plenty of time for that, especially with the lure of a substantial reward in the wake of Edward Pattison’s death, something that had already been promised by the Scottish government. None of the informants questioned in the first two cases could supply the name of any pro that had been hired for the jobs. In fact there had been a distinct sense of unease coming out of the Glasgow underworld. Word had it that whoever was carrying out the killings had no previous connection with anyone in the network either up here or south of the border. But now things had changed. With the death of this high-profile figure surely something would emerge?
Edward Pattison’s death had begun to intrigue him. Despite the other cases that demanded Lorimer’s attention he admitted to himself that he wanted to know more about this man and what he had been doing out in that remote woodland area. Forensic reports still had to come in and perhaps then he would be able to make more sense of this bizarre killing. He’d already spoken to several journalists as well as allowing a press notice to be circulated with the grave warning to let the police get on with their investigation without interference. There were times when the press could be positively helpful but Lorimer knew this case would be plastered over every paper in the country, with speculation running high; and some journalists could and would write things that were counter-productive in a case. Well, at least it helped to have the authority of government to rein them in for now, he thought grimly. Politics came in handy sometimes after all. Tomorrow there would be more meetings with government figures and Pattison’s friends and family but for tonight he might just allow himself the luxury of a few hours away from here.
As Lorimer closed the bulky file and thought about going home to Maggie, he suspected that he was probably facing a sleepless night full of unanswered questions.
Maggie Lorimer shut her book with a bang. What a stupid ending! The characters’ actions had been utterly predictable but she had read on, hoping against hope for some twist in the tail. The book fell onto the floor and she left it there, too annoyed to be bothered to place it back on the bookshelf. Maybe she’d put it into the bag in the hall cupboard that she kept for the charity shop, she thought to herself with a smile of satisfaction. If Lena Forsyth thought that was a suitable text for Advanced Higher pupils then she really was off the wall, Maggie thought, remembering the supply teacher’s strident tones at that afternoon’s departmental meeting.
Outside darkness had fallen to an inky black and rain battered against the windows. Shivering suddenly, Maggie got up and went to close the curtains against the winter’s night. Bill had told her a little about the latest prostitute murder but not much more than she had gleaned from the television and newspaper reports. What a night for any young woman to be out, standing waiting for some man to use their body! And all because someone had lured them into the world of drug abuse.
Maggie’s mind slipped to the wall outside the school’s medical room where posters urged the pupils to shun any form of drugs. The messages were hard hitting all right, but did they ever hit home with the kids? There were a few pupils that worried Maggie Lorimer, the quiet ones who seemed withdrawn and anxious as well as the wee neds who slunk into corners of the playground at break times, shuffling stuff in their pockets that might have been bits of hashish or something worse.
The sound of the new car turning into the drive banished her dark thoughts and Maggie felt her whole body relax as she waited for Bill to turn the key and come through the front door. It was, she admitted to herself, the best time of the day when he arrived home, no matter how late the hour. And, as Maggie waited, she experienced a moment of sheer pride in her husband. He was detective superintendent now, the man heading up this important unit at Pitt Street, whose face was all over the newspapers and TV with this high profile murder case. He had deserved to buy himself this new Lexus, she told herself.
‘Hi, gorgeous.’ Lorimer was suddenly there, his coat wet from the rain outside. Then, as Maggie found herself folded into his