‘Regards to DI Logan,’ Jessie said, unable to resist a parting quip.
‘And watch yourself with her,’ Gilchrist advised.
But Smith already had his mobile to his ear, and Gilchrist’s words of warning passed unheard.
CHAPTER 11
‘I’m feeling kind of peckish,’ Jessie said to Gilchrist.
‘Thought you were on a diet.’
‘Only when I’m not eating.’ They drove on in silence for another couple of miles before Jessie said, ‘Do you never eat?’
‘Only when I’m hungry.’
‘Do you never get hungry, then?’
‘We can have a pint and a pie in The Central if you like. Once we’ve spoken to Vicky Kelvin,’ he added, and eased the speed up to seventy.
Jessie seemed to sulk at his response, and powered up her mobile. ‘Christ on a stick,’ she said. ‘How many messages can one useless fat prick leave in a day? Listen to this: In St A where r u? Then, two minutes later, r u not talking?’ She let out a cursed hiss. ‘No, I’m not talking. What part of N-O don’t you understand?’ She worked her mobile some more, still cursing under her breath. ‘A total of six messages. In fifteen minutes. I mean, if you don’t hear back after the first two, you’re not going to hear back from any more, are you, no matter how many you send, the useless twat.’ She tapped the keypad. ‘Delete, delete, delete.’
‘Sounds like he’s making a nuisance of himself.’
‘Par for the course.’
‘Like me to have a talk with someone in Strathclyde?’
‘I can handle it,’ she said. ‘If he continues to pester, I’ll threaten him with my brothers. That should scare some sense into him.’
‘Aren’t they locked up?’
‘Only Tommy. But next month he’s due for early release for good behaviour. Read that as didn’t kick someone to death inside. But he’s still got time to take somebody out.’
‘Right,’ said Gilchrist, deciding to abandon the topic of Jessie’s criminal family.
They found Vicky Kelvin’s home, a two-bedroom apartment on the third floor of a high-rise complex that, at a stretch, overlooked Dundee’s waterfront. As they stood outside, Gilchrist about to ring the bell, Jessie said, ‘Next time we use the lift, all right?’
‘Climbing stairs is good exercise for your karate lessons.’
‘I get enough exercise running away from Jabba.’
‘Isn’t Jabba too fat to run?’
‘Smart arse.’
Gilchrist pressed the doorbell and caught the melodic chime from somewhere deep in the apartment. It took five seconds before the door peeled open to the sticky snap of wood tearing free of painted weatherseal.
A worn-looking woman with dyed black hair peeked out from behind the safety chain.
‘Mrs Kelvin?’ Gilchrist held out his warrant card. Jessie did likewise. ‘Do you have a couple of minutes?’
‘What d’youse want?’
‘To talk.’
‘Oh, aye? What about?’
‘Thomas Magner.’
The door eased shut for a moment, then reopened to a gruff, ‘In youse come, then.’
‘Tea would be nice,’ Jessie said, which received a glare from Vicky.
They strode along a dark hallway, past a kitchen that reeked of burnt toast and something more unpleasant. Gilchrist caught a glimpse of dishes piled high in the sink. The small living room was crowded with two clothes horses packed with women’s underwear – knickers, tights, bras, vests – that had long since lost their washday freshness. The whole place carried the stale smell of cigarette ash; the wallpaper yellowed at the ceiling line.
Gilchrist walked beyond the guddle and faced the window. Through glass smeared with bird shit and city grime – not been cleaned in months, maybe longer – the River Tay slid towards the sea. From the kitchen came the sound of a kettle being filled, dishes clattering, cutlery chinking. All they needed were a few chocolate biscuits to round off the afternoon.
He turned his back to the Tay. Jessie had finagled her backside on to the arm of a sofa that looked as if it doubled as a spare bed. In the corner, a muted TV flickered some old movie at them. Vicky made her way into the living room, carrying a tray with three mugs, the string of a teabag dangling over the rim of each. ‘I hope you dinnae like milk and sugar, ’cause I’ve no got any. And I’ve nae biscuits either. Ran out two days ago.’
She presented the tray to Jessie, and waited while she removed one mug, then turned to Gilchrist, who did not have it in his heart to decline.
He took a sip as a matter of courtesy, then said, ‘You recently filed a complaint against Thomas Magner for indecent assault.’
‘Rape’s indecent. Aye.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, it’s no right, is it?’
‘No, I mean why did you wait all this time before filing the complaint?’
She narrowed her eyes, then looked at Jessie, then back to Gilchrist. ‘What’s this about, eh? I’ve already told them all this.’ Her look shifted from irritation through mild anger to full-blown suspicion. ‘Who’re you with again? Here, give me another look at them cards.’
Gilchrist showed her his warrant card.
She squinted to read it.
‘We’re with Fife Constabulary. St Andrews CID. We’re not involved in the investigation into the allegations against Thomas Magner, but we’d like to ask you a few questions relating to your complaint.’
‘Like what kindae questions?’
Gilchrist took another sip of tea. ‘I’d like you to think back to when you lived in Aberdeen, and tell us how it happened.’
She screwed up her face, as if deciding whether to answer or tell them to leave. Then she said, ‘We was out for a bevvy, me and a couple of friends, Sheilagh and Morag. I’ve no seen them in ages.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Twenty-seven.’ She ran a hand under her nose, then wiped it on her skirt. ‘We used to go to the city centre. The Caledonian Hotel was my favourite. Right upmarket, so it was. At the weekend you could meet up with the crews coming off the rigs. There was loads of money back then, all they men with two weeks off looking for ways to spend their dosh. We’d let them chat us up, and they’d spend the evening buying the rounds, then trying it on. But we were wise to them, so we were. We’d let them pay for everything, then pretend we were going to the bathroom and make a run for it. Leave them standing.’ She laughed at the memory.
‘Were you not worried about seeing them again?’ Jessie asked.
‘If we did, we’d chat them up like, then tell them we were married. Most of them had birds of their own to go back to anyway. They were just there to get pished. But we could go out and have a good time without spending any money. No like nowadays. Price of stuff would scare you shitless, so it would.’
‘And was that how you first met Thomas Magner?’ Gilchrist asked, nudging her back on track.
Her eyes narrowed again. ‘He was different, so he was. He’d look you up and down before coming over for a chat. Fancied himself rotten.’
‘Sounds like you were familiar with him,’ Jessie said.
‘After a while you get to know who goes to what pub, who to stay away from and who to let chat you up. So I’d seen him around, yeah. We all had.’
‘Did you see ever see him with a regular girlfriend?’
‘No really. Just chatted some up like.’
‘Did he chat up Sheilagh and Morag?’
‘He’d chat up anyone, really. He was just there with the crowd.’
‘So he was always with his friends?’
‘No real friends, if you know what I’m saying. Just riggers on the same shift.’
‘But the night you say you were attacked, when he tried to chat you up, was he by himself?’
‘Aye. Although I seen him earlier with someone who looked a bit like him. Same kindae hair, same build. I thought he was working with his brother. He’d chucked the rigs, and was wearing a suit. They both were.’