The Cutting Room by Louise Welsh Read Free Book Online Page A

Happiness, painted over and over again on its drawers, its fragile shelves and compartments. A good Ł4000. Jimmy James halted three boys, carrying a rolled Chinese rug, at the top of the stairs. I ran up to the second floor, nodding to him as I went by. He blew his nose on an old rag and ignored me.
    The next floor was deserted. I entered the spare bedroom and pulled down the ladder. There wasn’t enough time or privacy
    for me to give the attic the going over I wanted. If there was a mystery to Mr McKindless, the solution was likely in that room.
    I took a screwdriver out of my pocket, removed the mortise and replaced it with a new one I’d picked up that morning. It
    wouldn’t hold off the determined, but they’d have to make a bit of a noise and at least I would know someone had been motivated enough to break in. I tidied the mess of wood drippings away and left through the front door without a goodbye to anyone.
     
    Back at the flat I showered, dressed, then dug the photographs from their hiding place. They were no easier to look at
    and made no more sense than they had the first time. I could see the roughness of the rope, stray fibres escaping the weave.
    I knew how that rope would feel, but I knew nothing else.
    There was a photocopyist’s on my route. I stopped by and
    asked to use one of their machines. The assistant looked too young to guard the shop on her own. She came out from
    behind the counter.
     
    `We’re not busy the now, give them to me and I’ll do it for you. How many copies do you need?’
    I’d taken the photographs out of my wallet. She held out
    her hand, smiling.
    `I’d rather do it myself if you don’t mind.’
    She was insistent. `It’s no trouble. This place is like a
    morgue. I tell you, you could die of boredom in here some
    days.’
    I laid on the patter. `Thanks for the offer, but I’m an
    auctioneer and these are delicate, old photographs. I need to copy them for. a potential bidder. I’m better handling them
    myself, that way if they get damaged it’s my fault.’
    The girl looked impressed. `Can I have a look?’
    I prayed for someone to come through the door and
    distract her, but she was right, it was like a morgue in there.
    `I’d love to show them to you but I’m in a bit of a rush. Do you mind if I just copy them quickly?’
    Her bottom lip petted forward. `Suit yourself.’
    She huffed towards a photocopier and switched it on.
    I placed the pictures of the tortured girl gently, face down on the machine, closed its lid, pressed the button and watched as the image scrolled forth, the ink still damp, frozen on paper, the outrage revealed,‘repeated. I did the same with the pictures of McKindless. The machine hummed through its task, sliding out the wretched scenes. I felt myself almost falling into a trance.
    The photocopier stopped. I gathered my copies, headed to the desk and counted the pages in front of her, taking care not to display the horrible facsimiles.
    `Sorry about being in such a rush.’ The girl rang the price up on the till, `You should come round the auction house one day.
    There’s a sale every second Saturday, it’s interesting. I’ll give you a wave from the rostrum.’
     
    She smiled as she handed over my change. My pal again.
    A block from the shop, I realised what I had done, turned
    on my heels and ran. Too late. The girl stood, motionless, a frightened mannequin, next to the machine I had used. She’d
    lifted the lid and now stood holding a photograph, a tangle of naked bodies, McKindless at the centre. A spider in a web of flesh. I took the photograph from her limp grip, whispered,
    `Sorry,’ and left.
    I had an idea of what I was going to do next. My game is
    knowledge and contacts. What your own knowledge can’t tell
    you, your contacts might. Balfour and Sons started taking
    photographs of Glasgow when busy tugs still chuffed along the Broomielaw and Highlanders conversed in Gaelic on Jamaica
    Bridge. The black and gold sign above