Chapter 20

There was no one around. Drumbreck had suddenly become a ghost town, with houses blank-faced and empty-looking and hardly a car in sight. There had been several occasions, on the last stretch where the road was single-track, when Marjory Fleming had had to duck into a passing place as cars drove out, often in convoy: Dad in front in the BMW or Mercedes, Mum and the kids behind in the Chelsea tractor. When she reached the Yacht Club and got out, blinking in the bright spring sunshine, there were just two or three cars she didn’t recognize as police vehicles, and out in the bay she could only see a couple of sails. There wasn’t even any sign of a Press presence.

    She went into the deserted Yacht Club, past the bar with its shutter down and on to the area which had been converted into an incident room, with three tables surrounded by screens for interviews and one with a couple of phones. The Force Civilian Assistant who was manning them was filing her nails and DC Wilson was sitting on the edge of one of the tables, swinging his legs and eating a sandwich as he talked to a bored-looking PC.

    ‘Was it something you said?’ Fleming asked, and Wilson grinned.

    ‘Either that or a problem with personal freshness that no one’s liked to tell me about, boss. It’s been like this all morning. The exodus started about ten. Tam came in half an hour ago and said he’d walked right round the bay, ready to knock on doors, but he’d only found a couple of families still there, and they were packing up.’

    ‘Any joy from them?’

    Wilson shook his head. ‘According to Tam, you’d think they’d agreed what to say. Totally shocked, terrible thing for his wife and child, but of course they’d barely known the man himself and hadn’t set eyes on him for days. They were only leaving early to have the weekend to get the kids ready for school on Monday.’

    ‘He’s probably right. A chat over drinkies the night before about the party line, shouldn’t wonder. Where’s Tam now?’

    ‘Across at the Murdochs’ house with the team going through his effects.’

    ‘Right.’ Fleming surveyed the empty room. ‘I have to admit, it’s disappointing – I’d been naive enough to think that all these public-spirited people would have been queuing up to pass on any information they thought would help.’

    Wilson snorted. ‘Public-spirited, until the polis start asking awkward questions about them and their little chums, and then they scarper faster than a kid on a stolen moped.’

    ‘So nothing useful come in here at all?’

    ‘There’s a couple of our lads in the marina office, looking through the books and papers,’ the PC offered, and Wilson added, ‘The staff were here earlier, but there was nothing doing at the marina and the sailing lessons had been cancelled, so after we’d taken their statements they shut up shop and went home. There was to have been a kids’ disco this evening but that’s been called off, and there was no other trade so the barman’s given up and left as well.’

    ‘Had they anything to say?’

    Wilson pulled a face. ‘Bit vague. The instructor girl – fit wench, Murdoch obviously knew how to pick them! She said she’d spoken to him round five when she finished a class. He was outside the boat shed holding some tackle but she didn’t know what he was doing with it – taking it to a boat, probably – and she didn’t think she’d seen him after that, but couldn’t be sure. The barman thought he might have seen him in here around eight, but couldn’t swear it wasn’t the day before. The guy who’s the other instructor and the one who works on the boats saw him around in the afternoon but couldn’t recall when.’

    ‘And no one noticed a boat coming in at the end there, any time after seven?’

    ‘You wouldn’t see it, unless you had a reason to go past the boat shed and round the corner to those end pontoons. The staff said it’s always pretty quiet between six and eight – kids back home for their tea and adults changing for the evening. Maybe someone might have noticed something as they passed if they were coming in from sailing after seven, but all the owners who don’t live nearby have gone back to Glasgow or other points north, so we’ll have to track them down if we want to find out.

    ‘We did try to get a list of yachties they’d seen around that afternoon, but that wasn’t realistic – just too many comings and goings.’

    Fleming was, as she had said, disappointed. She’d expected to have a problem with too much information, not too little, and she sighed. ‘So – not much point in this set-up, then, is there? I’d better arrange for it to be taken out again. I’m going across to the Murdochs’ to talk to her and I can find out when they think they’ll be finished there – and the lads in the office as well. Mmm.’ She looked round, contemplating the hole this would have made in the budget, and noticed Wilson’s sandwich. ‘Where did you get that?’ she demanded. ‘I could do with a bite of lunch.’

