Referendum (2 page)

They had a system. Normally they wore baggy clothes, but it was too hot for that today so they’d improvised. Lorna stuffed a cardboard box inside a blue Ikea bag, with the handles tied tight over the top. Leona was the lookout. If there was an assistant or shelve stacker around she’d distract them. Sometimes she’d ask for directions to try to find an item she knew was furthest away. She was pretty and the younger boys didn’t need much persuasion to spend a few minutes in her company. Today she was wearing shorts and a vest top, her mother wore cargo pants and a khaki t-shirt – she was carrying the box. In their local Asda there were four aisles they knew they stood the best chance of clearing as much food as possible. Built in the 80s the lanes were broken up by large concrete pillars, taking up so much floor space that only one trolley could pass at the aisle’s mouth at any one time. Leona had piled random food into a trolley and blocked the passage with the metal cart. She stood tapping away on her phone, doing her best to look deep in thought. Working between two pillars Lorna was fast, piling tinned goods and pasta into the bagged box, careful not to drop anything. The food should last for a couple of weeks if they were careful. She didn’t like doing it but she was running out of options. When she’d taken enough she coughed and walked off. Leona ditched the trolley in the next aisle and the two made to leave.

Lorna hadn’t noticed that she was being watched. A new security guard had started that week and was keen to ease his boredom. The big bulky bag had been the first thing he’d seen. Gary Graham knew he’d need to catch them in the act, so he bided his time. The woman he was watching must have been in her late 30s or early 40s. He thought she looked a bit like that actress; what was her name again? From the space movie, Sandra Bullock – that’s it. Gary watched as his target made for the exit. He pressed the communicate button on his radio.

“Gary Graham to control, we have a live one here; moving in on target.”

From the back of the store, Gary’s manager, Eddie Main, let out a sigh. He liked the fact the new recruit was keen but this James Bond crap had to stop. This was the 5
^th
time in two days he’d had a ‘red alert’ and so far all of them had been duds. All the same, he needed to check it out.

Lorna McMahon was certain she’d made it. The box was heavy with the weight of the tins and the stocks would keep the family going until Horace got back. Her arms ached but she couldn’t swap over, for fear of dislodging the tins and giving herself away. She was trying to make out that the parcel wasn’t heavy. In front of her the automatic doors swooshed open. She smiled at an elderly woman with an old fashioned shopping cart who stopped to let her past.
If only she knew.
Stepping out from the air conditioned oppression of the supermarket she stopped briefly to bask in the sun. It was late afternoon and the heat hit her like a wave; she wasn’t used to the weather. Relieved to be outside again, Lorna jumped when a heavy hand gripped her right shoulder and dug deep into her skin, pulling her back.

“And where do you think you’re going with all that? I think you want to come back inside.”

By the time Eddie Main had made it out front he saw the situation had escalated. A woman, whose face seemed familiar, was screaming at Gary and his colleague was trying to drag her back into the store. He was distracted by a teenage girl, who stood nervously by the entrance. When their eyes locked she ran, he hesitated and wondered if he should chase her, but he could see his colleague needed help.

With so much at stake and with nowhere left to run Lorna still held out hope that they’d let her go when she gave them her reasons.

3

The hydraulics kicked into life and Arbogast felt his guts heave as the metal bucket began its slow, shuddering ascent. There were three of them in the cherry picker’s control centre, with Arbogast and Kath Finch standing behind the operator, Dave Sawyer. Dave worked the boom from the panel in the centre of the bucket. It was tight for space. They were aiming for an awkward spot that was hard to get to.

“Are you sure this is doable?” Arbogast wasn’t convinced the cherry picker was the right tool for the job.

Dave Sawyer gave the DI a sarcastic smile, “Getting worried are we, sir? We’ll be fine so long as you give me peace to work.”

Kath Finch laughed, “Good luck, Dave, I’ve been telling him that for years.”

