Face in the Frame (7 page)

“I’ll call you Cerise,” he smiled.

CHAPTER 7

“Morning,” said Cass chirpily as she walked into the office laden down with coffee and doughnuts for them all.

“Morning hen,” said Brodie.

“Here you go,” she said, dumping the box of doughnuts and a large black coffee on his desk.

“Wow, a full box to myself?” he grinned. “I am being spoilt.”

“You deserve it,” she said. “You were really great last night and I’m so grateful.”

“You trying to turn me into a fat bastard?”

“Just showing my appreciation Bossman.”

“Have you spoken to Lucas?”

She nodded, her soppy smile irritating him, but he hid his emotions well.

“He called me just before I left the flat. We’re meeting tonight.”

“He’s keen.”

“So it would seem. He’s taking me out for dinner then we’re going to see an exhibition at the Kelvingrove. There’s a new artist making her debut and Lucas said I have to see her work, she’s amazing.”

“She? I hope you don’t have competition on your second date.”

“I don’t think so. He said she’d be there with her wife, apparently they got married last week.”

“Oh, right. Well, enjoy.”

“I will,” she grinned. “Have you had chance to think anymore about visiting Lauren Creegan?”

“Not yet, there’s been a lot going on.”

“Okay,” was all she said, knowing now was not the time to push the issue. “I’m just popping out to check on Marian Coulter, you know, the woman married to the man you broke my desk with.”

“Yes I remember.”

“Won’t be long,” she said before heading out the door, almost colliding with Pete on his way in. “Hi Pete,” she said.

“Hello Cass. You look happy.”

“I am,” she grinned before slipping past him out the door.

Pete looked to Brodie, who released a groan and let his head fall to the desk with a thump.

“Don’t tell me, Cass has a new flame?” Pete asked him.

“She does.”

“And you’re being driven mad with jealousy.”

“It’s not that,” he muttered into the wood of his desk.

“Aye it is.”

Brodie sighed and raised his head. “Alright, it is, but this time there’s more to it.”

“Go on.”

Brodie hesitated, frowning at Pete’s head.

“What?” snapped Pete.

“What’s going on with your hair?”

“Nothing,” he replied, running a self-conscious hand through it.

“You wearing a wig?”

“No I’m bloody not. I’ve had it cut, that’s all.”

“It didn’t used to be that colour, it’s nearly blond.”

“It’s sandy actually.”

“How come there’s more of it than there used to be?”

“There isn’t. The hairdresser simply worked with my natural hair to create an illusion of moreness.”

Brodie cocked a sceptical eyebrow at the huge quiff atop his head. “What a load of bollocks. You’re wearing a wig, aren’t you?”

“No I’m not,” barked Pete. “Now can we please talk about Cass?”

Brodie sighed. “A couple of nights ago I sent her out on a honey trap. The mark was Lucas Thorne.”

“Should I know that name or are you just pausing for dramatic effect?”

“I thought you might have heard of him. He’s an artist. He’s got an exhibition on at some fru-fru museum.”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You always were a cro-magnon bastard.”

“And you’re Damien Hirst I suppose.”

“Who?”

“Never mind, this is getting confusing. Let’s stick to the story. So you sent her to this Lucas Thorne to do what?”

“I think he might be behind the disappearance of Fred.”

“Fred the Jakey?”

Brodie nodded.

“Why would an artist - who must be pretty well known to have an exhibition on at a fru-fru museum - kill a jakey? I take it that’s what you think he did?”

“My theory is he killed Fred, cut off his face then stuck it up in his exhibition.”

Pete gaped at him before bursting into laughter.

“Hey, it’s not sodding funny,” said Brodie.

“Aye it is. If someone was going around doing something like that don’t you think someone at the museum would notice they had a piece of a corpse on their wall?”

“He doesn’t stick them up all bloody and dripping you clown. He treats them first, puts some sort of resin over them so everyone thinks they’re plastic.”

“And why would he choose Fred? He’s an ugly bastard.”

“He doesn’t just go for the beautiful people, he picks people with interesting faces.”

“People? So it’s more than just Fred?”

Brodie nodded. “There’s loads of faces in his exhibition.”

“You’re off your bloody heid. Don’t tell me, you sent Cass in there to seduce this alleged serial killer and she ended up falling for him?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “Apparently he told her he pays homeless people cash to take casts from their faces. I mean, how ridiculous is that?”

“Oh yeah, sounds mental. I’d send her for a CAT scan if I were you,” he said sarcastically. “What’s wrong with you Brodie?”

“What’s wrong with me?” he exclaimed. “She’s the one who…”

“Came up with a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“It doesn’t explain why my gut’s still telling me something’s wrong.”

“It’s probably wind,” said Pete dismissively, earning himself a full-on Brodie glare.

“Will you listen to me? Fred said someone wanted his face, he was scared. He described this person as the devil…”

“You’re lucky he didn’t say they were Nessie or Elvis. For Christ’s sake Brodie, he was a loon.”

“It doesn’t mean he was wrong about this.”

“I think you’re way off here.”

“Then where’s Fred gone? He doesn’t move for years then suddenly someone comes along who says he wants his face, he disappears and his face ends up in a museum exhibition.”

“You’ve actually seen his face on a wall?”

“Aye, in Lucas Thorne’s new exhibition. Don’t you think that’s a coincidence? I know you don’t like coincidences.”

“You’re right, I don’t but Thorne is more than likely telling the truth. He paid Fred for a cast from his face.”

