‘That’s all right. I’m going to get some sleep.’
‘Do you want me to bring something up? Soup, or a sandwich? Andrew’s minding the bar for me.’
‘I’m fine, really.’
There was a creak on the landing above us. We looked up to see Anna. She was in her nightdress, her face pale and bleary with sleep.
‘What have I told you about coming downstairs?’ Ellen scolded, as her daughter came down the rest of the way.
‘I had a bad dream. The wind took the lady away.’
‘What lady, sweetheart?’
‘I don’t know,’ Anna said querulously.
Ellen cuddled her. ‘It was just a dream, and it’s gone now. Did you thank Dr Hunter for the chocolate he bought you the other day?’
Anna considered, then shook her head.
‘Well, go on, then.’
‘But I’ve eaten it now.’
Ellen raised her eyes at me over her daughter’s head, suppressing a smile. ‘You can still say thank you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘That’s better. Now come on, young lady. Back to bed.’
The little girl was half asleep already. She slumped against her mother’s legs. ‘I can’t walk.’
‘And I can’t carry you. You’re too heavy.’
Anna lifted her head enough to regard me with a sleepy eye. ‘He can.’
‘No he can’t, madam. He’s got a poorly arm.’
‘It’s OK. I can manage,’ I said. Ellen looked doubtfully at my sling. ‘I’d be happy to. Really.’
I hoisted Anna up. Her hair smelled cleanly of shampoo. She snuggled down against my shoulder, just as my own daughter used to. The small, solid weight of her was upsetting and comforting at the same time.
I followed Ellen back to the attic floor, where there were two small private rooms. Anna barely stirred as her mother pulled back the sheets and I lowered her into her bed. I stood back as Ellen covered her again and smoothed her daughter’s hair before we crept out and went back downstairs.
She paused when we reached my floor, hand resting on the wooden banister as she looked at me. Her penetrating gaze was concerned.
‘Are you OK?’
She didn’t have to say what she meant. I smiled.
‘Fine.’
Ellen knew enough not to push. With a final goodnight she went back down to the bar. I went into my room and sank down on the mattress fully clothed. I could smell the stink of smoke on my clothes, but it seemed like too much effort to get into bed. I could still feel the phantom weight of Anna. If I closed my eyes I could almost pretend it was Alice’s. I sat there, thinking about my dead family as I listened to the wind howl outside. More than ever, I wished I could call Jenny.
But that was something else I couldn’t do anything about.
My head jerked up as there was a rap on the door. I’d started to drift off, I realized. I looked at my watch and saw it was after nine o’clock.
‘Just a second.’
Rubbing my eyes, I went to the door. I thought it might be Ellen, determined to feed me after all. But when I opened it I found Maggie Cassidy standing in the corridor.
She was holding a tray, on which was a bowl of soup and two thick chunks of home-made bread. ‘Ellen said if I was coming up anyway I had to bring you this. Said to tell you that you’d got to eat something.’
I took the tray and stepped back to let her in. ‘Thanks.’
She smiled, but there was a hesitancy about it. ‘Soup again. Been quite a day for it, eh?’
‘At least you didn’t drop it this time.’
I set the tray down on the cabinet. There was an awkwardness between us at finding ourselves alone in this context. Neither of us looked at the bed that dominated most of the room, but we were both conscious of its presence. I leaned against the windowsill while Maggie sat on the room’s only chair.
‘You look bloody awful,’ she said at last.
‘That makes me feel a lot better.’
‘You know what I mean.’ She gestured to the tray. ‘Go ahead, you might as well start.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘Ellen’ll kill me if you let it get cold.’
I didn’t have the energy to argue. I was still too tired to feel hungry, but the first mouthful changed that. Suddenly I was famished.
‘Quite a meeting tonight,’ Maggie said, as I tore off a hunk of bread. ‘I thought for a moment Iain Kinross was going to deck Cameron. Still, you can’t have everything, eh?’
‘You didn’t come here just to talk about that, did you?’
‘No.’ She toyed with the edge of the chair. ‘There’s something I want to ask you.’
‘You know I can’t tell you anything.’
‘One question, that’s all.’
‘Maggie…’
She held up a finger. ‘Just one. And strictly off the record.’
‘Where’s your tape recorder?’
‘God, you’re a suspicious bugger, aren’t you?’ She reached into her bag and took out her dictaphone. ‘Turned off. See?’
She tucked it back into her bag. I sighed.
‘All right, one question. But I’m not promising anything.’
‘That’s all I ask,’ she said. She seemed nervous. ‘Brody said the dead woman was a prostitute from Stornoway. Do you know her name?’
‘Come on, Maggie, I can’t tell you that.’
‘I’m not asking what it is. Just if you know it.’
I tried to see the trap. But provided I didn’t give any specifics, there wasn’t any harm in answering.
‘Not officially.’
‘But you’ve a pretty good idea who she is, right?’
I let my silence answer that. Maggie bit her lip.
‘Her first name…It wouldn’t be Janice, would it?’
My face must have been confirmation enough. I put the tray aside, my appetite gone.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Sorry, I can’t reveal sources.’
‘This isn’t a game, Maggie! If you know something you’ve got to tell the police.’
‘You mean Sergeant Fraser? Aye, right, that’s going to happen.’
‘Andrew Brody, then! There’s more at stake than a newspaper story, you’re playing with people’s lives!’
‘I’m doing my job!’ she flashed back.
‘And if someone else gets killed, what then? Chalk it up as another exclusive?’
That hit home. Maggie looked away.
‘You said yourself you’re from Runa,’ I pushed. ‘Don’t you care what happens here?’
‘Of course I bloody do!’
‘Then tell me where you got the name from.’
I could see conflicting emotions warring in her. ‘Look, it’s not like it sounds. The person who told me…It was in confidence. And I don’t want to make trouble for them. They’re not involved.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I do.’ She looked at her watch, then stood up. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.’
‘But you did. You can’t just walk away.’
Maggie’s face was still uncertain, but she shook her head.
‘Give me till tomorrow. Even if the police still can’t get out, I promise I’ll tell either you or Brody then. But I need to think it through first.’
‘Don’t do this, Maggie.’
But she was already heading for the door.
‘Tomorrow, I promise.’ She gave me a quick, embarrassed smile. ‘’Night.’
After she’d gone I sat on the bed, wondering how the hell she could have known the dead woman’s name was Janice. I’d told only Brody and Fraser, and I couldn’t see either the dour ex-inspector or the police sergeant confiding anything to Maggie.
I tried to puzzle it out, but I was too tired to think straight. And there was nothing I could do about it tonight anyway. The soup had gone cold, but I was no longer hungry. I undressed and washed as much of the smoke stink from myself as I could. Perhaps tomorrow I would see if the hotel’s generator would run to a hot shower. For now, though, all I wanted to do was sleep.
This time unconsciousness came like flicking a switch.
I woke once, just before midnight, jerking, gasping from a dream where I was chasing something and being pursued myself at the same time. But I couldn’t remember what I was running to or from. All that remained was a lingering sense that, however fast I ran, it wouldn’t make any difference.