    ‘They delivered a box – there.’

    He indicated, and Fleming was sorting through what was on offer when Tam MacNee appeared.

    ‘Saw your car, boss, so I thought I’d check in before I went back to HQ. Not much doing here. The McConnells have gone – at least, when I went round he had left and she was packing up the 464 by herself and swearing.’

    Fleming had found a ham sandwich. ‘Any luck with Mrs Aitcheson?’

    ‘Closer than a clam.’ MacNee joined her to investigate the box, coming up triumphantly with a bag of salt and vinegar crisps. Between crunches he told her that he suspected the cleaner had been given her orders by Lafferty. ‘When I said I was going to speak to her, Gina got a bit antsy, but he wasn’t fashed about it. Anyway, Euphie, as her friends don’t call her, would only say she’d nothing to add to what she’d said in court and implied that the lovely Gina was pure as the driven snow and anything else I’d heard was just lies. If you ask me, she’ll give Brian laldie for what he said to me when she gets home.’

    ‘And what about the Laffertys themselves?’

    MacNee frowned. ‘Hard to get a handle on that. Stated they were together all evening, and I was inclined to believe them – as we said before, Lafferty wouldn’t necessarily need to soil his hands. But he was prepared for every question I asked him. I wouldn’t gasp and fall over backwards if you told me he’d plenty practice talking to the polis.

    ‘He admitted Murdoch was owing him money. He’d borrowed from the firm to buy the sheepdog at a daft price – £5000, would you credit it? And here’s me with a couple of dogs at home I’d pay you to take away. But I believed Lafferty when he said the cash wasn’t an issue. Maybe the principle might be, but there seem to be a lot of folks round here who think £5000’s small change.’

    ‘All right for some,’ Wilson said with some bitterness. ‘If they’d like to give it to me instead, I could buy a boat and be down here every weekend. And still have change to get the wife a new handbag.’

    MacNee had finished his crisps and was tipping the packet up to get the last of the crumbs when the phone rang. They all jumped; the FCA, who had rapidly stopped her manicure when the DI arrived, answered it and scribbled down a message, which she handed to Fleming.

    She read it. ‘That’s interesting. There’s a licensee in Whauphill – you know, around six or seven miles on the road to Port William – and he says he had Davina with a man in his pub last week. Saw her photo on the telly and recognized her.’

    ‘Right.’ MacNee was quick off the mark. ‘I’ll cover it.’

    ‘Toss you,’ Wilson offered. ‘I’m fed up, sitting here.’

    ‘No, no, laddie,’ MacNee said. ‘Too much excitement’s bad for the young. I’m sure there’s a report you could be writing. Or maybe you could borrow a nail file.’

    Fleming stepped in. ‘Will, you take it. Tam, you can come with me to talk to Mrs Murdoch. How’s the team getting on at the house?’

    ‘Hadn’t found anything significant when I left, but they’re still going through the personal things. Macdonald was hoping to get permission to check out the computer later – he understands these things. I don’t think he reckons they’ll be long.

    ‘He said the daughter’s been to and fro all morning, away out calling for the dog, then coming back in tears. You’ll be telling her it’s safe, will you?’

    ‘Just check that one out for me, if you would,’ Fleming said to the FCA. ‘DC Kerr or DC Kingsley – doesn’t matter which. Ask if they can confirm that Findlay Stevenson had Moss.’

    Wilson was putting on the denim jacket that had been draped over the back of a chair, ready to leave.

    ‘Have you Davina’s photo?’ Fleming asked. ‘Just to make sure the man has it right.’

    ‘There’s one here,’ the PC said. ‘There’s one of Murdoch too – do you want that as well?’

    Wilson shrugged, but took it anyway, and left with the air of a man anxious to escape before something happens to stop him.

    ‘Ma’am,’ the FCA said, ‘DC Kerr says Stevenson has admitted stealing the dog and he’s been arrested and charged. And she asked me to say, “What do you reckon to Susie?” and that DC Kingsley’s following it up.’

    ‘Susie?’ Fleming said blankly. ‘What does she mean?’

    ‘That was all she said.’

    ‘You’d better call her back,’ MacNee advised. Then he said, ‘Hang about. I see what she’s getting at.’

    ‘Oh—’ She looked aghast. ‘Surely not!’

