Dark Suits and Sad Songs (25 page)

‘I know what you’re doing,’ said Scott, as they made their way across the rough grass towards the fenced-off compound.

‘My job?’

‘Trying tae keep me off the bevy. Dae you think I came doon in the last fuckin’ shower, Jim?’

Daley stopped and looked at his friend. ‘I need to tell you something, and I need you to be the person I’ve known for all these years, however bloody long it’s been. I need the real Brian Scott back.’

‘Aye, whatever. Just gie me a break wae this fuckin’ drink shite. I know what I’m doin’. You try getting shot – I’ll tell you, Jim, the stuff that I dreamed when I was unconscious, well, I cannae get it oot o’ my heid. It was real, you know what I mean?’

Daley felt a flash of guilt. He had assumed that Brian Scott would recover quickly from his injuries and bounce back to being the effective police officer he had been for so many years. He hadn’t considered the deep scars that his near-death experience had left; were bound to have left. Once it was clear that Scott’s life was no longer in danger, Daley supposed he hadn’t given the matter too much thought. As usual, he had been embroiled in the day-to-day business of running both the local CID, as well as the sub-division itself. Then there was Liz, the baby, and all the other attendant problems. He remembered his promise to Liz earlier in the day; he remembered Mary Dunn.

‘Donald’s been suspended.’

‘What?’

‘Donald’s been suspended. Layton told me this afternoon.’

After a moment’s quiet contemplation, Scott said, ‘How dae I no’ feel like pulling off all my clothes and running intae the surf for joy?’

‘Read this.’ Daley handed Sarah MacDougall’s letter to his DS. Scott fiddled about in various pockets, found his reading glasses and squinted at the letter in the fading light.

‘She should never have been in there, Jim.’

‘That’s not why I’m showing you this. I know it’s a tragedy, Brian, but we have to grasp at anything we can get here.’

‘How dae you know that it’s right? She’d have said anything just tae get oot o’ that place, dae you no’ think?’

‘No, I don’t. I think that us being here, in Kinloch, is no coincidence. Right back to the start there’s been something going on.’

‘So is this why they’ve suspended his majesty?’

Daley shook his head. ‘No, you’re the only other person that’s seen this, and that’s the way it’s going to stay, for the time being anyhow.’

‘You’re taking a risk there, Jim boy. That’s material evidence in a murder inquiry, regardless o’ whitever else it’s saying. Anyway, who’s these mysterious folk at the top?’

‘I don’t know, Brian. That’s why I’m keeping this. The librarian at Cornton Vale saw me find it. She’s bound to mention it to Stirling now she’s in custody. But it’s her word against mine and, let’s face it, her word doesn’t mean too much right now. When Stirling ask about it, I’ll just play the daft laddie.’

‘What’s she in custody for?’

‘Whoever had Sarah killed used the librarian to spy on her.’

‘Bastards. But who wanted her killed?’

‘That, Brian, is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Old enemies of her father, or someone closer to home?’

‘What, Donald? Come on, Jim, you cannae be serious aboot that, surely?’

Daley shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t be sure about anything. This new force doesn’t help, either. At least we
knew everybody before, now we don’t have a clue who half the bosses are.’

‘Gie me half an hour wae Donald. I’ll just beat the truth oot the bastard.’

Suddenly, Daley flinched; a flash of light appeared over Scott’s shoulder and illuminated the compound in a harsh white light.

‘Get down, Brian!’ shouted Daley, almost deafened by a rushing sound overhead that shook his very bones.

The two detectives lay prone on the machair as sand and muck flew over their heads. Daley thought his head would burst as the noise ramped up; the ground trembled with the sheer force of what was happening. Through his tightly closed eyes, Daley was still aware of the flashing light.

As quickly as it started, it stopped. Daley and Scott lay motionless for a moment, then the DCI lifted his head. ‘What the fuck was that?’

‘Lights in the sky, Jim. Lights in the sky. I don’t care what you think o’ me, I need a bloody drink!’

31

The bar at the County was unusually crowded. Annie waved at the detectives as they made their way through the throng towards the bar.

‘How are yous the night, boys? I’ll be getting a bonus if it keeps as busy as this. Mair power tae the wee green men, that’s all I’ll say. It’s no’ been this busy since the Americans were testing oot they invisible planes back in the eighties.’

‘Eh? What do you mean?’

