Chapter 5
MAC
The last place I wanted to be was Lachlan’s stage office, but we’d agreed as head of security, I’d work with Wakefield, the estate butler, and Agnes, the head housekeeper, to run Ardnoch while Lachlan was on his honeymoon.
Playing Lachlan’s part meant being available to club members.
They knew if they had any issues to come to Lachlan in his stage office.
Spring rain battered the grounds outside the tall windows.
Without a lit fire, the room was chilly, but I was too focused on the pile of work Lachlan had left me.
My brows creased as a headache throbbed behind my right eye.
Christ, I’d known there was a lot involved in his job, but the minutiae of it was unbelievable.
I read the email from the head groundskeeper, coordinating with the land estate manager about the plans for summer and the quantities of materials he planned on ordering for daily maintenance and special events we staged through now until autumn and decided this one would have to wait.
I did not know if Lachlan would approve of the groundskeeper’s plans.
The only time I consulted on estate groundskeeping was when I was concerned any additions might interfere with security cameras, anti-intruder alarms, and our anti-drone perimeter.
The desk phone ringing brought my head up. The light over the security tab on the phone set blinked. “Galbraith,” I answered gruffly.
“Mac, it’s Pete.” One of my security guards. “There’s a man at the gates claiming to be a friend of yours. Billy Carson.”
Shock moved through me. What the hell was Billy doing all the way up here?
“ID?”
“Aye. Jock sent us a photo if you want to log on to the system.”
“Doing it,” I confirmed as I pulled up our security system on Lachlan’s computer. Moving through the portal, I opened the photo Jock had logged.
It was a photo of a driving license. And sure enough, it was my old pal Billy Carson.
“Let him in.” I hung up, standing from the desk, my mind racing. I couldn’t imagine what had brought Billy to my doorstep. Though we had kept tabs on each other over the decades, we hadn’t spoken in a few years.
Members lounged in the great hall as I strolled in.
I nodded at them, striding past, not inviting conversation as Stephen, the underbutler, pulled open the main door for me.
I murmured my thanks and stepped outside.
Remaining beneath the sheltered portico, I watched as one of the estate’s new hybrid Range Rovers led a silver Volvo up the long driveway to the castle.
Jock passed slowly, and I nodded at him in thanks.
He’d take the SUV back to the castle mews, assured now I had everything in hand.
The Volvo stopped, and Billy got out, his gaze locked on mine, expression grim.
Fuck.
Billy sat in my office in the staff quarters, bemused by the small space crowded with packed bookshelves. When we were boys, neither of us would’ve been caught dead reading. What a crushing blow that would have been to our thuggish reputations.
My old pal looked older. Much older. Lines bracketed his eyes, his mouth, and deep grooves scored his forehead. While my dark hair was peppered with gray here and there, he’d gone gray all over.
“Fuck, Mac, dae ye no age, man? Ye make the rest o’ us feel fuckin’ auld, so ye dae,” Billy grumbled, as if reading my thoughts. It was nice hearing the thick Glaswegian brogue I’d left behind when I was fifteen. Thirty years ago.
Jesus Christ, had it really been that long?
It didn’t feel it.
I didn’t feel forty-five, though my friend’s appearance reminded me of it. Billy was older by two years.
Smirking, I replied, “I eat well and I work out.”
“Aye, so dae I. But I dinnae look like I’ve dipped ma fuckin’ face in the fountain o’ youth.”
Laughing, I asked, “Did you just come here to shower me with compliments, Bill, or are you here for another reason?”
Before he could answer, Stephen entered the office with a tray of refreshments. Coffee and some homemade Madeira cake. Once the underbutler was gone, Billy raised an eyebrow. “This is quite the life.”
I shrugged, pushing a cup of coffee across my desk toward him.
He took it and settled back in the chair opposite me. “I wish I wis here on pleasanter business, Mac.”
Alerted, I nodded for him to continue.
Billy exhaled heavily. “The wife and I head tae Australia in a few days. We’re gonnae stay wi’ ma brother until we can set oorsels up there permanently.”
“Okay?”
“We’re … ye see, we’re worried aboot staying here, Mac.”
“What’s going on? What are you afraid of?”
My old pal scowled but didn’t deny his fear. “We’re the only wans left who were there the day Craig Kilmany wis murdered.”
Two words. A name. One I’d never forgotten. And truly the reason Billy and I, while keeping in touch, had never been close. Each was the reminder of a day that changed us forever. “What do you mean?”
“In the last twa years, every wan o’ us who were there that day, except you and me, are deid.”
“Dead?” I frowned, my heart picking up pace a little. Seven of us were there that night. “In what manner?”
“Strange fuckin’ ways, Mac,” Billy said, exasperated.
“Nairn got sent doon fur Craig’s murder, as ye ken.
Left us six. You and me are here. Kenny overdosed on heroin last year, despite his entire fuckin’ family sayin’ he never touched the stuff in his life.
Even when we were bairns, Mac, Kenny didnae touch the stuff. We did what we did, but he didnae use.”
It was true enough. We all thought we were wee hard men. Aged between fifteen and eighteen, me being the youngest but ironically, the biggest, we’d swaggered about the streets of Govan in Glasgow like we owned it. Unfortunately, there were other groups of youths who believed we were wrong.
