The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
Willie’s activities were rarely questioned by the residents, but he’d roped Ryan in just in case
Tentatively, Maggie raised her chin. “Foxy wee thing, aren’t you?” Two sharp eyes looked down from a great height. “Wouldn’t like a job, would you?” A sly grin crossed his face. “Clientele likes them small. More… mobile, shall we say?” Maggie could imagine. She didn’t respond. “It’s a while since we had a redhead,” he persisted. “Natural, is it?” The eyes travelled downwards.
She shuddered, her cheeks aflame. “Let me save us both time.” She struggled to regain her composure. “My client is owed a substantial sum of money by your boss, who appears to have gone missing. My remit is to track him down.”
“Can’t help you. He’s out of the country.” “Where?”
Pregnant pause, then, “Spain.” Maggie sighed. If it wasn’t Europe or the USA, it was sodding Pakistan.
“On holiday, is he?” she fished. “No, his auntie’s sick.” That was another one. The world was full of sick relatives, it seemed.
“Tell Mr Imlay I called,” she proffered a business card. “But I’ll be back,” she borrowed a line from James Gilruth’s henchmen. “As often as it takes,” she threw over her shoulder as she made for the door.
Eeny meeny
Eeeny meeny. Willie loitered at the entrance to Kings Links Court. He eyed the battery of silver buzzers. Picked a name at random. Pressed the buzzer. There was a crackle of static, then, “Wha is it?” The woman’s voice was heavy with suspicion.
Willie leaned into the speaker. “Wull ye open the door fur me?” More crackling, then, “Wha’s that?”
He ignored the question. “The door. Wull ye let me in?”
“Whit fur?”
“Ah forgot ma key.”
“What?”
“Ma key. Ah forgot it,” louder this time.
“Wha is it?”
“A neebour.”
“How dae ah ken ye live here?”
“Ah dae. Trust me.”
There was a pause, then, “Ye canna trust onybody. No these days. There’s aw sorts gingin’ aboot.”
“Ma ma sent me oot fur messages,” Willie persisted, “an ah canna get back in.”
Silence.
He hopped from one foot to the other. More silence. Ran a hand over his buzz cut. “Please?” “Well, ah’m nae…”
“She’ll gie me the back o’ her hand if ah’m no back soon.” On the other end of the intercom, Willie heard a cough, a rustling, then, finally, a grudging “OK”.
The catch on the door clicked loudly. Willie grinned. Worked a treat. Most times, anyway. And the odd occasion you didn’t score, there were dozens more names to choose from.
His bright idea of doing trades in the stairwells of the tower blocks was working well. Having gained entry, Willie’s activities were rarely questioned by the residents, but he’d roped Ryan in just in case, to watch his back.
“Same routine?” Ryan followed him through the entry. “Aye.” Willie headed for the stairwell. “But gie me five meenits tae get set up.”
“Then ah let ‘em in.”
Willie frowned. “Aye. But wan at a time, mind.” “Ye thinkin’ ye’ll git worked ower?”
“Naw. The big fella gave me a pay-as-you-go. Any bother, ah’ve tae phone upstairs. An besides,” Willie smirked, “there’s aye ma da.”
“Thocht he wis in…”
Willie ignored this. “Ah micht be feart o’ ma faither, bit thon bunch, they’d run a mile if ma da sae much as clocked ‘em.” Ryan nodded vigorously. “Richt enough.”
“Aw ye hiv tae dae is let them in an’ let them oot again. Got it?” Ryan nodded again. “Ye’re the footman,” Willie grinned.
“The footman,” Ryan echoed. “Ah dae the deals.” “An’ ah keep tabs on the punters.”
“Spot on.”
“An’ the filth,” Ryan added.
“Aye. It’s nae the neebours we hiv tae worry aboot in this dump, it’s that community bobby.
Outside the box
Communication Services International turned out to be an asphalt yard housing a tatty Portakabin. NO UNAUTHORISED ENTRY
Maggie contemplated the padlocked gates. There was no sign of life. Sod it, she cursed under her breath. She’d spent the previous evening glued to the second-hand laptop she’d asked Colin to source for her, laboriously typing in search terms and crosschecking data.
She’d hoped to gain entry before close of business but, in the maze of small roads that crisscrossed the vast industrial estate, it had taken a precious hour of her time to find the place.
The sky was streaked with grey. She pressed her face against the gates. To the rear of the Portakabin, a car was just visible. Maggie clocked it as an Audi A6. With Colin’s input, she was becoming something of a car buff.
Her spirits rose. Someone might be there after all. They sank again when she saw that the cabin was in darkness, its window obscured by a blind.
The assignment related to a claim for unfair dismissal by the manager of a mobile phone shop whose employment had been terminated on the grounds of gross misconduct.
From its audit process, the company knew its employee was on the take: significant quantities of high-value goods had been vanishing into the ether.
But without the phones themselves or a paper trail relating to their disposal, they couldn’t prove it.
When internal inquiries by the organisation’s management proved fruitless, the agency had received a discreet approach.
Lucrative
Going by the demarcation lines she’d set, Maggie shouldn’t have been involved in the case. She’d only stepped in because Wilma had been offered a lucrative double shift at the hospital.
Her neighbour had already made significant progress: sussed out the interior of the man’s home – Maggie hadn’t dared ask how – produced a 2012 car registration number and a photograph of an orderly, nigh empty, garage.
Only the previous day Wilma had turned up a suspect invoice and possible address. Now, Maggie eyed the stout mesh fence that surrounded the premises. Fat chance.
That fence had to be eight-feet high. Not a hope of getting over it. What would Wilma do, she wondered? Ram the gates, she thought wryly.
Think outside the box! She prowled the perimeter, looking for a way through. Finally she found it, a buckled section at ground level. For once in her life, Maggie gloried in her petite size.
She crouched, working with both hands to ease the wire upwards. She slung her bag across her body and wriggled underneath.
She was partway across the open ground when she spotted a gleam of light.
Maggie stopped in her tracks. Narrowed her eyes, zooming in on the cabin window. Blinked. Might be just the waning sun reflecting off the glass.
Gingerly, she crept forward. Another tiny flash. Bingo! She tiptoed towards it, wincing as her shoes crunched on the yard’s rough surface.