The Sister(154)

‘I don’t suppose you heard of the Michael Simpson case?’

‘Michael Simpson?’ she said, looking quizzical. ‘Which case was that?’

He told her, and then added cryptically. ‘They think he might have been murdered.’

She arched her eyebrows, raising a silent question.

He touched his nose as if to say he would not, or could not reveal his sources.

She made a note. ‘Mmm, that’s interesting, I’ll look into that one,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been to Amsterdam for a while, and from what you’re telling me, it’s a hotbed of activity, and it’s supposed to be lovely in the springtime.’ She suddenly smiled at him; she didn’t have to wonder if she’d see him again. She knew. After his earlier rejection, she suddenly felt better.

They exchanged business cards. He walked with her out of the station, and when they got outside, they shook hands.

First, he bowed, and then doffed an imaginary hat.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said.

‘I’ll look forward to that,’ he said, and looked at her card: Carla Black – Freelance Journalist.

Outside the railway station, he waited for almost half an hour. Rosetta didn’t show, so he walked to his hotel and checked in. The receptionist handed him a note. He opened it.



Will call you tomorrow morning, 7:30 – R



He frowned, puzzled. How could she have known he was coming to this particular hotel? He hadn’t booked it until he’d left Ryan’s.

Mounting tiredness and the thought of an early start, led him to consider eating in the hotel restaurant, but he then decided against it. He phoned Ryan to let him know he’d arrived, but he got the answer phone, and hung up without leaving a message; he hated the things. He pulled Carla’s business card from his pocket, and dialled the number. When he got to the last digit, his finger hovered over it for a moment. He completed the action.

‘Carla?’

‘Yes?’ she answered sleepily.

‘Can we meet tonight?’

There was a long pause. Miller regretted his weakness.

Finally, she said, ‘There’s a place I know.’





He showered, quickly getting ready. Twenty minutes later, he walked out with a spring in his step. Suddenly he was no longer tired at all.





Chapter 128



Miller found his way into the bar at the bottom of a short flight of steps near the station as Carla had directed him. Once inside, it seemed everybody was talking about the vigilante killer. A conversation between two heavily built workmen wearing tartan lumber-shirts attracted his attention.

‘Somebody must’ve tipped him off what was happening, it’s no' like you just happen to drop in on a place like that,’ he said, wiping beer foam from the straggly tips of his moustache onto the back of his red shirt cuff.

‘Aye, you’re probably right.’ His blue-shirted companion looked thoughtful. ‘He could have seen the kidnapping and followed them.’

Red-shirt nodded slowly. ‘You know, you might be right, but surely he’d have called the police in?’

‘I don’t think he wanted the police, but one thing is for sure, he must be one hard-arsed son o' a bitch to go in like that on his own.’

Both men supped their beer.

Red-shirt resumed the discussion. ‘Aye, that’s for sure. How do you know he was on his own?’

‘The boy.’ He looked bemused. ‘Don’t you read the papers? Police seek man, no' men.’ Blue-shirt whispered something in his friend’s ear.

Red-shirt sputtered the mouthful of beer he’d just taken back into the glass. Whatever the other man said had clearly shocked him. ‘How do you know all this?’

‘I have a friend on the force. He told me about it,’ he said, smug with one-upmanship.

Miller shut out their talking as he compared what they'd said to what Carla had told him on the train. He wondered if she and Blue-shirt had the same contact. That would be too much of a coincidence.

The raised voice of Blue-shirt at the bar drew his focus back to their ongoing exchange.

‘Aw c’mon, you wouldn’t have wanted to face two Rottweiler dogs and two men, no' on their own turf like that. I mean, what kind o' man would do that?’

‘His dad probably would, or an uncle, maybe another relative?’ Red-shirt offered.

‘No, this was one man, remember. I reckon it was ex-military, someone like that. Besides, the father has an alibi. I know it couldn’t be him anyway. He’s no' the type.’

‘Aye, you’re probably right. Another beer?’

Blue-shirt laughed. ‘O' go on, twist my arm!’

Red ordered two more beers.

‘I mean that business with the bat,’ Blue-shirt continued. ‘He shoved it right up their arses...right up, I’m telling you. I mean, that’s got to be some deterrent, that.’ He shuddered.

‘You know, I thought about that after you whispered it to me. This guy hasn’t just come out o' nowhere. I reckon he’s done something like this before.’

‘Well if he had, the press would have gotten hold o' it and my friend in the force would’ve told me.’