DI Taylor and DS Geddes were anxious to question Derek Crawford. The interview never got started because, in the police doctor’s opinion, he was in shock and therefore in no state to answer. The detectives agreed to postpone the conversation until later in the day.
Andrew Geddes headed back to the hospital. Two things had happened since he’d last been there: security had been stepped up and a young police officer’s career had crashed and burned. He wouldn’t be going any higher and would probably leave the service when the message got through to him he’d be better off in another job. Now, in the ACCU, not far from the woman Melia had abducted and abused, a uniformed constable sat beside the knife-victim’s bed.
According to the driver’s licence in his wallet, Joseph Melia was thirty-six years old and living at an address in Shawlands. Officers had already visited the flat. It was unoccupied – a bleary-eyed neighbour confirmed it had been for months.
The knife had entered Melia’s abdomen on the right side, missing his liver by a fraction, damaging his intestines and causing massive internal bleeding. An emergency operation to stem the blood loss and repair the wound had been only partially successful and the trauma brought on a stroke. He remained critical.
Geddes watched the figure in the bed, his complexion a picture of health thanks to three blood transfusions, asking himself what kind of monster would do what he’d done. The scene in the basement was as grim as he’d come across in twenty years on the force. Like something from a horror movie: the iron bed, the chain, the smell of decay. And, in the midst of it, Mackenzie Crawford’s beaten body. The detective detested this creature for the suffering he’d caused and, hardened professional though he was, he still hadn’t come to terms with it.
He was at the door on his way out when the constable shouted. ‘Sir!’
Joe Melia’s eyes were open, unblinking, staring at the ceiling. Geddes put his revulsion aside – this may be the only chance he’d get. He bent to whisper in his ear. ‘Joe. Joe. Tell me why you did it.’
Melia didn’t respond and the policeman couldn’t be sure he’d heard him, or even knew he was there. The stroke had pulled one corner of his mouth down so he seemed to be sneering contempt for the naive notion his nearness to death would convince him to reveal secrets only he knew.
Geddes tried again, coaxing him to speak. ‘C’mon, Joe, tell me why. Why Mackenzie Crawford? Do yourself a favour. Do the right thing while you still can.’
He almost blurted out the old cliche about it going easier on him but stopped himself.
Joe Melia would never leave this room.
Melia’s bottom lip quivered, his twisted mouth producing sounds more animal than human. The DS stayed with it. ‘Why her? What did she do to you to make you hate her so much?’
‘Cccoaddaawth.’
Geddes altered his approach using a gentler tone which wasn’t in his heart. ‘Take your time. Take your time, Joe. There’s plenty of time. I’m here.’
The eyes darted in Melia’s head. ‘Hhhhththth. Kkkkadd.’
‘You and I know you’re not a killer so help me understand. Why take it out on the woman?’
The reply was mangled, unrecognisable as language. ‘Kkkkkaaaaa.’
Across the bed the constable observed his superior uncomfortably. ‘Think we should get a nurse, Sir. I really think we should.’
Geddes ignored him. ‘Joe. Joe. For God’s sake man. Tell me why.’
Suddenly, Melia’s back arched violently as if some giant hand had taken hold of him. He thrashed under the bedclothes. His jaw fell slack, his pupils turned up into his head and his body shook uncontrollably while a moan, long and thick, came from deep within him. His tongue protruded from between his bared teeth before they snapped shut, severing the tip, filling his mouth with blood. A red spray landed on Geddes face but he didn’t stop. He put aside his shock and stuck to his task, conscious of the manic urgency in his own voice, knowing he was wasting his time: Melia was having a second stroke and would be lucky to survive – the opportunity was slipping away.
If the bastard died the truth would die with him.
‘Why? Why her? Why there? Fucking tell me!’
Suddenly the room was filled with nurses and the detective realised the constable must have pressed the emergency call-button. The last thing he saw before he was pulled away and forced to leave were the metal paddles attached to Melia’s bare chest and a doctor leaning over him calling ‘Clear!’
Then Andrew Geddes was in the corridor with the white-faced officer giving him a strange look, no nearer understanding what had brought Joseph Melia to the house in the Lowther Hills.
Gavin Darroch hadn’t slept much during the night and guessed he wouldn’t be alone. None of the family were proud of themselves and he imagined Adele would take it especially hard. He drew into the car park and walked to the hospital entrance with Monica at his side. Blair and Adele were already there. Visiting hours didn’t apply to them.
Adele said, ‘I phoned before we left. She’s still unconscious but stable.’
He nodded; he’d made the same call.
They dreaded what was waiting for them. What they found was no change in their sister although some of the tension had left her features and she almost looked like herself again. If only it was that easy. Gavin asked if Doctor Chilolo was available. He wasn’t and he had to settle for a doctor who’d just come on duty who was sympathetic but answered his questions in general terms.
