Garnethill by Denise Mina by Garnethill Read Free Book Online Page B

lobby. She was petite with a sharp blond bob, sharper features and a tidy figure. Her eyes were red raw. Poor Elsbeth had been the focus of gut-gnawing guilt over the past eight months: Maureen's sense that they were doing a very unkind thing indeed had snowballed as her feelings for Douglas changed. Seeing the picture of Elsbeth in the newspaper had made it worse: she had a face to put to the guilt. Douglas didn't seem to think about it. He didn't flinch when Maureen reproached herself; he acted as if she was making a big something out of nothing; it was as if Maureen was being unfaithful to Elsbeth and not Douglas. Seeing Elsbeth in the flesh for the first time made Maureen feel sick and hot. She tried to slip past her but Elsbeth caught her arm. "Did you do it, Maureen?" she asked.
    Maureen was startled. Elsbeth shouldn't know who she was. "No," she said, guilty and uncomfortable.
    "Neither did I," said Elsbeth. Her face sagged suddenly and she shuffled over to Joe McEwan, who was standing at the foot of the stairs. Panicked and shaky, Maureen turned stiffly toward the door.
    "Maureen?" Elsbeth's voice was fraught and cracked. "Will you wait for me?"
    "If you want me to," said Maureen, resisting the urge to scream and run away.
    McEwan smiled at her but when Elsbeth turned her back he frowned and motioned for her to leave. She watched them climb the stairs together. Elsbeth was wearing the Aran jumper Maureen had bought for Douglas's last birthday.
    She left the police station and crossed the main road, walking two blocks to the shops. She'd decided to cook a meal for Benny as a thank-you for letting her stay. She chose some baby corncobs, zucchini and a green pepper to pad out a tomato sauce. The garlic looked old and sprouty. She asked an assistant if they had any more at the back of the shop and looked through it slowly. Her heart began to palpitate at the checkout. She abandoned her trolley in the queue and ran the two blocks, darting across the main road and getting into Stewart Street just in time to see Elsbeth coming out of the main entrance of the station. Elsbeth didn't seem surprised that she was there: she assumed people would do what she asked and Maureen resented her for it.
    "Let's go to my house," she said, without looking up, and Maureen followed her into a waiting black cab.
    The driver turned onto the broad Great Western Road and headed west. The traffic was heavy for early afternoon and the taxi got caught at three red lights in a row.
    Elsbeth and Maureen sat as far apart as the backseat would allow, looking out of their respective windows in silence, watching the pedestrians going about their business.
    "How did you know who I was?" asked Elsbeth, her sharp voice shattering the heavy silence between them.
    Maureen turned to her and tried to catch her eye but Elsbeth was looking out of the window. "I saw a picture of you in the paper," she said softly, "at the last election. It was you and Douglas in front of a hotel."
    Elsbeth looked at her lap and ground her jaw. She lifted her head and stared out of the window again.
    "How come you recognized me?" asked Maureen.
    "I saw a photograph of you," said Elsbeth. "It was in Douglas's briefcase. You were wearing a party hat."
    Jesus Christ, the party-hat photo. Douglas had borrowed it because he thought it was so funny. Maureen was pissed and spliffed and guffawing and wearing a purple pointy hat with streamers coming out of it. The thick string of elastic was under her nose, pulling it back into a piggy snout. It must have been the ultimate insult for pristine Elsbeth, cuckold to a vulgar red-faced drunk.
    The West End is Glasgow's student quarter and centers around the Byres Road, a broad street down the hill from the neo-Gothic university. Every third shop is a deli or bar. When Maureen was at university she worked in a West End bar and was often mistaken for an out-of-work actress. She was young at the time and thought it was a compliment.
    As they neared