Dead bodies weigh heavier than broken hearts - Part 3

Hayden’s house lay at the other side of Great Western Road, one of the long arterial thoroughfares that spread out from the city centre like a web, bisecting the West End. As he walked, Blackford rolled over his conversation with Colin in his head, trying to fit the pieces with his own fractured memories.

It seemed like he’d made some sort of scene last night, causing Jenny to leave the party prematurely. In his drunkenness he decided to follow her, with James probably going along to make sure he was alright. Colin had asked about his eye, meaning it must have happened after he left the party. He also asked whether they’d caught up with Jenny – Blackford couldn’t be sure. He called James on his mobile, it went straight to voicemail. Something else niggled at him. He’d already told Angel the last time he saw Jen was at the party, but if he’d gone out after her this wasn’t strictly true. He checked his watch, in approximately 44 hours the Police could be asking him questions he didn’t necessarily have any answers for. Blackford pushed this thought to the back of his mind as he came up on the row of red brick Semi’s where Hayden plied his trade.

The houses were unusual for Glasgow. Most of the flats in the West End were entered through communal closes but these flats were exposed and had their own front doors. Luckily for Hayden, this didn’t seem to deter the steady stream of friends and well wishers that pitched up there on a regular basis. Perpetually paranoid, Blackford’s heart never failed to quicken when he made the last few steps up to the door. Today was no different.

He rang the bell and was buzzed in almost instantly. Closing the door gently behind him Blackford ventured into the living room of the flat, the shop floor. The sun was shining hard through a crack in the curtains, eviscerating the dust and the gloom but otherwise the room was dark. It took a few moments for Blackford’s eyes to adjust and when they did it was clear he’d walked in on something.

Hayden sat in an old grey lazy boy wearing a raggedy black dressing gown, his eyes heavy and red. The coffee table in front of him was strewn with junk Blackford recognised as the tools of a heavy night; crumpled skins, a rolled up ten pound note, cling film. Two mobile phones sat on the table side by side. Across the table Hayden’s flatmate, a steroid soaked meathead in a vest and red tracksuit bottoms called Davies sweated out the morning, while in the corner of the room a girl with dreadlocks was busy assembling what looked like an IKEA CD rack. Both Hayden and Davies were set on edge.

“What?” Davies growled.

Blackford addressed Hayden directly: “Any chance of half a G?”

“Coke?” Hayden drawled back.

Blackford nodded. Hayden looked at Davies who grudgingly disappeared into a back room, returning moments later with a small folded up square of paper in between his fingers. Blackford dug into his pocket and pulled out two tens and a five pre-folded together for convenience. Davies snatched the money from Blackford and handed him the damp wrap. Blackford stood there for a moment.

“Thanks, I don’t suppose either of you have seen Jenny today?”

They both looked up sharply. Blackford continued unsteadily:

“It’s just I heard she’d been up here a bit recently -”

Davies sprang from his seat and put his face up close to Blackford’s, as if straining against an invisible leash. Blackford half expected to come into contact with his sweaty forehead at any moment.

“Who told you that” he barked, spraying Blackford’s face with flecks of spit.

“Just someone at the park,” Blackford replied, “it doesn’t matter.”

“Who at the park?” He was closer now, a waft of body odour turned Blackford’s stomach, refreshing his hangover.

He made up a name, tried to keep his voice from wavering: “Mike.”

“Mike -” Davies started but was interrupted by one of the phones vibrating on the table.

“Saved by the bell,” he sneered, answering the phone and walking through to the back. Hayden took over:

“I think what my friend was trying to say was that no, we haven’t seen Jenny, now fuck off.”

As Blackford made to leave the doorbell rang. Hayden looked toward where his friend had exited from, then reluctantly stood up and made toward the door.

“What are you waiting for?” he gestured. The doorbell rang again

Blackford went down to tie his lace, buying some time. When Hayden went to answer Blackford saw his opportunity, snatching the remaining mobile phone from the table and stuffing it into his pocket, making sure the dreadlocked girl hadn’t seen him. He passed Hayden in the hallway, sheparding a few of the park faces through to the living room and went through the door.

Blackford stepped out into the sunshine and exhaled. The day was really heating up and he could feel his hangover oozing through his skin. It wouldn’t be long before Hayden noticed his phone was missing so he couldn’t waste any time. As he walked he scrolled through the received messages on Hayden’s phone. Most were business messages; short orders in clipped language. Nine or ten messages in however he saw it:

HI HAYD, WILL BE AN HOUR LATE, HOPE THIS ISN’T A PROBLEM. JEN X.

The message was dated yesterday evening at 7:23pm, Blackford located the sent message folder, quickly finding what he was looking for.

FINE

Blackford looked back up at the row of houses he’d just come from, then put Hayden’s phone back in his pocket and took out his own. He tried to phone James, again with no luck. Quickening his pace, Blackford crossed the river at the small fat bridge just past Kelvingrove underground station and doubled back the way he came. He was on the path that snaked along side the River Kelvin, a lush and tranquil seam in an often overbearing city. When he found a suitable place, he looked around to check no-one was watching, then left the path and climbed up a steep bank, settling into position beside a tall Silver Birch. From where he sat he had a commanding view across the river of Hayden’s front door. He was just getting used to his surroundings when Hayden’s phone screeched it had a message.

I WILL KILL YOU BLACKFORD.

Blackford switched it off and stuffed it back into his pocket