The Tangling of the Web (23 page)

‘Next year I’m getting married and I’m so afraid that when I have children that I won’t love them … or not love them enough. So I asked my grandmother to tell me all she knew about my mother. You see, she always told me that my mother couldn’t come to America because there were important things that kept her here. It was also my grandmother who suggested I come here and try and make some sense of why my mother rejected me.’

A wail escaped from Josie. ‘No. No. I didn’t reject you. I wanted you to have some sort of life. I didn’t want you labelled …
bastard.
Do you know how difficult it was for me to walk away?’

‘No. But you did,’ was Angela’s caustic reply.

‘Look. I’ve said my piece,’ Sally interjected. ‘Let’s not say nothing can be salvaged. Give it time. For a start, I have a lot on my plate right now plus I don’t want my doting public to see my face while it looks like I lost a prize fight.’ Sally glanced up at the clock before continuing. ‘So that means in two hours’ time the Four Marys will require to be opened up by you, Josie. So get yourself freshened up and get down there. Now to you, Angela, I don’t carry passengers; therefore, you can make yourself useful by working with your mother tonight.’ Angela visibly squirmed. ‘But, okay, at bedtime you can sleep at my house. Tomorrow, well … like the Forth Rail Bridge … it will take time, a long time, to build a secure structure.’ To herself, Sally added,
And perhaps like the Tay Rail Bridge, no matter how hard you try you won’t be able to stop yourselves from toppling into the water.

Luke had just taken up the back shift duty of the Shore beat when John Thomson, who had just gone off duty, stuck his head back through the police box door. ‘Nearly forgot the lad you befriended …’

‘Now which one would that be?’ queried Luke, who gave succour to so many that he couldn’t keep track of them all.

‘The lad you nicknamed Irish.’

‘Oh, him. But he’s at sea just now,’ Luke, who already knew there were problems with Irish, lied.

‘Was, and when he got back hadn’t his bride made a mug of him again. According to the barmaid in the Ship Inn, he went berserk and threatened to kill her. Now both of them are missing and we’ve to keep an eye out for them. Or, if you’ve got any sense, run the other way if you see them coming.’

‘Bye,’ was all Luke replied, hoping that he would find Irish before it was too late.

‘But here, before I go, my dad is still desperate to have a talk to you about your mother – wants to put some things right about her. Honestly, he just goes on and on about it. You do know he’s got the old folks’ trouble – dementia?’

Luke nodded.

John continued, ‘Cannae remember what he had for breakfast, but he’s spot on about things in the past. When would you be free?’

The last thing Luke wished for was to get involved in any more past family matters, especially as, in his opinion, they should now be forgotten. And as to his mother … It was true he had adored her and could never see any wrong in her, but having been told by Sally about what she, his lovely mother, had done with Josie’s letters and then her reiterating the birching of Peter, he was starting to have doubts. But here was John’s father Jock Thomson wanting to tell him tales about his mother. Was it possible that old Jock would be able to tell him stories that would restore his faith in his beloved mum? Thinking that was a possibility, he replied, ‘Sure. I’ll be weekend off next week so how about I meet him in the Four Marys on the Saturday afternoon?’

‘That’s just great, Luke. And get your sisters to come along too. I think what he has to say about your mother they all should hear.’

Five minutes later, Luke was still reading the big summation book when he was summoned to the door. ‘Not something else you forgot to tell me, John?’ he joked when he opened the door to find his colleague standing there.

‘Oh my God, Luke, I’ve just noticed a body floating in the water, and as you are a better swimmer than I am I thought …’

‘Look, John, is the body screaming to be saved?’

‘No. I think it is beyond saving.’

‘Then there would be no point to me jumping in. Let’s get a boat and fish it out.’

One of the things that Leith dockers were good at was leaving their posts to attend to emergencies. Sometimes the predicament was as simple as a case of twelve-year-old malt whisky on its way to Venezuela finding itself lost and in need of some benefactors to rescue it and keep it in Scotland. Today the cry had gone up that there was a body in the water.

Immediately eight stout souls were coming to the rescue. Firstly they launched the small rowing craft and two mates set sail in her whilst the other six shouted instructions from the pier.

