You never answered the question,” Gilchrist said.
“What question?”
“Did you ever see Chris Topley with Maureen?”
Brian shook his head. “Can’t say that I did. Look, I’m telling the truth. He’s not her type, is all.”
Gilchrist wondered why he had not thought of asking the question until then. “Did you ever see her with Ronnie?”
“Ronnie Watt?”
Gilchrist tried to hide his surprise. Brian nodded. “Once or twice.”
“Twice? Once?”
“Several times, then.”
“Like they were regular boyfriend-girlfriend?”
“Not really.”
“Why not really?”
“They didn’t look close, like. They argued.”
“Argued? About what?”
“How would I know? I work the bar.”
“You couldn’t hear them?”
“No.”
“So how do you know they argued?”
Brian shrugged. “She looked unhappy. Like she didn’t want to be in his company. And one time she just got up and left him sitting there. Know what I’m saying?”