Authors: Aline Templeton
The information Hepburn had obtained was impressive. She’d reported the general points and then gone off to cudgel her brains and record every possible scrap of overheard conversation as well as a statement about the attack.
The SOCOs had sent over all the papers found in Eleanor Margrave’s house and Fleming had sent Macdonald and Campbell to do a quick check through them, though not before commending Macdonald on his initiative.
‘I’m very grateful,’ she finished, then smiled. ‘I just hope Louise is.’
Macdonald grinned. ‘Theoretically, absolutely,’ he said.
When they had gone, Fleming turned to MacNee with a gesture of despair. ‘Oh Tam, I feel awful. I should never have suggested it! I was concerned afterwards, as you know, but I didn’t stop her. We might have been dealing with her death right now and I’d have been responsible.’
‘Every time you send an officer out of that door it’s the risk they’re
taking,’ MacNee pointed out. ‘You know that. It’s the job. It happens.’
Fleming knew that, just as she was, he was remembering the officer who had been gunned down a few years back, saving Fleming’s life.
After a moment he went on, ‘Anyway, I’m not just sure how you thought you were going to stop her. She wasn’t answering the door or the phone and I have my doubts that you could have justified forced entry. She’s come out of it with some great stuff, anyway.’
‘That’s certainly true. So – where do we go from here?’
‘We nail the bastard,’ he said fiercely. ‘And give me ten minutes with him round the back before we reach the security cameras.’
‘Ten?’ Fleming said, raising her eyebrows. ‘Slowing up in your old age? Five would have been enough, once. Seriously, though – what did you see as most significant?’
MacNee thought about it. ‘I’ll tell you the obvious line – the “bent copper” remark. That’s easy to check. There’d be gossip at the Kirkcudbright station at the time – Mike Wallace would know. I can get on to him.’
‘Good idea. And his alibi – we both reckoned he and Kendra could have agreed it, if necessary. It did strike me that according to Louise she was furious with him about Skye so it might be worth getting her on her own and finding out if she was sticking to her story. And I’d like to know where Philippa Lindsay fitted in to all that too.’
She got up. ‘I’ve got to take the morning meeting first but we can get away after that.’
‘You’re on.’ Then MacNee paused. ‘What about Skye Falconer?’
‘Certainly questions there we need to ask, but that can wait. We should get information back from the Border Agency quite soon.’
About half of Philippa Lindsay’s task force had failed to appear this morning and she was in such a sour mood, the half that had were regretting it.
‘We’re not the ones she’s needing to go on at,’ one woman muttered to another as they collected up discarded beer bottles from round the garden. ‘And you’ll notice her own son’s nowhere to be seen.’
‘The drink he had on him last night, he’ll not be much use to anyone for a good wee while yet.’
They both sniggered. Philippa, coming unexpectedly out of the house, heard them and flushed. Randall, though she had mercilessly hounded him out of bed, was indeed in no state to do anything much beyond groaning. She’d poured him a mug of coffee and told him where the Alka Seltzer was half an hour ago and she was hoping that when she went back he’d be capable of coherent speech.
There had been a lot she’d wanted to ask him the night before but by the time she got him on his own he was incoherent and weepy, oozing self-pity as he dabbed his injured lip. In disgust, she’d sent him up to bed.
She went over to have a word with the men who were taking away the barbecues.
‘Great night last night,’ one of them said cheerily, and Philippa tried not to make her agreement sound hollow. She’d no one to blame but herself; it had been all her own idea and now she had to live with the consequences.
The state her son was in was one of them. When she went back to the kitchen he was a pitiable sight: grey-faced, red-eyed and with a badly swollen lip. He was smoking, which she hated in the house, but he was at least on his feet, making himself breakfast.
Philippa looked contemptuously at the fried bread and frizzled eggs. ‘It won’t help, you know. But if you can keep it down, you’re fit to talk to me. Tell me all about your little friend.’
She sat down at the table as her son, eyeing his plate a little uncertainly, stubbed out his cigarette and took his place opposite,
saying ‘Ow, ow, ow!’ as he put the fork to his mouth.
