She stopped to drink some water and coughed to try to clear her throat. Strang realised he was holding his breath. Murray was on the edge of her seat.
The hoarse, rasping voice went on. ‘He was there – Niall. He was face down in the bog, and he was dead. Just – dead. I think I screamed. I was sick, certainly. I couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to think what had happened. I fled down that path, falling in the bog, pulling myself out again, crying. When I got back to the house, David was there.
‘When he saw the mess I was in, he knew where I’d been, and he just fell apart. He was in a terrible state; they’d had a row because Niall had turned against me and was going to vote with Michie, who wanted to sell the business – Paddy’s business, that meant everything to him. It was betrayal, David said, and he’d just lost his temper. He punched Niall and he fell against a stone. He lifted him up, tried to revive him, but he’d been killed outright. It was an awful, horrible accident and now David would go to prison unless I backed him.’
Strang schooled his features to look impassive but even so she wasn’t fooled. ‘Oh, I can tell what you’re thinking. But abstract justice is your job, not mine. Niall was dead, and what was the point of ruining David’s life? The accident had only happened because David was so loyal to my father and me, and I owed him.
‘He’d left Niall’s car at the information centre; it would look as if he’d gone for a walk in the bogland and got lost. That was the story.’
Again, Gabrielle stopped to drink some water. Her voice was getting thready now and she seemed reluctant to go on. Murray was leaning forward and Strang could almost hear her mentally urging, ‘Ask her about the cottage, ask her about the cottage!’ and he directed a sharp look that dared her to speak. He murmured, ‘But then …?’
Gabrielle’s head was bowed. ‘I-I couldn’t just leave him there, rotting away. Even if he had turned traitor, he was my oldest friend, Paddy’s only loyal ally. I couldn’t sleep at night for thinking about it, kept seeing him there when I closed my eyes. It was as if he was begging me not to abandon him for the scavengers to find – I couldn’t bear the thought.’
She didn’t know about the ravens, then. He could feel Murray looking at him but Strang didn’t meet her eye.
‘So, when David went offshore I got out the Bombi – that little tracked vehicle Paddy never managed to sell – and went up to get him and take him across the moor at the back of the cottage. He was – sort of soft and heavy, very heavy—’ She gave a shudder. ‘But not – well, disgusting, or anything. I wanted him found, you see, buried properly, and if I propped the door open Fergus Mowat would come to check – we all knew he kept an eye on the place. There was even a rug someone had left there to put him on.’
She choked a little, but Strang wasn’t sure whether it was emotion or pain from her exertions. She was pale with exhaustion and he reckoned only willpower was keeping her going.
‘I didn’t really think there was a risk to David. He was so confident no one would be able to link anything to him. And I never told him what I’d done – just wouldn’t answer anything he asked.’
Murray could bear it no longer. ‘But why the cottage? Why not beside the road, or something?’
That angered her. ‘Like – rubbish, you mean? He wasn’t rubbish!’ Her voice cracked, and she had to cough again. ‘It was fitting, somehow. It was my refuge, the cottage. We’d mucked about there as kids and later when everything was going wrong – Paddy’s business failing, my mother cheating on him, the family breaking up, all that stuff – I’d escape there to get away. Niall was a lot older, but he’d still come and sit with me for hours and let me talk and talk. He’d be sheltered there, I thought, though the roof’s mostly gone now. I owed him, you see, even if—’ She broke off. ‘But now, of course, from what Francesca said David lied about that too. Niall was still loyal. I shouldn’t have doubted him.’
Her voice was fading to a grating whisper now and she was blinking away tears. ‘Sorry. Don’t think I can talk any more. Too sore.’ She leant back on her pillows and closed her eyes.
Strang got up. ‘You’ve given us all we need, Mrs Ross. Later when you’re feeling better we’ll bring you the statement to sign.’
Gabrielle opened her eyes again. ‘I’ve just thought – if I don’t really have Alzheimer’s after all, what will you do to me?’ she whispered.
