Gallery Whispers

76

'They're still inside,' Clan Pringle growled as Mackie slid into the back of the Vectra, behind Stevie Steele, in the driver's seat. 'Watching Live and fuckin' Kickin' likely. Ah don't know: chasing kids on a Saturday morning!'

The rain had eased but the day was still grey and damp. They were sitting in a street made up of blocks of three-storey flats, with flat roofs, and steel framed windows which and seen better days. Ray Weston's car sat outside the second block along.

'Potential double murderers,' said the younger superintendent. 'And the girl's a bit more than a kid. I wonder where young master Raymond disappeared off to last night. Probably a disco right enough, if he didn't take the girlfriend.'

'Let's go and lift them and find out. Have you got the warrant?'

Mackie nodded, took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket, and handed it across. 'There you are. Remember now, this warrant relates to specific offences, so we've got to treat this as a drugs raid; at first.

Maybe technically we should have called in the Drugs Squad, but it's okay. I've cleared that with the boss too.'

'Stuff the Drugs Squad anyway,' Pringle muttered. 'Let's just get them.'

'Fine. Which floor?'

'Top, sir, on the left,' Steele replied.

'Do we know how many people are in there?'

'The watchers counted three women in last night: Andrina Paterson and her flatmates; also one male, unknown, a boyfriend probably. He and one of the women left together, just after nine-fifteen. So that leaves Paterson, Weston and one other girl.'

'Right,' said Mackie. 'Clan, it's your patch. Lead on, sir.'

Pringle nodded, with a grim smile, and stepped out of the car into the soft drizzle. As the other two detectives followed, he waved to a car behind. Two uniformed officers emerged, donning their caps.

The burly superintendent strode briskly along the street, his colleagues in his wake, and turned into Andrina Paterson's block.

Saving his breath this time, he climbed steadily to the top floor, finding a door with a paper pinned to it, bearing three names, 'Paterson, Gallagher, Smith'.

He nodded a signal to the others, and knocked, firmly.

After only a short wait, the door was opened by a woman in her early twenties, wearing a long T-shirt which reached down to her knees. Her impatient frown turned to one of alarm as she saw Pringle's grim expression, and the paper which he brandished in her face.

'I have a warrant to search these premises for controlled substances,' he barked. 'Stand aside please.' The girl had no option but to obey as he barged past her.

'Ray Weston. Where is he?' asked Mackie, evenly. She pointed to a door at the end of the hall. Pringle stepped up to it thrust it open.

The naked couple on the bed leapt apart. Ray Weston started at the intruder, white-faced and open-mouthed with surprise. Andrina Paterson clutched the cover to her chest, and screamed at Pringle.

'What the bloody hell is this? Who the bloody hell are you?'

Brian Mackie put a hand on his colleague's shoulder and stepped past him. 'Ray,' he began, 'we've met before on a couple of occasions.

I'm sorry for the embarrassment, Miss Paterson, but we can't give advance warning of this sort of visit.

'Mr Weston, I have information that you have been in possession of and dealing in prohibited and controlled substances. The Sheriff has given us a warrant to search this flat, and your father's house.

We'll do all that if we have to, but personally, I'd rather not. So tell me if you're holding anything right now, and spare everyone the bother.'

The pale-faced boy stared at him for a while, then pointed to a black leather jacket which was slung over a chair beside the window.

It was the only garment in the room which was hung up. The rest, jeans, a nurse's tunic, shoes, socks, male and female underwear, were spread on the floor. 'There,' he whispered.

Mackie stepped across and picked it up. He felt his way into the right-hand pocket, and produced a tin of tobacco, a packet of cigarette papers, a lighter, and a roughly wrapped package, laying each in turn on the window-sill. Then he reached into the left-hand pocket and produced a small white, round, plastic bottle. He shook it, and heard it rattle.

'What are these?' he asked.

'Diazepam,' Ray Weston replied.

'For which you do not have a prescription, I take it.' The boy shook his head.

'And in the package?'

'Marijuana.'

Andrina Paterson was no longer looking at the detectives. She was staring instead at her boyfriend, with fury in her eyes. 'You stupid' she began.

'Later, lass, later,' said Pringle. He took a dressing gown from a hook behind the door and tossed it to her. 'Away somewhere else and get yourself dressed. We need you to come with us. You, son, you get your kit on right here.'

'What about me?' The woman in the T-shirt was standing in the doorway. As Andrina Paterson slipped into the dressing gown and opened a dressing table drawer, the policemen turned.

Mackie held up the package and the pill bottle. 'Did you supply him with these?'

She drew in an indignant breath. 'I'd have chucked him out of that window if I'd known he had those.'

'Before this morning's over,' Pringle growled, with an ominous glance back at the bed, 'the boy might wish you had.'