Authors: Aline Templeton
It certainly helped that she wasn’t stinking of smoke. ‘Have you given up, then?’ he said and saw Hepburn give him a sharp look.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You—’
She stopped, but from the look on her face he could complete the sentence ‘want to make something of it?’
She was clearly tiptoeing too. It felt unnatural but perhaps it was better for them to be biting off their words rather than each other’s heads.
To move away from the subject he said, ‘What do we need to find out about Randall? It’s probably too much to hope for that there would be someone that knew something about the drugs business, but that’s obviously where the whole thing started.’
‘I expect it is. But a) I don’t think a bank employee is going to admit to knowing anything about it, even if they do, and b) I don’t think that’s got anything to do with it except tangentially. I can’t imagine Randall going round with a cosh in his pocket. Where would he get it from? Wander into a low life pub in Glasgow and say, “Any of you dudes got a cosh you could flog me?”’
Why did she always have to be so bloody aggressive? ‘I’m not suggesting that. I just think it won’t do any harm to try to learn a bit more about him, that’s all. After all, you were attacked and he was the one making threats before you went.’
Hepburn snorted. ‘
Post hoc ergo propter hoc
.’
He knew what that meant now – she’d used it before – but he hated it when she flaunted her superior education. ‘Why can’t you just say that I’m making an assumption that because something happened after something else, it happened because of it?’ he said, then could have kicked himself because he’d left himself open to her riposte.
‘Not really snappy, though, is it? Why shouldn’t I use a nice neat phrase just because it’s in Latin? You have some sort of problem with that?’
Macdonald gritted his teeth. ‘Say whatever you like. Anyway, whether you want to be here or not we have a job to do. What do we need to ask?’
‘The sort of smoothie they’ll send along to talk to us will be programmed not to tell us anything anyway.’
He’d had enough. ‘Fine. No point in talking about it, then.’
With Ewan as his partner, he was used to silence in the car, but sometimes he’d thought lively conversation would pass the time a bit more quickly. ‘Come back, Ewan, all is forgiven,’ he thought. And they were barely twenty miles into their journey.
What struck Fleming most about Jen Wilson, now she was studying her, was that she was very controlled. Probably you had to be when you spent your life dealing with young children; the level of patience teachers had to show day in day out would have driven her screaming up the wall.
She must have been both irritated and upset about her home being searched, but despite the noise of heavy footsteps on the stairs
and people calling to each other, she showed no sign of that, sitting waiting for their questions with her hands folded in her lap.
They’d decide MacNee should start off, leaving Fleming to observe. The answers were coming readily enough: Jen had checked the date she’d been hesitant about yesterday – April 15th – and described clearly Skye Falconer’s arrival on her doorstep.
‘She was looking terrible. She had a great bruise on one side of her face, a bit grazed—’
‘Like someone had punched her, maybe?’ MacNee offered.
She considered that. ‘It could be, I suppose, or she might have fallen – she wouldn’t tell me. She’d been crying a lot; her eyes were all red and sore and she went on crying for days afterwards. She got better at controlling it, but she didn’t stop. I’d hear her in her room at night. But then something happened – I don’t know what it was, but she began to cheer up. She’d been refusing even to set foot outside but then suddenly she decided she wanted to go to the party – she wouldn’t even consider it before that.’
‘And you’ve no idea why?’ MacNee probed, but Jen only shook her head. She confirmed her previous statements when he checked, then he looked towards Fleming.
‘Thanks, that’s all very helpful,’ she said. ‘But now I’d just like to take it all back a little further. Were you very surprised when Skye turned up on your doorstep? She’d been missing for a couple of years – you must have been happy to see her.’
Jen was visibly taken aback. ‘Well …’ she floundered.
Fleming didn’t fill the silence. She watched Jen’s eyes, flickering up and down as she calculated her response.
‘Not really, to be honest. I knew Skye was all right. We were old friends – we kept in touch by email – oh, in a very casual sort of way. Like at Christmas, maybe. Nothing more. We weren’t, like, confidantes or anything.’
Why, Fleming wondered, was she so keen to emphasise that? ‘But you must have known her parents were worried about her? You didn’t tell them?’
‘Oh, I know I should have. But when I went round there they were so nasty I decided just to leave them to stew. And I never thought of telling the police – I’m sorry. I expect that was wasting police time. I hope I’m not in trouble.’
