Phosphate Rocks Chapter 19: Tiramisu

John is not easy to find. 

His address turns out to be the top floor flat of a granite-grey block of flats overlooking the slate-grey Water of Leith. With a bell that doesn’t work. 

The detective inspector stands at the main door of the tenement, gazes up at the high windows and sighs, wishing she had sent a constable instead. She pumps the brass bell pull for flat 3/5 until the pads of her fingers stick to the icy metal. No answer. She inserts her left pinkie in the T-shaped keyhole of the main door to spring the latch. Ouch! As the door clicks open, a sharp burr catches her finger. She wipes away a tiny bead of blood and pops the finger into her mouth, tasting metal and salt as she pushes the heavy door open. The stone stairs are lit by a skylight high above. Each step has a dip in the middle, worn by years of footfall. 

Rose grasps the wooden bannister and climbs slowly, pausing after each flight of stairs until she reaches the fifth floor where John’s name is engraved on a steel plaque next to a modern buzzer. She presses the button. Hears it ring. No answer. She balls her hand into a fist and raps on the door. 

From the floor below, a chain rattles and a door creaks open. A wavering voice calls up. 

‘Youse looking for big Jonno?’  

‘Aye.’ 

‘No in trouble again, is he?’ 

A white-haired old biddy, food stains splattering the front of her coat, peers through the chain-width gap between door and frame. The stench of mould grows more intense as the policewoman descends the stairs. 

‘Now, why would John be in trouble?’ Rose asks, always alert, always suspicious. This is a potential murder inquiry after all. 

The old wifey sniffs. ‘A good lad, is Jonno.’ 

‘Then he won’t mind talking to us.’ 

‘Whit fer?’ The old woman shivers and pulls her outer coat closer. It is one of many, she is layered against the cold.  

‘Canna say.’ The policewoman shakes her head and squares her shoulders. ‘Where is John?’ 

‘Canna say.’ The old woman closes the door.