The engine thrummed away in the background while the boom extended. Dave Sawyer sat with his back to the central section of the bridge which was 25 feet from the path through Glasgow Green. The safety siren beeped continuously in the background, the two tone warning helping to draw a crowd of bystanders from the Commonwealth site, curious to see what was going on.

“Does that noise not put you off?” Arbogast felt unsafe as the bucket juddered with every passing foot. They were above the embankment, edging closer to the supporting pillar, as the rapid water of the river below swept past the bridge on its way out to sea. Their heads were only three feet below the iron girders which formed the platform for the road above.

“Not as much as constant interruptions,” Dave Sawyer cast an angry glance at the Detective. He hadn’t wanted anyone on board, but they’d insisted. As the arm extended further the dip in the sandstone column became clearer. Distracted by the encroaching noise, a flock of birds fled their sanctuary and took to the skies, their disapproving squawks drowned out by machinery. Kath Finch was paying close attention; if this turned out to be a crime scene the first few seconds counted. It was the golden time before people got involved and potentially contaminated evidence.

She nodded when the shape became clearer, “It’s definitely a body,” Arbogast couldn’t see it yet. He stood on tip toes to try and get a better look, “What is it you’re seeing, Kath?” The angle of the bucket as it edged slowly into position meant she was currently the closest to the bridge support.

“It looks like a man, although there’s not much left of his face.” A few seconds later Arbogast saw what she meant. The body was wrapped in tarpaulin, lodged in a space of around six feet by three, constrained by the surrounding pillars. The top of the plastic formed a cowl over the top of his head but his face was clearly visible.

“His eyes,” Arbogast felt ill looking at the remains, “He’s got no eyes. My God, that’s horrific.”

Kath Finch had her camera out, she muttered under her breath as the cherry picker stopped moving, “Looks like we’ve got our man.”

4

Lorna McMahon fought every step of the way. The security guard – his badge said he was called Gary – was leering at her. Another man had come out to help. He hadn’t said much but he’d taken her food. He weighed the contents of the bag with his arm and shook his head. She watched from the corner of her eye as he handed the big blue bag to a young boy, who glanced at her before taking their lifeline back into the shop.
Bastards.

“Let me go,” she rasped through clenched teeth.
There might still be a chance to get away.

“You’re not going anywhere; you picked the wrong guy to pull that crap with me. We’ll take a wee stroll through the back and you can tell your story to the Police.”

Lorna panicked. The last few weeks flashed past in an instant. The decision to steal hadn’t been easy; it went against every instinct, but she didn’t feel like she had a choice. Her benefits payments had been cut back and the family were struggling. Things had slipped after Horace got into debt. They’d sold anything of any real value to make ends meet. The fridge was the last thing to go and so now their meals were tinned, which hardly made for a healthy diet. If she got arrested they’d all be in trouble.
What will I say to the family?

“Please,” she whispered, “please let me go. I’ve got to eat. Don’t you understand I don’t want this?”

The security guard stopped, “I’ve got to eat too but I do this job so that I can buy the things I need. That’s the way it works. You’re a big girl now and you know that, don’t you?”

Nodding her head Lorna sensed she might have an opportunity. Gary’s hand wasn’t holding her as tightly. They’d stopped to talk and she knew this was the moment. She kicked out at his ankle and, surprised, he let go. She ran but felt something clip her foot. She kept running but she was falling, feet still moving like something out of an old cartoon; she tried to move forward but she was running on the spot. Her face bounced off the concrete floor and she could hear a murmur of voices around her, punctuated by the steady beep of items at the checkouts. Suddenly it was silent.
If only I’d been able to pay.

“That was a mistake.” It was Gary, who didn’t sound happy. She felt hands dig into her armpits, pulling her to her feet. The shoppers had stopped. She could see the look of disgust in their eyes. To them she was nothing more than a thief.
But if they knew, if they only knew why, maybe they wouldn’t be so judgemental.
Lorna had no more fight left, she knew she’d made a mess of things and she was going to have to face the consequences.