She looked at Fleming with a placatory smile.
Fleming ignored it. ‘And where was she?’
Jen opened her eyes very wide. ‘
I
don’t know. She never said.’
And that, Fleming thought, was a big, black, thumping lie. She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? And you didn’t ask?’
‘Oh, I did, once or twice. But she obviously didn’t want to tell me, so …’ She shrugged.
Trying again to underline how little she knew? She’d got her defence in place now, though, and there was little point in challenging her; shifting the ground might be more useful.
‘I want to take you further back now,’ Fleming said. ‘In fact, right back to the night Julia Margrave died.’
That shocked Jen out of her composure. ‘Oh no, please!’ she wailed. ‘It was such an awful, awful time.’
‘Yes it was. Tell me about it.’
Jen drew a deep, shuddering breath. ‘We were in the wood, looking at the stars—’
‘No, before that. Talk me through, from the start of the evening.’
‘We met in The Albatross, as usual – just the pub, not the room upstairs: that was only if we were having, well, a special evening.’ She hesitated, but when Fleming didn’t press her on that she went on. ‘We were all there. Julia and Randall and Connell had come down from Edinburgh and Will from Kirkcudbright, and of course Kendra and Logie were there – Logie was working. And Randall’s mother was
having a drink at the bar and of course she pounced on Will.’
Jen smiled. ‘It was a bit of a joke, you know. She obviously fancied him and kept trying to gatecrash the group – we all used to snigger about it, and Randall would go mental. We were talking about going out to see the stars and she was hinting about going along too until Randall turned on her. I think they’d been rowing earlier and he was in a bad mood. I really thought he was going to hit her – he’d drunk quite a lot already. So then she flounced out in a huff and we all left for the forest. And then … that was it, really. Julia was—’ Jen choked. ‘Sorry, sorry.’
‘Take your time.’
‘Yes.’ She licked dry lips. ‘She was … beyond anything. Crazy. Skye was too, well away.’
Her voice had hardened when she said her name.
‘And you?’
‘I was … Well, I’m not going to try to pretend I didn’t join in – you wouldn’t believe me if I did. I was coming down off a high and suddenly it all seemed a bit silly. I wanted to go home, and Randall had been banging on about leaving too, so we went together.’
‘And was he high too?’
‘No. Just drunk. Randall was more that way inclined. Then … we heard the scream—’ She stopped, again visibly distressed.
Fleming was unmoved. ‘We know about the rest. Tell me about the relationships.’
‘Relationships? Huh! We didn’t exactly have
relationships,
except of what you might call a very fluid sort. I reckon Will had a bit of a fling with Philippa, even though he didn’t admit to it. Connell was the only one who didn’t – it was Julia or no one.’ Suddenly she began to cry, bowed over, her hands up to her face.
Ignoring her distress, Fleming persisted. ‘And yet it was the drugs he gave her that killed her.’
Jen’s head came up sharply and just for a moment Fleming thought she had her breakthrough, but then all she said was, ‘I suppose so,’ her voice flat.
Time to shift the ground again. ‘You said you believed Connell Kane had killed himself, is that right?’
‘Yes, oh yes!’
Fleming had no doubt that she was a very calculating woman, but she hadn’t worked out that this immediate, convincing response would highlight the more equivocal nature of others she had made.
‘At least we got a truthful response to that, Ms Wilson.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Jen protested, but her face turned a dull red.
‘So you must have been very surprised when you heard what had happened to him?’
‘I was, yes. I was so “surprised” I fainted.’ Her tone was hostile.
‘Do you have any idea why he should have come back to the area? In the light of what happened to him afterwards it wasn’t a very wise decision.’
‘No, it wasn’t. Perhaps you should be asking Skye about it.’ She was on her guard now. ‘I understood she was the person being charged with his murder, not me, though it hasn’t really felt like that this morning. I’ve been suspended from school too, just for associating with her. I can promise you that I’ll do anything I can to see that she pays for what she’s done.’
Again Fleming saw the venomous look on her face and drew her own conclusions. As she and MacNee went back to the car, she said, ‘Can we assume that Connell’s faithfulness to Julia was a sore point?’
