‘He there yet, Weirdo?’

‘No, he’s not shown a face yet.’

‘Stay there.’

‘Aye, will do.’ He paused. ‘Is Smithy definitely meant tae be in this station, Mr Doyle?’

‘Aye.’

‘Only he’s cutting it fine – the train’s already in.’ Weirdo watched the rest of the passengers step onto the train. He glanced up and down the platform; there was still no sign of Smithy. He listened to Doyle speak.

‘And you know what to do if he doesnae show?’

‘Aye, Mr Doyle.’ The line went dead. Weirdo resumed his wait. Two teenagers passed, staring at his Mohican. Weirdo gave them a second then turned, staring hard at them as they passed, forcing them to look away. He sipped his coffee. Then he saw him. Smithy waddled towards the train, dragging an overstuffed holdall behind him.

Weirdo watched Smithy get on the train, waited until it had pulled out of the station. Checked that he hadn’t jumped off. Then he called Doyle. ‘All okay Mr Doyle.’

‘He’s definitely gone?’

‘Aye, wee prick left it to the last minute but the train’s away.’

‘He alone?’

‘Aye.’

‘Good.’

Chapter 67

Wheeler was sitting at her desk in the CID suite doodling on a piece of paper. She hadn’t needed to be at the station – the team’s meeting with Stewart wasn’t for two hours – but she’d decided to finish up some paperwork. But instead of staying focused, she was finding it easier to waste time. She saw a text from Jo.

I spoke to a counsellor at university. She agrees Jason is traumatised by the death of his friend. He will be getting extensions on all of next term’s deadlines. Also counselling/extra time in exams. They will have support in place for him when he returns after the break. Jo.

Wheeler stared at the text. Fuckssake, she thought. Jason would have his day though, one day. She’d make sure of it. She deleted the text, then she checked her emails; nothing urgent. Finally she scrolled down the news link on her mobile, saw another article by Grim. Read on.

Dead Body Discovered in River Clyde

A man’s body was discovered in the River Clyde around 7 a.m. this morning.

The body was spotted by a passer-by. Mrs Marjory Watkins, 64, had taken her dog for an early-morning walk and made the gruesome discovery. Mrs Watkins, a receptionist at the Green Leaf Medical Centre, immediately raised the alarm.

The police were contacted and police divers recovered the man’s body. The man has yet to be identified and a post-mortem will be held later today to establish the cause of death. Police are appealing for witnesses and are at present continuing their enquiries.

Ross stood in the doorway, carrying two takeaway coffees and a greasy paper bag. He placed one of the coffees on her desk, opened the bag and offered her a pastry. ‘Any news?’

She took one and was chewing on it before she answered. ‘Another body’s been washed up in the Clyde.’

‘Suicide?’

She shrugged. ‘Too early to tell.’ She sipped the hot coffee. ‘Thanks for this, Ross, it’s lovely.’

‘You’re welcome.’ His voice was tired, flat.

‘Still down about the case?’ Wheeler took another bite of the pastry.

Ross glanced around the room, checking that they were alone. ‘Yeah, but a bit of news on the personal front.’

Wheeler waited.

‘Sarah thinks she’s pregnant.’

The pastry turned to cardboard in her mouth. ‘Pregnant?’

He nodded.

‘But I thought you’d told her you didn’t want kids?’

‘I did.’

‘And that it was over?’

‘That too. She came off the pill a month ago. Didn’t bother letting me know.’

‘Right.’

‘I can’t see us together long-term. It was only ever going to be a temporary thing.’

Wheeler sipped her coffee. ‘What are you going to do?’

He looked across to the window. Studied the weather.

The phone on her desk rang; she ignored it. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Trapped.’

‘She definitely plans to have the baby?’

He nodded.

The phone continued ringing. She sighed and grabbed it. ‘Yes?’

‘Not having a good day, Katherine?’

‘Callum, I’m sorry, I was miles away. How can I help you?’

His voice boomed down the line. ‘It’s I who can help you.’

‘Go on.’ She watched Ross, saw his miserable expression. Felt for him.

‘Some interesting news: the body washed up in the Clyde early this morning?’

‘Yes, I just read Grim’s report.’

‘It was someone known to you.’

‘Go on.’

‘It was Maurice Mason.’

Wheeler perched her backside on the edge of her seat. ‘Maurice Mason’s dead?’

Ross overheard, put his coffee down. Listened.

‘Oh completely dead and has been for some hours,’ said Callum.

‘How’d he die?’

‘He drowned.’ She could hear Callum snort down the line.

‘Excuse me a sec.’ She put her hand over the receiver and spoke to Ross. ‘The body they found in the river this morning? It’s Maurice Mason.’

She returned to her conversation with Callum. ‘I got that he was in the water; tell me more.’

‘There were no obvious wounds, no knife or bullet wounds. His hands weren’t bound. He did have a broken nose, but that may have happened after he was in the water. He simply drowned.’

‘But did he fall or was he pushed?’

‘Immersion in water leaves the body in a particular state – for example swelling, and also the skin may become wrinkled. Kind of like when you spend too long in the bath.’

‘Prune-like?’ suggested Wheeler.

‘Exactly,’ Callum agreed, ‘and from what I’ve seen of his inner workings, I’d suggest that he was alive at the time his body entered the water.’

‘Could it have been suicide?’ Wheeler didn’t believe that Mason would have killed himself but she needed to ask.

‘Oh absolutely – he could have jumped in.’

‘Or he could have been pushed?’

‘That too. There’s Rohypnol in his blood.’

‘Is there now?’ She mouthed Roofies found in Mason’s blood at Ross. ‘So he could’ve been drugged and tossed into the water?’

‘Possible. Or he jumped or fell. I can’t prove conclusively either way.’

‘But if he . . .’

Callum finished her sentence for her. ‘No, I’m afraid it’s not possible to conclusively prove it, Katherine. All I can tell you is that he was alive when he went into the water.’

‘But he was drugged.’

‘He had taken drugs. And he had also been drinking. It’s not unknown for people to mix both, is it? Fell, jumped or was pushed, that’s your department. The police get to figure it out.’

They carried on for some minutes, until Wheeler said in frustration, ‘So we don’t know for certain?’

‘There’s no scientific evidence to point either way, as far as I’m concerned. It’ll be down to what the police uncover.’

She was about to thank him and put the phone down when out of habit she asked, ‘Anything else?’

‘For example?’

‘Anything Callum, anything at all.’

Callum sounded as if he were reading from his notes. ‘He was wearing a shirt, trousers, coat, all the usual items of clothing, shoes, underwear. His wallet and other belongings have been bagged. There wasn’t much in his wallet, just loose change. Also, included in his effects was his jewellery, a gold bracelet and another piece which was quite distinctive.’

‘What?’

‘A thick medal of St Christopher – I haven’t seen one of those in years; they used to be very popular—’

‘Stop,’ she cut him off. ‘Back up, Callum – describe the St Christopher.’

‘A chunky piece – it looked to be of very good quality. Maybe half an inch in diameter. Good solid chain. Why?’

Wheeler quickly explained, checked the similarity again and then put the phone down.

Ross had heard enough. ‘Mason was wearing Gilmore’s St Christopher, wasn’t he?’