Unaware of the nurse stripping the empty bed that had held Joseph Melia, they trooped back downstairs no wiser than they’d been.
Geddes took a call at his desk in Aikenhead Road. He listened, his lips a tight line, then went to look for Taylor. The Detective Inspector was in his office. When Geddes stuck his head round the door, Taylor misunderstood.
‘Ready to go, are we?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Then what?’
‘Joe Melia died five minutes ago.’
Derek Crawford had agreed to speak to the officers but was clearly still shaken. Roxburgh, his lawyer, had updated him on his wife’s condition and assured him they had a solid defence: a stranger had kidnapped her from outside their home and tortured her in the bowels of a derelict building. If he hadn’t acted, she’d be dead. He’d saved her life. He was a hero. No jury in the country would convict him. Crawford believed him.
Taylor and Geddes came in and sat down. The man they were about to interview had suffered a terrible experience but whatever they were feeling they kept to themselves; their expressions gave nothing away. When Gavin Darroch told the familiar face from the five-a-sides about his missing sister in a room not thirty feet away, the DS couldn’t have imagined what it would become.
Taylor recognised Geddes’ existing knowledge of the case and had asked him to lead. He began gently. ‘I’m aware this is a difficult time for you, Mr Crawford. It isn’t my intention to make it any worse. Having said that, I do have some questions. As your lawyer has told you, the man we suspect of abducting Mrs Crawford has died in hospital of his injuries.’
Crawford whispered through his teeth. ‘Bastard. Got off scot-free.’
Geddes didn’t comment. ‘Which makes it all the more important we understand exactly what happened. Tell me how you came to be in the house in the Lowther Hills?’
Roxburgh said something to Derek Crawford the detectives didn’t hear.
‘I followed him from Glasgow.’
‘Did you know him?’
Crawford fingered his bandaged arm. ‘Know him, no. I’d seen him before.’
‘Where?’
He took a deep breath. ‘In Buchanan Street. I told you this.’
‘You did, but we need it for the record. Describe the circumstances and take your time.’
‘I can’t think about it, can’t go there, it’s too painful.’
The DS encouraged him. ‘Try. Do it for Mackenzie.’
Crawford covered his face with his hands. ‘She told me. She pointed him out. I wouldn’t listen to her.’
Roxburgh shook his head at the detectives. ‘Obviously this is upsetting. Can my client have a minute?’
Geddes announced they were taking a break, turned the recorder off and the policemen stepped into the corridor. The DS said, ‘This guy’s fragile. Going to take a while. Haven’t even got to the crime scene.’
Taylor voiced what both men understood. ‘Still have to charge him and pass it to the PF. Let it be somebody else’s shout.’
Geddes’ mobile rang; he answered it. When the call ended he turned to the DI.
‘Well, well.’
Taylor raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’
‘Joe Melia wasn’t working.’
‘So?’
‘His last job ended four months ago. He got sacked.’
The senior detective wasn’t in the mood. ‘Tell me.’
‘From Crawford Cars, would you believe?’
Taylor said, ‘Get somebody over there to take a statement.’
‘Already done. Lawson’s on her way.’
Crawford sat forward, shoulders slumped, eyes heavy, but he seemed calmer. Geddes turned the recorder back on and was about to pick up where he’d left off when he thought better of it. In the seat next to him DI Taylor folded his arms across his chest. For now at least, it was Geddes’ show.
The DS said, ‘We’ll come back to how you came to follow him to the Lowther Hills.’ He looked at his notebook. ‘How many dealerships do you have, Mr Crawford?’
Crawford paused before answering. ‘Twenty-four.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Nine in Glasgow, seven in the Edinburgh area, two in Aberdeen and one each in Ayr, Dundee, East Kilbride, Paisley, Motherwell and Hamilton.’
‘So it would it be fair to say you’re a successful man.’
It wasn’t a question. Crawford answered it anyway. ‘In 2017 I was voted businessman of the year by the Glasgow Chamber of Commerce. So yes.’
‘How many people do you employ?’
‘All told, including the service division, rental and leasing: three hundred, three-fifty, something like that.’
‘How well do you know them?’
Crawford was unfazed. ‘Apart from a handful of guys who’ve been with me for years, I don’t. The managers manage the units, I manage the business.’
Roxburgh earned his corn. ‘I’m at a loss to understand where this is going. In case you’ve forgotten, my client is the victim here. His personal circumstances have no relevance.’
Geddes ignored the lawyer and spoke to Crawford, reading from his notes. ‘So you’re not familiar with a salesman who joined the Airbles Road showroom in Motherwell last October and was let go in February?’
Crawford said, ‘You’ve lost me.’