His mother ignored him. ‘She’s a detective, is she?’
He nodded.
‘And why was she there?’
‘Good question,’ he said bitterly. ‘I met her in Paris ages ago – we were at the uni together. When I asked her if she’d like to come to the party I didn’t know her little pals were going to start giving us the third degree and after that I left half a dozen messages telling her not to come if she knew what was good for her – took her name off the list. She must have sneaked in. We should make a complaint – get her suspended …’
Philippa considered that. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘She’d claim she didn’t get the messages, and if they were at all threatening you’d probably find you were arrested instead. But it’s upset everyone – being spied on like that. Kendra was throwing an absolute fit. Oh, you screwed up, as usual.’
She stood up, then without warning suddenly banged the table and yelled, ‘Do you know how often I’ve had to say that, thanks to you? I’m sick of it – sick of you! Finish your breakfast and get out there to pick up some litter. It’s all you’re good for.’
For once, DS Macdonald didn’t mind the pile of paper waiting on their attention, though it represented hours of work. He dumped half of it on the desk next to him for DC Campbell and settled down to it.
DC Hepburn was bashing away at a terminal in the other half of the room. As he looked across, she sat back rolling her head, as if her neck were hurting.
‘All right?’ he called across and she said, ‘Yeah, fine,’ and quickly went back to her task. He suspected that wasn’t true – she was looking drained and pale – but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it just at the moment.
‘See this,’ Campbell said, pointing to his screen.
Macdonald glanced at it sideways. It was a report just in that there was no record of Skye Falconer having crossed the Channel around the time she had indicated.
Macdonald raised his eyebrows. ‘Interesting. Though to be fair, she was pretty vague about the times.’
Campbell scrolled on down. ‘Nor any time in the last six months.’
‘Really? So she’s lying – wonder where she really was? Make a note of that – we’ll have to pin her down.’
‘Checked Randall Lindsay too. Came back last week.’
‘Could have come over and gone back earlier some other way, I suppose,’ Macdonald said, ‘but at least it squares with what he said.’
He went back to sorting what was on his own desk. Most of it was the sort of stuff any householder would have: invoices, insurance policies, travel documents, even a copy of a brief will, leaving everything to a charity for rehabilitating addicts.
‘Wasn’t killed for an inheritance, anyway,’ he commented to Campbell. ‘Unless the charity’s more than usually proactive.’
Campbell grunted, but it surprised a small laugh out of Hepburn. Gratified, Macdonald went on sifting through.
‘Hey, look at this,’ he said. ‘She was a bit of an artist, seemingly.’ He held up a watercolour, a seascape. ‘That’s the view from the house, I think.’
Hepburn looked across. ‘It’s quite good, isn’t it?’
‘Lots more like that.’ Macdonald went through them, holding up the better ones. ‘That’s the lighthouse down at the Mull of Galloway – I recognise it. Wasn’t like that when I went there, though – it was blowing a gale. Oh look, this one’s a bit different. Rather sweet, really – it’s a mermaid.’
Hepburn’s ears pricked up. ‘A mermaid?’ She got up and came across to look over his shoulder.
It looked as if it might be an illustration from a children’s book, a conventional mermaid with the statutory elegantly curving tail, long flowing hair and huge sea-green eyes.
Macdonald heard Hepburn’s indrawn breath. ‘Bridget James said Eleanor described the woman who came in from the storm as a mermaid. And I saw her last night. This is Skye Falconer.’
‘Get her brought in for questioning,’ DI Fleming said tersely. ‘Right now. Ewan, make the arrangements – liaise with Inspector Wallace at Kirkcudbright. And I want fingerprints taken first thing – they’ve sent through prints from Eleanor Margrave’s house and I want to check if we have a match before I speak to her.’
DC Campbell nodded and went out. The drawing of the mermaid was on Fleming’s desk; Macdonald, Campbell and Hepburn had appeared with it, triumphant, and MacNee was on his way. Hepburn was still hollow-eyed but there was a flush of excitement in her cheeks and her eyes were bright.
