Adam Gilzean enjoyed the darkness. He liked to observe without being observed.
He placed a stool beside the object which shared his secret activity and tried to decide what would interest him that night. He moved the telescope several inches to his right, sat on the stool, leaned forward and began to survey the distant, eastern suburbs of Dundee. For a few moments he browsed the diamonds of light spreading white and orange along the lower slopes of the Law. They shone in a broad line, house lights and street lights coming together to form a sparkling necklace round the bottom of the dark hill.
The unseen spectator eased the telescope minimally to either side, each movement opening up a new vista of flickering jewels. After a few moments, he raised the end of the eyepiece an inch, focusing on a panorama of house lights lower on the hill and nearer to him. He adjusted the magnification of the powerful lens again until only a few blocks of flats filled the circle of disclosure which was pressed close to his right eye. He turned the brass ring on the telescope once more so that only a single turret of apartments was in view.
Adam Gilzean knew the scene intimately. He gazed on it, becoming transfixed again by the sight of the flat where Alison Brown had perished.
Campbell McBride absorbed the same display of far-off lights as he drove closer to the home of Adam Gilzean, marvelling at the magnificent spectacle Dundee presented in the darkness. He envied the choice of house of the man he was about to visit. The further up the hill he progressed towards it, the greater his admiration became.
It was only in the dusk that he appreciated the full extent of the land- and seascape that opened up in front of the long bay window of Gilzean’s cottage. Clusters of brightness punctuated the twilight in every direction. Out over the Tay, the glow from St Andrews cast a warm halo over the far edge of the firth. He realised the man he was about to visit would be able to view the ancient town directly, with nothing coming between him and the spires of its university buildings.
The thought of the place reminded McBride that, at some time in her now-expired life, Ginny Williams had probably looked in the opposite direction over towards Dundee and its surrounding countryside. He wondered idly if she had spent much time in the city or if she had visited it at all.
If Adam Gilzean had been startled by McBride’s sudden appearance, he did not show it. He opened the door almost before the sound of the bell had faded, smiled a welcome and invited McBride inside. His politeness continued beyond the point when most other people would have blurted out a request to know why someone had come calling in mid evening unannounced. McBride reflected again that the man beckoning him towards a seat possessed the kind of composure usually found only in a priest or someone incapable of any sort of spontaneous act. He would have been a good witness in a courtroom – or a difficult one if he was on the other side.
Before McBride could explain his presence, Adam Gilzean provided an explanation of his own. ‘You caught me stargazing,’ he said, gesturing in the direction of the telescope and stool at the window. ‘It’s a fascinating pastime, Mr McBride. Have you ever done it? It transports you to another world. An hour can pass before you are aware of it.’
His visitor gave a mumbled response along the lines of, ‘A couple of times, a long time ago.’ McBride was aware that Gilzean invariably took control of conversations. He seemed to be in control of most things. Especially himself – except when he was addressing authors in bookstores.
McBride struggled to claim the initiative he thought his unheralded arrival should have given him. ‘Sorry to drop in out of the blue,’ he said, trying to sound friendly but detached. ‘It’s just that something came up that I needed to ask you about.’ McBride neglected to add that he could have telephoned except he wanted to look into Gilzean’s face when he got his answer.
‘Is there some news?’ His host had become animated.
‘No, nothing new. This is old ground.’
Gilzean said nothing but looked back at him expectantly.
‘It’s about Alison – I need to know about her boyfriends.’
McBride’s decision to be direct wrong-footed the figure seated in front of him. ‘Boyfriends?’ he replied awkwardly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that. What can you tell me about them? I gather Bryan wasn’t her only male acquaintance.’
Gilzean rose from his seat and went to the large window, pulling the curtains and killing the panorama of sparkling lights. It was as though he did not want the outside world to eavesdrop on what he was about to say. ‘I’m not sure I can help all that much, Mr McBride. I don’t know who you’ve been speaking to but, yes, I believe Alison might have had an occasional friend, male, at some time.’
‘You didn’t mention that before.’ McBride made no effort to conceal his irritation. ‘Didn’t you think it might be helpful?’ He was struggling to keep himself in check.
Gilzean looked embarrassed. ‘Perhaps I should have referred to it but there wasn’t really much to say. I didn’t know anything about him – them – or even if there was more than one,’ Gilzean said.
McBride was still irritated. ‘How did you find out about it?’
‘A few weeks after the trial, I received a phone call from a man who wouldn’t identify himself but said he was a police officer. He said he was just passing on some information to be helpful – it was more than his fellow officers were. I took it up with them but they didn’t want to know. As far as they were concerned, Bryan had done it. They saw no need to waste time on what they obviously considered a wild goose chase,’ Gilzean explained.
‘What about Bryan? Couldn’t he help?’
Gilzean did not respond immediately. He picked his words. ‘I didn’t tell him – not then or since. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t inform you. Life is hellish enough for him in there. It would be a thousand times worse if he thought the woman he loved had been unfaithful. What’s the point? It isn’t going to change anything. It would just make his existence even more intolerable.’
The thought of his son’s incarceration cast an air of dejection over Gilzean. He sat down and practically slumped in despair.
McBride furrowed his brow. ‘Have you any idea where she might have met someone else?’ he asked.
Gilzean shrugged. ‘At work? She was a nurse – Ninewells Hospital is a big place. I don’t know if you’ve seen any photographs of Alison but she was a beautiful young woman. She had eyes as black as her hair. Attracting men would not have been difficult. Maybe she met him on the internet?’
McBride interrupted. ‘Internet? Surely you checked her computer?’
Gilzean shook his head. ‘She didn’t have one – at least, not as far as we knew. She could have used one at work, I suppose, but the police apparently went through the motions of checking that out. They didn’t come up with anything.’
The conversation between the two men stuttered to a halt – Adam Gilzean being a less than enthusiastic participant. But McBride was not prepared to ease the embarrassment caused by his son’s cuckolding. ‘Didn’t it occur to you that Bryan might have known there was someone else and that he might have had more than enough of Alison’s behaviour?’ he said pointedly. ‘That would make it fairly understandable if he suddenly lost his temper and killed her.’
Gilzean did not reply.
McBride pressed on, deliberately trying to provoke the man opposite him. ‘She’d made a fool of him – maybe once too often? She got what was coming?’
Once again Adam Gilzean rose from his chair but now he stood taut and erect. His jaw tightened. A look of anger flashed over his face. ‘Yes, maybe she did. She made fools of all of us. And we’d been nothing but good to her.’ His cheeks had turned white. ‘But Bryan didn’t kill her. I’ve told you that. Nothing you’ve said changes that fact.’
This pronouncement seemed to signal an end to Gilzean’s willingness to discuss the matter any further. Calmness spread over him and once more he took command of the exchanges. ‘Perhaps I can offer you a cup of tea, Mr McBride?’ It was not so much an invitation, more a polite change of subject and indication that their meeting was coming to an end.
McBride responded appropriately. ‘That’s very kind. Thanks but no thanks. I’d best head home.’
Gilzean extended his hand, which McBride grasped. ‘Don’t give up on us, Mr McBride. Perhaps I should have been more open before but nothing has really changed.’
Two minutes later McBride was outside in the darkness, pointing his car towards the lights of Monifieth.
As his unexpected visitor drove down the hill Adam Gilzean slid the end of his telescope through a gap in the closed curtains of the sitting room. He perched on the stool on the other side of the drapes, lowered his head to the viewing end of the eyepiece and adjusted the focus until the back of McBride’s car was sharply defined. He watched the progress of the Mondeo until it finally disappeared.