third victim and took out a set of photographs. The first one showed a young man lying curled on a mattress on a floor. His skin was pale, his lips blue. The room he had died in was bare other than a mattress on the floor. It was stained and dimpled where the springs had gone.
‘This is probably just my CID brain working overtime, but did you explore the angle that these deaths might not have been random?’
Armstrong leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. ‘You mean, like, could these people actually have been targets rather than having the bad luck to buy some bad gear?’
‘It’s just a thought.’
He scratched his face.
‘I appreciate you guys are going to come at this from the perspective of the drugs,’ Irvine said. ‘Looking for dealers or suppliers or whatever. But maybe there’s another angle, you know. Maybe it’s about who the victims are.’
‘That would make it a serial killer?’
Irvine raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes it would.’
‘You start throwing those two words around and it’s going to take this thing on to a whole ’nother level. I mean, Warren wouldn’t like it.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, for starters, the case would be pulled from him. CID would take over. He likes nothing more than breaking a big case. Helps him when he goes to get budget increases for us. And he’d look like an idiot for not making the connection before. Four deaths is a lot to explain away.’
‘I suppose …’
Irvine flipped through the files, checking the locations of the deaths and anything else that might link them. They were all within a five-mile radius, but that didn’t mean much. Glasgow wasn’t a big city, really. And drugs were prevalent in the deprived council estates, many of them bounding one another. So there was nothing unusual about them being that close.
Armstrong watched her in silence, content to let her work through it on her own.
So far as Irvine could tell, there didn’t seem to be a family connection between any of the victims and none of them were reputed to have any gang affiliations.
Two men: thirty-one and twenty-three.
One woman: twenty-four.
And the girl this morning – Joanna. Irvine couldn’t think of her as a woman.
So young .
Irvine closed the files and stifled a yawn.
‘You should head home,’ Armstrong told her. ‘You’ve done well to get up to speed on all of this in one day. There’s plenty more to do tomorrow.’
‘I want to be ready for it.’
‘You are. What else is there for you to do today?’
‘Just feels like we should do something, you know?’
‘Listen, we’re both exhausted. Can’t work at your best like that. And I thought that maybe you’d like to go home.’
‘I do. It’s just …’
‘What?’
How much to tell this guy?
‘I got divorced not long ago,’ she said. ‘Last year. And I went through … some other stuff. A friend of mine got killed.’
Armstrong frowned.
‘It was a difficult time and I didn’t work much. The boss was good about it, you know.’
‘And now you want to make up for lost time. Is that it?’
‘Maybe. I just know that since I came back I’ve been dealing with the usual crap this city throws up on a daily basis. Robberies and fights and everything else. And the one murder on my desk is at a dead end.’
‘Hey, I get it,’ Armstrong said. ‘We all feel like that sometimes. But you’re tired. Go get some rest and we can start again tomorrow.’
Irvine sighed.
‘You’re right,’ she said, not looking at him.
‘Plus, a good sleep, a shower and a shave and I’ll be brand new.’
He jutted his chin out.
‘I need to make a call first,’ Irvine said.
She stacked the case files on top of one another and Armstrong walked out into the hall to give her some privacy.
Irvine called Logan. She told him that she’d be late and could he pick Connor up from the childminder. He said sure.
‘That your husband?’ Armstrong asked, coming back in from the hall.
‘No.’
‘But you
‘This is probably just my CID brain working overtime, but did you explore the angle that these deaths might not have been random?’
Armstrong leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. ‘You mean, like, could these people actually have been targets rather than having the bad luck to buy some bad gear?’
‘It’s just a thought.’
He scratched his face.
‘I appreciate you guys are going to come at this from the perspective of the drugs,’ Irvine said. ‘Looking for dealers or suppliers or whatever. But maybe there’s another angle, you know. Maybe it’s about who the victims are.’
‘That would make it a serial killer?’
Irvine raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes it would.’
‘You start throwing those two words around and it’s going to take this thing on to a whole ’nother level. I mean, Warren wouldn’t like it.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, for starters, the case would be pulled from him. CID would take over. He likes nothing more than breaking a big case. Helps him when he goes to get budget increases for us. And he’d look like an idiot for not making the connection before. Four deaths is a lot to explain away.’
‘I suppose …’
Irvine flipped through the files, checking the locations of the deaths and anything else that might link them. They were all within a five-mile radius, but that didn’t mean much. Glasgow wasn’t a big city, really. And drugs were prevalent in the deprived council estates, many of them bounding one another. So there was nothing unusual about them being that close.
Armstrong watched her in silence, content to let her work through it on her own.
So far as Irvine could tell, there didn’t seem to be a family connection between any of the victims and none of them were reputed to have any gang affiliations.
Two men: thirty-one and twenty-three.
One woman: twenty-four.
And the girl this morning – Joanna. Irvine couldn’t think of her as a woman.
So young .
Irvine closed the files and stifled a yawn.
‘You should head home,’ Armstrong told her. ‘You’ve done well to get up to speed on all of this in one day. There’s plenty more to do tomorrow.’
‘I want to be ready for it.’
‘You are. What else is there for you to do today?’
‘Just feels like we should do something, you know?’
‘Listen, we’re both exhausted. Can’t work at your best like that. And I thought that maybe you’d like to go home.’
‘I do. It’s just …’
‘What?’
How much to tell this guy?
‘I got divorced not long ago,’ she said. ‘Last year. And I went through … some other stuff. A friend of mine got killed.’
Armstrong frowned.
‘It was a difficult time and I didn’t work much. The boss was good about it, you know.’
‘And now you want to make up for lost time. Is that it?’
‘Maybe. I just know that since I came back I’ve been dealing with the usual crap this city throws up on a daily basis. Robberies and fights and everything else. And the one murder on my desk is at a dead end.’
‘Hey, I get it,’ Armstrong said. ‘We all feel like that sometimes. But you’re tired. Go get some rest and we can start again tomorrow.’
Irvine sighed.
‘You’re right,’ she said, not looking at him.
‘Plus, a good sleep, a shower and a shave and I’ll be brand new.’
He jutted his chin out.
‘I need to make a call first,’ Irvine said.
She stacked the case files on top of one another and Armstrong walked out into the hall to give her some privacy.
Irvine called Logan. She told him that she’d be late and could he pick Connor up from the childminder. He said sure.
‘That your husband?’ Armstrong asked, coming back in from the hall.
‘No.’
‘But you
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