    ‘You can’t get involved, whatever. Leave it to Jon – he’ll do what’s needed. You’re going to see Mrs Murdoch, remember.’

    ‘Yes, of course,’ Fleming said mechanically, but her mind was neither on the interview ahead nor on the likelihood of Susie Stevenson’s guilt. She could only dread the domestic reaction to the sort of interrogations that lay ahead.

 

‘Mrs Murdoch, first of all, may I say that we’re very sorry for your loss. We’ll do our utmost to bring the killer to justice as soon as possible.’

    Jenna Murdoch nodded, but did not speak. They had tracked her down to the new flat after Fleming had checked with Macdonald for progress – none so far. Jenna had been painting; it seemed a curious thing to do at a time like this, but people had different ideas about what constituted therapy. She had led them down an uncarpeted flight of stairs into a shabby sitting-room with an unlived-in feel.

    ‘Can I take you through the events of the past few days?’ Fleming went on. ‘I do appreciate this may be distressing for you, but—’

    ‘No, carry on. You have a job to do.’ She seemed quite composed.

    ‘You last saw your husband when?’

    ‘After breakfast he left the house. He didn’t come home for lunch and then he phoned to say he wouldn’t be in for supper either.’

    ‘Did you notice what sort of mood he was in?’

    ‘He’d been in a bad mood for the last bit – the trouble with the dog, perhaps, I don’t know. But he wasn’t so bad the last day or two, and that morning over breakfast he was almost cheerful. It wasn’t like him, actually.’

    ‘Why did you think that was?’ MacNee asked.

    ‘I didn’t think about it really. Probably if I had I’d have assumed he’d a new girlfriend.’ She looked at them challengingly as she said this, but MacNee didn’t follow it up.

    ‘Could it have been because of some money he told Ronnie Lafferty he’d be getting at the weekend?’

    ‘Did he say that to Ronnie?’ She was interested. ‘I can’t think where he could have been expecting to get it from. He said something about it to me too, but to tell you the truth I thought it was probably another of Niall’s pipe-dreams – you know, he’d had a letter saying he’d won £100,000 and the poor fool believed it. Ronnie wasn’t likely to go for that, though  . . .’

    ‘Did your husband know about Davina Watt’s death?’

    The woman’s face became stony. ‘He didn’t mention it to me and I certainly didn’t mention it to him.’

    Fleming changed tack. ‘You said Niall left the house after breakfast Wednesday morning. You didn’t see him around the place after that?’

    ‘I was here all day, working on the flat till about half-past six, when I came down to start making supper. Mirren came in shortly after Niall phoned.’

    ‘Where had she been?’

    ‘Oh, I wouldn’t know. She’s on holiday, of course – met up with some of the other kids, maybe, or off on her own birdwatching, more likely. I don’t worry – it’s a safe place for kids. She knows to come back for meals, but apart from that she can do as she likes.’

    ‘Was she upset about the situation with the dog?’

    They both saw her tense up at MacNee’s question. ‘Oh well, she’s fond of animals, of course.’ She gave an unconvincing laugh. ‘Naturally, she was concerned that Niall might carry out his threat to have the dog put down – though of course he wouldn’t have. That was just posturing.’

    ‘You think so?’ Fleming sounded sceptical. ‘Yet a lot of people seemed to believe him. Did your daughter believe it wouldn’t happen?’

    ‘Yes, of course she did.’ Jenna had crossed her legs; now she crossed them again at the ankle into a tight twist.

    ‘Not what we’ve been told,’ MacNee said bluntly.

    ‘What were you told, then?’ She reacted defensively. ‘Oh, I suppose that’s the sort of thing you’re not allowed to tell me! In this place you’d be very wise not to believe what you hear. They’re vile, the people here—’

    ‘You don’t like Drumbreck? I can imagine it might feel very unreal, a strange sort of community.’ Fleming’s voice was soft now, and sympathetic.

    ‘Unreal!’ Jenna gave a harsh laugh. ‘It’s a fantasy – has been ever since the locals got priced out. It’s their own little Happy Valley, where you buy exemption from the normal rules.’

    ‘And you weren’t tempted just to sell up and leave?’

