Cold Grave (21 page)

Narey sighed, the enormity of the task barely softened by the tiny dent she’d made in it. The names stared up at her from the list. The faces too: Laurence Paton with his near-blond locks, fresh face and tanned skin; Adam Mosson with his mop of thick, dark hair and brown eyes, studious and serious in his thick-rimmed specs. All of their life in front of them then; now all of it behind them. Narey laid the list of names on the table and stared at it, seeing nothing but convinced that it contained either a killer or a future victim — maybe both.

The Springcroft was six miles from the city centre, sitting just a few minutes from the M8, which thundered past on its way from Glasgow to Edinburgh. Despite having no shortage of thirsty would-be punters in the surrounding areas, pubs were pretty scarce on that side of the city. Nearby Easterhouse had been famously dry when the scheme was built in the late fifties and stayed that way for years. Baillieston wasn’t much better off for boozers and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

‘So what do you want me to do?’ Winter asked as they pulled into the car park, seeing snow piled up at the sides and several parking bays out of commission because of it.

‘Just follow my lead and try to look hard. You manage that?’

‘Fuck off, Uncle Danny.’

He grinned. ‘That’s my boy.’

It had been years since Winter had been inside The Springcroft and right away he saw that it had had a makeover. Glossy wooden flooring, pastel colours and partitions gave it a warm, welcoming look, which couldn’t be said for all pubs in the area. It billed itself as a family establishment but, as the saying goes, you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family. As soon as they were through the door, they recognised Glenn Paxton from Shug Brennan’s description.

The debt collector wore a blue New York Yankees baseball cap pulled low over his forehead and was heavily bearded. Even though he was sitting down, the man gave the impression of being as wide as he was tall and his broad forearms came straight out of a Popeye cartoon. The seat opposite him was empty but the wooden table still looked as if it had been laid out with enough food for a family of four. Winter spied two slabs of naan bread, a large bowl of rice, four separate curry dishes and a jug of lager. Paxton clearly had a healthy appetite.

From the other side of the room, Winter and Danny saw Paxton tear into the bread as if his fat life depended on it, then scoop up heaped forkfuls of curry and stuff them into his mouth. The man was a massive, bad-mannered eating machine with streaks of sauce on his cheeks and chin. He was attacking the meal but it was hard to say if he was enjoying it. His brooding demeanour didn’t exactly encourage approach and Winter instinctively let Danny lead the way to the guy’s table.

Paxton must have been aware of Danny’s imposing frame looming over him as he ate but he didn’t acknowledge that he had an audience.

‘Glenn Paxton?’ Danny asked.

The man didn’t look up from his plate.

‘Fuck off.’

Danny persisted. ‘Glenn Paxton?’

‘Who wants to know?’

‘I do.’

‘Fuck off.’

Danny pulled back the chair opposite Paxton and sat down, propping his elbows on the table and clasping his hands. At last he seemed to have Paxton’s attention and the peak of the baseball cap rose slowly until dark brown eyes glared at Danny.

‘I told ye tae fuck off.’

‘Yeah, I heard you. But I’d still like to ask you a couple of questions.’

The man’s eyes narrowed and the skin tightened across his face in an angry grimace. When he spoke, it was in a low, guttural growl.

‘I don’t answer questions. You better go away.’

Danny sat back in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest, an air of mock surprise on his face. He held Paxton’s gaze and smiled at the man, an action designed simply to irritate and it succeeded.

‘I fucking telt you tae fu—’

Paxton’s sentence went unfinished as Danny uncrossed his arms and swept the back of his right arm across the table, clearing away bread, rice, curry, plates, jug and pint glass in one motion, sending food, china and glass onto Paxton’s lap and the floor. The noise of the shattering plates reverberated round the pub and every head in the place turned towards them, although only for as long as it took to recognise the stature of the men at the table involved. Winter saw every man in the place turn quickly back to his own table. It was the acknowledged order of such things: heads down, eyes averted, doors located and exit points established. Wives and kids were told not to look; whatever it was, it wasn’t any of their business.

Paxton’s mouth hung open, disbelief all over his fat face and curry all over his T-shirt. He was a volcano about to erupt and his mouth began to stretch into the beginning of a manic shriek. Before he could speak or shout, Danny spoke quietly.