‘Och, they thought it was a’ hush hush, but we knew fine. It was the stealthy planes, or whootever they’re called.’

‘Stealth, do you mean?’

‘Aye, that’s it. Half the Americans were dating lassies fae the toon. No’ many secrets between the sheets, boys.’

‘There you are, Brian,’ said Daley. ‘Lights in the sky.’

‘Aye, well, if what I saw the other night is anything tae go by that plane must be out of this world.’ He handed a large malt whisky to Daley, who was scanning the bar for a free table.

‘Shit. Don’t look now, Brian. I’ve just found out why the bar’s so busy.’ Daley took a gulp of his drink and swilled it around in his mouth.

‘Well, it’s no’ happy hour,’ said Scott, looking at the paltry
change he had just been handed by Annie. ‘That bloody stuff costs an arm and a leg, gaffer.’

‘Ronnie Wiley and his cronies are holding court at a table at the back.’ Daley had to shout into Scott’s ear to be heard above the din.

‘What,
the
Ronnie Wiley?’

‘Take a look for yourself.’

Scott stretched up and peered over the crowd. Three men were sitting at the back table, the one usually occupied by the policemen when they were in for a drink. Wiley spotted Scott and gave him a hearty wave. He said something to one of the men beside him, then got up from the table and started forcing his way through the crowd towards the detectives.

‘Fuck,’ said Daley. ‘Here we go. We’d have been better off in the Douglas Arms.’

‘Gentlemen, how nice to see you after so long,’ said Wiley. He was about five eight, in his forties, with long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was wearing a designer shirt and jeans, and gave the impression of somebody who was working hard to stave off the reality of his middle age, and failing badly. ‘Can I get you hard-working men a drink?’

‘No thanks,’ said Daley. He noticed that the level of conversation in the bar had dropped dramatically.

‘What brings you doon here?’ asked Scott. ‘Don’t tell me they’ve run oot o’ sleazy stories up the road?’

‘Oh, come on, DS Scott. Do you think original sin is only alive and well in Glasgow? I can assure you that is most certainly not the case.’ He eyed Daley with a smirk. ‘Is that not right, Chief Inspector?’

Most of the drinkers around them had stopped their
conversations, and were now looking at the two policemen and the ponytailed journalist. Behind the bar, Annie looked suddenly worried, rubbing at a pint glass with a towel.

‘As you know, Ronnie, a policeman’s job is pretty universal. The same old problems crop up again and again – same old faces, too, come to that.’ Daley smiled.

‘I wonder, how are you getting on with the investigation of these dreadful murders – assassinations, more like? Now a girl connected with the investigation has been kidnapped, and is it not true that another woman who was helping the police with their inquiries was bludgeoned to death in the jail? And how is the investigation into the suicide of poor Mr Cudihey going, not to mention the UFOs that have been plaguing the area? I wouldn’t have thought you men had time for a social life.’ He grinned at Daley, showing a row of exceptionally white teeth.

‘Noo, come on, please, sir,’ said Annie, deciding it was time to intervene. ‘The polis just want tae have a drink and relax after a hard day.’

‘Certainly. I’m just chewing the fat with some old friends. Is that not right, gentlemen?’

‘We’re no friends of yours, Ronnie,’ Scott said, his face like thunder. ‘Jeest you dae your job, an’ let us do oors, got it?’

‘No problem,’ Wiley replied with a shrug. He turned as though about to leave, then stopped. ‘None of your other colleagues in tonight? DS Mary Dunn, for example?’

‘She’ll be back at hame turnin’ doon the bed,’ came a voice from the back of the room.

‘Aye, wae the sussies on tae,’ called another, raising a bawdy laugh from the bar.

‘Rumours and gossip, Mr Daley, truly dreadful,’ said Wiley. ‘I’d better take a seat.’

‘Aye, take the weight aff your feet,’ said Scott.

‘You’re a loyal little dog, right enough, Brian.’ He turned to Annie. ‘A drink for everyone, and just put it on my tab,’ he shouted, to a cheer from the assembled drinkers. As a surge of customers pressed against the bar, anxious to redeem their free drink while it was still on offer, Wiley was pushed against Daley. ‘Be sure to give Mrs Daley my regards.’ With that he forced his way through the crowd and back to his table.

‘I’m ready for an early night,’ said Daley, knocking back the rest of his drink. ‘You should do the same.’

