2007 - The Dead Pool (22 page)

Nevertheless, she still felt guilty about being here. Later today, or certainly tomorrow, she’d have to face Morag. Pop in and see her, pretend that she hadn’t met up with someone who quite possibly thought her guilty as sin. And why was she here to see this person? As a sop to Ross, who was obviously genuinely worried about her? Yes, but that wasn’t reason enough. There was something nagging away in the back of her mind about Morag, however much she wanted to ignore it. Two things, in fact.

First, there was Morag’s frantic phone call after she was attacked by Alistair Sutherland. Her first words. ‘
Kirstin! Kirstin! I’ve killed him. It’s happened. Again!
’ Again. What did she mean by that? Was it merely a panicky reference to her fear that she was going to be unjustly arrested for killing
again?
Or, did the reference have another meaning?

Secondly, Dr Lockhart at the hospital. Although apparently confident of Morag’s mental resilience, Kirstin had picked up on…what? A hesitation? A doubt? Somediing the doctor couldn’t discuss with a lay person?

Kirstin was ninety-nine per cent sure that Morag was a wronged victim. Yet still, she was here…

‘The woman in red. That was a good idea of yours. Hi, I’m Harry.’

She twisted round in her seat to see a tall, slim man in shirtsleeves smiling at her. ‘Oh? Hello. Yes. Just as well I’m the only one in the vicinity wearing red.’ She stood up and took his outstretched hand. ‘Shall we just sit here?’

He smiled, hanging his sunglasses from his shirt pocket. ‘Yeah, why not.’

He sat down with his body turned towards her, the suit jacket slung casually over his knees. ‘I had another chat with Ross this morning. He told me about you…you knowing Morag Ramsay…and
helping
her?’

‘Yes. Look, I’m sure Ross will have told you that I have a
very
different perspective on Morag than either of you. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean that I in any way seriously doubt her. However, as I used to say to myself when I worked in criminal law, if you’re going to take the side of the angels, you’d better be sure that they really are angels you’re fighting for.’

Harry Kinnaird looked amused and glanced away from her, down the slope to a group of teenagers cavorting on the grass. ‘And if you discover they’re not?’

She followed the direction of his gaze, and gave an involuntary smile at the joyful group. ‘Then you have to live with that. And, hopefully, learn from it. You obviously think Morag’s no angel. I’d like to know why.’

Harry Kinnaird’s open features closed, leaving his expression serious, almost stern. ‘I was, I
am
still very upset at Craig’s death. The shock of it. The way it happened. I didn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that Morag had done it. Whatever I thought of her, I couldn’t imagine her doing something like that. No, at first I thought it was just incredibly bad luck. That some nutcase had come upon them.’

He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. ‘And that
may
still be the case. One must always keep some part of one’s mind open. But what made me become suspicious of Morag was when Ross got in touch with me. I’d only met Jamie a few times at Law Society do’s and suchlike. He was a great old guy. So when Ross told me he was worried about his father becoming involved in her case, I was prepared to help.’

He looked directly at her, his voice low but firm. ‘And from what I could gather, the Morag that Jamie knew seemed a million miles away from what I’d heard via Craig, and seen with my own eyes.’

Kirstin glanced over his shoulder, not wanting to meet his penetrating gaze. The story was beginning to sound familiar. As with Jamie, was there another version of Morag?

She met his eyes. ‘Who was the Morag that you knew?’

He bent his head to the ground and began toeing a loose tuft of grass. ‘Let me start at the beginning. This part I know only through Craig. We didn’t become friends until he moved to Edinburgh. A job Morag headhunted him for. Craig was a bit blown away by her then. Granted, headhun-ters aren’t shrinking violets, but she’d oozed determination, delivered with charm, and she showed a real knowledge of what his work was about. She’s a science graduate herself, so they could speak the language, as it were. In a flash she bagged him for the job and, ultimately, for herself. Though her…her…
possession
of him took a while. It was a slow-burn process, you see. And all the more chilling for it, in my view.’ He moved his jacket to the back of the bench before continuing. ‘Let me explain. The first year saw each of them being a bit cautious. Both admitted to a string of unsuccessful relationships. He
did
have some long-term relationship history. But that was in his early twenties when he was fast-tracking on his PhD. He’d welcomed stability then. And, for a while with Morag, he thought he might again.’

