Small Talk

‘Mrs Gilruth?’

Yes?’ The woman on the doorstep smiled, suggestively.

With a swift once-over, Brian took in the glossy black hair, the crimson lips, the hourglass figure. Not that this was necessary. Brian already knew Sharon Gilruth by sight. Christ, the whole of Aberdeen knew Sharon Gilruth by sight. If she wasn’t strutting her stuff at some charity do or other, she was splashed all over the newspapers.

Sharon was a handsome woman. And sexy with it. He dragged his eyes away from her cleavage. ‘DS Burnett and DC Dunn.’ They showed their warrant cards. ‘Is your husband at home?’

‘Afraid not.’ One knee bent, one hand on the door jamb, Sharon adjusted her pose.

Bloody hell! Brian’s temperature soared. He’d never seen Sharon up close. This close. She was a hot piece of stuff, that’s for sure.

His train of thought was broken by the sound of Dunn’s voice. ‘We’re making enquiries about a serious assault that occurred last night in the Torry area of the city.’

Sharon’s come-hither look morphed into one of acute suspicion. ‘I don’t see…’

‘The victim has a connection to your husband,’ Brian supplied.

Sharon’s eyes narrowed. ‘What sort of connection?’

‘I’d rather not discuss it on the doorstep,’ he parried. ‘May we come in?’

‘This isn’t a good moment.’ Sharon took a backward step and made to shut the door.

Dunn took a step forward. ‘We won’t take up much of your time.’ He flashed a toothpaste smile. ‘Save us disturbing you again.’

Brian followed his constable down the hallway, thankful, for once, of Dunn’s forward nature. They were led into what Sharon described as ‘the lounge’, a vast space at the rear of the house decorated with enough braid and bullion fringe to stock a haberdashery store. Vast brocade sofas were heaped with plump cushions. An army of side tables twinkled with Swarovski crystal ornaments.

‘Lovely room,’ he lied, lowering himself onto one of the sofas.

‘Thank you.’ Sharon sat down opposite, crossing her legs provocatively. ‘We like it.’

‘Have you lived here long?’ Dunn asked from his perch on a delicate side chair.

‘A few years.’ She smiled.

Brian cut to the chase. ‘Does the name Brannigan mean anything to you?’

The smile turned to a frown. ‘Should it?’

Brian pressed. ‘You tell me.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Defensive voice. ‘Why?’

‘We think Mr Brannigan may be on your husband’s payroll.’

Sharon shrugged. ‘My husband has loads of employees. Hundreds, in fact. I’ve never heard him mention anyone by that name.’

‘Mrs Gilruth,’ Dunn chipped in, ‘am I right in thinking he works from home?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘But he’s not here at the minute?’ He fixed Sharon with a searching look. The Rubislaw mansion was such that Gilruth could easily be closeted out of sight.

For an instant she hesitated, then: ‘I thought you said you weren’t going to be long.’

‘We’ll just be off,’ Douglas responded smoothly, ‘once you confirm Mr Gilruth is away from his office.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘That’s what I said.’

‘When do you expect him home?’ Brian enquired.

‘Who knows?’ She shrugged. ‘He’s away on business.’

‘What did you say his business was?’ Douglas Dunn jumped in.

Sharon shot him a hard look. ‘I didn’t.’ Her expression softened a fraction. ‘James has a wide range of business interests.’

‘Would any of them be in Torry?’ Brian insinuated.

‘Definitely not,’ she snapped.

‘And you’re positive you haven’t heard the name Brannigan in connection with your husband?’

‘Yes.’ She faltered. Then: ‘No.’

‘Which is it?’ Brian insisted.

‘I’m not sure.’ She turned her head away. ‘Now you’re confusing me.’

‘Apologies for my colleague,’ Douglas said, adopting his bedside voice.

Sharon turned back. ‘That’s okay. It’s just, my husband doesn’t like me getting involved in his business affairs.’

I’ll bet! Brian had registered the way Sharon Gilruth clammed up the minute her husband’s commercial enterprises were mentioned. I bet she has dirt on him, he mused, and plenty of it. Wouldn’t like to be in his shoes if she ever takes umbrage. He suppressed a grin.

‘We quite understand,’ he said. ‘This is a routine enquiry. No need for you to get upset.’ He paused. ‘I understand you do a lot of charity work.’

‘Yes.’ Sharon brightened. ‘Not enough hours in the day.’

‘And Mr Gilruth, does he have interests outside business? Golf? Shooting? That sort of thing?’ Brian wondered if Gilruth kept guns in the house. And, if so, whether they were licensed…

‘He doesn’t have a lot of spare time but, yes, he plays the occasional round of golf.’

‘Don’t have the time myself,’ Douglas quipped. ‘Or the skill. I’d rather save my free days for a decent holiday.’ He let the notion take seed, then: ‘Do you have anything planned?’ he asked.

Sharon took the bait. ‘We’re hoping to have a week in Spain sometime soon.’ She smiled, coyly. ‘That’s if James can fit it in.’

‘Will you be meeting up with your son?’ Brian enquired, deadpan. ‘Christopher, isn’t it?’