Free Dead of Winter by Sam Millar Page B

that means you believe me?’ said Karl, watching her pocket the phone.
    ‘I rarely believe anyone, least of all strangers. Luckily for you, I remember the name
and
face. I saw you on the TV, not so long ago. Something to do with finding a kidnapped girl. A university student, wasn’t it?’
    Karl nodded. ‘My daughter, Katie.’
    ‘Oh…she’s okay?’ The woman’s face softened slightly.
    ‘As much as can be expected, considering what she went through, Miss…?’
    ‘Goodman. Georgina Goodman. Everyone calls me Geordie,’ she replied, approaching the table before sitting down, resting the walking stick on top.
    ‘You’re
the boss…?’
    ‘That’s correct.
I’m
the boss. You look shocked. Don’t think women can handle being bosses?’
    ‘No…nothing like that. It’s just…this abattoir. Not the most glamorous of places, or what I’d expect a young woman to be in charge of.’
    ‘It once belonged to my father. But that, as they say, is another story. Now, what exactly are you doing here, searching? And no bullshitting.’
    ‘No, I’m sure you get enough of that in the pens,’ said Karl, forcing a smile but receiving only a stony stare from Geordie. ‘Look, to be honest with you, I know a bit of history about this place, the killings a few years back.’
    Geordie suddenly stiffened. Her eyes narrowed. ‘If you’re here to do some sort of blackmailing, then you’re wasting your time. It’s all public knowledge, what went on here back then, with my father and sister.’
    ‘No, I’m not here to dig up the past, I can assure you. You’re aware of the body parts discovered in and around the city, I assume?’
    ‘The mysterious severed hands? Of course. Who isn’t? They’re the talk of Belfast.’
    ‘Yes, well the cops think it could be a doctor, but I think–’
    ‘You think it could be someone working here, because of its grisly history.’ It was a statement. ‘The police have already been here, last week, asking questions.’
    ‘What…? Oh…I thought…’
    ‘That no one else had checked us out?’
    ‘Something like that. My ego has been slightly dented now.’
    ‘The cops seemed to be more interested in free steaks, rather than any answers.’
    ‘Greedy corrupt bastards. They’re all the same. Can’t watch them.’
    ‘I doubt very much that we’ve a serial killer running about the place, Mister Kane. I told the police the same. The people working here may look frightening with all that blood on their faces and hands, but it actually washes off at the end of a hard working day. Sorry to disappoint you.’
    ‘I didn’t mean to insult the workers, but this is the only abattoir we have in Belfast.’
    ‘Not forgetting its bloody history, of course?’
    ‘Well, yes…’ Karl was beginning to look uncomfortable. ‘Admittedly, I could be a mile off track, but then again, I could be a couple of inches near.’
    Geordie sighed. ‘I can see you’re not going to drop this, Mister Kane, so what exactly do you want from me?’
    ‘Have you noticed any unusual behaviour from anyone working here? Someone keeping odd hours, out-of-the- normal absenteeism? Anything of that nature?’
    ‘I’d have to go through all the files, again, just like I did for the police. That’s going to be time-consuming. We’ve only recently started to computerise the business. My father wasn’t a great believer in computerised technology or–’
    ‘Got some!’ said Talbot, entering the room. ‘If I get my hands on that thieving bastard…oh, Geordie. Didn’t see you sitting there. You’ve met Mister Kane, then? He’s a scout for Channel Four. They’re thinking of shooting a movie here. Can you believe it?’
    Karl’s face reddened.
    Geordie smiled wryly. ‘Yes, John. Mister Kane has been explaining in great detail his line of work to me.’
    ‘Look, I don’t think I can stop for that coffee, after all, John,’ said Karl, standing. ‘Just remembered another appointment.’
    ‘Oh, you’re