Maisy Gunnach was looking at Pax Graham with eyes that suggested she didn’t mind being interviewed by him in the least and that she’d be quite happy to continue the conversation somewhere rather more private later that evening.
DS Lively folded his arms and rested them on his ample stomach. Women didn’t look at him like that, at least they hadn’t until he’d discovered Detective Superintendent Overbeck’s softer side. He and his wife had called it a day a while ago. Policing wasn’t the ideal profession for those who liked their relationships stable and long-lasting. Daisy Overbeck – not that he had ever or would ever call her by the given name she hated so much – was an enigma. The sort of woman he’d spent his life avoiding. Bossy, snooty and overbearing, she was perhaps the only woman who’d ever fully understood him. She didn’t tolerate his bullshit, she was aware of his underlying faith – which he found so hard to talk about openly – and she appeared to desire him physically.
Pax Graham would never have to worry about that, Lively thought. As sickening as it was, the new detective inspector seemed to be turning it substantially to their advantage.
‘I know this is private, Maisy,’ Graham said gently. ‘It must be difficult to be asked to discuss your personal life – and remember, you’re not under arrest – but we just need a bit of help understanding Gilroy Western’s lifestyle. What plans did the two of you have for that day?’
‘It’s no trouble at all,’ Maisy smiled, all wide-eyed and breathless.
She reached out a hand and touched Graham’s forearm quickly, as if he might burn her. Lively forced himself not to tut out loud.
‘Gilroy was coming over to mine for a catch-up. He hadn’t been back to Scotland for a few months. We’re old friends. He visits me every time he comes back. We’d have stayed at mine for a couple of hours, had a drink, chatted. Then he had to go to a memorial service and see some lawyer. He was hoping to get back to mine and take me out to dinner by about 9 p.m.’
‘That’s really helpful,’ Graham said warmly. ‘You’re doing great.’
Maisy giggled.
‘I should have asked your age before we started. Just for the record.’
At that, Maisy looked slightly less delighted, but she leaned forwards conspiratorially to deliver the news.
‘Promise you won’t tell?’ she asked.
‘Nope, our lips are sealed, right, Sergeant Lively?’
‘Okay, well, I tell people I’m thirty-four, but actually I’m forty-two. Thank God for moisturiser and vitamin pills, or I’d never get away with it.’
And boob jobs, Lively thought. Maisy was sporting the sort of chest usually seen in lingerie adverts starring twenty-year-olds.
‘How long had you been a close friend of Mr Western?’ Graham continued without adding any false compliments to the already sickly conversation.
Lively was grateful for that small mercy.
‘Ten years, give or take.’
‘I don’t suppose you know or have ever met a man called Bruce Jenson?’ Graham asked.
‘I know the name. He’s the poor soul whose funeral Gilroy was supposed to attend. I never met him, but I understand he was in a bad state even before what happened to him.’
‘He was, I’m afraid. Who told you?’
‘Gilroy mentioned it. Said Mr Jenson was probably better off dead given the dementia. That’s no way to go, is it, unable to recognise your own family? I’d rather be put out of my misery.’ She looked up at Graham, reddening slightly.
‘That’s okay,’ he reassured her. ‘I’m sure lots of people would agree with you. We did find an item in Mr Western’s car – a pair of diamond earrings, gift-wrapped but not labelled – do you know anything about them?’
A slow smile spread across Maisy’s face. ‘They’d have been for me,’ she said. ‘He always brings me jewellery, and diamonds are my favourite. I wondered what he was bringing me this time. He promised it would be something wonderful.’
‘I see. So what sort of gifts has he brought you in the past?’ Graham asked casually.
‘Last time he took me out clothes shopping. It was mainly lingerie – I prefer real silk – but also some shoes, a handbag and a couple of dresses. I told him I was expecting something shinier this time. Sounds as if he obliged.’
‘Did he ever give you cash?’
She gave a slight cough. ‘He’s helped me out with my rent in the past and car payments, things like that. Like friends do. I’m no good at managing money. It just flows through my hands!’
Maisy gave brittle laugh and Lively realised she was still trying to pretend she was something other than a prostitute. Fair enough, he thought. When he looked in the mirror he still tried to pretend he had the body of a stunt double and wasn’t the wrong side of middle age. Everyone lied to themselves about something.
‘Miss Gunnach, we need to establish where all parties who were closely attached to Mr Western were the night before he died. I don’t suppose you’d be able to recall what you were doing from 6 p.m. the night before he was due to see you. I know it’s difficult to account for such a lengthy period of time, but …’
‘Actually, it’s not,’ Maisy said quietly. ‘I know exactly where I was.’
‘That was easy,’ Lively interrupted. ‘Are you sure about this, because we’ll need to check out whatever you tell us. Just to give fair warning.’
Maisy gave him the same look that his wife had just before she’d packed her bags for the final time. That look said, ‘You are nothing to me.’ It was an interesting shift from the sweetness and charm with which she’d answered Pax Graham.
‘I can’t give you his name,’ she said, acid apparent below the superficial sugar of her voice. ‘My friends don’t like it when I give out information about the time I spend with them.’