‘Oh aye,’ MacNee said. ‘So if she wouldn’t have killed him and she wants him to have justice, why is she lying about not knowing where her one-time pal spent her gap years?’
Mrs Jennifer Brunton, Head of Human Resources at Rutherford’s, wasn’t at all what DC Hepburn had expected. In her mind, anyone working in a merchant bank would be slim, sleek and sophisticated, but none of these words applied to Mrs Brunton, who was middle-aged, small and plump with curly grey hair, and her business suit though good quality – Jaeger, probably – wasn’t what anyone would describe as a fashion statement.
Her cosy appearance, Hepburn suspected, masked a tough character, though. She was certainly very direct.
‘I have two obligations to consider,’ she explained. ‘One is my duty to see to it that Rutherford’s isn’t brought into any sort of disrepute. The other is my duty as a citizen to help the police. I’m hoping that you don’t plan to put me in a position where the two would conflict. But you look like nice young people – can I hope you’re discreet as well?’ There was a smile lurking as she looked from one to the other.
Hepburn warmed to her. ‘If it’s the press you’re worried about, we won’t be telling them,’ she assured her.
Macdonald frowned her down. ‘If there is evidence that relates
to our enquiry, we couldn’t suppress it, but since what we’re talking about is very general background I can’t see that it would be an issue.’
Hepburn subsided into her chair. Of course, he was quite right. She’d done it again, just what Fleming had warned her against – acted on an emotional response. She bit her lip miserably; things hadn’t gone well today. She’d started by planning to change the relationship she had with Andy, but somehow it just hadn’t worked.
Brunton looked from one to the other with obvious amusement, but said only, ‘I’ll help as much as I can. What do you need to know?’
Macdonald said, ‘As we explained, we’re concerned with Julia Margrave and Randall Lindsay. What can you tell us about them?’
‘Oh dear me – Julia!’ Brunton shook her head. ‘So desperately, desperately sad. She was such a talented young woman, so pretty and charming – and able too, very able. But our young staff work hard and play hard, and with the sort of money we pay them – well, you know the sort of thing that can happen.’
‘Indeed.’ Macdonald moved on to ask about the drug scene.
Waste of time, Hepburn thought sulkily. What would a nice middle-aged, middle-class lady know about that?
Jennifer Brunton surprised her. She knew a great deal about it, and had Hepburn wanted to go out and score she now knew which two pubs, within a few hundred yards of this West End bank, to go to. Respect!
‘Were Julia and Randall in the drug scene together?’ Macdonald asked.
Brunton hesitated. ‘She was, primarily. I’d been worried about her for some time, though she wasn’t falling down on the job or anything. But when you’ve been in the personnel business as long as I have you get to recognise the signs – too many “colds” in the winter and “hay fever” in the summer.
‘Randall, I suspect, just went along with her. She was his mentor,
you see – got him the job, basically. I think they were friends at home.’
‘I believe he’s out of a job now,’ Macdonald said. ‘Resigned, allegedly.’
‘Really? I hadn’t heard, but of course I don’t have anything to do with staff at the Paris branch. You don’t surprise me.’
‘Because …?’
‘There were question marks over the quality of his work. Julia was his line manager and there were a couple of occasions I’m quite sure she covered up for him. But then she came to me and said there were questions he needed to answer.’
‘What sort of questions?’
For the first time, she went vague on them. ‘Oh, just general – lateness, carelessness, that sort of thing. In a way, I suppose the whole dreadful business did him a favour.’
‘Yes?’
‘I need to watch my words here.’ Brunton stopped and looked from one to the other, assessing them. Then she said, ‘Can this be off the record? I should flatly deny it if you quoted me.’
‘Unless you’re planning to tell us you’ve been breaking the law, I think we can agree to that,’ Macdonald said, smiling.
She looked shocked. ‘Oh, dear me no, Sergeant. If I’d committed a crime I would
never
be stupid enough to confess. This is merely an indiscretion.
‘The bank was very unhappy about the publicity when Julia died. They decided that the best thing to do with Randall Lindsay was to shunt him off to Paris rather than having a review of his performance first. If it had come out badly and they’d had to sack him, the press would have been on to it. That’s it, really. I think I’ve told you all I know.’
Hepburn cleared her throat. ‘Just one thing. You talked about Randall Lindsay’s carelessness. Did that by any chance extend to
carelessness about assigning funds to the appropriate accounts?’
