Hostage to Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

icon hack. The one that turned you on to the beautiful game. This would be that Lindsay Gordon?”

    â€œOne and the same. Well, you’ll never guess what happened. You couldn’t write this, people would just say, ‘Yeah, right, and then the Pope said abortion was fine by him.’ But this is the absolute, no messing, God’s honest truth.” Rory gave Sandra the full version of her meeting with Lindsay, punctuated by her friend’s regular interruptions.
    â€œThat’s wild,” Sandra finally said. “So she said she’d think about it?”
    â€œThat was just for show. You could tell she’s gagging to get back in harness.”
    â€œYou wish.” Sandra finished her cigarette and her beer. “Sorry, babe. I’m out of here. In fact, I never was in here. Got a date with a beautiful boy from Radio Clyde.” She stood up, gathering her universe. She leaned across the table and kissed Rory on the cheek. “See you, darlin’.”
    On her way out, she passed a baby dyke, black leather waistcoat over white teeshirt, black jeans, dyed black cropped hair, bottle of Rolling Rock in her hand. “She’s all yours,” Sandra told her, patting her on the arm. The baby dyke flushed scarlet and edged towards the booth.
    â€œI got you a drink, Rory,” she said, a nervous smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
    â€œThanks. You want to sit down?”
    The kid squirmed into the seat Sandra had left. “You pay folk for stories, eh?” she scrambled out.
    â€œDepends. What’s your name?”
    â€œI’m Kola. Wi’ a K. Ma pal Ginger says you gien her a fifty for something she told you last year.”
    Rory nodded. Ginger had tipped her the wink about a candidate for the Scottish parliament with a sideline in cigarette smuggling. She’d got a splash in the Herald and follow-ups in all the dailies the next day. “I remember. How’s Ginger doing? I’ve not seen her about the place for a while.”
    â€œShe’s went tae London. She got taken on by BHS. The clothes are shite, and so’s the money, but she’s having a ball. So will you pay me for a story?”

    â€œLet me hear what you’ve got and I’ll tell you what it’s worth. OK?”
    Kola thought about it. It was a bit more complicated than buying a drink or scoring some E so it took a minute or two. “How do I know you won’t just write it anyway?”
    â€œYou don’t. You have to trust me. But you know I didn’t let Ginger down.”
    Kola nodded, her face clearing, relieved at having the decision made for her. “Right. OK. It’s about Madonna.”
    Rory fought to keep her face straight. Whatever was coming, she didn’t think it was going to keep the cats in Whiskas for life. “Madonna? We’re talking the singer, not the one with the statues in the cathedral?”
    It was beyond Kola, who frowned. “Aye, the singer. Her and that Guy Ritchie, they’re gonnae buy a big house out in Drymen.”
    Stranger things have happened, Rory thought. 4, 6, 11, 24, 39 and the bonus ball is 47. At least Drymen was the right sort of territory for someone like Madonna. Big houses, country estates, high walls and gamekeepers with shotguns. “In Drymen?” she echoed.
    â€œYou don’t believe me, do you?” Kola accused her with the tired hurt of someone used to being taken for a liar.
    â€œIt’s a bit... surprising,” Rory said. “Gonnae tell me where you heard this?”
    â€œIt’s right enough,” Kola said defensively. “The folk that work for her have been on the phone to an estate agent out there.”
    â€œYou’re going to have to tell me how you know that, Kola,” Rory said, suddenly wondering if the baby dyke might not be as daft as she looked.
    Kola sighed in exasperation. “I’m shagging his wife.”

Chapter 4
    People would