Strang said carefully, ‘I’m not going to give you meaningless promises. It’s not up to me and there are serious charges that can be brought against you. But there are powerful mitigating factors and your willing cooperation now will stand you in good stead.’
Murray came to stand beside the bed. ‘That’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to say. But I’d bet my next month’s wages you’ll not get much more than a slap on the wrist.’
Gabrielle smiled uncertainly, and she was asleep before they were out of the room.
‘Shouldn’t really have said that, should I? Sorry, boss,’ Murray said as she walked back to the car.
‘You can’t help feeling pity for her when you see her like that, with her life destroyed,’ Strang said. ‘She’s remarkably strong, though. She’ll fight back. Now let’s return to our Mr Ross. I’m going to enjoy taking a wrecking ball to his life.’
At Westbury House, Malcolm Sinclair was in the sitting room when Francesca Curran got back. He had a phone in his hand, there was a pile of papers on the table in front of him and he was grey with tiredness and stress. His air of comfortable self-assurance had deserted him, and he greeted Francesca with relief.
‘Thank goodness. I was wondering when you’d come back, Fran. We need to put our heads together and sort out a strategy. Come and sit down and I’ll show you the notes I’ve taken on what the lawyer’s said.’
She didn’t sit down. ‘Not going to ask how Gabrielle is?’
‘Gabrielle? They said she’d be fine. No, the important thing is to make sure we leave no stone unturned in your mother’s defence.’
‘Defence? When she was in on this too?’
He recoiled, as if she’d slapped him. ‘What are you talking about, Fran?’
‘She was. I was upstairs when they were talking in the hall. He told her – it was “awful”, he said and then they were kissing before he went off to kill Gabrielle.’
For a moment he looked shaken but then, in a voice she’d often heard him use to patients who had the effrontery to question some aspect of their treatment, he said, ‘Fran, you actually seem to believe this. I can assure you, you’re quite mistaken – picked it up wrongly and jumped to conclusions.
‘Your mother was allowed to phone me this morning and has explained to me how it was – David was always a problem to her, harassing her, really, but you can imagine how awkward it was with him being her son-in-law and her not wanting to distress Gabrielle when she was so fragile. She just tried to keep him at arm’s length as best she could, but he overstepped the mark last night. She’d decided she really had to talk to him about it and thought with Gabrielle in bed that she’d get the opportunity – and then, of course, she stumbled on that dreadful scene. It’s outrageous that the police could even take her in for questioning, when she was a sociopath’s victim too, being virtually stalked in her own home.’
Francesca shook her head. ‘Oh, she’s really got you conned, Malcolm. I feel sorry for you. The reason the police detained her was because I told them what I’ve just told you, and David told them a lot more at the same time. They’ve been lovers for years. What sort of woman was she, your precious Lilian, that she could not only betray her daughter but agree to have her killed? You might get some sympathy as an injured party but if you defend her you’ll look like a fool.’
Sinclair got up. He was much taller than she was and his was an intimidating presence. ‘Say another word against your mother, Francesca, and I will demand that you leave this house.’
‘You couldn’t make me stay.’
He looked nonplussed by the failure of his t
hreat, hardly seemed to understand what she had been saying. ‘But this is going to be a hard time for your mother! She’ll need your support. She’s always relied on you, Fran.’
‘Oh yes, relied on using me in the battle against my father since I was a child,’ she said. ‘My whole life has been contaminated by the pair of them. I don’t know where I’m going – somewhere with normal people, I hope. If you’ve any sense, you’ll clear out too.’
‘But the lawyer said you could be a character witness—’
She laughed at that. ‘I don’t think he’d like what I’d say. I’ll give it to you, though – you’re loyal. We’ve always valued loyalty in the Curran family. It’s been an obsession, really. But you might want to consider where loyalty got poor Niall. Now I’m going to pack.’