“Then why has he disappeared?”

“Maybe he was flashing the cash he got paid and someone decided they wanted it?”

Brodie folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “You come up with some stupid theories sometimes.”

Pete sighed and shook his head. “I’ll get my people to keep an eye out for Fred. We’ll find him.”

“No you won’t, Lucas is too smart.”

“You’re not letting this one go, are you?”

“Not until I know Cass is safe.”

“Hold on a minute, if you’re against her dating this Lucas bloke then why did she look so happy?”

“She thinks I’m okay with it, although I’ve told her I want to meet him.”

“The poor bastard’s in for a treat,” he grinned.

“If I fight her over this she’ll only dig her heels in and I’ll push her into his arms. This way I get to keep my eye on her.”

“This must be torture for you - her mooning over some artist you think likes killing old jakeys and having to pretend you’re okay with it?”

“It is torture but I won’t let her down.”

Pete smiled and shook his head. “You’re a daftie.”

“Me?” he exclaimed, pointing to his own chest. “How do you work that one out?”

“Because anyone else would think Lucas’s explanation made sense and let it go. They’d also realise their crush on their second-in-command was hopeless and move on and find himself some nice wee woman.”

“Don’t start that again. Why are you here anyway?”

“Just passing. Wish I’d not bothered now you miserable sod. Can I be there when you meet Lucas?”

“Why?”

“It’ll be a laugh.”

“Aren’t you a super busy detective inspector?”

“It’s my day off.”

“Days off in your line of work are as rare as rocking horse shit. Don’t tell me you’ve nothing better to do than hang around here giving me crap advice?”

“It‘s true, I don’t,” he said cheerily, helping himself to a doughnut. “Let’s check out Lucas Thorne then we can go get a beer and something to eat.”

“You asking me out on a date?”

“Someone should, it’s been ages. Last time you had a date condoms were still made out of sheep intestines.”

“Remind me again why your missus divorced you.”

“Because she’s the dragon queen from hell. Come on, let’s meet this Lucas Thorne. Wouldn’t you love a third party’s opinion on him?”

“Aye, that would be good actually. Will you run a check on him for me, see if he’s got a criminal record?”

“No.”

“How no?”

“Because I’ve no cause to and don’t forget these things can be traced back to me.”

“What if I gave you reason to?”

“Then I would but first I want proof that he’s dodgy.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Let’s go get some proof then.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I’ve got Laurel and Hardy keeping an eye out,” Brodie said, taking out his phone. “Ross, where is he?” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Lucas Thorne, who do you think I mean, Jeremy bloody Kyle?”

Pete bit into the doughnut, chuckling to himself.

“Right, good. I’m on my way with Pete. When we get there you can take a break.”

“Are we on?” said Pete when he hung up.

“We are. Thorne’s at a café not far from here, drinking a latte and eating a custard tart, the ponce.” He hesitated before making another call. After spitting some threats down the phone the reluctant and unlucky recipient of his invitation for coffee agreed to meet up. Next he made a third call to someone much less reluctant, especially after he told them how much they’d get paid.

“Who was that?”

“A surprise for Lucas Thorne.”

“I’m intrigued. Sure you’re not letting your feelings for Cass cloud your judgement on this one?” said Pete as they jogged downstairs and out the door.

“It’s not just that. My gut’s telling me something’s wrong.”

“Like I said, it’s probably wind. You’re full of it.”

Brodie hesitated by his car door. “Are you wantin’ to walk?”

“I’m kidding,” grinned Pete, jumping into the passenger seat.

Brodie scowled at him before climbing into the driver’s seat, Pete sniggering when it took him three goes to get the door to shut.

“When are you going to buy yourself a decent motor?” said Pete, regarding the interior of Brodie’s knackered old blue Astra with distaste, the footwell full of rubbish. “It’s not like you don’t have the cash, you’re raking it in.”

“Don’t start, you sound like Cass.”

“Then why don’t you listen to us?”

“Because I like this old girl.”

“Because you’re an old man?”

“You’re on fucking form today,” he muttered as he started the engine. “Is this what you like to do on your precious days off, piss me off?”

“It is a hobby of mine,” he said happily, looking out of the window. “Careful, you’re nearly going over the speed limit. You don’t want me to nick you, do you?”

“Since when do detective inspectors arrest people for speeding?”

“It’s my day off, it would be fun.”

“This might be a laugh to you but I’m working.”

“Has someone asked you to investigate Lucas Thorne, apart from your gut?”

“No but…oh shut it Pete.”

Pete grinned.

When they pulled up ten minutes later a few doors down from the café Lucas was in, Brodie took out his phone and called Ross back. He hung up and turned to Pete.

“Ross says he’s still in there so let’s move.”

“So what exactly are we going to do?” said Pete as they meandered down the street, watching Christian and Ross drive away in the latter’s silver Ford.

“Just meet him, that’s all.”

“And you’re going to take it easy and be the essence of cool and calm, aren’t you?”

“You warning me?”

“Aye I am. I know how hot headed you can be.”

“Me? Never.”

“That’s a load of bollocks.” Unfortunately Pete uttered this sentence just as they entered the café and everyone stopped to look at him, including Lucas Thorne. “Sorry,” he blushed.

“I should have left you in the car,” sighed Brodie. “You and your wig.”

“It’s not a wig,” hissed Pete.

As they took a seat at a table by the door, the only one left, everyone returned to what they were doing, paying them no more mind.

“Which one is he?” said Pete, perusing the menu.