‘Tell me everything you observed about Skye,’ Fleming said. ‘Conversation, interaction – anything at all.’
Hepburn thought for a moment. ‘The meeting with Will Stewart – she fixed him with these great, burning eyes and went towards him, as if she wasn’t aware of anything else. Everyone was sort of struck dumb. Kendra looked ready to kill her. Will was just staring at her.’
‘Was he surprised, pleased?’ Fleming asked.
‘Surprised – not sure. Pleased – yes, I’d say so. Kendra was holding
his arm and he certainly pushed her aside quite roughly. He hugged Skye and they were talking away together until Randall cut in – and then of course Will got into the fist fight over her. We definitely need history on the relationship.’
‘And to check out his alibi too. We thought at the time it was suspiciously pat.’
MacNee appeared, a little out of breath. His eye fell on the mermaid drawing. ‘Well, well, well,’ he said. ‘Better than a photofit, eh?’
‘And there’s no record of her crossing the Channel,’ Fleming told him. ‘She may not even have left the country at all. Go on, Louise.’
‘There’s not much more to say. She got trapped by Randall and I didn’t hear her say anything at all after that, except when he and Will squared up and she moved out of the way to talk to Jen Wilson.’
‘Jen Wilson,’ MacNee said. ‘I’d like to know where she fits in – how much she knew about where her wee pal was for the last couple of years, that kind of thing. She’s a bit of a dark horse, that one. I never like that.’
‘Rock-solid alibi,’ Macdonald said. ‘You can’t convince a class of children to say their teacher was there when she wasn’t.’
‘They don’t know where she was in the middle of the night when her friend went to visit Eleanor Margrave,’ MacNee argued. ‘I think she might have a story to tell.’
‘I think they all have a story to tell,’ Fleming said darkly, ‘and I don’t think any of them have even begun to tell it.
‘Andy, I want you and Ewan to get down there and talk to the Lindsays and the Stewarts, for a start. Turn up the heat on Kendra – if Louise is right that she was consumed with jealousy we may even find Will’s alibi isn’t quite so solid after all. Give her the charm, Andy – you’ve got form for softening up female witnesses.’
Macdonald grinned sheepishly as she went on, ‘Then see what you can get out of Will.
‘Louise, finish the reports and then I want you to go home. No—’ as Hepburn started to protest, ‘I’m not going to argue about it. You need some rest, whatever you think now. Andy will give you an update later on.’
Jen Wilson got up with a hangover that was only partly physical. She was suffering a sort of emotional nausea too after everything that had happened the night before, compounded by the dread of what might happen today. The boulder she’d imagined before was gathering pace now as it hurtled down the hill, and they were all trapped in its path.
There were games going on, games she knew nothing about, and that unsettled her too. The trouble last night hadn’t been exactly Skye’s fault; she couldn’t help it that Randall had always obsessed about her and you could hardly ask her to put up with him pawing her to keep the peace. But she’d got Kendra so jealous she could hardly contain herself; she and Logie were probably at each other’s throats today and that needn’t have happened if Skye hadn’t been so dramatic about Will.
And what about Jen herself? Skye had dumped her in it, got her involved, when Jen had tried so hard to hold herself apart. Yes, Skye was actually poison.
She could hear her moving upstairs. It was going to be difficult to keep up the social front, given the resentment she was feeling this morning. Jen made herself a mug of coffee – she couldn’t face breakfast – and went out into the little courtyard at the back.
It was another glorious morning, the sort of spell of weather you sometimes got in May, if you were lucky. There was blossom on the cherry tree in the next-door garden, the birds were singing their hearts out and there was a bullfinch on her bird table that didn’t fly away even when she came out. The beauty of it all was like a benison, a respite from the ugliness of a threatening world.
Skye appeared in the kitchen and Jen gave an unenthusiastic wave, hoping she wouldn’t come out to disturb her. Sooner or later there was going to have to be straight talking about the situation with Will, but it would be good to sit enjoying the tranquillity for just a little longer.
