Lorimer entered his room he could hear a ‘woooooo!’ coming from the far end of the corridor, no doubt some clown (Sutherland?) mimicking a wolf howling at the moon.
He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. The Malmaison Hotel where he was to dine with Maggie wasn’t too far away from headquarters. If he had a surveillance team organised for that night, would the man in the white Mercedes make an appearance? Or would it be better to have special officers focused on the CCTV cameras around the drag? Perhaps undercover police officers might be required to take the places of the Glasgow street women that night? These and other questions filled the detective superintendent’s mind as he considered his strategy.
CHAPTER 34
‘I need to see you,’ Barbara whispered into her mobile. ‘Things have started to hot up at this end.’
‘Meet you at our usual place. Seven o’clock?’
‘I’ll be there,’ Barbara replied, breathing hard. The Starbucks cafe on Bothwell Street had become something of a howf for the two women; Barbara preferred to see it as a romantic location, since it had been the scene of their initial getting together, rather than a convenient stopping point between Pitt Street and Central Station.
She glanced at the clock on the office wall, calculating how long it would be before she saw Diana Yeats again, then sighing at the long hours between. Still, if she could finish all this stuff about Andie’s Saunas and get on with the meatier details of the new lead, the time should fly by. It was strange, Barbara thought to herself, how this case had revolved around one man, Edward Pattison, but that now it had turned and twisted in ways she could never have envisaged. That, Barbara, is why you joined up, the detective constable reminded herself with a grin.
The tall dark-haired woman glided into a booth near the back of the crowded cafe, placing her satchel on a seat beside her. The place was busy enough to preclude any intimacy and noisy enough to drown out whatever it was the policewoman wanted to tell her.
Diana Yeats swallowed a mouthful of coffee and set down her espresso cup. The night when she had almost got on the Big Blue Bus had given her plenty to think about, not least a persistent image of that tall man with the piercing blue eyes. Diana shivered. She had come so close to the very man who wanted to hunt her down. Yet perhaps it was the killer of the street women who had haunted his thoughts too, not just the person who had shot dead three punters in their fancy white cars.
She saw Barbara through the plate glass window, hurrying along to the entrance, her coat flapping untidily around her, revealing her flabby figure. The new hairstyle had only served to emphasise those chubby cheeks and layers of flesh beneath her chin and to Diana it only underlined the girl’s desire to make an impression. That was all to the good, she thought. She’d caught her now, like a greedy fish mouthing its way towards a tasty fly and DC Knox was being slowly but surely reeled in.
‘Hi.’ Barbara sat down beside her on the leather banquette, plonking a chaste kiss on Diana’s cheek.
Resisting the urge to rub it off, Diana turned to her and smiled. ‘Lovely to see you, darling. Had a good day?’
Barbara felt a rush of pleasure at those words. ‘Wait till I tell you … ’ she began.
Diana placed one finger to her lips then glanced around as though to check if anyone was listening to their conversation, a simple enough ruse to heighten the cloak-and-dagger atmosphere that this policewoman loved.
Giving the girl a nod, Diana smiled reassuringly. ‘Right, what is it you want to tell me?’
Barbara Knox slammed the door of the flat behind her. Why was it that Diana could make her feel as though something nice was about to happen and then just as quickly let her down? A creeping suspicion entered the woman’s mind as she tore off her coat and flung it at the hall stand, missing completely. Leaving it where it lay in a crumpled heap, Barbara stomped into her tiny kitchen and opened a cupboard on the wall. She’d bought the bottle of red in the hope of entertaining Diana here again one night, but since that first time it simply hadn’t happened. Was Diana Yeats (or whatever her real name was) just using her for what she could get?
Barbara wasn’t so besotted