‘I was beginning to think you’d stood me up too. I must be getting paranoid.’
‘Oh, God. Am I late? It was the kids–’
Helena Grant laughed. ‘I’m only joking. It’s not seven yet. I only got here a couple of minutes ago.’
Jacquie Green dumped herself down on the seat opposite Grant, finally stopping to look at her watch. ‘That’s something, then. Jeez, what a day I’ve had. Then the kids started playing up just as I was leaving. Fighting over some bloody computer game. I left the babysitter to sort that one out. She’s much better at dealing with them than I am.’
Grant doubted that. From what she’d seen, Green was more than capable of dealing with anyone. Even Alec McKay on occasions. ‘You sound like you need a drink.’
‘Gin. Ideally by the bucketload. With maybe a small drop of tonic.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Grant made her way to the bar and ordered large gin and tonics for each of them. It was midweek and the place – a relatively upmarket bar tucked away off the main drag – was quiet with only a handful of after-work drinkers occupying the other tables. It occurred to her that this was the most relaxed she’d felt on an evening out in weeks.
She returned to the table with the drinks, sliding one of the chilled glasses over to Green. ‘Shall we eat here or go on somewhere else?’
Green took a mouthful of the gin. ‘We could just sit here and drink. Bugger the food.’
‘You’re supposed to be a doctor.’
‘There’s no “supposed” about it. I am a doctor. That’s why I need the booze. You ask any hard-working quack.’
‘Tough day?’
‘No more than usual. So, yes.’
Grant shook her head. ‘Everyone seems utterly jaded at the moment. Even Alec reckons he’s fed up with the job.’
Jacquie Green laughed. ‘Alec McKay? He’ll be up to his oxters in the job until they nail him in his coffin. Even then, I wouldn’t put it past the bugger to claw his way out and back into the office.’ She took another large mouthful of gin. ‘No, I’m grand really. It’s just the time of year, isn’t it? Short days, long nights. Christmas and Hogmanay behind us. Back to the old grind. And it’s our peak period. Everybody pops their clogs in winter.’ Green was the senior pathologist who carried out many of the post-mortems for the police. She was generally known in the force as ‘Doc’ Green. Helena Grant suspected that many of the younger officers weren’t even aware that this was originally supposed to be a joke.
‘Is that right?’
‘Sort of. The pattern of death differs across the year. But people often just seem to slip away when the year’s at its coldest and darkest. Usually in the wee small hours.’
‘That’s what I love about coming out with you, Jacq. You always know how to raise a laugh.’
‘I do my best. Actually, do you want to talk shop, just briefly? I did the PM on your young chap today.’
‘My young chap?’
‘The one who was found in Fort George. Look, sorry, we don’t have to do it now. You’ll have the report tomorrow anyway.’
Grant looked around her. She was always nervous about discussing cases in public environments, in case some sharp-eared eavesdropper decided to share something sensitive with the local media. But there was no one close enough to overhear. ‘No, that’s fine. Anything interesting?’
‘Looks like it. Death was caused by asphyxiation. Something pressed onto the face. A pillow. Cushion. Something like that. There are a few fibres in the mouth, so forensics should be able to match those with anything around.’
Grant thought back to the crime scene report. There had been a thin pillow – part of the display – lying by the body. ‘You think it happened there? In that room?’
‘There was no sign of the body being moved after death. So it looks like it.’
‘Which means we’re talking murder.’
‘That’s your job. But, yes, unlawful killing. I suppose it’s possible to conceive of circumstances where it might have been manslaughter. But it wasn’t an accident or self-inflicted.’
‘So it looks like we’ve got a fully-fledged investigation on our hands,’ Grant said. ‘Alec will be livid.’
‘I thought Alec loved that kind of thing.’
‘Oh, he does. It’s what he lives for. But he’s compromised on this one until we know differently.’
‘Compromised?’ Green frowned. ‘Oh, the other body. Some relative of Alec’s, wasn’t it?’
‘By marriage. Brother-in-law. But close enough that we have to keep Alec’s size nines out of this until we’re sure the cases aren’t connected.’ She hadn’t bothered to ask Green whether she’d also carried out the PM on Kevin Andrews. If she had, she’d be reporting the findings directly to DCI Farrow. Grant had no desire to cause her friend discomfort by trying to extract inside information.
Green’s expression suggested she’d read Helena Grant’s thoughts. ‘Haven’t got to that one yet,’ she said. ‘It’s a treat in store. Especially as lovely Charlie Farrow’s looking after it. But I’ll give it priority, if that helps you.’
‘Depends on what you find, I suppose. But, yes, thanks. It’s not as if we’re awash with detectives of Alec’s calibre.’
