‘Honestly, there’s no need. Karolina’s all ready to take care of it.’ Having hurt her mother’s feelings, Marjory wasn’t going to compound her own feelings of guilt at her misjudgement by making use of her. ‘But the minute we land at Glasgow I’ll phone you, so you can be here to see him for yourself whenever he’s back.’
She’d have to phone Tam too and tell him the good news. She’d asked him last night to cover for her, and now she could say that she’d definitely be back on Monday sometime, depending on flights. She was just zipping up her case to take it downstairs when her mobile, lying on the dressing table, rang. She picked it up, glancing at Caller ID. That was handy!
‘Tam! I was just going to phone you. Great news . . .’
Marjory told him about the report on Cammie, but though he said the right things, his response seemed muted. Sharply she said, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Sorry, boss, I hate to do this to you but I need your instructions. We’ve had another knifing – fatal, this time.’
Lack of sleep had left her a little light-headed. She sat down heavily on the end of the bed as MacNee gave her such basic details as were available so far. He finished, then said, ‘What are you wanting me to do? Phone the DCC?’
‘Hold off on that for a moment. I need to think. Call you back.’
Marjory covered her face with her hands. What was she to do? Paula Donald had no CID experience and Tam, though brilliant on the ground, had no sense of strategic planning. There was only one other Senior Investigating Officer in Galloway, and he was away on a course; she couldn’t look to the Dumfries Force for cover either. They had their own priorities, trying to pull in a violent rapist before he struck again.
Her every instinct was screaming that she must go to Cammie. He would be feeling vulnerable, suffering and scared in a strange place, still young enough to want the comfort of his mother’s presence. And she wanted to be with him too, to see her precious boy for herself; there was some part of her that wouldn’t quite believe she hadn’t lost him for ever until she could take him in her arms. But, but. . . . Cammie could be home in twenty-four hours’ time, safe in the care of his father and his sister.
She had other responsibilities. Two stabbings, a death. No one competent to set up the structure that would capitalize on the early evidence available in the golden twenty-four hours after a murder, after which your chances of success diminished rapidly.
What should she do? Damned if she went, damned if she didn’t. Guilt, guilt – the lot of the working mother.
It would have been different if Cammie had still been in danger – apart from anything else, she wouldn’t have been able to think straight. But now, she could be importantly useful here, doing her duty as a professional. If she was the boy’s father, not his mother, what would the decision be? Emotionally, this was tough; looked at rationally, there was no contest. With leaden feet, she went downstairs to find Bill.
He was beaming still. ‘Got your bag packed?’ he said, then his face changed as Marjory told him.
‘Marjory, you’re the boy’s mother! He’s had a nasty accident. He needs you.’
She bit her lip. ‘Don’t think I don’t understand how he will be feeling. But Bill, he doesn’t
need
me, he only
wants
me. You’re going out to bring him home, tomorrow, with luck, and there’s nothing I could do there that you and Cat can’t.
‘But I’m actually needed here. An attempted murder, and a successful one. We’re short-staffed as it is, and Bailey’s away. Suppose I go and he kills again?’
‘Suppose you stay, and he kills again?’ Bill said dryly.
‘At least I’d have done everything in my power to prevent it. I wouldn’t have turned my back to go to the bedside of my son who, thank God, is only suffering from a broken leg.’
‘I can’t tell you how wrong I think you are,’ Bill said grimly. ‘You’re suffering from the delusion that you’re indispensable. Supposing Cammie was still in a coma – what then?’
‘He isn’t,’ Marjory argued. ‘That’s the point. It’s hard on me too, Bill – I’m as keen to see him as you are. But this does make sense.’
‘You’ve made up your mind, and nothing I say is going to make any difference, is it? But tell me this – are you absolutely sure that your very logical decision hasn’t something to do with being reluctant to miss all the action?’
Bill turned away, leaving Marjory looking after him with a lump in her throat and a nasty, uncomfortable feeling.
‘Marjory! Rafael told me – this is such good news!’