Kirstin nodded. ‘So at one time he
was
serious about her? After all, they were together…what? Two and a half, three years?’

‘Yes. But after a while, he began to crave change. Like many men, afraid of emotion and commitment. It coincided with Morag buying the house near the river and hooking up with that lot. Craig was a big hit with them, and it went to his head. Morag hated that.’ He gave a hopeless shrug. ‘It was a mess. He’d thrown himself into the relationship with Morag while it suited. But he was far from happy by this stage. She wasn’t happy either. That was obvious. If only she’d made the first move to end it. The thing was, Craig told me that Morag had never been the kind of woman whose neediness was immediately obvious. She’d fooled him. As soon as she got wind that he was restless, the trouble began.’

Kirstin frowned. ‘So far it’s a pretty everyday story of love going wrong. What exactly was this trouble?’

Harry Kinnaird stretched out his long legs and peeled his sticky shirt from his back. The day was now sweltering. ‘Craig made a big mistake. Two mistakes. Although they spent most of their time at her house—not surprising, really, it’s beautiful—Craig still refused to move in with her. Secondly, and I witnessed this after a boozy dinner party, Craig raised the subject of open relationships. I don’t know what possessed him. Maybe it was a coward’s way of saying ‘I want out’. But it created a state of near hysteria in Morag. He’d known her insecurities were there under the surface, but this seemed to push her almost over the edge, leaving him wishing he’d never raised the subject.’

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the neck of his shirt. ‘Morag walked out of the dinner party…Craig batted it all off as ‘unimportant’, just ‘a topic of discussion’, but you could see he was upset at her behaviour.’

Kirstin half smiled. ‘Well, she’s got a point, don’t you think? I’m sorry, Harry, all that you’ve told me seems iffy second-hand gossip from Craig, and he had his own motives for demonizing her. He wanted rid of her, after all. Her reactions seem perfectly reasonable.’

He scowled, shaking his head in disagreement. ‘What’s
not
reasonable is what she did to him outside that dinner party. I was there. He went after her, and she smashed him in the face with a heavy umbrella. He needed stitches. She then went round to his flat, drowned his new laptop in the bath, and smashed a couple of picture frames with photos of them together. That wasn’t the last time episodes like that occurred. She also had an obsession, a deep insecurity about her age.’

‘Her age?’

‘Oh, yes. Morag lied about her age to everybody. She was actually something like ten years older than Craig. But hid it well. Spent a fortune on keeping young. That particular insecurity surfaced regularly. And ended inevitably in another violent scene. Granted, these episodes were often committed under the influence of drink, or something she’d shoved up her nose or down her throat. But they were hardly ‘reasonable’ behaviour.’

The sun was too much for him, and he plucked the sunglasses from his shirt pocket. ‘Look, I’m not sure if she lost it that day. Knew about an affair that had been taking place under her nose for ages. I simply don’t know. What I
do
know is that the version of herself she sold to Jamie, and may be selling to you and others, is not the full story. At the time of his death, Craig had had enough.’

‘What, you mean he was going to leave her?’

‘That was the plan. By the end of the summer, Craig wanted to have made a fresh start. Preferably with lona. He knew he’d have to get his timing right, but he was definitely going to tell Morag. I remember the last time I saw him. He said that one thing was certain. Morag’s reaction would be a big problem. I still recall the words he used. ‘
Heaven help me when I break the news. I’llneed a suit of armour to face her
.’’

K
irstin threw the keys on to the hall table and headed straight for the garden, grabbing an ice-cold bottle of mineral water from the fridge en route. She made her way across the lawn to the river’s edge, and dropped down on to the grass, exhausted. All the way back from town she’d gone over what Harry had said. Just as had happened with Jamie, a completely different person was now being described to her. And, coupled with the nagging queries that had lain in her mind for the past few days…

‘Hello! Where are you?’

The shout jolted her into life. She twisted round, ready to jump up. Ross was wandering down the garden, smiling. Uninvited, he plonked himself down beside her. ‘Harry said he enjoyed meeting you but reckons he lost his case. Did he?’

She was beginning to tire of him popping in to see her whenever he liked. They weren’t married now. It wasn’t her house, but she had to be allowed her privacy. She managed a forced smile. ‘Hi, Ross. His case against Morag is weak and circumstantial, I’m afraid. And sexist. At least he had the good sense not to call her a bunny-boiler in my company, unlike you. She’s got problems, yes. But I knew that anyway.’