Roxburgh interrupted in lawyer-speak. ‘How is this germane, Detective?’
Crawford gestured to silence the lawyer and nodded at Geddes to continue.
‘A bit of a rising star before he got found out. The top salesman in January.’
‘So why did we let him go?’
‘Turns out he was in business for himself; cutting the margins to the bone and doing side deals with some of the customers. Nice scam while it lasted. Bound to catch up with him and it did.’
Crawford was defensive. ‘His references must’ve checked out or we would never have taken him on.’ He made a dismissive sound in his throat. ‘Mind you. References? These days? Telling the truth means opening a can of worms. Employers keep their comments neutral and kick the problem down the road for somebody else to deal with.’
Geddes doodled on the pad in front of him. ‘Melia wasn’t prosecuted. I wonder why?’
‘That’s a no-brainer. Can answer it without moving out of this chair. The manager who hired him was covering his arse. When what this guy was doing was flagged up he decided to get rid as quickly and quietly as possible. Don’t blame him. Would’ve done the same to protect the business. “Conman Car Dealer” isn’t the sort of publicity we need. Though I don’t understand what this has to do with anything.’
‘Would it surprise you to know that salesman was Joseph Melia?’
The policemen could almost see the wheels turning behind Crawford’s eyes, demanding his memory reveal anything he might know about this man. The lawyer seized on what he was hearing. ‘So you’re saying the abduction was motivated by revenge?’
Geddes wasn’t prepared to concede that much. ‘I’m saying the man who abducted Mr Crawford’s wife was a former employee.’
‘But if this ne’er-do-well had an axe to grind, then surely it isn’t a stretch to assume this was a reprisal?’
The detective ignored him and turned to Crawford. ‘Did you receive a demand for money?’
‘Obviously not or the police would’ve been brought in.’
‘Not everyone goes down that road. So what did Melia hope to achieve?’
The lawyer jumped in. ‘How can my client possibly answer that?’
Geddes let it go. ‘Buchanan Street. Let’s get back to it. You were saying your wife pointed a man out and you wouldn’t listen to her.’
Crawford drew a weary hand over his face; his head went down. He looked up at the policemen, willing them to understand how it had been. ‘Mackenzie’s a lovely person, but when she drinks she changes. The things she says. Talks as if she hates me. Threatening to leave is par for the course. I suppose I’d had enough of it. I’m ashamed to say I lost patience with her.’ The recorder would capture his story but not the expression on his face. ‘She ran out of the restaurant. I caught up with her in the street. She was shouting. People were staring. Then she saw him. I saw him too.’
‘Melia?’
‘Yes. Mackenzie said he was following her.’
DI Taylor spoke for the first time. ‘So why didn’t you believe her?’
‘He waved. He waved at her.’
‘And you assumed they knew each other?’
Desperation choked him. ‘I thought it was a set-up. I thought he was waiting for her.’ Crawford’s eyes were wild with regret. ‘Later at the party she confessed he was her lover in front of everyone. They all heard her, ask them. When we got home she screamed it at me. The next day she announced she was leaving.’
He threw up his hands, frustrated and angry, appealing to them. ‘What the fuck was I supposed to think?’
Geddes waited a moment before lobbing a hand grenade into the interview. ‘Do you always carry a knife, Mr Crawford?’
The lawyer seized on the question. ‘I demand you retract that. May I remind you again my client’s wife is the victim here?’
Geddes didn’t miss a beat. ‘Why did you have a blade with you?’
Roxburgh banged his fist on the table. ‘That’s an outrageous assumption.’
Crawford put his hand on his arm; his eyes met the policeman’s. ‘The knife wasn’t mine. It belonged to that bastard. If I hadn’t got there when I did we’d be having a different conversation.’
Blair and Adele Gardiner needed to talk, and it wasn’t going to be easy. While Mackenzie remained unconscious they avoided it. Gavin watched his sister sitting by the bed, noticing the strain she was under and understanding why. Adele had been Mackenzie’s harshest critic, irritated by what she believed was the adult manifestation of parental over-indulgence. The events in the house in the Lowther Hills had changed her mind. She held her sister’s hand, gently caressing it, whispering. Blair stood behind her. She wouldn’t have to search to find him – he was there.
Monica wasn’t. She was at home looking after Adam and Richard and Alice. Gavin missed her. Suddenly, Adele cried out and startled them. ‘She moved! She moved her fingers!’
Blair knew the guilt his wife was suffering and how much she needed it to be true. He chose his words. ‘Are you sure?’
She turned to Gavin. ‘She moved her fingers.’
Mackenzie’s unlined features said it wasn’t so. Adele saw the doubt on his face and reacted. ‘You think I imagined it. I didn’t. I really didn’t.’
Frustration turned to anger. ‘Call the nurse, Blair.’