‘It’s a huge relief, I must say. It was a terrible night, but he was amazingly bright when we spoke to him this morning.’
‘I am so glad. You would like me to go into the house today, to tidy up after you go? I have a call saying there is to be no filming.’
‘No, I don’t suppose there will be. Actually, Bill and Cat are going to have to go to France without me. A man’s body has been found in the car park of the inn at Ardhill.’
‘Oh no! What happened?’
Marjory grimaced. ‘Another stabbing, only fatal this time. We seem to have a real problem with knife crime.’
Karolina’s head began to swim. She put up her hand to it and saw Marjory looking at her anxiously.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, yes,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Do you – do you know who it is?’
Marjory hesitated. ‘We’re not really saying anything at the moment, but . . .’ Seeing Karolina’s anxious face, she went on, ‘They think he’s the foreman of a group of Polish builders.’
This time, Karolina’s knees buckled. Marjory grabbed her just in time and thrust her into the open car to sit on the driver’s seat with her head down. After a moment Karolina sat up. ‘Sorry, sorry – I’m all right. It was just the shock.’
‘I’m sorry too – that was incredibly stupid! I should have guessed you’d know him.’
‘It’s not that.’ Karolina moistened her lips. ‘I – I think I know who most likely killed him.’
Marjory stared at her. ‘What do you mean – you know?’
‘I should have told you before. Kasper Franzik is someone I knew in Poland. Well, an old boyfriend, I suppose. He is very good-looking, very – romantic, is the word, I think. But he loves money, and he got with bad people – selling drugs. He was caught and he went to prison.
‘I don’t see him after that, till he comes here. He hears somehow where we live, and thought maybe he can use us, I guess – this is what he is like.’ Her round face became very stern. ‘I told you he stayed with us – not by our choosing – because his boss is angry with him. He is very bitter – though it was he who cheated Stefan, coming to work in the film canteen instead. Then he goes back, but last night there is another row and he is thrown out with no money. He borrowed from Rafael.
‘And he has a knife, a hunting knife. I find it in his jacket, the night he stays. I want to tell you then, but Rafael says, he is another Pole, we must give him a chance.’
Marjory had listened, frowning. ‘I see. Well, we’d be checking on him anyway, so don’t feel you’ve shopped him. And young men now do carry knives, unfortunately, even if they’re not planning to use them. Remember the attack on Marcus Lindsay – your friend wouldn’t have had any reason for that.’
Karolina’s expression was tragic. ‘Oh, but he has! I see how he looks when he is told off for spilling dirty water on Mr Lindsay – he would like to kill him then, if he could.’
When they lifted the cover from the dead man’s face, Fleming recognized him. He had been working at Miramar and had turned his head to look at them briefly – and, she now remembered, he’d been involved in the fracas on the film shoot. With Karolina’s friend.
The photographs had been taken, the pathologist had completed his examination and was waiting for Fleming’s arrival.
‘Killed somewhere else, dumped here,’ he told her. ‘Time of death – hard to say, with the body being moved, but given the progress of rigor mortis I’ll stick my neck out and say before midnight, possibly even well before. Injuries – a contusion at the base of the skull there –’ he pointed, ‘then the stab wound, pretty much straight to the heart, so not much bleeding. Purposeful weapon.’ He held up the knife, encased in an evidence bag. ‘We’ll run the usual tests, of course, but I think that’s the story.’
Fleming looked down at Stefan Pavany’s face. He hadn’t known what hit him: his face showed no sign of agitation or fear. He could be mid-sixties – more, even, though the sagging of muscles in death was aging – but he’d been a good-looking man, despite stubble that looked careless rather than designer, and a bad haircut. Good-looking but severe: there were seamed lines from his nose to his down-turned mouth. A harsh man: she remembered his bullying tirade at Kasper that day. She remembered, too, MacNee’s remark about that young man – ‘Wouldn’t like to meet him up a dark close on a Saturday night.’