    MacNee sat back in his corner chair, withdrawing into it to keep Fleming as the focus. He had a notebook on his knee; every so often he jotted something down, then went back to studying Jenna Murdoch’s face.

    ‘Leave? Oh God, yes – from the moment I arrived and saw this white elephant. But he’d landed us in it – bought it, and the marina, at a sucker’s price which meant we couldn’t begin to get our money back until we’d – I’d – restored it. And before you ask,’ she gave Fleming a defiant look, ‘we couldn’t get a mortgage, so of course there’s no nice little insurance nest egg. He wouldn’t have wasted money just for me to benefit.’

    ‘Hard for you, all these years,’ Fleming said blandly. ‘And you never got to the point where you thought you’d just walk out? It doesn’t sound as if you had a happy marriage.’

    ‘Happy? What’s that? All there was to keep me going was the promise of money later. If I walked out I’d everything to lose. And why should he—?’ She broke off, biting her lip.

    ‘You said he wasn’t a faithful husband.’

    ‘Didn’t know the meaning of the word. But round here, he was hardly unique.’

    ‘Was there anyone special, at the moment? You said you wondered about a new girlfriend?’

    ‘I didn’t even try to keep track.’ She sounded infinitely weary. ‘I didn’t care much. He didn’t either. I know he had a fling with Kim McConnell – she’s just the sort.’

    ‘But he wouldn’t have been likely to leave you for her?’

    She laughed again, this time with what sounded like genuine amusement. ‘She’s not worth it, to lose a free plumber, decorator, brickie, housekeeper – you name it. Quite hard-headed, Niall was. And I doubt if she even had exclusive rights. I noticed he’s employed a very attractive new instructor – I should think she’s on his schedule, if he hasn’t got to her already.’

    ‘Did she—?’ Fleming began, when the mobile in the pocket of her trouser suit rang. She took it out and glanced at it, then stood up. ‘Sorry, I’ll have to take this. Excuse me. Tam, perhaps you could explain to Mrs Murdoch about Moss meantime?’

    She went out and took the call outside in the bare, echoing hallway. It was Will Wilson.

    ‘How about this, boss?’ He sounded excited. ‘The guy in the pub ID’d Davina – we’d expected that. But then he described the bloke with her – tall, dark, lick of hair over his forehead – and I showed him Niall Murdoch’s photo. That’s who it was, definitely. Ten days ago – Wednesday, he thought. He remembered them coming in together a few times, some years back.

    ‘I thought if you were talking to the widow this might be useful.’

    ‘Oh, it will be. It will indeed. Thanks.’

    Could it be that Murdoch, for some reason, had killed her, incurring revenge from one of her lovers? And why, every time a rare piece of solid evidence came in, did the case become more confusing, not less?

    When Fleming went back into the room, MacNee was saying, ‘So now we know that the dog’s all right.’

    Jenna’s face had brightened. ‘That’s such good news. I’ll need to go and find Mirren and tell her at once!’ She jumped up.

    ‘Could you spare us another minute or two, Mrs Murdoch?’ Fleming spoke from the doorway.

    Jenna looked at her and the light in her eyes died. Slowly she sat down again.

    ‘Your husband was a friend of Davina Watt’s, wasn’t he?’ Fleming sat down on an upright chair beside the armchair Jenna was sitting on, and drew it a little closer, leaning forward to look into the other woman’s face.

    ‘Oh – years ago. Yes, I suppose so. We both knew her.’

    ‘Was she another of your husband’s girlfriends?’

    ‘Oh, probably. Like I said, I try not to know.’ Her attempt to sound offhand was a miserable failure.

    ‘And did you know that she had come back to the area? That he had seen her?’

    Jenna licked her lips. ‘No, I had no idea.’ She looked up, straight into the searching hazel eyes, her own wide and unblinking.

    ‘That’s not true, is it?’ MacNee spoke suddenly from his place in the corner and Jenna started, as if she had forgotten he was there. ‘You knew she’d come back.’

    ‘It’s easier, you know, to tell us the truth,’ Fleming said conversationally. ‘We’ll find out anyway, one way or another. And I’m afraid in our job we have nasty suspicious minds. Lie to us, and we always think the worst.

