Chapter 3: Glasgow: That night: The meeting

CHAPTER 3

EILIDH

GLASGOW – THAT NIGHT – THE MEETING

I arrived at the address on the paper for my meeting with John Aldridge, with a few minutes to spare. It was a row of shops with offices above. I approached the door and confirmed it was the correct address. A small plaque above a buzzer stated, "Aldridge: Private Investigators."

Earlier in the day, I'd done a quick check of the address and so I wasn't surprised by this. Not surprised, but full of questions.

Who hired him? Why hadn't he come forward with these photographs sooner?

The door opened almost as soon as I pressed the button.

Feeling both excited and apprehensive, I climbed the stone steps to the upper floor. At the top, there were several small offices, all of which seemed locked up for the night except for one. A tall, thin man stood at the entrance.

"Miss Campbell, or should I say, Detective Constable Campbell, please come in," he said, beckoning me inside.

"I'm John Aldridge, and I am glad you came to meet me. May I say that I knew your dad, and I am sorry for your loss," he told me.

"Please, take a seat," he gestured to one of two chairs in front of a rather messy-looking desk with paperwork piled on top.

Several boxes were dotted about the room.

Was he moving in or moving out?

How did he know my dad? Where did he get the photographs? Why did he wait so long before sending them to me?

My head was buzzing with questions that I badly needed answers to, but I wanted him to tell me what he knew first. So, I did as he asked and sat down, keeping my mouth firmly shut.

As he took a seat on the other side of the desk, I watched him intently.

He took a deep breath before speaking.

"I was hired by your father to look into something for him not long before he was murdered. We met in the police force when I was a uniform sergeant before I was forced to leave to look after my sick wife. She had a brain tumour. I needed to care for her and our two children. After she died, I joined a retired police officer in his private investigator's business. I took it over myself when he passed away," he said.

He looked like he was waiting for me to ask something, but I still wasn't ready yet. I just continued to sit there quietly, observing him, and waited.

Once he realised I had no intention of speaking, he cleared his throat and continued.

"Anyway, your dad knew me and trusted me to look into things for him. He believed that some members of his department were taking bribes from criminals to ignore or lose evidence and even, sometimes, to plant evidence. He gave me a list of four names and told me his suspicions, but he didn't have any actual evidence and felt unable to make an internal complaint about his colleagues without it. So, he asked me to investigate on the quiet."

Nodding, I finally spoke.

"Go on."

"I spent a couple of days tailing the names on his list, two of whom I knew from my time in the force. The photographs I sent you, except for a few of them, were copies of the ones I took where anything suspicious occurred. I had already passed the originals, along with my report, to your father less than an hour before his murder. I met him where he was killed, and he had been reading it when I left him."

He looked away from me then and appeared lost in thought. I desperately wanted to ask my questions, but I bit my tongue to stop them from pouring from my mouth while I waited to hear the rest of what he had to say.

"The photographs showing his murder and the exchange with the man who was his killer were pushed under my door several days ago with a note advising me to ensure you received them and to tell you everything I knew."

That did it. I couldn't hold back any longer.

"Why didn't you before now? And why didn't you tell the detectives working on my dad's murder what you knew?" I asked, annoyance lacing my voice

Why had this man been sitting on evidence?

"I am truly sorry for what happened to your dad. He was a good man. However, after the evidence had gone missing from your dad's car when he was found dead, it didn't seem like a coincidence and I got scared."

He sniffed nervously.

"Thankfully, I didn't give him anything in the report or photographs that would have alerted anyone to my identity; otherwise, I may have been next. I didn't go to the police because I was unsure whom I could trust."

"You have to go to the police. We can go together. With these photographs and your testimony, they would need to reopen my dad's case and…"

"No," he shouted, cutting me off mid-sentence.

"I won't go to the police. That may seem cowardly to you, Miss Campbell, but I have two children who need me. They have already lost one parent, and I couldn't risk them losing another."

He paused, gulping, as I stared at him in anger.

"I had only been on the case for a couple of days, and the photographs were my initial findings along with this report," he said, handing me a thin file.

"It just states times, locations, and persons involved in the meetings shown on the photographs," he continued.

"As for the additional photographs, I do not know where they came from, who took them, or how they knew I had any involvement with your dad's investigation. That is all I know, and I have now passed it to you. You can do with it whatever you wish, but please leave me out of it. I have destroyed all other evidence of my involvement, and I will deny having anything to do with it if you try to involve me," he said, rising and coming around the desk.

"You need to testify, Mr Aldridge; I will get you protection!" I insisted, rising to face him.

"Your department is corrupt, Detective, and I don't know whom you can trust. Who knows how far up the corruption goes? I gave you the information I have to clear my conscience because whoever pushed those photos under my door obviously wanted me to. However, I have no intention of ever testifying," he said, opening the door.

"I was unaware that anyone knew I'd been helping your dad, but obviously, somebody did, and that concerns me. However, I am leaving town permanently. I wish you well, Miss Campbell, and advise you to be very careful. I would hate for anything to happen to you, but I have given you all the help I can," he said, ushering me out and closing the door firmly in my face.

Shocked, I stared at it.

Did the guy seriously think I was going to let this go?

Furious, I tried to open it, but it was locked. I rattled the handle and pushed at it with my shoulder.

"Open the door, you arsehole!" I screamed as I banged on the thing.

"Leave, Detective. I've helped all I can!" he said through the door.

Frustrated, I leaned against the door frame.

"Please, Mr Aldridge!" I pleaded.

"No, I'm sorry, Miss Campbell, but I have children to protect. I won't get any more involved," he replied, and I could hear the conviction in his voice.

Fine, I would have to do this myself.

Clutching the file, I turned away from the closed door and walked back down the hall, letting everything I'd learned in our brief exchange finally sink in. It felt like my life really had been turned upside down.

It was all true. My dad was murdered while looking into corruption within the department that I now belonged to myself. I could no longer cling to the tiniest little hope I carried that somehow I had been wrong. There was no denying it anymore; my colleagues had to have been involved. Uncle Roy had to have been involved.

Memories of the times my dad and I had spent with Roy at his home, on holiday, laughing and joking together, and then me being hugged and comforted by Roy at my dad's funeral, assaulted me. Each memory felt like a punch to the gut, and by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I felt sick.

Shoving open the door, I ran out into the street, one hand holding the file, the other held desperately over my mouth in a vain effort to stop myself from throwing up. I just got to the end of the block of shops and turned into an alleyway before finally retching.

Bent over and using the edge of the building for support, I vomited on the ground as my stomach forcibly ejected the little food I'd eaten earlier.

Eventually, when there was nothing left, I took a deep breath and quickly wished I hadn't, because the smell made me dry heave. Backing away a few steps and keeping my breath shallow finally calmed the nausea, and I could stand up straight again. After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I staggered back to my car, thankful nobody was around to witness the evidence of my trauma.

Still feeling like shit, I climbed into the driver's seat and sat there clutching the steering wheel and breathing heavily as my anger built. All this time, Roy Allen had been lying to me, pretending to be grieving over my father's loss, when, in fact, it looked like he had been involved in his murder.

He won't get away with it! None of them will!

The vow I'd made that morning solidified in my mind. I was going to finish what my dad had started, expose the corruption in the department and bring his killer to justice. I would avenge my dad's death if it was the last thing I did.