‘You’re right enough, Glenn. We should probably just go.’

Danny eased the chair back and stood up, seeing the inferno raging in Paxton’s eyes as the big man wiped furiously at his curry-splattered chest. His massive hands were going faster and faster as his temper rocketed to boiling point. It was tipped over the edge by the smirk on Danny’s face as he said goodbye and nodded at Winter to follow him out of the pub.

As Paxton, struggling to manoeuvre himself out from under the table, roared at them demanding to know where they thought they were fucking going, Danny offered an apology and cash to an anxious waitress. Winter, struggling to know whether to laugh or worry, followed close behind, copying Danny’s leisurely stroll out of the pub. He could hear the table and chair scraping behind him, the angry puff of the debt collector as he got to his feet. They were at the front door though, and Danny pushed it wide behind him so Winter could follow him through just before it closed.

Danny walked straight over to the biggest vehicle in the icy car park, a black Ford Galaxy with blacked-out windows that had gangster written all over it. He reached the car just as the enraged Paxton, his breath heavy in the frozen air, came through the pub door with his fists balled and charged towards them. Winter tactfully took a step back and let Paxton continue his rush towards Danny.

‘What are you doing beside my car? Yer a dead man, y’old bastard,’ he screamed as he swung back his meaty right arm to launch a punch at Danny. The blow never landed, as Danny quickly stepped in towards Paxton and grabbed his left arm, pulling it towards him and twisting as he crashed the man into the car. In an instant, Paxton’s arm was behind his back and his face was pressed hard against the metal. Paxton was a big man though and he struggled against Danny’s grip, stretching his other hand round to grab hold of his attacker’s clothes. Danny raised his eyebrows at Winter, wondering if he was just going to stand there or do something.

In response, Winter stamped down hard on the back of Paxton’s calf, causing his leg to collapse at the knee, bringing the big man to the ground with a belligerent groan. Danny smiled approvingly before knocking Paxton’s baseball cap off his head and grabbing a handful of his hair. He pulled the debt collector’s head back and slammed it towards the car, stopping just inches short of the metal.

‘This was all so unnecessary, Glenn. Don’t you think? All I wanted to do was ask you a couple of questions. You ready to answer them now?’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Is that all you can say, big man? I don’t think it is.’

Danny nodded towards Winter, who again put his foot to Paxton’s calf, this time pressing down steadily until the man yelped. Danny simultaneously knocked Paxton’s head against the side of the car.

‘What the fuck d’you want, granddad?’

‘That’s better. One simple question: who is Sam Dunbar?’

No answer came so Danny pulled Paxton’s head back from the car, tightening his grip on the hair and making it clear he was ready to crash it against the car again.

‘Wait!’

Danny steadied his hand.

‘Dunbar works for Terry.’

‘Terry Gilmartin?’

‘Naw, Terry’s Chocolate Orange. Of course, Gilmartin. Now get the fuck off me. If ye’d telt me it was that mental bastard ye wanted to talk about I’d have telt ye.’

‘Of course you would have. So tell me about him.’

Paxton spat on the ground and sighed heavily.

‘He’s new. And I don’t like him much. Cocky young cunt, aff his heid. He sorted out two of Terry’s boys and Terry liked what he heard, gave him a few jobs to do. I think Terry’s got something on him though, keeps him working.’

‘What kind of jobs?’

‘Frighteners — and worse. Couple of times Terry’s wanted people hurt to send out a message. So he sent this mental fucker to do it. Couple of wee chancers were selling on Terry’s turf so he got this Dunbar to cut them a bit. Stuff like that.’

‘Why do you keep saying he’s mental?’

‘I think Terry must be paying him in nose candy because the guy always seems to be wired tae the moon. But I don’t know if it’s the coke or he’s just a psycho but the guy enjoys it too much. Ye can always tell the bad nutters when they take a real pleasure in their work. He was sent after some poor bastard to pull him back into line and ended up killing the guy’s fucking dug. A dug, can you believe that?’

A bell rang in Winter’s mind: Swanston Street. The ned named Jason Hewitt and his dead bullmastiff.

