Betrayed (26 page)

She pushed her seat back.

‘Donna. Listen to me. Andy’s in trouble. Not just what’s happened, I mean he’s in big trouble. The cops are looking at him as a murder suspect.’ She paused, seeing the information sink into Donna’s head. ‘I know you know him. I know you’re having a relationship with him, and so do the cops. They’re looking to speak to you.’

Donna took off her glasses and for the first time Rosie could see the sheer panic in her eyes.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ she rasped, her mouth tight. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Rosie Gilmour. I’m a journalist with the
Post
. That’s my story about Andy.’ She pointed to the front page. ‘I’ve got an inside track on this, Donna.’ Rosie rushed her words, sensing she wouldn’t get much longer. ‘The police have found a bank card on Andy that belonged to a drug dealer who was murdered along with his mate a couple of weeks ago. Right now, unless the cops get anything else to go on, Andy is a murder suspect. And they know you are having an affair with him. So … you’re also a suspect.’

Silence. Rosie watched as Donna’s lip began to quiver and whatever fight she thought she was going to put up seemed to evaporate. She put her hand up to her mouth, and Rosie thought for a second that she was going to collapse. Her whole body shuddered.

‘Oh God! Oh God no!’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t do this. I need to go.’

‘Donna.’ Rosie reached across and touched her arm. ‘Don’t go. Please. Let’s go inside to the air conditioning and sit for a few minutes. You need to hear me out.’ She stood up, lifted Donna’s coffee. ‘Come on. Let’s go inside. Trust me. I might be able to help you.’

For a few seconds Rosie didn’t know if Donna was going to get up and sprint away. She stood watching her, glancing over her shoulder at Javier, who was engrossed. Then slowly, Donna got up, steadied herself on the back of the chair and walked into the cafe with Rosie behind her.

‘Here,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s nice and cool back here. And we can talk. Just try to relax a bit. I know you’ve had a shock, but you need to try to keep it together.’

Donna sat down and buried her face in her hands, trying to speak through sobs.

‘Oh God! You don’t know what I’m going through.’ She looked at Rosie, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. ‘What do you want from me? What are you doing here?’

‘Donna.’ Rosie handed her a napkin and watched as she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. ‘I’ve been working on an investigation involving your husband Eddie McGregor for a while now. I know who he is, his connection with the UVF. I know exactly what he is in that organisation. And I know he’s over here bringing in cocaine and ecstasy in the
Rangers supporters’ buses. I don’t know if you know about that, but the UVF have been doing it for years, and the fans know nothing about it. The football matches in Europe are a perfect cover for what Eddie does.’

‘I don’t know anything. I don’t ask. Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because I also know that you’ve been having an affair with Andy Brown, and that he was tortured and beaten the night before Eddie brought you here. Police are convinced Eddie was behind it, but they’ve no proof. And Andy can’t tell them because he doesn’t know who did it either. And he won’t talk to them about you – but someone else told them you were having an affair.’

Rosie hoped the mention of Andy would be enough to break her. It was. She suddenly looked up.

‘What do you know about Andy?’ she said, then bit her lip, shaking her head. ‘Tell me. Is he all right? Is he … Is he going to die?’

‘No. I don’t think so, but he’s been really badly beaten and tortured. But as I told you, that’s only the half of it. They’ve got this card on him, and it opens up a whole new line in the murder investigation.’

‘Andy wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s just stupid to think that. The police must know it.’

‘But he’s got a murder victim’s bank card on him, and they don’t know how he got it.’ She paused, sensing she was winning. ‘I take it you do, Donna?’

Silence. Then Donna put her head back, looked at the ceiling and nodded slowly.

‘You do know?’

Donna nodded again.

‘Did you get it from Eddie?’

‘Yes,’ Donna said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

‘Tell me, Donna.’

‘It … It was …’ She broke down. ‘I can’t … I’ll get shot. Eddie will get me done in.’

‘I can help you. The cops will help you. They won’t let that happen.’ Rosie handed her another napkin. ‘Donna. You know that barmaid who went missing – Wendy Graham?’

Donna looked a little confused, then it registered and she nodded.