‘It’s not like we’re awash with staff of any kind.’ Green gestured towards Grant’s nearly empty glass. ‘Another?’
‘Just a single or I’ll be under the table. Then we’d better think about food.’
In the end, they decided to treat themselves to dinner in one of the restaurants down by the river. On a weeknight in January, they were able to get a table easily enough, and Grant felt comfortably anonymous at a table tucked into a discreet corner at the far end of the room. ‘This is the most relaxed night out I’ve had in ages,’ she said, once they were settled with an opened bottle of Shiraz between them.
‘Ah. How’s that going?’
‘Not brilliantly.’ She recounted a short selection of the more grisly anecdotes from her recent dates, ending with her recent encounter with the self-obsessed Martin Delaney.
‘You really think he might have sent you that text?’
Grant held up her hands. ‘It’s possible. But I’ve made more than my share of enemies over the years, so who knows? Anyway, I reported it and it’s being investigated, supposedly, but I don’t imagine it’ll be high on the list unless there are further developments.’
‘You’ve had nothing since?’
‘Not a word. Whoever it was, I’m hoping it was just a one-off.’
‘Disturbing, though.’
‘Tell me about it.’ The previous evening, the night after it had occurred, Grant had found even the short walk from her car to the front door unexpectedly nerve-wracking. She’d realised she was repeatedly glancing behind her, peering down the street into the darkness, her eyes searching for any movement. She’d made sure the house was as secure as possible, but even so she’d slept uneasily, troubled by anxiety dreams that left her fearful she was not alone in the house. ‘Just glad I won’t have to head back there late tonight.’
‘I wouldn’t want you to. Glad of the company myself, to be honest. Makes a change from just having the kids there.’
They’d developed a routine, on these too infrequent nights out, that Helena Grant would leave her car at the office and stay over in Jacquie Green’s spare room. It made sense. This way, they could have a few drinks without Grant having to incur the cost of a taxi back over to the Black Isle and deal with the further challenge of getting into work in the morning. When Jacquie Green’s husband Craig had been around, Grant had occasionally worried that he resented her presence, though she hadn’t usually seen much of him.
The question was academic now, anyway. Craig had unexpectedly walked out on Green some months before, having apparently been engaged in a long-term affair with some much younger colleague from work. Green had been shocked by the suddenness – not least, the fact that she’d been left as the sole carer for the three children – but had seemed far from devastated by her husband’s departure. ‘I knew fine well what he was up to,’ she’d said to Grant at the time. ‘If he hadn’t gone, I would have done. She’s welcome to him. Not that she’ll want him for long.’
The last comment had proved prescient. The relationship had come to an end within weeks of Craig moving in with his new partner, and he’d turned up one evening on Jacquie Green’s doorstep begging for another chance. She’d made it clear that any future contact would be through their lawyers.
‘You’ve not thought about trying online dating?’ Helena Grant said now.
‘Good God, no,’ Green said. ‘It’s bad enough coping with three kids. I don’t want to be taking on a fourth. Not for a good while, anyway.’ She was silent for a few minutes while the waiter delivered their starters. ‘But I can understand you giving it a try. Your circumstances are a bit different.’
‘I’m heading for a lonely old age, you mean?’
Green laughed. ‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean the opposite. That you’re young enough to get back in the game. Assuming that’s what you want.’
‘I don’t know what I want,’ Grant said. ‘That’s the trouble. I just feel as if I’m in a rut. I need something new.’
‘That’s bloody January again, though, isn’t it? The month when they start advertising the summer holidays and people put their houses on the market. Anyway, do you reckon you’ll keep trying? Despite the charmers you’ve met to date.’
‘I don’t know. You keep thinking the next one will be the right one, but there’s been no sign of it so far.’
‘I suppose it’s bound to take a while– What is it?’
Grant had been gazing blankly across the room as they talked, chewing absently on her calamari. Suddenly her expression had changed. ‘That’s him,’ she said. ‘That’s the bastard. Delaney.’
‘This is where you tell me not to turn round, isn’t it?’ Green said. ‘Hang on.’ She moved her hand abruptly, knocking her butter knife onto the floor of the restaurant. One of the waiters hurried over, anxious to replace the piece of cutlery. Green twisted in her chair, apparently to speak to the approaching waiter, but allowing her plenty of time to follow Helena Grant’s gaze. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m just clumsy tonight,’ she said to the waiter. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve finished with it anyway.’
Grant said, ‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’
‘When you’ve had an errant husband, there aren’t many tricks you haven’t tried. You’re sure that’s him? Your arsehole from the other night, I mean.’
‘That’s him all right. No question. I don’t know if he’s spotted me.’
