Slumped in his chair, Jackson said nothing as Sansom went out. And when, a while later, there was another knock on the door he gave a little whimper of fright and his knees were shaking as he got up to answer it.
It really was some house, DC Murray thought as she drove up to Highfield House. It must have cost a bomb but on a day like this it didn’t look glamorous, just sort of bleak and forbidding. Days like this weren’t exactly unusual and if she’d that sort of money she wouldn’t have splashed out on something that made you feel depressed just looking at it.
She got out to speak into the intercom at the gates and waited shivering for a response. It was a few minutes before a voice with a foreign accent agreed to admit her and she could jump back into the car, wiping her wet face with her hand. It was ridiculous to feel that there was something faintly sinister in the way the gates swung silently open. That was just what electric gates did.
The front door had been opened by the time she got there and there was a woman waiting for her. She wasn’t tall – about Murray’s own height – but she had a dignity of carriage that made her look somehow imposing, even though with her olive skin and black clothes she seemed to be rocking some sort of Mediterranean peasant vibe. The top and skirt screamed designer, though, and the heavy gold chain at her neck would have kept a peasant in pasta and Chianti for a year.
She glanced at Murray’s warrant card, then took her upstairs to a sitting room that would have been sort of stunning on a good day, Murray thought, but with the wind moaning and rain clattering against the huge windowpanes it was just grim.
‘So,’ Ms Morelli said, ‘you have been sent here because the local police are not coping with the drug problem in this little town?’
Thrown by the directness of the attack, Murray found herself flannelling. ‘Er … I don’t think that was quite—’
‘No? Then why have you been sent here?’
‘There has been a problem everywhere with gangs from the big towns trying to infiltrate rural areas and we’re trying to make sure it doesn’t take hold here,’ she bleated, then encountered Marta’s coolly contemptuous stare.
‘This is something you believe? Or this is something you have been told to say?’
Murray blushed. She’d let herself be flustered into some sort of defence of Hammond and Co when it was really her job to bust wide open the fiction that Halliburgh, thanks to his vigilance, was a haven of peace and good order.
She took a deep breath. ‘No, I don’t believe it. I think that Mr Trentham’s death was clear proof that there is a problem and the source of the drugs he took has not been fully investigated.’
They had been standing in the middle of the room. Marta gave her a long, hard look, then gestured to one end of a long sofa. ‘You sit there. I will sit here, beside you, and you will tell me what is going to be done about this man – this Jackson creature.’
She’d never had such an uncomfortable interview in her life. Ms Morelli was past scary and she needed to think very carefully about what she was going to say. ‘I know you’ve spoken to Inspector Hammond and he’s in charge, of course.’
‘You know what I told him, then?’
‘Not really.’
‘I told him that there has been an attempt on Ms Harper’s daughter’s life by knocking her off her bicycle and that her son died because he was offered drugs here. I told him that this man, who broke in last night, has a lot of money, which he says came from a bet he made but I believe he is lying. My cleaner says he is their friend and they think he should just be told he is a bad boy and must not do this again. They will not find out what he is doing. “Investigating”, they will tell me – they like this word. It means, doing nothing.
‘This is why I wanted to see you, because you come from somewhere else, not this place. So can you do something? Get him locked up, so he does not harm any of us?’
‘It’s not up to me,’ Murray said. ‘But tell me the full details and I’ll see what I can do.’
Again Marta appraised her. Then, ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But you must understand that there is very serious crime here, but your inspector does not believe it.’
It was when she said the words ‘very serious crime’ that the idea came to her. As Murray listened to the long story that Marta was telling her, her mind was working at fever pitch. Surely attempted murder here could be classed as serious rural crime, the sort of thing that should involve the SRCS? She thought Marta’s argument was far-fetched to say the least, but she was certain that there was, just as Kate Graham had said, some very unhealthy stuff going on in Halliburgh – and if drugs and kickbacks didn’t feature in it, she would be very surprised. There certainly had been no attempt at all to find out where Felix had got the drugs that killed him. That wasn’t direct proof, but she was sure that if she could find a way of getting Strang to look at it, the proof would be there all right.
She had permission to use her initiative. Yes, but within reason, the boss had said. He’d also said that DCS Borthwick was taking an interest in Felix Trentham’s death. Would it count as being within reason if she told this ‘very influential’ woman that the SRCS existed?
‘So you see, I must insist that proper action should be taken,’ Marta finished, her piercing eyes fixed on the detective’s face.