    ‘So what I’m asking myself at this moment is, “Why doesn’t Jenna want to tell us she knew?” And there’s an obvious answer, but I wouldn’t want it to be true. Convince me it isn’t.’

    Jenna’s restless hands, pleating themselves in her lap, showed her inner turmoil. At last she said, ‘All right, I did know she was back. That was last week – Tuesday, Wednesday perhaps, I can’t be sure. It was an accident – I picked up the phone at the same time as Niall did and I heard her asking him to meet her at the usual place. That was all.’

    ‘And did he?’

    ‘Probably. I don’t know. He never mentioned it.’

    ‘Do you remember what sort of mood your husband was in just before last weekend – Thursday and Friday?’ Fleming asked.

    ‘Last weekend?’ Unexpectedly, Jenna gave a crack of laughter. ‘Terrible! All he could think about was the stupid sheepdog trials. He was blaming the dog, because he knew he’d make a fool of himself yet again.’

    ‘You don’t think he’d anything else on his mind?’

    ‘If he had, he didn’t tell me.’

    MacNee said suddenly, ‘Was Davina the same as your husband’s other girlfriends?’ Then, as he saw her begin to frame a ‘yes’ added, ‘I’m asking because, from all accounts, she was kinda different. And remember, you’re not a very good liar.’

    ‘Oh, all right!’ she burst out. ‘She was different. None of the others mattered.’

    ‘So, if she came back, were you afraid Niall might want a divorce before you were ready for it, financially speaking?’ Fleming was pressuring her now.

    ‘No. No! She’d have gone off again, just like she did last time. When she found he still hadn’t any money, she’d have been gone. And believe me, I’d have enjoyed telling her.

    ‘Anyway, I didn’t know where she was. All she said on the phone was to meet in their “usual place” at two o’clock. I’d no idea where that was.’

    MacNee was making notes. ‘You could have followed your husband when he went to meet her.’

    ‘No, I couldn’t!’ she cried wildly. ‘We only have one car, for a start. And I didn’t kill my husband either, if that’s the next thing you’re about to accuse me of! I was here all night. Ask Mirren!’

    ‘Did you not, maybe, go to bed at some stage?’ MacNee wasn’t buying that one.

    ‘Well, of course. But she’d have heard me if I went out.’

    ‘And you’d have heard her?’

    Jenna turned to answer Fleming, shock showing in her face. ‘Of course I would! The stairs creak, and I’m a light sleeper. What in God’s name are you saying now?’

    MacNee had withdrawn again. Fleming, her voice very gentle, said, ‘Nothing at all, Jenna, we’re just exploring every avenue. And of course, we haven’t talked yet about the shed going on fire, have we?’

    ‘The shed? I don’t know anything about the shed! It was set on fire, I woke up, that’s all.’

    ‘And Mirren? Did she wake up, too?’

    ‘Yes, and I told her to go back to bed.’

    ‘And she did?’ Fleming raised her eyebrows. ‘What an obedient daughter you have! You must tell me your secret. I doubt if either of my two would have paid any attention if I’d said they weren’t to come and watch a fire.’

    Jenna looked down at her fingers. ‘Yes – yes, that was – well, anyway, she did. She was tired. She’d been very emotional—’ She stopped.

    ‘I think we’d gathered that,’ Fleming said. She glanced at MacNee. ‘Anything else? No? I’m sorry we’ve had to press you like this, but you will understand that it’s a very serious case.

    ‘Is Mirren here? If we talked to her now, perhaps we wouldn’t have to trouble you both again.’

    ‘I don’t know where she is. She went out.’

    ‘Someone can speak to her later, when she comes back. We’ll leave it there. Thank you for your co-operation.’

    Jenna made no reply, didn’t move as they got up to leave. As they shut the door, she was staring at the worn carpet under her feet, her face white and set.

 

Macdonald came down the stairs as they crossed the hall. ‘We’ve just finished upstairs,’ he said. ‘I’m away now to check on the computer. I’ll need permission from herself to access anything that’s not to do with him, won’t I? I’m not sure of the status of the warrant.’

    ‘I think you’re right,’ Fleming agreed. ‘Don’t take any risks. In this case, Andy, I’d like you to be very meticulous about anything you might find in case we need to prove provenance in court. She’s in there. Get her to sign something, if she agrees.