The doorbell rang. Once she’d have assumed it was a neighbour; now her heart gave a lurch. What now?
Skye went to answer it. Jen felt tempted to stay where she was but her peace was shattered already. She went through the kitchen to the hall.
The front door was open and there were two large policemen blocking the light. She heard one say, ‘I am detaining you under Section 14 of the Criminal Procedure Scotland Act on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything …’
Skye turned a white, frightened face to Jen as the caution was recited to her. ‘Jen, what am I going to do?’
Jen’s heart hardened. ‘You’re going to go with them, Skye,’ she said. ‘I don’t think you’ll find you have any alternative.’
Then she turned and left her and went back to the garden.
The lawn in front of Ballinbreck House had suffered from the party last night, with trampled grass and holes where the garden tents and canopies had been put up, but apart from that the place was looking pretty good and there was no one to be seen.
‘Someone must have gone round cracking the whip this morning,’ DS Macdonald said to DC Campbell. ‘They’ve done a good job clearing up.’
He went over and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a middle-aged man with a harassed expression.
‘Yes?’ he said shortly.
‘DS Macdonald and DC Campbell.’ They showed their warrant
cards. ‘We were wanting a word with Philippa or Randall Lindsay.’
A look of horror came over the man’s face. ‘Police? Oh my God, what happened last night?’
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Macdonald said soothingly. ‘Are you Mr Lindsay?’
‘Charles, yes. I don’t know where Philippa is – she was here earlier doing the slave-driving bit but now she’s disappeared. Randall said he was going to the pub.’
Macdonald was about to thank him and leave when Campbell unexpectedly said, ‘Maybe you’ll do.’
Macdonald gave him a quizzical glance even as he agreed. Campbell must have something in mind but as usual he would be relying on Macdonald’s mind-reading skills to drive the interview.
Charles Lindsay was certainly cooperative, taking them through to the kitchen and pouring them coffee. While Macdonald was still trying to work out what he should be asking, he said awkwardly, ‘Look, I don’t know what all this is about but I’ve been uneasy ever since Philippa got this notion about a Homecoming party. After all that went on in the past, I thought it was crazy to stir it up again, and now look what’s happened – that fellow Kane dead, Eleanor Margrave too – a lovely lady, Eleanor—’ He gave a shudder. ‘I’d like to think you could get to the bottom of this before some other horror happens and if there’s anything I can tell you that will help I’m only too happy to do it.’
Macdonald found his line. ‘Why did she want to do it, do you think?’
Charles hesitated, then said quietly, ‘Oh, I think I know the answer – Will Stewart. She thought I didn’t know but of course I did. It was all part of that sick little group Randall belonged to – dressing up sex and drugs as a philosophy of life. She wasn’t one of them but she hovered on the fringes – envious, I think, and
resented the fact that she was too old. Will got drugs for her—’
‘Will did? Not Connell Kane?’
‘No.’ Charles gave a wry smile. ‘She despised him – “a drug dealer and uncouth with it” was her description. Her little arrangement with Will was “just a bit of fun”, she told me when I challenged her once. And of course that led on to the sex. Our marriage – well, it hasn’t worked for years. The business is what binds us together, though the way things are at the moment I can’t see it surviving and then our marriage won’t either. There will be an up side to going bankrupt as well as a down side.’
Macdonald made a sympathetic murmur. The guy was doing his job for him; he deserved encouragement. ‘But – why the Homecoming party?’
‘Didn’t I say? I worked it out – she just wanted to get Will back again. She didn’t know where he was and she thought that the word would get to him if there was this party. I don’t know – perhaps she was fooling herself into thinking that he would be looking for a signal from her to return. Or perhaps he was, and I’m fooling myself, though I think that’s unlikely – I don’t care either way. But that’s what it was all about. Just because a middle-aged woman had a passion for an attractive younger man, two people have died.’
And nearly three, Macdonald thought. ‘Were you here yourself last night, sir?’ he asked hopefully. Charles would be a great witness.