Murray cleared her throat. ‘I expect you know that there is a special squad that investigates serious crime in rural areas?’ she said untruthfully.
DS Wilson was alone in the CID room when Murray got back. He pounced on her. ‘Well? How did you get on with the Morelli woman?’
Murray, her face schooled into an expression of limpid innocence, said, ‘Oh, all right, I think. She’s concerned, though. She’s heard of the SRCS and I think she may be going to contact someone.’
‘She’s what? For God’s sake, you were meant to calm her down, Murray!’ He was looking horrified.
‘Oh, she wasn’t upset or anything. I told her what you said, about there being a drug problem everywhere and that we weren’t going to let it take root here, but she wasn’t really interested. She just thinks it would be better to find out a bit more.’
Wilson’s face was turning an alarming shade of puce. ‘What are we supposed to do now? Do you have any idea of what you’ve dropped us in, Murray? Did you try to talk her down?’
Murray did her best to look surprised. ‘Not really. Didn’t know that would be a problem.’
‘Well, not exactly, just, well, difficult,’ Wilson spluttered. ‘I don’t know what DI Hammond will say, though – someone going over his head like that.’
‘Well, I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing, Sarge,’ she said, with a faintly huffy note in her voice. ‘I couldn’t really tell her she wasn’t to, could I?’
‘No, of course not. It’s just that …’ His voice trailed away.
‘What do you want me to do now?’
‘Oh, I think you’ve done enough already. I’ll see you tomorrow after I’ve spoken to DI Hammond. You’ve let us down badly over this, Murray. Not a good start for a new officer.’
‘No, sir. Sorry, sir.’
She managed to avoid grinning until she was out in the corridor. If she set off back to Edinburgh now, she might even manage to catch Strang before he went off duty. She didn’t know how he would take it and using her initiative hadn’t always been popular. It would be better to tell him straight away. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned …
He mustn’t let go. He must stay icy calm, however hard it was when you were daily being subjected to ritual humiliation.
It was only when Gil Paton came in to see the writers at their evening meal that he heard about the break-in, and even they only knew because Sascha Silverton had been gossiping to the waitress.
‘It’s all over the town,’ she said. ‘Jason Jackson arrested – well, that’s hardly a surprise, is it? But Gil, what on earth has been going on?’
It was the loss of face that got to him. With four people sitting looking at him hopefully he w
as being forced to admit he knew less than they did and he couldn’t stop the bitterness showing through as she told him how it had happened – the cleaner had told Jackson the codes and he’d actually broken in.
‘I suppose they’ll have to change them all now and everything,’ Sascha said. ‘I’d have thought they’d have had to let you know the new one by now.’ He didn’t like her as much as he had at first – there was something very sly about the look she gave him.
That rankled too. ‘Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?’ he said. ‘Just, I suppose, they’ve been busy, with the police there and everything. And as you say, Jason Jackson was plainly a big mistake all round. Now, how are you enjoying your supper? That chicken looks good.’
When he escaped, he phoned Cassandra. Twice. But she didn’t pick up. It was all of a piece, making sure he knew his place as she saw it.
When they give you lemons, make lemonade. This could be his chance for the meeting he had worked so hard to engineer. He could go round to the house and say he’d been so sorry to hear Anna had had such an upsetting experience and he’d come to see if there was anything he could do. Cassie couldn’t stop him this time.
It was quite possible he’d got it all wrong; Anna might not be the one who was cold and hostile. It might be her daughter, who’d just spelt out his lowly place in the pecking order. He went straight out to his car and drove round to Highfield.
The gates, of course, were closed and he had to press the buzzer. He’d never been trusted with the original code anyway. Of course he should have known that it would be the housekeeper’s disembodied voice that would answer. ‘I was hoping to see Anna,’ he said. ‘It’s Gil Paton.’
‘Who?’ the voice said sharply.
Writhing, he said again, ‘Gil Paton. Cassandra’s deputy.’
‘Oh – at the Hub? So what did you want?’
‘I was hoping to see Anna,’ he repeated, ‘just to say how sorry I was about last night.’
‘Last night?’
Was the woman stupid, or being obstructionist? ‘The break-in.’
‘Oh yes. The police have this all in hand. I will pass on your message to Ms Harper. Thank you.’
The ‘Ms Harper’ was a definite reproach. ‘Anna’ was not for the likes of him. He gave it one last try. ‘I’d really like to speak to her myself—’
‘She is not seeing anyone today. Goodbye.’
