The Deep Dark Sleep

Fraser was caught totally off guard. He flustered for a moment, then reached into his jacket pocket and produced a juicily thick buff envelope.

‘Your fee is in there, Mr Lennox. Four thousand pounds. Not bad for a few days’ work. I trust you’ll appreciate there’s an element of hush money in there. You can never discuss this with anyone.’

‘Obviously.’

‘And we’re paying you cash. No need to go through the books. I doubt if the taxman would believe it was the proceeds of just one assignment that lasted less than a week.’

‘This means I won’t have to convince him.’ I held up the envelope before slipping it into my inside jacket pocket; close to my heart, where money tended to find a natural home. ‘And don’t worry about a bonus, Mr Macready … this is more than enough.’

In fact, it was the most I had earned in one go at any time. And three times what I’d earned in the whole of the previous year.

Macready rose to shake my hand again. The meeting was over.

‘There is one more thing,’ I said, not getting up.

‘Oh?’

‘As I discussed with Miss Bryson, it never did fit with me the way these photographs were taken, given that your visit to Iain’s was supposed to be spur of the moment. When I asked you if you could guess how the photographs were taken, or where you thought the photographer could have concealed himself, you said that it was a mystery. Your guess was that they were taken through a window.’

‘Yes …’

‘The clarity and quality of the images suggested to me that they were taken somehow from inside the cottage. They were. There was a false mirror. Two-way. The camera and photographer were hidden behind them in the next room.’

Macready lit a cigarette and took a pull on it before answering.

‘So you’re saying Iain, or someone connected to the cottage or estate was in on it?’

‘According to Downey, yes. It was Iain. He set the whole thing up to raise cash for some reason he can’t tell Daddy the Duke about. Someone’s leaning heavily on Downey for money and maybe Iain’s under the same pressure. He guessed you would pay anything to stop the photographs falling into the wrong hands. In other words, anyone else’s hands other than your own.’

‘You’ve got proof of this?’ asked Fraser.

‘Downey admitted it to me. And trust me, Paul Downey has neither the brains nor the balls to come up with this on his own. Now, I can’t really knock seven shades out of the son of a peer of the realm, but if you want me to talk to Iain, I’ll do it.’ I tapped the envelope in my pocket. ‘And you have a little credit with me.’

‘What do you think, Mr Macready?’ Fraser asked. I could see the American actor was deep in thought. It was not a nice prospect, knowing that you had been deliberately set up and used.

‘What would your advice be, Mr Fraser?’ he said eventually and a little wearily.

Fraser made the type of face lawyers make to tell you that they’re thinking and shouldn’t be interrupted, because they’re thinking at premium rate. ‘I suggest we leave it, for the moment at least, Mr Macready. We have the photographs and the negatives, which can now be destroyed. It should be the end of the matter. And given the status and influence of Iain’s father, it could be a lot more trouble than it’s worth.’

‘Sleeping dogs?’

‘That would be my inclination,’ said Fraser. ‘For the moment, at least. Mr Lennox, may we feel free to call on your services in this matter, should we change our position?’

‘Feel free, as I said.’

‘I would echo Mr Macready’s sentiments, Mr Lennox: you have dealt with this case with utmost speed and efficiency. I hope that I may retain your services in the future, on other matters.’

‘It would be my pleasure,’ I said and shook his hand, somehow managing not to add you sententious little prick. I find it’s best not to insult people who hand you large sums of cash.

Leonora Bryson shook my hand too, with the warmth of an undertaker. That sure was one mixed-up lady.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I was pretty pleased with myself. With the Macready case out of the way, and with more cash burning a hole in my pocket than the average working Joe could hope to amass in a lifetime, I had a lot to be pleased with myself about.

I could now give my full attention to Isa and Violet’s quest to find out who was sending them their annual dividend. The fact that the money always arrived on the anniversary, give or take a day or two, of the Nineteen thirty-eight Empire Exhibition robbery, seemed to scream out that it was their long lost paterfamilias.

The police, however, were absolutely certain that the bones they’d dredged up belonged to Gentleman Joe. Over the next few days, while Archie doggedly went from address to address trying to locate Billy Dunbar, I did the rounds and asked a few questions. I didn’t expect to find out anything significant, but Glasgow’s underworld was a tight-knit community. A village of thieves.