‘No. I cleared out the day before yesterday – only got back this morning. Couldn’t take it. Did – did something happen?’
Remembering how nearly something had, Macdonald was thankful he could say no. ‘We’re just asking some routine questions. Did you know Skye Falconer?’
Charles’s face softened. ‘Little Skye? Oh yes, of course. I’ve known her since she was a child – a charmer even then. Poor Randall’s always been smitten—’ He stopped. ‘Oh God, nothing’s happened to her, has it?’
‘No, no,’ Macdonald said, adding silently, ‘not yet.’ ‘Do you know if she knew Mrs Margrave?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I shouldn’t think so. Eleanor had lived here a long time but she hasn’t been around much of late.’
‘Right. Well, I think that’s all—’ He glanced at Campbell but he had got up without showing signs of wanting to ask anything more.
Back in the car, Macdonald said, ‘As simple as that! It squares with what Louise said about their conversation – neither she nor Stewart would want the drug stuff coming out. And of course it would have been an excuse for her to meet him, which was the whole object of the exercise.
‘That was an unexpected bonus – well done! I couldn’t think to start with what you were wanting me to ask him. What made you think he’d have something useful to tell us?’
Campbell looked blank. ‘I didn’t.’
‘What do you mean? You said maybe he’d do to talk to.’
‘Hoped we’d get coffee. Not even a biscuit, though.’ Campbell’s voice was bitter.
Macdonald opened his mouth to say something, then thought the better of it and shut it again.
Kendra Stewart was checking stock behind the bar of The Albatross. Her head was aching and her eyes were still stinging from the bitter tears she’d shed the night before, once Logie had passed out in the middle of the row they’d been having after the party last night.
He’d had the nerve to behave this morning as if nothing had happened but she’d frozen him out and he’d retreated to the kitchen. Will was nowhere to be seen this morning – probably gone off with that little slut Skye.
Did their own very special relationship mean nothing to him? She’d cherished the thought of his devotion for two whole years, and
when he told her that at last he was coming home she had really believed that he was returning for her. She loved the idea of Canada – somewhere different, exciting, not this stifling little place with a husband who made her want to scream with boredom.
And last night – she’d even seen Philippa Stewart, with her hair bleached to cover up the grey and her scraggy old neck, coming on to Will, and he hadn’t repulsed her.
So if Kendra wasn’t The One, just – well, one of his women, what was she to do? What sort of future did she have with Logie who’d even been shagging Philippa too? And he’d said it in front of Jen – the humiliation was unbearable.
She sort of hated Will now – but only sort of. She knew that if he smiled into her eyes, told her that she’d got it all wrong, started making proper plans about taking her back to Canada, not finding excuses the way he had been, she’d forgive him. They’d all been drinking, after all.
The optic she was trying to fix to the new gin bottle was proving awkward and she was wrestling with it when there was a knock on the door of the pub. When she looked there were two men standing there; she’d never seen them before but she guessed at once they were police officers and went to open it with a bad grace.
‘What do you want now?’ she said.
The taller of the two went through the usual rigmarole then asked if they could ‘have a word’. For a moment she was tempted to say, ‘Yes of course. “Encyclopaedia” – will that do?’ but it was never smart to be smart with the police.
‘I suppose so, though I can’t think what I could add to the statement I gave.’ She stood aside to admit them but didn’t ask them to sit down, standing near the entrance with her arms folded forbiddingly across her chest.
‘We just wanted to ask you a little bit about last night,’ the taller,
dark one said. ‘I gather things were – er, a bit difficult. Sorry to have to take you back to it but – well, it’s the job, you know?’ He smiled at her; he wasn’t bad-looking, in fact, and he had a nice, sympathetic smile.
Kendra warmed to him. ‘It was very upsetting,’ she murmured, giving him a sideways glance from under her eyelashes.
‘Poor you,’ he said. ‘I gather there was a fist fight – what was it all about?’
At the question, it all rushed back. ‘Oh, it was over that little tramp Skye Falconer. First she came on to Will and then she was all over Randall. It was bound to cause trouble.’