outside the City Chambers. The Reverend Richard Allan was, like Lorimer himself, devoid of the usual signs of rank or status. No dog collar peeped from under that stripy scarf, nor, at first glance, was there anything other than the man’s bright countenance to show his Christian affiliation. However Lorimer did notice the tiny silver lapel badge in the shape of a dove – a visible reminder of the man’s faith. Allan, like so many other men of the cloth, had put his burning desire to do something for the poorer elements of society into practice. Lorimer remembered reading an article about the pastor when the project had taken off; how he had pestered the owners of bus companies into letting his organisation have the vehicle they needed and how the women had gradually responded to the facilities offered aboard the bus. Not only that, but there was something else, something Lorimer wanted to ask the man right away.
‘Didn’t I read that you’d had some success in helping the girls to come off drugs?’ he asked as Allan ushered him on board.
‘That’s quite correct,’ the pastor replied. ‘There have been a few, sadly just a very few, who have managed to kick their habits, both drugs and prostitution. Still, one lost lamb and all that. The volunteers here do a marvellous job, though. There’s always someone to listen to the women and give them advice about anything at all. Quite a number of them have served prison sentences and that can have a terrible effect on their self-esteem. That’s one of our biggest challenges, you know,’ he continued. ‘Trying to let them know that nobody is worthless.’
Lorimer made a non-committal noise in reply. He’d like to have told this kindly soul just how bad it really was when even some of Strathclyde’s finest regarded these women as less than human and undeserving of police time.
‘DCI James,’ he began.
‘Ah, Helen, she’s a wonderful lady,’ Allan enthused. ‘Knows just how to speak to the women. They like her, you know. Trust her, too. So, when I introduce you to them I’ll say that you’re a friend of hers, shall I?’
‘That’s a good idea, but I will probably have to tell them the reason I’m here,’ Lorimer reminded him.
‘Ah, yes.’ Allan frowned suddenly, his face clouding for a moment. ‘Of course. Terrible business. We used to see Tracey-Anne on a regular basis. Poor little thing.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Reverend—’
‘Richard, please,’ the pastor interrupted with a smile.
‘Richard, one of the things I want to ask the women who board the bus is if they have ever seen a white Mercedes sports car cruising around the drag.’
‘Ah,’ Allan replied. ‘I read about that. Edward Pattison and these other men.’ He looked intently at Lorimer. ‘Do you have suspicions that they had been consorting with the Glasgow women, then?’
Lorimer nodded and was met with an understanding look. The Revd Richard Allan could be trusted with this intelligence. For all his spirituality there was something to this man that Lorimer liked; a sense that he was with a man whose keen intellect was matched by a burning zeal to use his time and talents to make the lives of other folk a little better. And right now that included helping Strathclyde Police with their investigations.
‘Oh, here’s Doreen,’ Allan said suddenly, looking across the square at a couple of women who were approaching the bus.
Lorimer followed his gaze toward the two figures. Despite the chilly night, one of them wore a short red coat and was teetering along on high-heeled boots. The other, dressed in a long black coat, a camel scarf covering her hair, was looking around her as though this was something of a novelty. Lorimer was standing a little behind Richard Allan who waved them on board with a welcome, so it was not until he was on the bus that he saw the taller of the women had turned back and was now disappearing across the square. He frowned. Hadn’t he seen her somewhere before?
‘Have you ever had members of the press coming on board?’ Lorimer murmured to the minister.
Allan’s bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘That lady who was with Doreen…?’
Lorimer nodded. ‘I think so,’ he said slowly. ‘But it seems she’s changed her mind.’
‘Well.’ The minister puffed out his cheeks. ‘Perhaps she only wants to see us from the outside,’ he said.
‘Do you think she might be a friend of Doreen’s?’
‘Could be,’ Allan replied doubtfully. ‘I haven’t