‘He killed a dog?’ he repeated to Paxton. ‘And did he cut the guy’s arm off as well?’

‘Well, aye. He did that anaw but that was just business. He had nae right to go killing the poor fucking dug.’

Danny looked questioningly at Winter but he just shook his head and mouthed the word ‘later’ at him.

‘So where do we find Dunbar?’

‘It’s on the east coast, doon the road from Edinburgh. Fuck off.’

‘Funny man, Glenn. Where do I find him?’

‘Gilmartin will kill me if he thinks I’ve put ye onto Dunbar. He’s got a soft spot for him, sees him as a pet psycho.’

‘So we make sure that doesn’t happen. Tell me somewhere we can find him, somewhere away from Gilmartin. That will suit both of us.’

‘Munn’s Vaults on Maryhill Road. He drinks in there. That’s aw know and aw you’re getting.’

‘That’s all I need. Okay, Glenn, thanks for your help. You better get back inside before your chicken jalfrezi gets cold. And think of a nice wee story to tell if someone asks why you had to step outside for a while. Maybe tell them some wee lassie’s granddad wanted a word ’cos you were cheating on her. How about that?’

Paxton just grunted, his arm still held in place by Danny’s strong grip.

‘And don’t even think of coming after us, Glenn,’ Danny continued. ‘For starters, I’ll finish off this job on your arm and, secondly, I’ll be forced to tell mad, mental Sam Dunbar and his boss where I got my information from. Capisce?’

‘Aye, okay, okay.’

‘Good. I thought you’d see sense but just in case…’ Danny fished in the man’s pockets till he emerged with a set of car keys. ‘I’ll drop these into the snow at the top of the car park. You can get them there.’

‘Fucksake.’

‘Ah, come on, Glenn. You know it makes sense. The exercise will do you good.’

‘DI Sutton, please.’

‘Speaking.’

‘Aaron, hi. It’s Tony Winter. You okay for a quick chat?’

‘Tony, how you doing? Yeah, sure. Free as a bird. Apart from a caseload that could sink the
Titanic
and an ex-wife who’s making my life a misery by phoning me every five minutes. What can I do you for?’

‘I wanted to talk to you about that job we were both on in Swanston Street. The dog that was cut in half and the guy that had part of his arm chopped off?’

‘How could I forget? What about it?’

‘I was just wondering if you had any more on it. I’ve been finishing off my filing and noseying through the R2S to see what was doing.’

There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Sutton answered.

‘Well, there’s not much on the R2S because we don’t have much to put on it. Witness statements gave us fuck all, as per usual. Victims were saying fuck all, as per usual. I don’t have a name for it or I’d have pulled someone in. But to be honest, Tony, this is way down my priority list. I’ve got at least a dozen cases that need attention before this one.’

‘Right. So no one’s been suggested as the guy behind this?’

There was another lengthy silence.

‘I said so. You doing house calls these days as well, Tony?’

‘Eh? No. I’m just… It was the dog being cut in half, you know. I took an interest in it.’

‘Didn’t take you for an animal lover.’

‘No, I’m not really. But it made a great picture.’

‘A great picture? Addison always said you were weird. C’mon, Tony, spill. Why are you so interested in this?’

Winter hesitated.

‘It’s like you said: I’m weird. The dog being sliced in two and the guy having his arm chopped off just got me interested. It’s not the kind of thing you forget in a hurry.’

‘Bollocks. If you know something about this, you should tell me. Fuck knows when I’ll get the chance to do anything about it but you should still tell me.’

‘Aaron, I can’t. For a start, what I know might not be right. It could be way off the mark. And… I just can’t. Not yet, anyway.’

‘So why the hell are you phoning me?’

‘Looking for info. You heard of any other cases with a similar MO?’

Sutton laughed.

‘I just love it when civilians start quoting jargon at me that they’ve heard on
CSI: Miami
. Okay, so what do you reckon his MO is?’

‘Well, the samurai sword, of course. Cutting off arms. And for the record, I don’t watch
CSI: Miami
. The guy who plays Horatio Caine is terrible. I’m more of a
CSI: New York
man.’