One gang worked for the big man of Govan at the time, Frank Ricci, or Big Frank, as he was known then: drug dealer, racketeer, and car chop shop owner.
He paid kids to infest the local schools with his product.
His wee gangbangers thought we were trying to encroach on their territory, to take over their jobs for Big Frank, because one of my mates was stupid enough to take a meeting with him.
From that moment on, we were at war with the fuckers.
Then one night, we spotted one of them on their own. Craig.
I thought Nairn, the eldest of our group and our leader of sorts, just wanted to scare him. But before we knew it, Craig was on the ground, and they were all beating the utter shit out of him. Billy and I tried to stop it. We even fought them, our own mates, but we were too late.
While we were preoccupied with the others, Nairn took out his pocketknife and gutted Craig.
We all fled.
Billy and I found a pay phone and made an anonymous emergency call.
But the shame of that night will never leave me.
A brave witness informed on us to the police, but it was also that witness who exonerated me and Billy by vouching that we attempted to stop the attack.
Billy and I had little choice but to admit it was Nairn who’d done it because of the witness testimony.
The police found Craig’s blood on Nairn’s clothes.
It was enough to send him away for fifteen years.
He died in prison six years later during a fight with another prisoner.
While Billy and I never faced formal charges, the whole ugly, horrific incident had scared my gran enough that she sent me to the States, to Boston, to live with my uncle.
And I went willingly, desperate to get away from a life I knew deep down I did not want.
Billy got into some trouble in his youth, but a short stint in prison set him straight, and he trained to become an electrician.
He and his wife moved out of Govan to the other side of Glasgow.
They’d never had kids, but he’d seemed happy with his lot in life.
“Ye cannae say it’s no fuckin’ weird Kenny died that way, Mac.”
“Aye, it’s strange,” I agreed.
“Twa months later, Wee Frickle wis stabbed ootside his local. Nae witnesses. They still havenae caught the bastard. New Year’s Eve, Jamie fell aff the roof o’ his tenement.
There wis three times the legal limit o’ alcohol in his blood.
Recorded as an accidental death. Then three weeks ago, I get a call from Bryan McNab’s mam.
Deid. Hit by a car ootside his flat. It wisnae accidental because witnesses saw a car wi’ blacked-oot windaes reverse ‘er his body and then drive back ‘er him again tae make sure the job wis done.”
“Fuck,” I bit out, shock thrumming through me.
“Ye gonnae tell me that’s aw coincidental, Mac?”
Shaking my head, I looked out the shallow window of my office, seeing nothing but rain lashing the windows. “You came here to warn me?”
“Aye. Then I’m gettin’ the fuck oot o’ Scotland. I’m glad, being here, I can see how safe this place is. It’s a fortress. Maybe ye shouldnae leave the grounds for a while.”
No way would I wait like a sitting duck trapped on the estate.
“I have means to look into their deaths.” I looked back at Billy.
“Go to Australia. Stay safe. I’ll have my contacts dig into this.
If this isn’t a strange bloody coincidence, then I’ll find out who’s behind it.
How can I reach you so I can let you know what I uncover? ”
Billy gave me his brother’s number, and we finished our coffees in strained conversation. The knowledge that someone might be after Craig’s attackers hung over us like an omen.
Before he left, Billy admitted gruffly, “I ken this isnae the kind o’ stuff we ever could get away wi’ talkin’ aboot back then, but I hud a hard time gettin’ ‘er it. Whit happened that night. Whit I didnae stop fae happenin’.
I doubt I’ll ever really be ‘er it. But the wife made me talk tae someone, a professional like.” He shrugged, clearly a bit embarrassed. “It helped a lot, Mac.”
I knew what he was telling me. What he was recommending. “I’ll think about it. I’m glad for you, Bill.”
When he left, I was admittedly relieved to see him go.
I told him to let me know when he arrived in Australia.
I wanted to know that if we were in danger, he was somewhere someone was less likely to follow.
Billy’s safety meant something to me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t glad to be rid of the messenger.
The Adairs had only just gotten over the last storm that tried to devastate their family.
I couldn’t bring more danger into their lives.
Into her life.
I could only hope we were being paranoid.
Determined to know for certain, I pulled out my phone as I marched down the corridor back to my office.
Hitting the number in my contacts, I only had to wait a few rings before Lisa Renfrew answered.
She was Assistant Chief Constable, Local Police West. Meaning she was one of the highest-ranking officers in Police Scotland, and the city of Glasgow was under her purview.
“Mac Galbraith, as I live and breathe,” Lisa answered. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
Lisa and I met when she was a young police officer.
She helped coordinate security measures at one of Lachlan’s only film premieres in Glasgow many moons ago.
We’d had a fling but enjoyed each other’s company, so we stayed in touch over the years.
Unsurprisingly, she’d risen through the ranks, which was extremely convenient for me right now.
“Sorry to cut past the pleasantries, Lise, but I might have a big problem on my hands. I need some information.”
“Tell me and I’ll do what I can to help.”
A small measure of tightness eased from my chest. Sometimes it was good to have friends in high places.