Cradle to Grave (26 page)

He’d no time for Kershaw anyway, snotty cow! Glasgow wasn’t good enough for her and neither, obviously, was he – and her poor kid, bundled off to strangers! That told you all you needed to know.

MacNee was in kind of a black mood anyway. To add to his troubles, he was suffering the after-effects of his exertions in cold water as well as lack of sleep. Being indestructible was one of his small vanities, but today he was just feeling wabbit. It was a sign of age, probably, to be so wiped out, and that didn’t cheer him either.

At least his worrying yesterday had been unnecessary. The animals were fine: his neighbour had done the needful, noticing that his car wasn’t back. She was a treasure, that woman, neighbourly without being nebby. When she asked how Bunty was and he said, ‘Fine,’ she’d left it at that.

Kershaw was getting a lot of support now. There was Campbell, even, usually the voice of common sense, piping up with, ‘If she could murder a wee baby, her ex would hardly be a problem.’

‘If !’ MacNee said. It came out more aggressively than he had meant it to and the three heads turned.

Across the desk, Fleming frowned. ‘Yes, Tam?’

‘Stewart got acquitted, right? Or doesn’t that count any more, if someone’s got a hunch she was guilty after all? I’ve seen enough of Nico Ryan to put money on him being happy to take his wee sister outside and leave her there, just for a laugh. That one’s a bawbee short of a shilling.’

‘I’ll give you that,’ Fleming acknowledged, and Macdonald chimed in with an account of his macabre conversation with the child.

‘There you are,’ MacNee said triumphantly. Without realising he was doing it, he shifted on the table to move closer to the group.

Kershaw’s lips tightened. ‘You’re not actually suggesting that the kid went out and bludgeoned his grandfather to death? For heaven’s sake—’

‘Never said that, did I?’ MacNee could feel his hackles rising. ‘All I’m suggesting is that you’re making a lot out of there being no car keys or wallet on the body in the cottage. Like if you killed someone you’d leave ID to help us out? And no jacket’s the giveaway – you wouldn’t have walked even a hundred yards on Wednesday without a jacket.

‘We’re not needing fancy theories when there’s an obvious suspect – the man who nearly killed the both of us.’ He gestured towards himself and Fleming.

‘Jamieson, assuming he sabotaged the bridge,’ she said slowly. ‘Certainly . . .’

‘Well, let’s put it this way.’ MacNee was leaning forward now as he urged his point. ‘Whoever did cut through the supports of that bridge was prepared to take lives and I’m saying I doubt if Lisa Stewart just happened to be carrying a chainsaw when she escaped the landslide.

‘And the man they found in her house – she said from the start it wasn’t her boyfriend, because he’d left. Your report’ – he nodded towards Kershaw – ‘even said the neighbour saw him leave with a suitcase. So when Stewart looks at the body and says it isn’t the boyfriend, suddenly she’s lying? If you hadn’t chosen to believe the jury got it wrong – after listening to the whole case, remember – she wouldn’t be in the frame at all, would she?’

Kershaw’s face crimsoned. ‘Look, MacNee—’

‘Hold it right there,’ Fleming said. ‘Both of you.’

Kershaw looked down at her lap. MacNee held the inspector’s gaze defiantly for a moment, but then his eyes dropped too.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong,’ she said coldly, ‘but I was under the impression this was a team and that discussions like this are a chance to throw around ideas, not a competition to see who’s got the best one and to hack down anyone who thinks differently. If anyone starts getting possessive about a theory, the whole thing’s pointless. Maybe it’s Stewart’s partner, maybe it isn’t, but—’

‘If it’s not, he’s got to be somewhere else,’ Campbell put in.

‘Good point. Of course he does. We can post an alert and appeal for him to get in touch, and that would settle it. You deal with that, Ewan.’ Fleming glanced at her watch and got up. ‘Time we went down for the briefing. But I’m tasking you two now. Kim, I want you to take on tracking down Jamieson. Tam, you can check out Lisa Stewart – get the number of Morrissey’s car while you’re at it. And both of you can grow up.’ She swept out.

In an awkward silence, Campbell looked from one to the other sardonically. ‘That’s you telt, eh?’ he said, as he and Macdonald followed Big Marge out.

