Blindside - By Gj Moffat Page 0,57
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