Sinclair sat down, his head in his hands for a moment. This was terrible – how would Lilian feel about her daughter’s cruel pig-headedness? For a moment he almost wavered – but no, he wasn’t even going to consider what she’d said. He picked up his notes, then the phone, and dialled the lawyer’s number for the fourth time that morning.
EPILOGUE
Murray arrived back in Edinburgh ahead of DCI Strang and reported in to Angie Andrews, the administrator for the SRCS.
‘Flavour of the week, you two are,’ Angie said. ‘Want a coffee? Might even stretch to a chocolate Hobnob as a reward. When’s Strang going to get back?’
Murray sat down as Angie switched on the kettle on top of her filing cabinet. ‘Hard to say. He’s supervising the interviews along with the local guy – fully paid-up numpty, by the way. Has to make sure he can’t screw everything up when he hands over.’
‘Got a lot of good coverage in the media so JB’s well chuffed. With the arrest they obviously haven’t been able to say much but it sounds as if you had a right lot up there.’
‘Got half an hour? We’ve some pretty sick families down here but they were something else. I’m glad to get out – I was getting feart it was maybe infectious. There was something about that place that was sort of weird – the bogs and everything. Talking of which, how’s my pal “Kevlar”?’ She indicated the quotation marks.
‘Ah,’ Angie said. ‘Bit unfortunate, really. Fully recovered, but he’s been suspended.’
‘Suspended? What’s he done?’ she asked, though she had a feeling she probably knew.
‘He was “Me Too”ed. Couple of the FCAs got together and went to JB. She pounced on him his first day back and hasn’t let him resign until after the disciplinary panel. Gave him both barrels – you should have seen him when he came in here snivelling.’
‘Wish I had,’ Murray said with feeling and Angie raised an eyebrow.
‘Have problems with him?’
‘Nothing I couldn’t handle. Pathetic, quite honestly, but he’d a nasty habit of trying to drop you in it whenever he could.’
‘And did he? How did you get on with Strang this time? You weren’t exactly thrilled when I gave you the allocation.’
Murray paused to think. ‘He’s a good copper. But he picks you up on everything – it’s a bit exhausting. And I still don’t feel I know him much better than I did. Every so often you get a wee keek at the person but then he goes back to being all chief inspectorish. It’s like he uses that as – well, armour or something.’
‘Interesting,’ Angie said. ‘But the big question – if I said you were going with him on another case, would you be pleased?’
This time she didn’t hesitate. ‘Oh aye. I’m getting an education, you see. I’m not wanting to stay a DC all my life.’
Angie laughed. ‘Move over JB?’
‘You think you’re joking,’ Murray said. ‘Stick around.’
Detective Chief Superintendent Borthwick greeted DCI Strang like a favourite son.
‘This is the first decent coverage we’ve had in the media for weeks. The chief constable’s incredibly pleased. I took the opportunity to put in for a rise in the budget.’
Strang looked suitably grateful. ‘It was a quirky case – that’s what drew their attention. In essence, the murder was a simple business dispute – Ross just wanted to get his hands on the money from the sale of Curran’s firm and, with Gabrielle certifiable or dead, Niall Aitchison was all that stood in his way. It was the psychological warfare round about it that was the hideous thing. There’ll be more media fuss when it comes out at the trial.’
‘When you told me about it, I thought the worst thing of all was the mother’s involvement. How could you be a party to something so cruel – your own daughter?’
‘There was real hatred there, I think. She was a solipsist – everything was judged by the way it related to her interests. She saw Gabrielle as her rival because of her close relationship with Pat Curran, and again with David Ross, even though it seems she’d encouraged the marriage. She knew he wanted money and there was always the danger that he’d go off with someone else who had it – this kept it all in the family.’
‘Can we nail her?’
Strang grimaced. ‘To be honest, I doubt it. She’s been careful to distance herself right up until the end. The most solid stuff we’ve turned up was that he was doping Gabrielle’s cereal with temazepam – confusion is one of its side effects – and Lilian Sinclair had it on a repeat prescription, which she collected very regularly, but the connection’s tricky. Her prints are on the bottle, but she claims he nicked it from her medicine cabinet.