‘Seemed too intent on impressing his new lady friend, if you ask me.’
‘Boring her to death, more like. She looks young enough to be his daughter. If not his granddaughter.’
‘You’re just jealous. Maybe it is his daughter.’
‘If that’s the way he looks at his daughter, someone should call the authorities.’ Grant gave an instinctive shudder. ‘He’s a creep.’
‘You reckon he’s spotted you?’
Grant was conscious that, thankfully, their table was in relative shadow, and that the man’s attention was fully focussed on the young woman sitting opposite him. ‘Not yet, thank God. It’s a pain, though. Just when I was beginning to relax.’
‘Ignore him. Even if he sees you, so what? If he comes over here, we can both have the pleasure of telling him to bugger off.’
‘True enough. And, if that woman’s anything like me, she’ll already be planning how to cut her losses and leave.’
Almost as if she’d overheard Grant’s words, the young woman suddenly rose from the table, apparently pausing to offer the man some explanation. At first, Grant thought the woman was coming in their direction, but then realised she was heading towards the lavatories behind them.
‘That’s her,’ Grant whispered after the woman had hurried past. ‘Christ, she looked tense.’
‘She certainly moved as if someone was coming after her,’ Green said. ‘You reckon she’s going to climb out the window of the ladies?’
‘If she is, she’s left her coat on the back of her chair. Mind you, taking your coat to the lavvy would probably be too obvious a signal.’ She paused, playing idly with her fork. ‘She really did look anxious. You think I should go and see if she’s all right?’
‘I don’t know. What’s our friend doing now?’
‘He’s still sitting there. Doesn’t look best pleased. Looks bloody livid, in fact.’ Grant hesitated for a moment, then bent down to pick up her handbag. ‘I’m going to check she’s okay. Can you move over this side and keep an eye on chummy over there? If he does anything, just text me.’
Green nodded. ‘I’m not sure what he’s likely to do, though.’
‘Me neither. I just have a bad feeling about him.’
Keeping her back to the room, Grant made her way across to the women’s lavatory. She’d half-expected that the young woman would be in one of the cubicles, but instead she was standing in front of the washbasins, her mobile phone in hand. She still looked tense, her face ashen in the bright glare of the tiled room.
Grant moved as if to wash her hands, then said, ‘Look, by all means just tell me to bugger off, but is everything okay?’
The young woman looked up, startled. ‘Sorry?’
‘It’s just that when you came past our table out there, I thought you were looking – well, distressed. But, like I say, tell me to bugger off if it’s none of my business.’ Before the young woman could respond, she reached into her handbag and drew out her warrant card. ‘DCI Helena Grant, for what it’s worth. But I’m not on duty. Just wanted to check you were all right.’
‘I–’ The woman stopped and looked at the door behind her. ‘No, I’m not okay, actually. I…’ She tailed off again. ‘Are you really a police officer?’
‘I’m afraid so. But I’m here to help. If you need it.’
The woman hesitated, clearly thinking. ‘Yes. If there’s anything you can do.’
‘Try me.’
‘It was supposed to be a date. Well, something like that.’
‘You and the man out there?’
‘Yes, except it wasn’t supposed to be him.’ The woman shook her head. ‘Sorry, I’m talking rubbish. Let me start again.’
‘Take your time.’
‘We got in contact through one of those dating app things. I’ve tried a few times and they were always disastrous. But this guy seemed more what I was looking for.’
‘Seemed?’
‘That’s the thing. We hadn’t met till tonight. We’d talked on the phone a few times, and spent a lot of time messaging each other. He said he lived up here, but worked in Edinburgh in the week and hadn’t had a chance to come back up here for a few weeks.’
Grant raised her eyebrows. ‘That was what he told you?’
‘Yes. Then he called me a day or two back to say he was taking a few days off and was keen to meet me. He invited me for dinner at his house.’ She finally gave a weak smile. ‘I’m not always the brightest star in the sky, but I’m not that daft. Told him I’d meet him somewhere more public the first time. I was expecting just a bar, you know, but he suggested this place. Told me he was happy to pay.’
I bet he did, Grant thought. ‘But he’s not what you expected?’
‘I knew he sounded too good to be true. He’d sent me a few photos which were supposed to be him. I was expecting him to be maybe a bit older, not quite all he claimed to be. I’d tried to be realistic.’
‘But?’
‘Well, Jesus, did you see him? He wasn’t the guy in the photographs at all. He’s old enough to be my granddad. Actually, I reckon he’s older than my granddad. And I think everything he’d told me was bollocks.’
‘Maybe you should have just walked out straightaway?’
