There was a message on her phone when she got there and she saw that she had a missed call from Armstrong. She dialled into her voicemail.
‘It’s Kenny. Look, I just got a call on something. Another body. It’s unconnected to our thing but it’s my case and I need to go to the scene. If you want to tag along and we can catch up that’s fine. Give me a call.’
Irvine called him back and said that she had news to report and would tag along.
‘I’ll swing by and pick you up in five minutes,’ Armstrong told her. ‘It’s on my way.’
Irvine said fine and hung up. She was getting far too used to the sight of dead bodies.
12
Armstrong was waiting out on the street in front of the headquarters building with the car engine running.
‘You in a hurry?’ Irvine asked as she got into the passenger seat. ‘I mean, so far as I know, the dead guy probably isn’t going anywhere.’
‘You’re funny.’
He drove away from the building and headed east out of the city centre. Irvine looked out of the car at the redevelopment that was going on – gentrification of poorer areas in the east end. Some property developers would likely make a bundle, even in a depressed market like now.
‘Who’s the body?’ Irvine asked, turning to face Armstrong.
‘Guy I’ve come across before.’
‘You said that earlier. What’s the story?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You heard of Frank Parker?’
‘The gangster? Of course. It’s not him, is it?’
‘One of his senior guys. Russell Hall. We think he’s the one who runs Parker’s drug operation.’
‘Parker’s the nightclub guy, right?’
‘Yeah. He’s got three in the city and is starting to expand his empire to bars and restaurants.’
‘He owns a chunk of real estate on the south side too, I hear?’
‘Correct.’
‘Wasn’t there some issue over a fire in a warehouse years ago?’
‘Like, twenty years ago. Frank came out of it clean with over a million in insurance money. It’s how he got to where he is. That was his stake money.’
‘Torch job?’
‘That was the rumour.’
‘You got someone inside his operation?’
Armstrong looked sideways at her. ‘No.’
‘That the official answer?’
‘That’s the answer I’m giving you.’
Irvine knew better than to pry any further. She assumed that undercover operations required a small circle of knowledge to avoid leaks.
‘Blood results came in on Lewski,’ she said.
‘And?’
‘They found the same stuff as the others.’
‘No surprise.’
‘Any more thoughts on Suzie Murray?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. I had one idea.’
‘Go on, then.’
‘It’s something I heard about when I was in Quantico a few years ago. I was over there …’
‘The FBI place?’
‘Yeah. A bunch of us went over to see how they do things.’
‘And?’
‘Impressive. The resources they have committed to the drug war is beyond anything that we can manage.’
‘No, I mean what was the thing you heard?’
‘Oh. Well, they busted an operation in South Florida where the bad guys had used prostitutes as mules. The drugs came ashore, got transported to a car dealership and from there went to Miami on public transport. They sent the prostitutes down to the dealership from Miami on the bus and they took the stuff back in plain bags on the bus again.’
‘Not very high tech.’
‘That’s the point. Makes it difficult to track.’
‘So you think maybe our guys took a leaf out of the Americans’ book, that Lewski and Murray are mules?’
‘Maybe. Was the only thing I could come up with.’
‘Would explain her attitude. Not wanting to speak to us.’
Armstrong slowed the car. ‘Here we are,’ he said, pointing at an area of waste ground opposite an industrial park.
The Scenes of Crime team were there and had erected a portable white tent around the body. The area had been cordoned off with tape and uniformed officers patrolled the perimeter while the forensic technicians scoured the area on their hands and knees looking for evidence.
Armstrong stopped his car at the edge of the ground where a crowd of locals had gathered to see what was going on. It was more interesting than anything on daytime TV.
‘You coming?’ he asked, unclipping his seatbelt.
‘Why not.’
They walked together across the grass and showed their badges to get inside the cordon. Irvine saw a man standing at the entrance to the tent and recognised him as Paul Warren, the SCDEA Director General.
‘Kenny,’ Warren said as they approached. ‘And DC Irvine. What brings you here?’
‘I’m tagging along with Kenny. We were discussing Joanna Lewski.’
‘Right. You’ll want to see this, Kenny.’