MacNee didn’t look at Kershaw, but he suspected that, like him, she was grinding her teeth.

Nico Ryan was jumping on and off one of the sofas in the sitting room. U2’s
Rattle and Hum
was playing over the speakers and Nico was singing tunelessly along to ‘Helter Skelter’ now. He must, his father decided irritably, be tone deaf.

Cara was sitting beside Declan on a sofa at the other end of the room with a half-smile on her face, apparently oblivious. She could sit like that for hours, which was beginning to get on Declan’s nerves too.

‘Cara!’ he said loudly. She didn’t respond and he tugged at her hand. ‘Hello-o? Anybody there?’

She turned her head slowly. ‘Of course I am.’

‘Can’t you find something for Nico to do? He’s driving me crazy.’

‘He’s got something to do.’ She gestured to the child, now dancing to the music with extravagant abandon. ‘He likes it.’

Declan drew a deep breath. ‘I don’t. Look, we’ve got a problem here. He’s had his medication but he’s still going wild because he’s bored out of his skull. You know I need a clear head just now – how can I think with that going on all the time? If you won’t make an effort to occupy him, why don’t we get in a local girl, or a boy, better still, who could take him out, play football, tire him out—’

‘No!’ Suddenly the passive blue eyes were blazing. ‘No! How could you even say those words? You know what happened.’

Declan sighed, running his hands through his hair. ‘Of course I frigging know. But he’s worse up here, where there’s nothing for him, no school or anything.’

‘We can’t leave. Not yet.’

‘I know that too. Of course I do. For a start, the police want us here, and what they want, they get, right?’

‘Of course,’ Cara said, but he could see she had drifted away as she usually did when she had no more to say.

In sudden irritation, Declan seized the remote control and killed the music. Nico’s face turned puce with rage.

‘Why did you do that?’ he yelled, and launched himself at his father, swearing and kicking, while Declan, grim-faced, held him off.

Cara looked at her son, raising her voice a little to be heard. ‘You know Mummy doesn’t like to hear swear words, darling.’ Then she turned to Declan, holding out her hand. ‘Give me that. Nico likes the music.’

With a helpless shrug he gave it to her and left the room.

Nico’s tantrum stopped as suddenly as if a switch had been flicked. Smirking, he started dancing again as ‘Van Diemen’s Land’ began.

The rain had come on again. It should still have been light, but the sky was leaden grey and a heavy dusk had fallen as Marjory Fleming, feeling limp with exhaustion, turned on to the Mains of Craigie track.

The house, she always thought, looked like a child’s drawing with its two windows up, two down, and the seldom-used front door in the middle. Tonight, with most of the windows lit, it looked so cosy and welcoming and, well, normal, that weak tears came to her eyes.

I must be in a bad way, she reflected, as she drove round to park in the yard by the back door. Get a grip, woman!

But as Marjory got out of the car and Bill’s dear, familiar figure appeared at the back door to greet her, with Meg the collie bounding around giving welcoming barks, she had to sniff and gulp before she could greet him with a smile.

He looked at her face with dismay. ‘For heaven’s sake, lassie, what have they been doing to you? You’re looking like the wrath of God!’

‘There’s nothing like a compliment to make a woman feel better – and that’s nothing like a compliment,’ she joked, as he hugged her cautiously. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’

‘I can only hope not,’ Bill said, as they walked along to the kitchen. ‘Seriously, though, how are you feeling?’

Awful, was the honest reply. ‘I’ve – I’ve felt better,’ she said.

‘I see. Awful,’ Bill said. ‘You’re going straight to your bed. Have you seen a doctor?’

‘No need, honestly. It was just a bash on the head and now I’m shattered. It’s been a tough couple of days.’

‘You said you were snowed under when you phoned, and it’s on the news this evening. What’s—’

Cat appeared from the hall as he spoke. ‘You’re late, Mum. Wow! You look terrible!’

‘Gee, thanks!’ Marjory said.

‘I’m sending Mum to bed,’ Bill said. ‘There’s soup left, isn’t there, Cat? Just heat it up and put it on a tray. I’ll bring her a dram – she’s looking as if she needs it.’

