Free In Place of Death by Craig Robertson Page B

angry.’
    He wanted to ask a hundred questions. He wanted to know everything but he was also wary of her shutting down, pointing at the police tape and telling him not to cross. The voice in his head had
become quieter. He didn’t know anyone who was homeless. At least he didn’t think he did.
    But he heard something else too in what she was saying. Her anger wasn’t just at the Rosewood. He knew it was also at places like it, places where people were left to be forgotten, left to
die. He crossed to the sofa and sat with his arm round her.
    She made a half-hearted effort to push him away but quickly gave in, her head slumping onto his shoulder. ‘I’m supposed to be professional,’ she protested. ‘Supposed to
be detached. Can you just imagine all those sods in the station if they knew how this got to me?’
    â€˜I’m not sure you
are
supposed to be detached. How can you do your job if you don’t care? You’re supposed to be human, not a robot. And you’re taking on a
lot. You can’t save the whole world, Rach. You can just do your best for those who matter most and you’re doing that.’
    She raised her head so she could look at him. ‘I’ve never thought this before but you might actually be smarter than you look.’
    â€˜Thanks.’
    â€˜Don’t mention it.
    â€˜So what happens next with the tunnel guy? Have you got a name for him?’
    She banged a small fist lightly against his chest. ‘You’re pushing your luck. Yes, we have a name. He signed himself into the Rosewood as Brian Christie. It doesn’t match
anyone on Missing Persons but we’re looking.’
    Suddenly, the voice that Winter couldn’t quite hear faded away. He felt the whisper of it go from the room and out the window into the night sky. He’d never heard of a Brian
Christie. It was a relief and at the same time an odd disappointment. That wasn’t something he’d even begin to think of trying to explain to Rachel though. She had enough to worry
about.

Chapter 11
    Monday morning
    It took Narey a moment to realize what the sound on the other end of the line was when she answered the phone. The beeps were from another century and she couldn’t
remember when she’d last heard them. It was someone calling from a phone box. Finally, a coin dropped and the line cleared.
    â€˜Hello? Detective Narey? Inspector Narey?’
    The man’s voice was old and rather weak. She had just about placed it when he confirmed it for her.
    â€˜It’s Walter McMeekin. From the Rosewood Hotel. You said to call if I remembered anything else. Well I have, sort of. It’s no much, mind.’
    She reached for a pen and pulled a notepad towards her. ‘Hi, Walter. Thanks for calling. Listen, anything at all could help us. What did you remember?’
    â€˜Well, like I said, it’s no much. But if you’re still trying to find out about that laddie Brian then you maybe want to try down at the City Mission. The boy told me he’d
been down there. I remember him telling me that. Before he came to the Rosewood, he’d been down at Crimea Street.’
    â€˜Walter, that’s great. Did he say why he he’d been to the Mission?’
    A pause. ‘No really. He said he’d been speaking to the boss man over there. I remember because I know him as well. Malcolm Colvin. Malky is what they call him. The project manager.
One of the good guys.’
    â€˜Okay, Walter. I’ll go down there today and check it out. You’ve been a big help.’
    â€˜Och, no. It’s nothing. That poor laddie. Best you find out what happened to him.’
    â€˜We will. Are you doing okay, Walter?’
    He laughed. ‘Ah’m doing how ah’m doing, hen. Better than I will be tonight no doubt and better than I will be tomorrow morning. I could say different but I’ve known
maself for too long.’
    â€˜Take