Warren turned and pulled aside the entrance flap to the tent. The three of them stepped inside.
A man dressed in a grey suit and a pale blue shirt lay on his back, all colour drained from him – his skin an unnatural, waxy grey. Irvine stared at the multiple stab wounds on his abdomen and neck, the ground around him drenched in blood.
‘That’s him all right,’ Armstrong said. ‘What do we know so far?’
Warren was about to answer when Irvine looked at the man’s face and inhaled sharply, bringing a hand up to her injured eye.
‘What?’ Armstrong said, turning to her.
‘That’s him.’
‘Who?’
‘The man who attacked me at Joanna Lewski’s flat.’
13
They stood by Armstrong’s car, looking at the tent in the middle of the waste ground.
‘You’re certain it was him?’ Warren asked Irvine.
‘Yes. I mean, I only saw his face briefly but it’s definitely him.’
‘Where does this take us, Kenny?’
Armstrong stared at the tent before looking at Warren.
‘Russell Hall was Frank Parker’s enforcer for a few years before Parker put him in charge of the drug business that he runs out of his clubs. We’ve been looking at putting a case together now for the last eighteen months.’
‘What’s the connection with Joanna Lewski?’
‘I don’t know. All I can think is that Hall met her, maybe in one of the clubs, and that either he was using her as a mule to bring drugs into the city from wherever they came into the UK or he was using drugs to buy sex from her.’
‘Could be both,’ Irvine added.
Armstrong nodded.
‘So we think this whole thing goes back to Parker?’ Warren asked. ‘Maybe he even had Hall killed because of the screw-up with Lewski. That would be beautiful. If we could hang a murder on him …’ He smiled and shook his head.
‘I think I should go see Parker now,’ Armstrong said.
‘Why now? We should wait till we have it all tied up. Then we go in with the rams and take his door down.’
‘We don’t have anything like enough evidence for that. And I don’t think we’ll get it any time soon either. I’d prefer that we go talk to him now.’
‘Risky.’
‘I could take the lead,’ Irvine said. ‘Explain that I’m investigating Lewski’s murder and we think this guy Hall might be connected to it. We know that he works for Parker so …’
‘I can sit in the background and stay quiet,’ Armstrong said. ‘If he doesn’t think it’s linked to the drug investigation, he might be a little less on guard.’
‘Might work,’ Warren said. ‘Do it.’
They drove back towards the city centre, that sense of excitement building when a case is starting to take shape.
‘Where do we find Parker?’ Irvine asked.
Armstrong looked at his watch.
‘He usually has lunch at one of his own places so we’ll try there first.’
‘Does he know you? I mean, that you’re with the SCDEA?’
‘He knows me all right.’
It sounded to Irvine as though there was something more to Armstrong’s comment than being on opposite sides of the law. It sounded personal. She decided not to push it for now.
Armstrong drove to the Merchant City area and parked at a meter opposite an expensive-looking restaurant. There were some professional types sitting at the tables by the window: sharp suits and good haircuts.
‘That it?’ Irvine asked as they got out of the car.
‘This is the flagship place. Opened six months ago. His favourite place for lunch.’
‘I assume he won’t be alone?’
‘Correct. Gangster types like their entourages. He’ll have some heavies with him.’
Irvine nodded and they jogged across the street when there was a gap in the traffic. Armstrong pulled the door of the restaurant open and
motioned for Irvine to go in. They stood at a sign that told them to please wait to be seated and Irvine spoke when a maître d’ type in a black wool suit and an open-necked white shirt came over.
‘Is Mr Parker in today?’ Irvine asked, producing her warrant card and holding it out close to the man’s face.
He took a step back, looked at the card for a while and then at Irvine.
‘You’ve had your hair done,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’
Irvine turned the card to look at it and saw that she had her blond bob when the picture was taken. She looked a lot younger than she remembered.
‘Nice picture,’ Armstrong said.
The maître d’ came back after a couple of minutes.
‘Is it Mr Parker Senior or Junior that you’re looking for?’
‘Senior,’ Armstrong said.
The maître d’ looked at him for a moment.
‘I don’t believe that I saw your identification, sir.’