‘There’s just one slightly odd thing,’ the pathologist was saying. ‘No shoes.’
Fleming raised her eyebrows. ‘Curious. Still, may have fallen off in the car bringing him here. Or perhaps he was killed indoors. See you later at the autopsy.’
MacNee, who had reached the scene an hour earlier, was waiting to speak to her. ‘We’ve got two of the Polish lads at the lodgings they’ve been renting round in the back street.’
‘Which two?’
Her tone was sharp and MacNee looked surprised. ‘Jozef something and Henryk something else. The other one got thrown out last night.’
‘That’s the one I’m interested in. Kasper Franzik. He was the one in a barney with Pavany, remember?’ She told him what Karolina had said.
He pursed his lips in a silent whistle. ‘Lindsay got the death stare from him, right enough. Scary bugger, I thought.’
‘He’s done a runner, I’d guess. Karolina gave me a description – I’ll get a call put out to all cars. Talk to his mates, Tam. An incident room’s being set up in the church hall.’
‘I’ll need an interpreter. They barely speak a word of English.’ His tone suggested he took this as a personal insult.
‘There’s one in Kirkluce – does work for the courts. Get someone to fetch him. Are Andy Mac and Tansy on site?’
‘Andy was on duty – he’s organizing door-to-door. Tansy’s mobile’s off – asleep, probably, knowing her.’
‘Send someone to give her a rude awakening, then. We need all the help we can get.’
Jaki Johnston shut the lid of her case with a feeling of overwhelming relief. Oh, it was awful about the poor guy, of course, but when Tony had come in to say they were packing it in, she had flung her arms round him in joy and kissed him.
He’d turned a dark pink, then said gruffly, ‘All fun and games till we see our pay-packet,’ but she could tell he was chuffed.
Now she was going home to Mum and Dad, and she’d ring a couple of her mates and go clubbing in Glasgow tonight. She felt positively guilty at being so happy.
Jaki went downstairs to the front door. She could hear voices just outside in the street, but couldn’t make out what they were saying, and when she opened it, two young men were passing talking in a foreign language – Polish, most likely.
Her brow furrowed. That rang a bell, somewhere—
‘Jaki, love! You can’t go without saying goodbye! Isn’t this a
disaster
!’ Barrie was coming along the pavement, his plump face a mask of woe.
In a fine piece of acting, she agreed with him.
The church hall was crawling like an anthill with lines of officers bringing in tables, chairs, computers and the rest of the equipment from a van outside, stepping over the tangle of cables already littering the floor.
DS Macdonald was in the middle of it all, talking to a couple of uniforms, when he saw Big Marge arriving and went to meet her with some relief. The news about her son had gone round, and he hadn’t fancied getting a murder investigation under way without her there to direct.
‘Great to see you, boss. Is your lad OK, then?’
‘Doing fine. His father and sister are away out to hold his hand. What’s come in?’
‘Not a lot, frankly. These guys there found someone who heard a car going into the car park around two a.m. Lives next door, thought it was funny, but didn’t get up to look. And of course Ardhill’s deserted once the pub closes.’
‘The SOCOs say there are so many tyre marks that there’s small hope of useful evidence. Tam’s rounded up two builders, but there’s one missing. Can you arrange an APB for the cars? Kasper Franzik, six-two or thereabouts, dark hair, longish, and dark eyes.’
As she was speaking MacNee appeared, escorting two bewildered-looking, large young men. He commandeered a couple of chairs from a passing ant, pointed to them and said, ‘Sit!’
They obeyed like well-trained labradors and Macdonald almost expected MacNee to add, ‘Stay!’ as he turned away.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ MacNee said as he reached them.
‘Wondered what the funny noise was,’ Macdonald said, but Fleming only groaned.
‘I really hate it when you say that, Tam. What is it this time?’
‘You know we’ve to wait for the interpreter? Suppose I pop across to the Hodges’ for a wee blether meantime – they were employing him, after all, and they’ve maybe not heard.’