‘Eddie raped her. That’s why she ran away. He raped her the night of the Rangers fundraiser in the pub. He was taking her home, and raped her in his car.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ She shook her head, her expression distraught. ‘My God. But I’ve got family. My kids are grown up. I can’t. I can’t do anything.’

‘Donna. Think about it. How long are you going to put up with Eddie’s brutality?’

Donna looked at her, surprised.

‘I know about that too. Someone has told me that he beats you up. Look, Donna. How long are you going to put up with this? Eddie’s a killer. A murderer. A rapist. He’s been
organising killings and beatings for the UVF and gangsters for years. That’s how he got where he is.’

Donna nodded. ‘I know what he is. But I couldn’t ask him about anything. I have to do what he tells me.’

‘So what about the card, Donna? Where did it come from?’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Donna. The cops will be asking you the same thing as soon as you get back. Only you’ll be in custody. Talk to me and I’ll talk to them. They’ll find a way to get you away from Eddie.’

‘How? How can they do that?

‘They can deal with things like this. They can make you a protected witness. You can go somewhere else, start a new life with Andy when he gets better. But right now, when you go back to Glasgow, the cops will be knocking on your door with a murder investigation.’

‘Oh God!’

‘Donna. Where did you get the card? Did Eddie give you it?’

She shook her head again. ‘It was in his trouser pocket. The night he came back.’

‘What night?’

‘I don’t know. The night he came back with Mitch Gillespie and Jimmy Dunlop. They’d been on a job. I … I just took things out the pockets and burned the stuff in the garden the way I always did. But I didn’t know they’d
killed somebody.’ She started crying again. ‘I didn’t know. But even if I had known, what could I do?’

‘So you kept the card?’

‘At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. I found it below the bed the next morning when I was hoovering and I just put it away in a drawer. It was only a few days later when the bodies came out of the quarry and the name came up that I vaguely remembered. I looked in the drawer and thought maybe that was it. I was terrified, but … but …’

‘But at last you had something you could pin on him.’ Rosie hoped her face showed empathy rather than criticism.

Donna started crying again.

‘Look. I’m not a bad person. I just brought up my kids and got the shit beaten out of me by him. Then I met Andy and I realised what it was like to be loved by someone decent. All I’ve done wrong is fall in love with someone who was good to me,’ she sobbed.

Rosie watched and waited for her to compose herself, part of her feeling sorry for the shitty life she had with McGregor, and part of her full of admiration that she had the wit to hold on to the card that might incriminate him. But she had to admit guiltily to herself that her overwhelming feeling was one of delight that Donna was sitting here telling her all this.

‘So you gave Andy the card?’

She nodded. ‘We talked about how we could get away and be together. We wanted to start a new life somewhere away
from Eddie. And I told him about the night Eddie came back with Mitch and Jimmy, and about the card. Andy asked me to give it to him. I don’t know what he was planning to do with it. I suppose he was going to make sure the cops got it, but we hadn’t even got to the planning of that yet. We were going to be talking about it this weekend, then Eddie came in with a ticket for the match and told me to get my things packed – that I was going. I had no choice.’

Rosie wanted to say to her that she did have a choice. She could have got up and left and kept on running with Andy, but she would have had to give up the money, the lifestyle and everything that went along with being the wife of a gangster like Eddie. But she said nothing and nodded.

‘You think maybe I had a choice?’ Donna asked.

Rosie felt she’d better say something.

‘I think your choices were limited, Donna, given who Eddie is.’

‘Exactly. You think he wouldn’t hunt me down? Get me murdered? You think I’d ever be able to close my eyes in bed at night without knowing that it may be my last sleep, because believe you me, I know the kind of bastard Eddie McGregor is. He would use every last penny and resource at his fingertips to find me, and I’d be dead meat. Look what he’s done to Andy.’ She paused for a moment, and seemed to compose herself. Then her mouth tightened and she looked more angry now than distraught. ‘And to think he’s been with me these past couple of days, eating and drinking and
he’s known everything that’s gone on with me and Andy, and he knows what he’s done to him. That’s the kind of evil bastard he is. I knew he was evil. I shouldn’t have underestimated him.’

They sat saying nothing for a moment, Rosie watching her, waiting to see what was coming next.

Eventually it was Donna who broke the silence as she swallowed and looked at Rosie.

