Free Lawless by Alexander McGregor Page B

I’ve been pining.’ McBride could almost visualise her raising her eyebrows in feigned exasperation.
    She replied, ‘Me too but not for you – just for some of the cash you’ve made from the book I wrote for you.’
    ‘That’s part of the reason I’m calling – to arrange a dinner date in the near future. But, just while I’m on, can you do me a quick favour?’
    ‘Keep speaking.’
    ‘Can you dig into that unique mind of yours and tell me if you recall any murders in the area where someone was strangled?’
    ‘Oh, is that all?’ she retorted. ‘Be more specific. Male or female victim? Solved or unsolved? Timescale?’ Gwen was already pressing her memory buttons.
    ‘Probably female. Maybe solved, maybe not. Say, in the last five or six years.’ It did not occur to him that what he was asking might just be a touch unreasonable.
    ‘Thanks for the assistance!’ She stopped speaking to McBride for more than two minutes but broke the silence with occasional brief discussions with herself. ‘Let me think … no … yes … right … OK.’
    Suddenly she returned to share her deliberations. ‘Don’t know if this helps but off the top of my head I can think of a half a dozen, maybe eight. Nine if you count a hanging of sorts that was probably suicide.’
    She ran through her list. ‘There were three in Dundee, one in Perth, one in St Andrews and another one in either Montrose or Brechin, can’t remember which but it was in Angus somewhere.’
    McBride was grateful but not satisfied. ‘Great – but do you have any more details?’
    Gwen sighed. ‘The best I can do is tell you that I think most of them, but not all, were solved. I’m fairly sure there was no one in the frame for the Fife one and at least one of the Dundee ones.’
    ‘You’re a marvel. Can I ask one more thing?’
    Before he could expand, Gwen broke in. ‘Yes, I know. You want me to look them up and supply you with copies of the cuttings.’
    ‘Christ, Gwen, on top of everything else you’re a bloody clairvoyant. What a woman!’
    ‘Yes, and I also have total recall of every conversation we’ve ever had and I’ve heard all that crap before. But you can keep saying it. I’ll dig the stuff out later today and leave it down at reception for you, OK?’
    ‘Brilliant. You’re a gem. Oh, just one other thing – last one, promise – if you happen to bump into Richard Richardson, don’t tell him I rang or what I was after. Will you do that for me?’
    ‘Okey-dokey. Why all the mystery? What’s all this about?’ She hesitated for all of a second before adding, ‘Why did I say that? There’s not a chance you’re going to tell me, is there?’
    ‘Of course I will … but not right now. When I take you to dinner, I’ll give you complete chapter and verse – well, more or less. Anyway, you’ll be first to know.’
    Both of them laughed as they hung up.

15
    He promised himself he would give the magnificent Gwen two hours to fulfil her promise to have the cuttings waiting for him. But an hour later McBride was behind the wheel of his car doing his best to impersonate Michael Schumacher as he cut through the heavy afternoon traffic that was pouring in and out of the city centre.
    At the crowded roundabout where the Kingsway city bypass converged with half a dozen other roads, he gunned the silver Mondeo through the junction, ignoring the fury of other drivers.
    Moments later, he arrived at the imposing red-brick home of The Courier . Few strangers to the town would have recognised it as the print headquarters of one of Britain’s most successful publishing empires. There were no illuminated signs or boastful banners. Just discreet lettering above the main entrance announcing the company name – DC Thomson & Co Ltd – only just enough to let the postman know where to drop the mail. McBride smiled as he suddenly remembered the name it had been given by a forgotten former colleague – ‘the Red Lubyanka’, a reference to its