‘Aye, Jimmy, aye. Just one more for the ditch for me.’

‘Make sure it is just
one
more.’ Daley put his glass on the bar, said goodnight to Annie and left. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice that he’d gone.

‘Gie me another, Annie,’ shouted Scott. ‘An’ make it a large one.’

Daley jumped in his car. He’d just had the one whisky, so was fine to drive, but as he set off on the road towards Machrie, he wished he’d drunk much more.

Just before the village, he turned down a long, rutted drive that led towards a small white cottage. He parked his car beside the blue hatchback already there and walked towards the front door, gravel popping underfoot. To his left, the dying glow of the sun kept the darkness of the night at bay. The air smelled of cut grass, warm earth and the invigorating scent of the ocean, never far in Kinloch. He was pleased to see a light still on behind her bedroom curtains. As he was
about to knock on the door, it swung open, Mary Dunn silhouetted in the bright light of the hall.

‘Sir . . . Jim,’ she said. ‘I heard a car, I wasn’t sure if it was you.’ She smiled. It was a warm night and she was wearing a large men’s T-shirt, her legs bare. ‘Come in,’ she said, brushing a loose strand of auburn hair from her brow.

Daley followed her into the cottage. She showed him into the small lounge, then walked into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

‘Eh, not for me, thanks,’ said Daley, with a nervous smile. ‘I’ve got the car.’

‘So you’re not staying,’ she said, her eyes downcast. ‘You don’t mind if I do, then?’ She didn’t wait for a reply, twisting the cork from the bottle and pouring wine into the large glass.

‘You know I saw Liz.’

‘Yes, of course. I take it that it went well.’

‘Listen, Mary. It went the way it always goes. It never changes.’

‘Oh, so you’re in love with her again, is that it? Thanks very much, now fuck off, Mary.’ She shifted her gaze from his, as tears brimmed in her eyes.

‘It’s not a case of being in love with her again. I’ve always tried to explain to you how I feel about her. It’s just that I thought we could never be together again, you know.’

‘Oh, great, and now you can. Happy families – you, her, and your brother-in-law’s baby. I’m so happy for you!’

‘I think the baby is mine, Mary.’

She sat back in her chair and drew her legs up under the T-shirt. He could see that she was making a mammoth effort not to cry. ‘How do you know?’ she said, through
choked sobs. ‘You can’t have the results of the DNA test yet.’

‘How did you know about that?’

‘I’m a fucking detective, you know, not just your bit on the side. I found the instructions in your bin, if you must know. I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen for months. It doesn’t make it any easier now it has.’

‘You were never just my bit on the side. You must know that!’

‘OK, then, fuck buddy, a shoulder to cry on. Whatever you want to call it to make yourself feel better.’ She took a large swig of wine. ‘What has she got that I don’t? I’m young, and I would never hurt you in the way she has. You told me about all the things she’s done to you, the affairs, all of the heartache. You’ve been in my bed for months, telling me how hard your life was with her, and now you’ve decided that it doesn’t matter because you
love
her. Fuck you!’ She leant forward and poured herself more wine, filling the glass to the brim.

‘It’s not like that. He’s my son.’

‘
If
he’s your son, you mean.’

‘I know he is, I can feel it here,’ said Daley, placing his hand on his heart.

‘So you’re prepared to live a lie, just so that your son has a happy family. Well, I don’t think it’ll make anyone happy!’ She sat back again, cradling her wine. ‘My father left us when I was ten, you know.’

‘You never said.’

‘I don’t speak about it much. He was a bastard. As soon as he left, our lives improved. My mother got a job back in the bank she had worked in before she’d had me, I went to school,
everything was fine. Instead of me lying in my bed listening to them arguing, or my mother screaming, or my dad taunting her with his latest affair, we listened to music and watched the TV, we talked, we were a normal family. Them splitting up was the best thing that ever happened. What was left of my childhood was happy, just me and my mum, so don’t think that trying to mould the perfect nuclear family will make everything OK.’

‘I would never behave like that. I hope you don’t think I would.’

‘No? You might manage to be faithful, now you’ve sown your wild oats with me, but what about her? Do you really think she’s changed overnight just because she’s given birth? Don’t be stupid, Jim.’

‘I have to give it a go. I have to try.’

‘Oh, just get out!’ shouted Mary, throwing her glass against the fireplace, where it shattered spectacularly. ‘Just leave me alone.’