‘But this time
he
has underestimated
me
. What do you want me to do?’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

It didn’t take more than a few minutes of strolling in the blistering afternoon heat before Jimmy could feel his shirt sticking to his back. No wonder there was hardly anyone out in the streets. He stopped at a cafe and went inside, glad to feel the blast of cold air. He sat down and ordered a coffee, looking at his watch. Eddie was organising a meet with Flinty around five, so he had a couple of hours before he had to be back at the hotel. He was fed up listening to Mitch’s graphic details of last night at a whorehouse with two Ukrainian hookers, so he was glad to be away from it all, on his own.

His mind drifted back to last night with his father and the conversation they’d had about the drug dealing. His old man had a point, and the truth was he didn’t much like the drugs either, but he wasn’t going to get all worked up about it. Jimmy had never even snorted a line of coke in his life, unlike Mitch and most of the other lads who always
had a stash on a night out. He’d never needed it, as long as there was plenty of beer and Jack Daniels on the go. Even if he felt strongly about the drug dealing, he wasn’t in a position to do anything about it. It was clear from what Eddie and other UVF men had told him that drugs were part of the organisation and even if old traditionalists like his da objected, they still stood by and watched the UVF get more weaponry, grow bigger year in year out, a lot of that due to the money they made from drugs. It wasn’t worth fighting over. But his father’s words – ‘this isn’t what I wanted for you’ – were still ringing in his ears. He tried not to think of that. The UVF was his life now, and he was making good money carrying out whatever job he was asked to do. Best not to think about it too deeply. He was more worried about his father’s health, and resolved to spend as much time with him as he could when they got back home, doing all the things his da wanted to do. They’d make a list. Face up to the future, however short it was going to be. The very thought brought a catch in his throat.

His mobile rang but no number came up. He put the phone to his ear.

‘Hello?’

Silence.

‘Hello? Who’s this?’

‘Jimmy?’

For a moment he thought he was hearing the voice in his dreams.

‘Jimmy … It’s me … Wendy.’

‘Wendy?’ It came out as a gasp. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Wendy?’ he whispered, his head swimming.

‘Aye, Jimmy. It’s me.’

Her husky voice was unmistakable.

‘Jesus, Wendy! Jesus Christ almighty! What the fu— Where are …?’ His heart thumped in his chest and he could feel the telephone shaking in his hand.

‘I’m here. In Spain. In Seville.’

‘What? Fuck! Where are you? Jesus Christ! I can’t believe this!’

‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’

He could hear her voice crack.

‘It’s okay. Wendy, don’t cry. It’s okay. I … I … I don’t know what to say.’ He could barely get the words out. ‘I thought you were … I mean …’

‘Dead,’ Wendy sniffed.

‘Christ! I didn’t know what to think. Where are you? I need to see you. Why did you go away? It’s been all over the papers. Everyone’s looking for you. Oh shit! I can’t believe this.’ Jimmy’s words tumbled out and he had to put his finger and thumb across the bridge of his nose to stop the tears. ‘Oh, Wendy. I’m so glad you’re alive …’

‘Jimmy, listen. I don’t want to talk long—’

‘Where are you? I need to see you.’

‘Listen. I ran away because of what Eddie did.’

‘You shouldn’t have run away. Not from me. I’d have
protected you.’ He swallowed his tears. He hadn’t protected her when he needed to, when Eddie was raping her. ‘I’m so sorry for what that big cunt did.’

‘I want to see you. I need to see you.’

‘Where are you? What you doing in Seville? Have you been here all this time? Oh, Wendy, I’ve so many things to ask you. So much to tell you.’

‘Sssh. Me too. Where are you just now?’

He looked around. He had no idea, only that he’d walked for around fifteen minutes from the hotel. His mind went blank. He couldn’t even remember the name of the hotel. Shit! He got up and dashed to the door, looking for a landmark.

‘Er … I’m in a cafe, not that far from the hotel where we’re staying. In a pedestrian precinct. It’s … It’s … There’s a big archway. Where are you? I’ll get a cab. I’ll come to you.’

‘I’m in an apartment in the centre of the old town. I’ll give you directions. Can you get a pen?’

Jimmy rushed to the counter and made a scribbling gesture to the waiter to borrow his pen. He grabbed a napkin.