Jennifer Brunton gave her a long look. Then she said, ‘You might very well think so. I couldn’t possibly comment.’
‘Heading back now, are we?’ MacNee said provocatively as they drove away. ‘You said you just wanted to check on operations at the house and speak to Jen Wilson.’
‘I know I did. But—’ Then she caught sight of MacNee’s expression and laughed. ‘Yeah, OK, I know I told the lads to follow up on the Cyrenaics but when I’m here anyway …’
MacNee settled back contentedly into his seat. ‘Fine. Just watch when you take their nice juicy bone away from them that you don’t lose half your fingers.’
‘I don’t suppose they’ll be pleased. I’d have been looking forward to getting right in on the action too, when I was a DC. But I don’t care – I’m just going to pull rank. Anyway, if there’s anything to dig out, we’re more likely to get to it than they are.
‘I’ve got my eye on Will Stewart first. I may get a call that I can’t ignore from headquarters at any time, so let’s go straight to that.’
There was a familiar car in the car park and when they went in they found that two of the DCs were there before them. Fortunately they had started by interviewing Kendra Stewart, and Fleming, drawing them aside, offered them a sop in the form of going on to interview her husband as well.
MacNee saw the disappointment on their faces when she said, ‘I’ll speak to Will Stewart myself,’ but they knew better than to say anything other than, ‘Yes, boss.’ He’d like to be a fly on the wall when they were back in the car afterwards, though.
They hadn’t got anything more out of Kendra, they reported. MacNee glanced at her: she was sitting at the other end of the bar now, ‘
nursing her wrath to keep it warm
,’ like Tam o’ Shanter’s wife.
You wouldn’t want to be that one’s husband: the poor man must be pecked half to death, from the looks of her. He recognised the type – all smiles till something didn’t suit her.
When he went across to speak to her she gave him the sort of look that could curdle milk.
‘Could we maybe see Mr Will Stewart upstairs in the restaurant if he’s in?’ he said and she shrugged her shoulders.
‘If you like.’
‘Could you tell him, maybe?’
Kendra gave a put-upon sigh and got up as MacNee went back to Fleming.
‘I was just wanting you to see this,’ he said, leading the way upstairs. ‘Tells you all you need to know about that lot.’
He enjoyed the expression of amazement on Fleming’s face as she took in the velvet drapes, the glittering mirrors and the prints of insectivorous plants on the purple-black walls.
‘I don’t think my mother would like me being in a place like this,’ she said primly, making MacNee laugh. ‘You get hardened to all kinds of depravity in our line of work but – I don’t know, there just seems to be something particularly sick about this.’
‘It stinks,’ MacNee said bluntly. ‘All the fancy stuff is to show it’s a joke for them, all clever and sophisticated, not like it is for the pathetic losers out there in the gutter. Joke was on them in the end, though.’
‘They’re not the first people to discover that the hard way.’
They heard footsteps on the stairs and Will Stewart appeared. The man who had been so easy, so relaxed and friendly, had changed markedly; his body language as he came in, shoulders braced and chin stuck out, was hostile.
‘Do we really have to go all through this over again? It’s verging on harassment – my sister-in-law is getting quite upset by it.’
Fleming brushed his objection aside. ‘I hardly need to explain to you the demands of a murder investigation. I want to you to focus on relationships this time.’
She got him on the raw. ‘
Relationships?
What relationships?’
‘Oh, yours, Will. They seem to have been – how can I put this? Complex.’
She was, MacNee noticed with interest, going straight for the jugular. She only did that when she reckoned someone was seriously rattled already. He hadn’t picked up on that himself – he’d have served up a few easy balls first – but her antennae were better than his and studying the man now he could see that he looked strained and tired.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ There were ornate chairs, purple velvet with gold frames, placed round the tables and he flung himself into one; it rocked under the impact. ‘Let’s just get this over with, if prurience floats your boat. What do you want to know?’
Fleming pulled out another chair to sit next him and moved it rather too close; MacNee did the same on the other side, so that Stewart couldn’t put distance between them.
‘I’d much rather not go into the sordid details,’ she said, ‘but you’ve made that inevitable. Start with your sister-in-law – a bit incestuous, wouldn’t you say?’