Lorna had been left in a small office at the back of the supermarket. There was nothing much there; a single desk with a monitor, chairs, and a white kettle which looked like it could do with a clean. The TV screen flicked between CCTV cameras but the shop was quiet. After about five minutes she heard a key turn in the lock and Gary appeared smiling at the door.

“Come with me.”

Lorna was scared. She’d never been in trouble with the Police before but here she was facing arrest. Gary led her by the arm down a corridor, away from the main body of the supermarket.

“Where are the cops?”

“You don’t need to worry about them, I’ve fixed it.”

Lorna wasn’t sure why but this revelation worried her more, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll be free to go soon. We just need to come to an agreement.”

His grip was hard and her arm ached from the pressure. They kept walking along a corridor which seemed to continue the length of the building. Green and white ‘Fire Exit’ signs could be seen at regular intervals. The walls were brick, with the only door a fire escape at the far end, which seemed to take an age to reach. Gary pushed down the metal bar and kicked at the door, which swung open to reveal what Lorna assumed was the loading area. She glanced back when the doors locked back into place.

“What are we doing here?” She was nervous, had guessed what his play would be.
Think.

“I’m giving you a choice. Either I phone the Police or you do something for me.”

Lorna felt sick, “Where’s the other guy, does he know about this?”

“Don’t worry about Eddie. He’s got something else to deal with. Told him we’d got the stuff back; that we’d have a word and you wouldn’t come back, that you wouldn’t mention this to anyone.”

He’d drawn closer and Lorna wasn’t sure how to react. She was too scared to say anything, didn’t think to shout out.
Who would hear me back here?
The security guard guided her away from the door and pushed her back against a large metal industrial bin; the label said ‘Food waste only’. She kept looking at the bin.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Her stomach lurched when she felt his hands roughly grope her breasts.

“Nice,” he said. “Anyone ever tell you, you look like that actress?”

“What?” Lorna felt bile rise into her mouth. She gagged trying to suppress it, didn’t want to make things any worse.

“Sandra Bullock, you look just like her.” Lorna nodded her head, the fear was starting to subside, she knew what to do.

“I’ve never heard that before, do you really think so?”
Try to look like you care.

“I really like her. I like you too. Do you know what I want?”

Lorna had a good idea of what he wanted but she’d no intention of letting him have it. He was pressed close against her and she could feel his erection against her thigh, he was grinding against her, his sentences getting shorter and making less sense as his lust took over. She knew this was the time.

“I can see how much you like me. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”

Lorna started to unfasten his belt, but she struggled with the clasp, was too nervous.
What if this goes wrong?
Gary pushed her hands away and finished the job. He pulled down his trousers. Lorna noticed they were old and had a black sheen, maybe he’d been out of work for a while.
He should know better.
He was wearing tight pink lycra shorts which had the word’s ‘It ain’t gonna suck itself’ splashed across the front.

“Time to earn your keep, Sandra. Take them off.”

Repulsed, Lorna slowly raised her hands and took hold of the sides of his underwear. Gary thought she was enjoying herself, knew she fancied him all the time. But Lorna was trying hard not to let her feelings show. She pulled the pants down, his penis caught on the fabric and slapped back up. His disgusting cock was swinging in the summer heat. It didn’t smell clean. Looking up she could see him leering at her, “It ain’t gonna suck itself, Sandra.”

She smiled at him, as genuine a smile as she could manage, one which masked the message to come. Lorna knew it was now or never. With his trousers and pants round his ankles Gary was in no position to call the shots. Tensing herself on the balls of her feet she clenched her fist and punched him hard on the balls. She expected him to scream but all she heard was a muffled grunt. He was bent over and retching. With a look of undisguised hatred she spat out “Suck on this buster,” and kicked him square in the face before turning to run. Twenty minutes later she was home.

5

“Whatever happened to him, it looks like he was trying to fight it.” Kath Finch was looking at the remains. The tarpaulin had been loosely covering the man’s body. It looked like he had been using the space for a couple of days. Tins of tuna and beans were open and discarded around him. “This isn’t really somewhere that gets used by homeless people. It’s too bloody awkward to get to for a start.”