‘Yeah, looking back I should have done. But you know how it is. You don’t want to make a scene in public. Then he started being all apologetic. Saying he knew he’d exaggerated a few things–’ For the first time, she laughed. ‘Exaggerated! Lied through his bloody teeth. Which are probably false. Told me he knew I wouldn’t have been interested if he’d just told the truth. Said all he was looking for was a bit of company. An evening out. In the end I just thought I’d go along with it. Enjoy a nice meal. Make it bloody clear to him that he wasn’t getting anything else. I thought if he starts anything, I can always just pay my share and leave.’
Grant could imagine the conversation. With her, Delaney had been boorish and pompous, eager to demonstrate his social superiority. But she could imagine that, with someone much younger and more vulnerable, he could turn on the charm, coax her into believing and doing what he wanted. It was a form of grooming, and sexual predators tended to be skilled at it. ‘So what happened?’
‘At first, it was just boring. Him going on and on about his job. Some bloody finance thing. And how he knew all about the hospitality industry, and why this restaurant was doing it all wrong. All that bollocks. I didn’t mind too much because I didn’t have to make much of an effort. I just nodded politely and tuned most of it out.’ She swallowed. She was clearly calmer now, but Grant could still read the anxiety in her eyes. ‘But then it sort of changed. He started to ask about me. What I did, where I worked. Where I lived. Whether I lived on my own. I thought he was just being polite, and at least it made a change from listening to him talk about himself. Then I realised he was pumping me for information. Working out that I was going home on foot and that I lived on my own. He started to get pushier, said he wanted to walk me home, make sure I was okay. Maybe come in for a coffee.’
‘Maybe he’s just a gentleman.’
The young woman snorted. ‘That’s the thing. He was already giving me the creeps. But it started to feel really nasty. There was just something about him. I began to think that, even if I just got up and walked out, he’d follow me and then I wouldn’t be able to get rid of him and – well, he scared me.’
Grant thought back to her own encounter with Delaney, and to the threatening texts. ‘You’re sure you weren’t overreacting?’
‘Don’t you believe me?’ The woman suddenly sounded even younger than she looked.
‘I do believe you. I’ve come across Delaney before.’
‘Delaney? Who’s Delaney?’
‘What name did he give you?’
The woman blinked. ‘Gary Ellis. Isn’t that his name?’
‘I don’t know,’ Grant said. ‘I’ve come across him as Martin Delaney.’
‘But–’
‘You already knew he was a lying scumbag. This just shows he was even more of a lying scumbag than you thought. Sounds like you were right to be worried. What were you planning to do?’
‘I hadn’t really thought it through when I came in here. I just wanted to get away from him. Then I thought I’d start phoning round my mates and see if I could get someone to come and meet me. I’d tried a couple of people when you came in, but no luck.’
Grant was about to respond when her phone buzzed in her bag. She picked it up and glanced at the screen. A text from Jacquie Green. ‘He’s buggered off.’
She showed the text to the young woman, then texted back. ‘Safe to come out?’
There was a pause before the response came. ‘Looks like it. All hell breaking loose.’
‘Looks like we’d better get out there. What’s your name, by the way? It might be helpful if we appear to know each other already.’
‘Maggie. Maggie Clennan.’
‘Okay, Maggie Clennan. Let’s go and find out what’s going on out there.’
Grant led the way back into the restaurant, to be greeted by the sight of an anxious-looking waitress hurrying in their direction. As she saw Clennan emerging from the lavatories, she stopped, her expression changing to one of mild relief.
Grant led Maggie Clennan back to the table where Jacquie Green was watching in some amusement. The waitress arrived a moment later, clearly now unsure how to handle the matter.
Grant gave the waitress her best official smile. ‘Can we get another place set for our friend here? She’s decided to join us.’
The waitress opened and then closed her mouth. ‘I– We thought you’d done a runner.’
‘Obviously, our friend here has done no such thing. I can’t speak for her companion.’
The waitress looked back towards the bar, clearly wanting the manager to come and bail her out. ‘He just put his coat on and left without paying.’ She looked at Clennan. ‘Then we realised that you’d gone too, so we thought–’
‘My coat’s still there,’ Clennan pointed out.
‘That’s one of the tricks they use. Cheap coat from a charity shop. Leave it on the back of the chair while they go out for a smoke or whatever. So we don’t realise till it’s too late. We’ve had all of them.’
‘I’m sure. But, as you can see, that’s not the case here,’ Grant said. ‘Although I’m afraid that the gentleman may well have been – well, let’s say less than chivalrous. We’ll cover the cost of his meal.’ She glanced back at Jacquie Green. ‘And in the meantime, I think we’d be grateful for another bottle of wine and the dessert menu.’