    ‘And maybe you could question the daughter, when she turns up? There’s something funny there – I feel it in my bones. OK, feminine intuition – stop sniggering, you two.’

    ‘Was I sniggering?’ MacNee protested.

    ‘Sniggering inside. Anyway, whatever you do, tell the poor kid the dog’s safe. Whatever she’s done, she deserves to know that.’

    Macdonald nodded, and headed for the sitting-room while Fleming and MacNee left the house and headed back to the Yacht Club where they had both left their cars.

    ‘What do you make of all that?’ she said.

    ‘There’s a lot to think about. She’s a bad liar, but that’s not to say she couldn’t have killed. She’s pretty hung up on money—’

    ‘They all are – have you noticed? Davina, Niall, Lafferty, Jenna – maybe the Super’s right after all. Follow where the money leads you. Though I still wonder what this kid’s been up to. Her mother ties herself in knots when you start talking about her.’

    ‘You don’t think a kid could do that, to her own father?’

    ‘That’s what they said about Oedipus,’ Fleming said darkly. ‘No, I don’t, really – but there’s something there.’

    MacNee looked at her slyly. ‘And what about Susie? Jon’s not a fool.’

    ‘Susie. Oh God, how am I going to cope with that? Yes, I can imagine she’s probably said all the wrong things, and set everyone against her. I can believe she might want to kill Niall Murdoch because of what he did to her husband through the dog – though only just, since in my experience Susie is usually about Susie and only Susie. But I can’t see her beating up another woman the way Davina was, and I can’t see why she’d want to kill her anyway. And what I will say is that the further we get into this, the more I think Ingles is peripheral to the whole thing.’

    ‘I’m with you there. I’ve said that from the start.’

    ‘I’ll have to find out what they think they’ve got on Susie – ask them to go easy unless it’s—’

    She broke off, seeing MacNee’s expression. ‘No, I can’t, can I?’ she said wretchedly. ‘I have to back off.’

    ‘Yup, back off. We’ve a few other lines to follow up on anyway. There’s a connection between Murdoch and Davina now. Maybe it’s him sent her the cutting, if they’ve kept in touch.’

    Fleming seized on that. ‘They’ll take his prints at the autopsy but I won’t get the report till Tuesday, probably. Wait a minute. Tam, get someone at the house to lift his prints from something personal – that would save time.’

    ‘I’ll do that. And I tell you the other thing I’ll do – I’ll phone my pal in Glasgow – he gave me a nice wee tip for tweaking Lafferty’s tail, and he’d maybe go round and have a chat with Adrian McConnell. He’s the mystery man – took off before any of us had a chance to see if he minded Niall Murdoch making free with his wife.’

    ‘Fine. I’m going to make arrangements for removing the incident room whose main use seems to have been as a café and manicure parlour. I just hope my credit with Donald’s good enough to withstand the cost of that little error of judgement. Always supposing he checks, which on past form, mercifully, he doesn’t.

    ‘After that I’ll head back to Kirkluce. I’ll have to call in on my mother, but I’m going to have a cup of coffee with Laura around six. Want to come? She’s usually got something helpful to say.’

    MacNee grinned. ‘Now, when have you ever known me turn down a chance to see Laura? Meet you there.’

 

Kingsley, with Kerr, arrived at the incident room half an hour later. ‘Where can I find the marina employees?’ he said abruptly to the PC in the incident room who, alone with the FCA, had again lapsed into lethargy.

    ‘They’re not here. Gone home – they’ve shut up shop.’

    ‘Who authorized that?’

    He didn’t try to hide his irritation and the constable reacted badly. ‘Didn’t need authorization, did they? Expect me to arrest them, or something, in case you might happen to want to speak to them later?’

    ‘You might have thought—’ Kingsley began angrily.

    ‘Shut up, Jon.’ Kerr said sharply. She and Kingsley had been bickering already in the car; she could accept that Kingsley had come up with this take on the case but not that it gave him the right to dictate procedure. Barging in, overturning apple-carts as you went wasn’t, in her view, constructive: she’d been driven to remind him of the recent results of his cock-at-a-grosset attitude to Ingles, which had left him dumped in it as well as Allan. This, she was prepared to admit, had not improved professional co-operation.