By the time John and Luke arrived to join in the recovery of the body, it had been hauled on board.

‘Man or woman?’ Luke, who was praying that it would not be Irish, shouted down to the men in the boat.

‘Woman,’ replied the oarsman. ‘And I think she must have been pushed in.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Just that her eyes are bulging and her scarf looks as if it’s so tightly tied around her neck that it’s choked her.’ The man hesitated. He was enjoying his moment of fame. ‘Soooo,’ he half sang as he goaded Luke and John, ‘I’m not a flat foot, but I’ll bet my week’s wages that she couldn’t have jumped in.’

John turned to Luke and under his breath he observed, ‘All we bloody need right now is Sherlock Holmes down there.’

‘I’m just so glad it’s not Irish that I don’t care who solves her demise.’

Luke and John were now helping to drag the body up from the water. ‘I think you might care, Luke. Can’t be certain, but is she not Irish’s wife?’

Half an hour later, two duty detectives attached to ‘D’ Division arrived. ‘Any ideas on what happened here?’ the younger of the two enquired of Luke.

The older man drew his assistant aside. ‘Look, son, we are the detectives. We work out what has happened and we do not, and never will, ask uniform to make a guess. Uniform are in uniform because they do not think. They have a manual and they do everything by the book.’

‘Funny, John,’ Luke began, ‘I was just about to say to the rookie that he shouldn’t pay too much attention to his buddy, because it’s the like of him that keeps the dichotomy between the uniform and plain clothes going. But do you think they would know how to spell “dichotomy”, never mind understand it.’

John, laughing uproariously, went out of his way to stamp his feet before saying, ‘You’re right, Luke, so I’m going off duty now, and you would be best to go back to the box and read the book and see if it says anything in there about how to deal with unfeeling, ill-mannered, incompetent bastards.’

Luke nodded, and the two detectives were left to deal with the suspicious death of Marie without the help of uniform.

Going to look at the house in Seaview Terrace was a welcome distraction from family problems for Sally.

For one thing, it was a beautiful night and the sunset lit up the blue sea in hues of red, orange and yellow. She was completely enchanted, and the thought of owning a house where she could look out on such splendour any time she felt like it filled her with anticipation.

She was just about to climb the five steps up to the front door when it was opened by a middle-aged woman.

‘Are you the friend of the lady who called here this morning?’

‘Could be,’ was Sally’s chirpy reply.

Sally was expecting to be invited into the house, but the woman just stood on the doorstep. ‘Would you look at that view? On a night like this you can accept that the Spanish sailors sailing up the Forth called this place Portobello. Means “beautiful port”, Portobello does.’

Sally nodded. ‘And it certainly is. But I have limited time to spare, so could you allow me to view the house?’

‘But of course,’ responded the woman, opening up the door further. ‘But you know I reside in Dakota now, and I didn’t know how much I’d missed this view until I came back last month.’

Sally had to admit that Ginny had been right when she had said don’t look at all the things that need attention – look at the potential. That was fine for Ginny, who was wealthy and could afford to pour limitless amounts of money into upgrading a building. Sally admitted to herself that she wasn’t poor, but she just couldn’t see how she could afford to take this house on right now. In addition to getting Helen and Bobby through college there was the mortgage on Gladstone Place, and there was also a financial problem that Josie wanted to speak to her about.

Much to the chagrin of the woman who was selling the house, Sally decided to leave without being very enthusiastic about the property. ‘You wish to come back?’ the woman asked.

‘No … well … not really. It could be made into a beautiful house, but I just don’t have the time or resources to spend on it just now.’

‘I am willing to negotiate.’

Sally thought,
I bet you are. Even although the view from the front of the house over to Fife is spellbinding, you still can’t wait to get back to Black Hills.

Luke was halfway through his shift when he was passing the Carriers Rest pub. He happened to look in and there as bold as brass was Irish, downing a pint of Guinness.

Going over to Irish, he tapped him on the shoulder. ‘What’s the game?’ Luke asked.

‘Just having a farewell pint, is there a law against that?’

‘No. But what about your Marie?’

‘Finished with her and Leith, just like you said I should. Going back to dear old Donegal, I am. But here, pal of mine, how about having a drink with me?’

