As soon as he got back to the station, Farrell went in search of DI Moore. He knew she would have been informed of the shooting by now and he was worried about how she might be coping.
Tapping lightly on her door, he walked straight in.
‘I come bearing caffeine,’ he said, waving the plastic cartons at her.
She gave a small smile, though he could see from the pallor of her face that she was struggling to keep herself together.
‘Frank, come in, just what I needed.’
He closed the door behind him and sat opposite her.
‘I’m sorry how things turned out with Forbes,’ he said. ‘For what it’s worth I wasn’t crazy about him, but I didn’t have him pegged for a murderer or some kind of criminal mastermind either.’
‘Thanks, Frank, kind of you to say. My instincts are usually pretty spot on. Guess I only saw what I wanted to see.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. Only myself, Lind, and Mhairi knew there was anything between you, other than police business, and that’s the way it’s going to stay,’ he said.
‘Mhairi knew?’ She groaned.
‘Yep. It was hate at first sight,’ he grinned. ‘Full McLeod heckles.’
‘She’s going to make a bloody good detective, that one.’
‘I can cover if you want to get off home. I’m sure Lind will be back any minute.’
‘Thanks, Frank, but I prefer not to be alone with my thoughts. Not yet anyway. I’d rather keep busy.’
‘Right then. I’ve fixed the last briefing for 8 p.m. That hopefully gives us enough time to mop up what forensics can be processed in-house and interview Hugo Mortimer, Penelope Spence, and Nancy Quinn.’
‘How about I take the two women with DS Stirling?’
‘Fine by me. I’ll tackle Mortimer with Mhairi. Have you seen her? Or perhaps I should ask if you’ve heard her?’
Moore pointed to the left.
‘The noise and commotion proceeded that way,’ she smiled.
‘Excellent,’ said Farrell, turning to leave.
Sure enough, he hadn’t taken more than a few steps when he heard Mhairi’s voice coming from the sergeant’s room, regaling them all with the events of the day.
‘DC Thomson was incredibly brave,’ she continued, as he stood in the open doorway. ‘He maintained his cover until the bitter end. I’m taking up a collection for him.’ She shook a biscuit tin. ‘Dig deep, it’s not every day one of our lot gets shot in the line of duty.’
Everyone in the room crowded round her, eager to contribute.
Farrell coughed, causing her to jump.
‘In your own time, Mhairi.’
‘Coming, sir,’ she said, shutting the tin which was now stuffed with notes.
Once they were walking along the corridor, he handed her a twenty.
‘Stick that in your tin.’
‘Thanks, sir! Where are we going?’
‘To interview Hugo Mortimer. DI Moore and DS Stirling are handling the other two.’
‘He’s off the hook for murder at least,’ said Mhairi.
‘He’ll still do significant jail time for the forgery, though,’ said Farrell.
‘He won’t have heard that Lionel Forbes is dead yet, will he, sir?’
‘No, he’s had no access to communications of any sort. Everyone in the custody suite has been told to zip it.’
A text pinged and Farrell glanced at his phone and frowned. It was from Laura.
‘Heard there’s been a shooting on the news. Is John OK? He’s not picking up. Worried sick.’
That’s odd, he thought. He knew they’d been having difficulties, but John didn’t have a vindictive bone in his body and wouldn’t want her to worry. He texted.
‘Nothing to worry about. He wasn’t there. Still in Kirkcudbright.’
The reply pinged back in an instant.
‘Thank God. Tell him to come home when you see him.’