‘You could say,’ Marjory said with feeling. ‘Is Cammie in his room? I’ll look in on my way to bed.’

He hadn’t come down to see her, as Cat had. As Marjory climbed the stairs, which seemed much steeper than usual tonight, she told herself not to be oversensitive, but their relationship had been dented earlier this year when Cameron had felt she put her work before her family. With a certain justice, she sometimes thought guiltily.

However, when she opened his door, Cammie – a big lad now, with his father’s build and his mother’s dark colouring – was lying on his bed, plugged into an iPod and reading a rugby magazine. He looked up with a grin, which changed to concern as he saw her technicolour face.

Warmed, she reassured him, said goodnight, then dragged herself to bed, sighing with satisfaction as she lay down. It was wonderful to be back in her own room, with the photos of her children on the dressing table and the curtains that were a little faded and the bedside light with the cut paper shade that fell off every so often but which she refused to replace because it was so pretty, and her own bed – not even the expensive mattress at Rosscarron House was as comfortable as her own bed, which had just the slightest hollow where she always lay. And she was safely distanced from the investigation; she wouldn’t have to lock the door and lie wondering who might be prowling in the corridor outside.

Marjory thrust the thought from her mind as Cat came in and set a tray on her knees. She realised she was very hungry indeed. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember.

‘Granny’s been here, obviously,’ she said, spooning up the thick Scotch broth. ‘How is she?’

‘Oh, she’s having a fine time,’ Cat assured her. ‘Karolina keeps trying to do the housework and stuff that she’s paid to do, but Gran keeps clucking over her – forcing her to go and rest, though it’s months till the baby’s due. Just an excuse to take over, I reckon.’

Marjory shook her head. ‘She’s an awful woman. Still, if it makes her happy and it isn’t driving Karolina mad . . . Oh, that looks good too, Bill!’

Bill smiled down at her, setting two glasses and a bottle of Bladnoch on the bedside table. ‘So, tell us what’s been going on.’

‘Wait!’ Cat interrupted. ‘I’ve got to know. Did you get to meet Joshua?’

A mouthful of soup went down the wrong way and Marjory spluttered. Damn! She should have been prepared for that question.

‘Well, yes,’ she said, as lightly as she could. ‘The weirdest thing, Bill – you know who this “Joshua” turned out to be? None other than Joss Hepburn!’

Bill, unscrewing the cap on the whisky bottle, froze. ‘Joss Hepburn?’

‘Yes. Extraordinary, or what?’

Oblivious to the atmosphere, Cat stared at her mother. ‘You mean, you know
Joshua
?’

‘Knew,’ Marjory said, too hastily. ‘We both knew him when we were young.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Cat demanded. ‘And how come you knew him, anyway?’

‘I’d no idea he was your Joshua. He came from round here. He had a band called Electric Earthquake and we all used to go to the gigs.’

‘Oh wow!’ Cat said reverently.

Bill’s voice was carefully neutral. ‘And how is he?’

‘Oh, much the same. Still got a crooked nose.’ Marjory hoped this might raise a smile, but Bill only nodded.

‘Tell me what he’s really like,’ Cat begged.

Marjory simply didn’t feel strong enough for the sort of careful weighing of every word that this conversation would need. She had finished her soup; she gave a huge yawn.

‘Quite honestly, I don’t want to go through it all tonight. I’m shattered, and I have to be in early tomorrow. I’m not sure I even want a drink after all, if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not.’ Bill collected up the unused glasses. ‘You get some sleep. I’ll try not to wake you when I come up.’

Cat looked wistful. ‘OK. But you promise you’ll tell me all about him tomorrow?’

‘Mmm,’ Marjory said. ‘Just put the light off, will you?’

As they left the room, Marjory heard Cat say to her father, ‘You and Mum had some well cool friends, didn’t you?’ and winced.

Despite her tiredness, she didn’t sleep immediately. There had been so much else going on that she’d given very little thought to Bill’s reaction to her meeting Joss again, except to reflect fleetingly that, while he might still be sensitive, surely after all these years of happy marriage he could hardly doubt her enduring love. It had occurred to her it might be wise to plan how to present this, but with one thing and another she’d forgotten.