Mhairi settled down on the couch with Oscar purring on her knee, his sides going in and out like bagpipes. Reaching for her glass of chardonnay, she snuggled deeper into her fluffy dressing gown. She had eschewed the temptations of the pub in favour of a TV dinner and an early night. Flicking the remote, she relaxed as the opening strains of EastEnders were heard.
A persistent knocking interrupted. Damn! She slid Oscar to the floor and padded to the door with a scowl on her face. As she flung it open her jaw dropped in surprise. What the Hell?
‘Hello, Mhairi,’ said Farrell.
‘Sir, er, what are you doing here?’
‘Call me Frank, we’re both off duty.’
‘You look …’
‘Different? That’s the whole idea. Let me in and I’ll explain.’
Wordlessly, she opened the door and followed him in, affronted to have been caught in her old dressing gown without a scrap of make-up on. And also more than a little wary, given what she had just heard at work today. She gestured to a chair and sank back down onto the couch. Oscar returned to her knee looking peeved. The man who sat in front of her looked nothing like the Farrell she knew, who was a bit of a neat freak. His hair was spiked up with gel and he had a scruffy beard. He was wearing baggy jeans, cool trainers, and a leather jacket. Chunky gold jewellery hung from his neck and wrists.
‘Jesus, Frank, you look like a pimp,’ Mhairi blurted out. ‘Tell me you’re working undercover or something?’
‘I suppose I am in a manner of speaking,’ he said.
Mhairi felt a further prickle of unease.
‘Frank what’s going on?’
He spoke quickly, sounding almost feverish.
‘I’ve been working on the abduction case while I’ve been off. What I’ve got to tell you may seem a bit strange but hear me out.’
‘Go on,’ said Mhairi.
‘That day when I collapsed at work I was looking in the mirror when I saw him.’
‘The abductor? He was in the station? Why didn’t you …?’
‘He has my eyes.’
‘Frank, this is crazy talk. You’re not making any sense.’
‘You didn’t see him at the convent. He’s my height and build and has got the same blue eyes. It didn’t hit me at the time; too much was going on. It was only at work when I glanced in the mirror … when for a split second I saw him looking back at me … that I knew.’
‘Knew what?’
‘That he’s connected to me. We’re twins.’
‘Maybe I should call someone, a medical someone. You’ve been under a lot of strain.’
‘You thought there was something familiar about his voice. Did he sound like me?’
‘No of course he didn’t. He had a strong Glasgow twang. You sound nothing like him.’
Farrell grabbed today’s paper from the coffee table and started reading from it, borrowing heavily from the accent of one of his old informants in Edinburgh who hailed from Glasgow.
Mhairi felt a flicker of doubt. Maybe he had something after all. The voice. It did sound quite familiar, so familiar in fact it sent a shiver up her spine. Her brain raced as she thought it through until the realization hit her like an express train. Either it was like Farrell said and he had a twin, or … else … he was the abductor and she was in terrible danger. Not to mention the fact that Byers clearly thought he was a murderer to boot. Shit! Meet rock and a hard place.
Farrell looked up. She froze, trying to act natural. All of a sudden she seemed to have a golf ball lodged in her throat. He ran his hands through his hair and glared at her.
‘Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,’ he sighed.
Mhairi considered him carefully. He looked mad, but normal mad, not psycho mad. She sighed wearily. So much for a relaxing night.
‘For what it’s worth, Frank, I don’t have you pegged as a child abductor or a murderer …’
‘Whoa, a murderer, where did that come from? Has Mark been found?’
‘No, never mind that for now. What if you were … you know … sick … and didn’t know what you’d done?’
‘Might as well accuse me of being possessed by the devil and have done with it.’
‘SO not helping!’ fired back Mhairi.
‘You’re right, I’m sorry. We can’t discount it as a possibility. I shouldn’t be churlish about you considering that I might be insane … not in the circumstances anyway.’
‘Now you’re making me feel bad,’ she chided.
‘Mission accomplished,’ he said.
They grinned at each other and the atmosphere lightened.
‘We can hopefully prove it’s not me,’ said Farrell.
‘How?’ asked Mhairi.
‘By cross-referencing the abductor’s known movements with mine. No one can be in two places at once. With a bit of luck, I’ll have an alibi for some or all of the times he was known to be interacting with others.’
‘Like at the nursery,’ Mhairi chipped in.
‘Exactly,’ said Farrell.
‘I’ll get cracking on that tomorrow,’ said Mhairi.
‘Now what was that about murder?’
Mhairi waged war within herself for a few seconds then decided to tell him.
‘Byers and Stirling have been gathering evidence to implicate you in Boyd’s murder.’
‘Does Lind know about this?’
‘No, not yet, but I think they’re going to try and get him on board soon.’
Farrell’s jaw tightened.
She stood up, expecting him to leave.
‘There’s something else,’ he said.
Mhairi sank back onto the cushions with a groan.
‘Now what? Do the words off duty not mean anything to you?’
‘I need to pay my mother a surprise visit, encourage her to take a trip down memory lane.’
‘You’re going to pretend to be him, aren’t you?’
‘I’ll need a witness; in case she makes an admission.’
‘I don’t believe this. You want me to go and get dressed NOW?’
‘For all we know he could be planning another abduction. It’s vital we leave no stone unturned. It may be my last shot anyway given what you’ve just told me.’
Mhairi got to her feet and held up her hands in surrender.
‘All right, I’ll come! Enough with the guilt trip.’
‘What do you expect? I’m Catholic.’
‘I take it from your get-up I should be going for the gangster’s moll look?’
‘Something like that. We don’t want her to recognize you so the more make-up and whatnot the better.’
Mhairi sloped off to get ready and Farrell was left on his own with Oscar, who treated him to a disdainful look. Curious, he browsed round the small sitting room that was furnished with a comfy sofa, a couple of chairs, and lots of scatter cushions. There were a number of photos and knick-knacks dotted round. One was of a handsome young man in an army uniform. He could see the family resemblance. Tucked away in a corner he found an old school photo of a shy self-conscious Mhairi trying to hide her braces from the camera and peering out from under a curtain of hair. He turned round guiltily as he heard her coming back into the room.
‘This isn’t Through the Keyhole,’ she said crossly as she marched over and stuck her childhood self in the cupboard.
Farrell looked at her and immediately slid his eyes away. The short leather skirt and plunging neckline showed off Mhairi’s hourglass figure to devastating effect. The red stilettos were so high she was almost as tall as he was.
‘Too conservative?’ she said impishly, sensing his embarrassment.
‘Hardly, but perfect for the job in hand. Let’s hope vice aren’t out on patrol or we’ll have some explaining to do,’ said Farrell.
‘That’s not very gentlemanly,’ she sniffed.
‘Come on, let’s go before I dig myself an even deeper hole.’