‘Wow!’ He held up both hands in mock surrender. ‘Play the gender card if you like, but I think you’re missing the point with Morag Ramsay. You bloody softie! That woman’U run rings round you. But let’s leave that for now…I’ve come to pick up those boxes for the recycling centre
and
to invite you to have some fun.’

She needed to be alone. Company, any company, was the last thing she wanted and, to make matters worse, Ross was in one of his jolly moods. She knew what that meant. ‘You win
your
case this morning, Ross?’

He laughed. ‘Hah! I did indeed. But instead of running off straightaway to wallow in champagne with the rest of the team, I thought I’d try and tempt you to an all-afternoon lunch with us. I think you need cheering up. There’ll be some familiar faces.’

She kept staring ahead. The slow-flowing river and its quiet gurgling had an almost hypnotic effect. Ross would never change. When he was happy and upbeat like this, it was infectious. In the last few minutes, he had lifted her tired spirits a few notches. But the thought of having to face his colleagues—people she’d never particularly liked anyway—had her groaning inwardly.

‘Kirsty? What’s up? You’d be very welcome. And…Annelise won’t be there. She’s on a girls’ shopping weekend in London.’ He sighed and shifted his body away from her, at last picking up her message:
I need space
. ‘I’m sorry that you seem so…so low, sad. Maybe you should leave off going through Dad’s stuff. Take a break, rest up. You’re very welcome to stay here for as long as you need. At least, until I can organize getting the place cleared properly. It’s all been a bit piecemeal to date. I must speak to Glen. I need more time.’

‘I’m seeing him.’ She blurted it out with no attempt at control.

Ross shifted round to look more clearly at her. ‘Oh, right. When?’

She stood up and moved a few feet along the riverbank, keeping her back to him. ‘No, I mean I’m seeing,
seeing
Glen. He’s a nice guy.’

Silence. And then she turned. Ross was staring down at the dry grass. His face blank. What she’d done, or rather the way she’d done it, had been cruel. He lifted his head to look at her. She avoided his gaze and scuffed a foot across the lawn, waiting for him to speak. Christ, she hated herself at this moment. She knew she was getting back at him. For not telling her about Jamie’s death. For being such a sod at times during their marriage. For finding happiness with someone else. For making a baby. And maybe, just maybe, for trying to sabotage her belief in an underdog.

She moved towards him, hands outstretched. Ross was standing up now. ‘Look, Ross. I’m sorry. I sh—’

But he was holding his own hands out as he stood up and stepped forward to take her gently by the shoulders. ‘Listen,
listen
. It’s okay, it’s fine. I’m glad for you. Truly. My…my only slight surprise is that it’s Glen. But, yes he is, I’m sure, a nice guy. Dad liked him very much. It’s fine. Really. Look, maybe we could all go out one night. In a foursome?’

She clasped one of his hands and smiled. That was pushing it a bit. But she was relieved. There had been no scene. And there was an obvious reason for that. He didn’t love her any more. He was happy. If she had been trying to hurt him, she’d failed.
Let that be a lesson. Let the past lie
.

T
he call from Morag had come just as she was saying goodbye to Ross and assuring him that she’d make a start on Jamie’s study. It had been disconcerting. ‘
Hi, whereare you? Doing anything nice? I wondered ifyou’d do me a favour and collect some more stuff from my house?

Kirstin now stood in Morag’s hallway, bulging holdall in hand. She was hovering at the front door when the phone rang. Morag again, with more orders?

‘Hello.’

‘Is that Morag Ramsay?’

It was a young, male voice. Strong, Glaswegian accent.

‘Eh…it’s Kirstin. I’m sort of looking after Morag. Who’s calling?’

‘I’m Jules Moncrieff. A friend of Bonnie’s. She said you were looking after Morag. Bonnie talked to me the day she died. After she saw you. Gave me Morag’s number. I…wondered if she’d like to see me?’

Kirstin couldn’t answer immediately. This was a surprise. Given all that had happened, she had quite forgotten about Jules. ‘Oh…eh, yes. I’m sure Morag would like to see you.’ Kirstin felt wrong-footed. ‘I…I’m very, very sorry about Bonnie. Where, when would you like to see us? I’d probably have to come too. Morag’s not in a great state right now.’