    Now she said to the constable, ‘Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a wee woolly lamb once you get under this snotty, unpleasant exterior. Let me know if you ever do – no one else has.’

    The constable guffawed, the FCA smiled discreetly, and Kingsley gave her a dirty look. She went on blithely, ‘You have addresses for them? Thanks.’

    They waited in silence as the constable jotted them down, then held out the paper. Kingsley made to take it but Kerr got there first.

    ‘That’s brilliant. Now, Jon. I’ll give you directions. And we can discuss in the car how we’re to handle the questions. Discuss – that means someone says something, then the other person says something back. It doesn’t mean that you announce what we’re going to do, and I do it. OK?’

    His face black with temper, Kingsley stalked out of the club. Kerr, with a grin and a wave to the others, followed him.

 

‘Funny the bank wouldn’t lend to him,’ Kerr said suddenly after they had driven for a couple of miles in silence. ‘I got a loan for a holiday last year, no bother. Never even asked my earnings.’

    ‘Extraordinary,’ Kingsley drawled.

    ‘It’s not as if she hasn’t a job. She works in that upmarket dress shop in the High Street.’

    Kingsley didn’t respond.

    ‘Let’s go and ask them why.’

    He turned his head to stare at her. ‘What on earth for?’

    ‘It’s an inconsistency. The boss always says you should look for anything in a story that doesn’t add up.’

    ‘“The boss says” doesn’t make it right,’ he said acidly. ‘What does it matter? In any case, they’ll only quote client confidentiality if you haven’t a warrant, and I can’t see you getting one for that, can you?’

    ‘I still want to try,’ she persisted. ‘Let’s go to the bank.’

    ‘Let’s not. Let’s go and question some of the people who might have seen Susie Stevenson hanging around the place.’

    ‘After the bank. It could be shut by the time we’ve done interviews.’

    ‘Let’s start with the boatman. What’s his address?’

    ‘That’s for me to know and you to guess,’ Kerr said provocatively.

    ‘Stop playing idiotic games!’

    ‘I will when we’ve been to the bank.’

    The rest of the journey was accomplished in icy silence. When at last they drew up outside the bank, Kingsley switched off the engine and folded his arms. ‘You can go. I’m not coming in to make a fool of myself.’

    ‘Better without you.’ Kerr got out and walked into the bank jauntily.

    She wasn’t long, and one look at her face told Kingsley she had been successful. But she didn’t speak; he was forced to say, ‘Well?’

    ‘Thought you’d never ask! The loan manager was just a laddie – couldn’t make up his mind if he was more chuffed at helping in a murder inquiry or feart he’d do the wrong thing.

    ‘So I said I understood all about confidentiality, but time was important and all I really wanted was a nod or a shake of his head if I got the right answer for why they wouldn’t lend. So I started with bad credit and overdrafts but then I couldn’t think of any other reasons and he was starting to look desperate like someone in one of those game shows where you’re allowed to mime but not say anything.

    ‘So I said, “Look, I’m not here and you’re not there. If we need something officially I’ll come back with all the paperwork and we’ve never seen each other before.” Then he just sort of burst out, “I didn’t refuse, I told her they’d got it and she said she didn’t want it any longer.” So then I said, “Better out than in,” and that was it, really.’

    ‘OK, you were right, there was something there,’ Kingsley admitted. ‘She was ready to lie to the bank and to her husband. Would she be prepared to kill Murdoch to prevent Findlay from going to him direct and promising to pay him in instalments, maybe?’

    ‘He may not have told her he was planning to steal the dog back,’ Kerr pointed out. ‘She’d probably have tried to stop him if he had; it was a pretty daft thing to do, with the DI right on your doorstep. She’d have been better killing the dog instead of Murdoch and putting an end to it.’

    ‘But you’ve turned up something here,’ Kingsley argued. ‘And do we know the whole story? Is there some back connection with Murdoch, like there was with Watt? I wouldn’t put it past her to have a go at anyone who got in her way, would you?’

    ‘From what I’ve heard about her, no, I wouldn’t. But we need to do a lot more digging. First staff address?’

    ‘Yes please, Tansy. Thank you, Tansy. You were right, Tansy,’ Kingsley said mockingly, but he was smiling for the first time that day as they drove off.