Stewart choked. ‘I do not have an inappropriate relationship with Kendra.’
‘Really?’ Fleming’s raised eyebrows conveyed flat disbelief. ‘I have reason to believe that’s untrue.’
Stewart had begun shifting in his seat. ‘I don’t see how you can have,’ he said weakly.
‘Oh I do, believe me. She was possessive at first, then jealous as a cat on Saturday night, I was told.’
Throwing in Hepburn’s observations at the party so early in the interview was unexpected and MacNee looked at her sharply, then
at Will. It took him a moment to register the hand grenade rolling towards his feet.
‘How did you—’ he began, then it hit him. ‘Oh, your rotten little spy. Of course.’
Fleming raised her brows. ‘I’m surprised you would describe an undercover officer as that, but yes. We’ve had a rigorous debriefing since the party.’
Top marks for that, MacNee thought; Louise will be safer if it gets about that she doesn’t have any information she hasn’t shared.
Will’s eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t say that Kendra wasn’t jealous. That’s her problem. It’s not mine.’
‘It suggests you may have given her cause.’
He opened his mouth to speak but Fleming didn’t give him the chance to argue. ‘Let’s move on to Skye Falconer.’
MacNee saw Stewart’s hands, resting on the arms of the chair, tighten their grip. ‘I had a relationship with her, yes. As far as I know there’s no law against sex between consenting adults even if it’s with someone who’s been fitted up for a murder rap.’
‘Are you accusing us of corruption now?’ Fleming’s voice was icy cold.
He put his hands to his head. ‘No, no, of course not. But you can’t think she could have done that! Look at her, for God’s sake – it’s bloody well obvious! She’s a gentle creature – wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a man like Connell – and no doubt you’re planning to add in Eleanor Margrave. You’ll never make it stick. It’s – it’s crazy!’
‘So how do you suggest her fingerprints got into Connell Kane’s car?’
He sprang up and walked away from them, obviously unaware that the mirrors gave them a clear view of his face, twisted into a mask of agony. After a moment he turned, the expression gone.
‘I can only think she had one of the “relationships” with him that you’re so keen on.’
‘And with you as well?’
Relentless, she was, MacNee thought admiringly. Stewart was starting to sweat.
‘Yes. Like I said, we’re casual that way.’
‘Her greeting of you was far from casual, I understand.’
Stewart gave a short laugh. ‘Skye – well, she likes a bit of theatre. Doesn’t mean much.’
‘Let’s move on to Philippa Lindsay, then, shall we?’
He didn’t say anything but his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down nervously.
‘What were you two talking about?’
‘Oh – just chat, you know.’
‘What does “chat” mean?’
‘If you want me to spell it out, it means that she fancies me and I don’t fancy her. Mostly I was trying to brush her off without being rude.’
That squared pretty much with what Hepburn had said. Fleming left it at that and moved on.
‘Randall Lindsay – did Skye have one of her “relationships” with him too? Where did he fit into all this?’
Stewart stared at her, then turned his head away. The silence this time went on for an uncomfortable length of time; he was still standing and in the mirror they could both see that something had struck him forcibly. When he turned back to face them, it was to change tack.
‘Look, let’s put this on a better footing. I was one of you lot and of course I know what you’re doing – you’re trying to confuse me, break me down for some sort of confession.
‘You can weave all sorts of fancy theories around a crime. And
yes, I have a problem with women. I’m not by nature faithful but Kendra and Philippa both feel they’ve got “rights”. I don’t suppose I’m blameless. But when it comes right down to it, you’d have to prove that I had opportunity and I didn’t. I arrived from Canada after Connell died – I can show you the ticket stub, if you haven’t checked already—’
‘Oh, we checked,’ Fleming said.
‘Good. That’s clear, then. And I was here at The Albatross all the afternoon when Eleanor Margrave died. Oh, I know,’ as MacNee opened his mouth to speak, ‘Kendra was playing games with the alibi. Yes, there were long spells when we didn’t see each other, and she’s jealous, like you said, and feeling spiteful, but I was here all right. That’s it. OK?’
‘Not quite. Where was Skye during the two years when she was away?’
Stewart had been standing, his hands spread wide in an open gesture, urging his case. Now he sagged like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his shoulders slumping. ‘I don’t know. But I can tell you you’ve got the wrong person.’