Luke took Irish by the arm, pulled him away from the bar and pushed him down on a chair at a table. ‘What did you do that for?’ Irish slurred as he began to get up and make his way back to the bar.

‘Sit,’ Luke hissed. ‘Now you’re in big trouble. Marie has just been fished out of the estuary.’

‘Did she jump in?’

‘No, she didn’t. And since you’ve been telling the entire world and his brother that you were going to do her in, you are a suspect.’

‘No. No. I’d never have done her any real harm.’ He now began to cry profusely and thump the table. ‘I loved her. I married her, but when I discovered she was being run by Stan Roper I knew she was lost … to … me.’

‘Stan Roper?’ Luke exclaimed. ‘But he’s a right villain. Has his finger in anything that’s illegal. He even runs half a dozen pros that are right hard-cases – including, might I add, the boss woman, big Jessie Scott.’

Irish, still trying to pull himself together, just nodded. ‘Jessie was livid when Stan took on Marie on better terms than she has. I think,’ he sniffed, ‘she saw Marie as a threat.’

Luke visibly relaxed. Maybe he had been too quick to come to the conclusion that Irish had done for Marie. He liked Irish, and okay they had done away with hanging, but Irish was an inoffensive, gullible sort of guy, so how would he have survived in prison? Because Luke liked him he wanted to help him, but he was also a police officer and he must do what was right. ‘Look, Irish,’ he said, taking out his handkerchief and using it to wipe Irish’s face and nose, ‘the detectives who’re investigating your wife, Marie’s, death will be needing to take a statement from you. So how about I take you along to the station now and you can give it and then get on with your life – preferably away from my patch.’

Irish nodded. ‘Mind you, I’ll never love anyone the way I loved … Oh Luke, I was crazy about her. She was … so lovely. Used to call me her sweet Irish potato … Is that right, she’d been pushed into the water like a bag of rubbish?’ Irish’s sobs were now uncontrollable.

Luke nodded. Mopping Irish’s face again, he then pulled him up on his feet. ‘Now come on, pal, the station is only five minutes away.’

Sally had never thought of herself as an artist. However, when she got back from viewing the house in Joppa she had got out her box of Max Factor make-up and started work on her face. When she had finished the touch-up job, she had to admit that unless you looked at her face in full daylight you wouldn’t know she had been attacked. She shivered when she thought of the assault. Who had done it? After listening to Angela’s tale of her birth and desertion, she could understand why the lassie was so angry and why she would wish to lash out. However, Angela admitted flinging the beer over her but vehemently denied being responsible for the damage to her face.

Having decided that she was presentable enough to go into her bars, she decided that she would do a check on them both. Firstly she would call in on the Royal Stuart and see Nancy, who would no doubt have a few words of wisdom for her, then she would go by taxi to the Four Marys. She shuddered again when she thought of having to sit down with Josie and discuss what financial mess she had got herself into in Menorca.

The taxi she had summoned was chugging on the street when she opened the door, and she was just about to jump in when a voice called, ‘Sally, Sally.’ Turning, Sally was dismayed to see Maggie running towards her.

‘I’m sorry, I’m just on my way to check the bars. Is there something you want?’ Sally said in a voice as cold as ice.

Turning to face the women, the driver pointedly said, ‘Look, Mrs Stuart, I know you have a contract with me but I do have to pick up other customers so can you get a move on?’

Tutting, Sally replied, ‘I’m being as quick as I can. But I have to deal with this lady first.’

‘Eh, eh,’ stuttered Maggie. ‘I don’t mean to keep you back. Maybe it would be best if I came back another time.’

The last thing Sally wished was for Maggie to come back later.
Better,
she thought,
to get whatever she wants to say over and done with.
‘No, just jump in beside me, Maggie. After all, I’m going to the Royal Stuart and that’s just a stone’s throw from where your house is. Right, Tom, let’s get going.

‘Well, Maggie, you have my undivided attention, so what’s your problem?’

‘As you can see,’ Maggie began falteringly, ‘I’ve been discharged.’

Sally nodded.

‘Said they thought I was no longer a danger.’

That right?
was Sally’s silent response to herself.
Well, maybe not to yourself, but what about the rest of us?