He pressed the buzzer by the side of the bed. A moment later a nurse arrived and made a show of taking Mackenzie’s pulse. The others waited for her verdict and were disappointed.
‘We’ll keep monitoring her.’
Mackenzie Crawford was still unconscious in the ACCU in Wishaw Hospital. Her husband should be at her bedside instead of a room in Aikenhead Road police station. The last time he’d seen her was in the basement in the Lowther Hills. Geddes and Taylor had no desire to drag the interview out.
The DS said, ‘Describe how you came to be at the house.’
Tiredness made Crawford irritable. He barked his reply. ‘I saw the guy from Buchanan Street…Melia…in Glasgow. Behind the wheel of a Toyota at traffic lights on Cathedral Street. I made a U-turn and went after him.’
‘Why?’ In light of what came later the question seemed stupid.
‘Why?’ Derek Crawford spat out the word like it had a bad taste. ‘Why do you think? Mackenzie was with him.’
‘But you’d washed your hands of her, hadn’t you?’
He smiled a sour self-deprecating smile. ‘Did I say that? I suppose I did. I was worried about her. The whole family was worried.’
‘You wanted to be sure she was all right?’
‘No, there was no reason to think she wasn’t all right. Mackenzie’s family has been torn apart by this. It was a chance to put their minds at rest. For me…I just needed to know.’
‘So that’s when you called your brother-in-law?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was going through your mind?’
Crawford drew Geddes a sharp look. ‘I wasn’t thinking of killing him if that’s what you mean.’
‘I’m not suggesting you were, Mr Crawford.’
Roxburgh touched his client’s arm and he got himself back under control.
‘It’s hard to remember. The further we went the more I wondered where the hell he was taking me. When he turned off at Abington and headed into the back of beyond…it’s another world…couldn’t imagine Mackenzie living out there. I saw the car parked outside a house with the bloody roof caved in.’
Crawford took a minute before he went on. ‘You’ve been there, you’ve seen it.’ He shuddered and rubbed his injured arm. ‘When I went to the basement he was standing over her with a knife.’ He looked at Taylor and then at Geddes. ‘Christ only knows what he was going to do.’
‘Did he attack you or did you attack him?’
‘He came at me, and I knew I had to take that knife away from him before he had a chance to use it.’
‘What happened after that?’
The lawyer started to speak and changed his mind.
‘There was a struggle, that’s all I remember…until Gavin pulled me away. That’s when I saw what he’d done to Mackenzie.’
Crawford bent over the table and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Andrew Geddes didn’t wait for the DI’s say-so, he switched off the recorder.
The interview was over.
An hour later, DS Geddes explained to a shattered Derek Crawford what was going to happen. Crawford’s eyes were empty and lifeless. Geddes said, ‘You’ll be formally charged with the murder of Joseph Melia.’
‘Murder? You’re doing me for murder? You saw what he did. Doesn’t that matter?’
The detective put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘In a case like this the police always bring a murder charge. Standard procedure. The procurator fiscal will make the final decision.’ He looked hard into Crawford’s ravaged face. ‘And to answer your question – it does matter. In fact, it matters a great deal. Under the circumstances we won’t be opposing bail. This time tomorrow you’ll be able to visit you wife.’
Crawford didn’t raise his head and was taken to the cells. The next afternoon he would appear in court. Out in the corridor, the three men were sombre. What they’d witnessed had been rough – on all of them. Roxburgh spoke to the detectives with more than a trace of flint in his voice, appreciating they had a job to do but not liking them any better for it.
‘We’ll be entering a plea of not guilty and of course, requesting bail. The physical and psychological trauma Mrs Crawford has suffered may well have repercussions which publicity would exacerbate, inhibiting her recovery, and taking into consideration the damage to my client’s business reputation, I’ll also be asking the judge to impose a reporting ban.’ Roxburgh nodded stiffly and left.
Geddes checked his watch. DI Taylor said, ‘Caught me off-guard with the knife, have to say. Wasn’t expecting that approach.’
‘Just making sure, Sir. If Melia had been his wife’s lover, Crawford would’ve had quite a resentment going. In the circumstances it was a whole lot worse. According to PC Lawson, the manager who fired him clearly remembers that when he told him he was out, Joe Melia was calm. Derek Crawford played no part. He wasn’t involved.’
Geddes asked his superior for direction. ‘When do you want me to get the brother-in-law in? He’s an eye-witness.’
‘We have his initial statement, don’t we?’ Geddes told him they had. ‘Then there’s no rush. Let’s see how it goes after tomorrow.’
‘Any idea what side the PF will come down on?’
‘My guess is they won’t proceed. It’s an open and shut self-defence. Culpable homicide at best.’
‘You sure about that, sir?’
‘Not sure about anything these days. Are you?’