Armstrong took out his SCDEA gold shield and showed it to him.
‘Mr Parker thought that it might be you. Please follow me.’
Irvine glanced at Armstrong but his face was impassive. She wondered again what it was between him and Parker. It seemed like maybe she would find out once the two of them were in the same room together.
The maître d’ led them through the restaurant, past a central bar area and into a private room at the back of the building. He left the room and closed the door.
The room was dark, lit subtly and decorated in sombre tones of black and deep burgundy. There was a large round table set in a half-moon booth with a curved, padded leather seat. An immaculately clean white tablecloth covered the table.
Two large men sat off to the side under a window and stared at Irvine and Armstrong. There were four other people in the room – three men and a woman – and they were all sitting in the booth, sipping wine.
The woman was a young blonde who immediately got up and walked past Irvine to leave the room. She teetered by on monster stilettos and her teeth flashed white in a deeply tanned face. Parker was a little obvious in his taste for women.
The oldest of the three men at the table was also well tanned and had
dark, curly hair swept back and gelled in place. Grey flecked the hair at his temples. The youngest of the men looked like he could have come from the same gene pool and Irvine made them for father and son: the Parkers.
The other man was thin and wore glasses on his narrow nose. Weaselly was a word tailor made to fit him.
‘DS Armstrong,’ Parker Senior said, standing and holding out a hand for Armstrong to shake.
Armstrong stared at him but made no move to accept the greeting.
‘Frank,’ was all he said.
‘Mr Parker, I’m DC Irvine with Strathclyde Police CID.’
Parker nodded and sat down.
Irvine walked forward and pulled out a chair from the table. She sat down. Armstrong stayed standing behind her.
‘Can you tell me what you know about Joanna Lewski?’ Irvine asked.
‘Don’t know her. Who told you that I did?’
‘What about Russell Hall?’
Parker’s eyes flicked to Armstrong. ‘I know Russell,’ he said, his eyes remaining on Armstrong’s face.
‘How do you know him, Mr Parker?’
He looked back at Irvine. ‘He used to work for me.’
‘Used to?’
‘Yes.’
‘And now?’
‘Now he doesn’t.’
One of the goons sitting off to the side laughed.
‘Do you mean because he’s dead?’
This took Parker by surprise. He leaned forward, his hands coming up on to the table. ‘What?’
‘I asked you if the reason he didn’t work for you any more is because someone killed him last night.’
Parker Junior stiffened next to his father.
‘This Joanna person,’ Parker Senior said, ‘I take it that she’s also dead. I mean, that’s why the CID is here, right?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘Did Russell kill her?’
‘What makes you ask that?’
‘He had difficulty controlling his impulses. Back when I knew him.’
‘Which was when?’
‘Russell hasn’t worked for us for the last three months,’ Junior said. ‘I run the clubs now.’
Irvine could have sworn his chest puffed out as he spoke. A look of annoyance passed across his father’s face. The message wasn’t lost on Irvine and she knew that Armstrong would have picked it up: Frank Parker Junior was now in charge of the Parker organisation’s drug trade.
14
‘So you’re saying that you fired Mr Hall, is that correct?’ Irvine asked, looking at Junior.
‘Yes,’ his father answered. ‘It wasn’t working out.’
‘He’d been with your organisation for some time?’
‘Nothing lasts for ever.’
‘So it would seem.’
Junior smirked. Irvine had taken an immediate dislike to him. She wondered if he would be quite so confident if his father wasn’t here.
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Haven’t seen him since we … let him go,’ Senior answered.
‘Can you account for your whereabouts last night? All of you.’
Irvine made a point of looking around the room and making eye contact with everyone.
‘Yes. Let us know what you need.’
Senior reached into his jacket and took out a business card. He leaned across the table and held it out until Irvine took it from him. He knew the police had a job to do and he understood the rules of the game. Irvine wasn’t so sure that Junior would look at it in the same way.
Armstrong moved forward and sat next to Irvine, across the table from the Parkers.
‘What was it, Frank?’ he asked. ‘Russell not making enough money for you or something?’
Parker Senior looked at Irvine and smiled.