‘The other daughter’s testimony about her knowing what Ross planned to do is equivocal – a good lawyer could claim Fran had misunderstood what she heard, and Lilian’ll certainly have a good one. The husband, bizarrely, is convinced she’s done nothing wrong and is pulling out all the stops. As far as cooperating in Ross’s delightful little plans for breaking Gabrielle is concerned, I don’t think we have a hope of solid evidence – and if we did she could claim they were just practical jokes – not pretty but hardly criminal.’
‘I was afraid of that. Still, at least we’ve got Ross sewn up.’
‘Good and proper, you could say. You’ll have seen the forensic reports – prints on the weapon and everything, as well as Gabrielle’s testimony.’
‘How about her? Any indication of the position over conspiracy and moving the body?’
‘Depends on the Crown Office and the Fiscal, of course. With her as their star witness in the Ross prosecution I’ll be surprised if it isn’t a convenient case of insufficient evidence.’
‘She’s had a lot of punishment already,’ Borthwick said. ‘I have to say that her justification of covering for Ross was pretty chilling, though. Of course, by that stage she’d been driven to the verge of a mental breakdown, so she wasn’t thinking straight – and it’s a point her brief will certainly make. Even so …’
‘I reckon she’d have seen it like that anyway. She thought David had been acting in defence of her beloved Paddy’s firm and even if she didn’t know it was murder she felt that excused homicide. It was Pat Curran gave her those distorted views – he was in his way almost as unhealthy a parent as her mother was.
‘Morven Gunn was another of his victims, too. I can’t think she’ll be fit to plead – she’s a standout for diminished responsibility.’
Borthwick thought about that. ‘I’m sure you’re right. But what will happen to Gabrielle now? What state is she in?’
‘Not great at the moment. But she won’t buckle – she gave us a clear, coherent and utterly damning statement within hours of hearing what her mother and her husband had done. I’d place money on her getting back into the firm looking for revenge on her useless partner.’
Borthwick’s phone buzzed. ‘Oh, I’m due a phone conference. Anything else, Kelso?’
He got up. ‘Just a few loose ends to finish off, ma’am. May have to get back up there a couple of times, but we’re nearly there.’
She picked up the phone. ‘You’ve got time off when it’s over. Make good use of it. Yes, Borthwick here.’
Kelso drove back
to the cottage in Newhaven. He enjoyed the full-on nature of his job and when there was no one to come home to, work-life balance didn’t really come into it, but even so the stress wore you down. He savoured the prospect of winding down.
He let himself in and looked around. Everything, of course, was exactly as he had left it and for a moment he felt a pang of self-pity. Only a moment; life now was what it was and if he couldn’t have Alexa, there was nothing he liked better than the peace of this pleasant little house.
First things first. He picked up the mobile he always left behind. As he had guessed there would be, there was a text from his mother, who had worked out that he would be home shortly. He might as well answer it; she’d only keep phoning until he did.
‘Oh, it’s good to know you’re home,’ Mary Strang said. ‘I worry about what might happen when you’re away like that. I saw you on the Scottish news at lunchtime making that statement outside the headquarters today, so I knew you were back – I phoned Fin to tell her to watch but it was only a minute and she missed it.’
‘Oh yes. Well, I should be back for a bit now. I’ll look at my diary and see when I can get up to see you, OK?’
‘That would be lovely, darling. Dad’s always so pleased to see you.’
He doubted that but made the appropriate assurances before he switched off. His mind wasn’t on his parents; he was thinking about Fin.
He had, a little to his shame, all but forgotten about her problems while he was away. Now he was back, though, he would have to call her and see what he could do but he was going to get his breath back first and work out his programme for the next couple of days. He took out a beer from the fridge, grabbed a packet of nuts and a jar of olives and went to sit down in his favourite seat by the window. There was something about that view that seemed to drain tension and he gave a satisfied sigh as he took the cap off the bottle.
Carrion Comfort Page 36