Pax Graham sat back in his chair, giving Lively the smallest of nods. He could take it from there. Enough beating around the bush.
‘Any friend of mine would be happy to help me out when I needed it, so I’m not sure what the problem would be. If, on the other hand, we’re talking about clients who might not like their name taken in connection with yours because of the nature of your relationship, I could understand the reticence. Who were you with?’
‘Really, I’m not doing this. You said I was under no obligation to answer questions. I think in the circumstances, when I’m grieving, you might be more sensitive,’ she said, turning on a little sadness to water down the obvious irritability.
‘We need the name, I’m afraid,’ Graham confirmed. ‘It would avoid having to make this a more formal interview.’
‘Or what?’ Maisy asked. ‘I have an awful lot of friends, you know, and some of them wouldn’t like you asking me questions at all. Maybe I should make some calls.’
‘Maybe you should,’ Graham said. ‘Only then you’d have to explain the context and it would only be fair to explain that the person who killed Gilroy Western was a woman. We’ve also had confirmation in the last hour that a member of staff saw a female running away from Bruce Jenson’s care home room at about the same time he was killed.’
Maisy looked from Graham to Lively and back to Graham again.
‘Well, it wasn’t me. If you must know, I was tied up for half the fucking night. I had bruises on my wrists the next day to prove it. I hate that. Puts my other friends right off.’
‘So you won’t mind giving a DNA sample to exclude you from the investigation,’ Lively said. ‘But we still need the name of the man you were with. We’ll be discreet, provided we get information without a fight. Of course, if you don’t provide us with what we need, we might remember that all the gifts you receive are reportable in your tax returns. I’m guessing you don’t have a job and you’re not claiming benefits, so the taxman might have a few question about the income you use to pay your rent. They can go back an awful lot of years. It would be unfortunate …’
‘Motherfucker,’ Maisy hissed at him, looking all her forty-two years and then some, boob job or not.
‘The name,’ Lively said.
‘Dennis Mulanney.’
‘Dennis Mulanney, the politician?’ Graham qualified.
‘Exactly,’ Maisy replied smugly. ‘We were at his flat near Holyrood. We had dinner in, watched a movie – his tastes run to some fairly extreme woman-on-woman action – then he got out the handcuffs. He indulges in some imaginative role play. Good luck asking him for confirmation.’
‘He’ll cooperate,’ Lively said lazily. ‘Most people do when they have the option to answer difficult questions quickly and without publicity, or at home when their wife is present. The other option is someone leaking the details to the press.’
‘You really are scum, aren’t you?’ she said, standing. ‘I’m done here.’
‘We’ll need that DNA sample first,’ Graham reminded her.
‘I’ll need those diamond earrings,’ she replied. ‘They were mine – you’d already figured that out – and the receipt for them, if it was still in his wallet.’
‘Those are all exhibits. They won’t be released until the investigation has been concluded, even longer if they’re needed for a trial,’ Graham explained.
‘They belong to me,’ she snarled, leaning over the table. ‘Do you have any idea what I go through to get paid?’
‘Some idea, I think,’ Graham smiled. ‘But those earrings belong to the person named in Mr Western’s will. They hadn’t been handed to you at the time when he died, so you hadn’t legally taken possession of them. Mrs Western is the rightful owner, and I suspect she’ll be returning them and asking for the money back.’
‘You bastards,’ Maisy replied. ‘Gilroy Western hated his wife. She has no right to them.’
‘Then it was Mr Western’s responsibility to change his will. Nothing we can do about it,’ Graham said coolly, going up a couple of notches in Lively’s estimation.
‘Yeah, well, whoever killed Gilroy Western, good luck to her. He was a deviant little shite, so there you go. Whoever finished him off probably did the world a favour.’
Maisy Gunnach walked out, followed by the uniformed officer who’d been standing outside the interview room door, ready to take a cheek cell swab from her.
‘I guess that’s where the phrase high maintenance comes from,’ Graham said to Lively when he was sure Maisy was out of earshot. ‘What did the witness from the care home say? I didn’t get a chance to read the statement before coming in here.’
‘It was a male orderly. He was stood outside smoking while on duty, under the cover of a couple of trees in the garden. Smoking on the grounds is banned and during a shift it’s a sackable offence. It took a while for him to decide it would be better to get sacked than to withhold information from us, not that it’s very detailed. A female figure emerged through Bruce Jenson’s patio door and ran through the gardens to the road. No hair or eye colour as it was so dark. No description of clothing other than tight-fitting trousers and a coat, not bulky. Tallish, slim, her figure gave the gender away.’
Graham sighed. ‘Fits with the female DNA found in Western’s car. Can you get hold of Dennis Mulanney tonight and confirm the alibi?’
‘That would be my pleasure,’ Lively said drily. ‘What’re your next steps?’
‘Updating the DCI,’ Graham said. ‘Tomorrow, I’d like to talk to Gilroy Western’s daughter. I know we’ve established that his wife was in Spain when he died, but that doesn’t mean his daughter was.’
‘Strikes me you’re getting the better end of this deal,’ Lively said. ‘Privileges of bloody rank.’