The speaker went dead. He could have screamed his frustration as he got back into his car, but he pushed it down, banking the anger for future use. It would only give him temporary relief and, he often told himself, revenge was a dish best eaten cold.
DCI Strang was just finishing off the report on his last SRCS case when DC Murray knocked at his door. He was surprised to see her, and then alarmed.
‘Livvy! I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Please tell me they haven’t rumbled you.’
Murray laughed. ‘Oh no! I’ve no problem conning people. They’re not just awful pleased with me at the moment, though, and if I’m honest I’m not sure if you’ll be pleased or not.’
Regretting his folly in ever using the word ‘initiative’, however carefully fenced about it might have been, Strang said, ‘Break it to me gently. Misdemeanour or gross misconduct?’
Murray looked sheepish. ‘I’d better tell you how it happened. When I arrived there were a couple of boys in that’d had a knife fight so they were busy and I got handed over to Kate Graham first.’
‘Oh yes?’ he said warily. ‘Was she helpful?’
‘You don’t need to worry. I know it’s her.’
‘She told you?’
‘She didn’t need to. I never saw anyone who was so pants at acting innocent. Lucky no one else noticed. I thought of kidding on that I hadn’t guessed but it just seemed kind of cruel to make her go on trying. And I’m sure she’s right – Hammond might as well be carrying a pot of whitewash around with him. He’s not tried at all to find out where Felix Trentham got the stuff.’
‘That’s what the super is interested in. Did you see a line to follow?’
‘Better than that.’
Strang listened, fascinated, as she recounted what Marta Morelli had said. He saw Murray take a deep breath. ‘Then she said “very serious crime” and I thought of the SRCS. I explained what it was for and I think she’ll be on the phone to you.’
She was looking nervous and he didn’t know himself what he thought about it. ‘Do you believe what she was saying?’
‘Nuh. Not even sure she does. She’s reaching – don’t know why.’
He thought for a moment. ‘It does give me an excuse to go there and have a poke around, anyway, but I don’t know how the super will see it. We can’t start taking direction from manipulative ladies. Leave it with me and I’ll speak to her tomorrow. Are you quite happy to go back? Not finding it too uncomfortable?’
Murray grinned broadly. ‘Oh, I’m having a fine time. See me – see Mata Hari!’
He smiled at that, a little ruefully, as she left. This could be a very clever move. On the other hand, it could be a disaster. That was the trouble with Livvy; you could never be sure which way it would go.
As it happened, he was in a position to go immediately if JB okayed it – and then an unworthy thought struck him. He couldn’t tell Finella how much he sometimes longed for personal space, even if it only meant a quiet evening with a good book and a dram, but here was a perfect excuse. There was no way Police Scotland would pay for accommodation so close to Edinburgh, but if he paid himself he could find a decent pub and stay over for a night or two. Bliss!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Fin? Just letting you know I’m going off on an assignment today,’ Kelso Strang said.
‘Oh,’ Finella said. ‘Is it … is it a long way away?’ Her voice had gone flat.
‘No, not really. Down in the Borders.’
She brightened immediately. ‘Oh, that’s good. So you’ll be commuting, then?’
He almost groaned. Fin was becoming much too dependent on having him there to share nursery runs, read stories, thwart tantrums and babysit sometimes so she could keep up with her friends. That quiet pub was calling him, promising a break from the never-ending demands of childcare, but he had heard how her voice changed and he hadn’t the heart to go ahead with his escape plan.
‘Yes, I think so. Weather permitting.’
‘Oh, they’re all talking about this Beast from the East, of course. But you know how they exaggerate these things and I’ve never known you bothered about driving in snow! I’m glad I won’t have to break it to Betsy that Unkie was going to be away. You know what she’s like.’
‘Indeed I do.’ Then, in a small bid for freedom, he said, ‘It does mean I won’t be back for bedtime stories.’
Fin laughed. ‘Not to worry. She’ll just pile them up for you when you get back.’
‘Right,’ he said hollowly. ‘See you later.’
He had gone in to report to Detective Chief Superintendent Jane Borthwick promptly that morning feeling distinctly nervous, finishing with, ‘I did say that, given the situation, Murray might have to use her initiative, within reason, but I’m not entirely sure whether that covers it.’
‘Well, well,’ Borthwick said, ‘she has been stirring things up, hasn’t she? And this woman – Morelli? – has been in touch already?’
‘First thing this morning. Very insistent. Claiming there have been two attempted murders and that the local CID has done nothing about it.’
‘Could she be right?’
‘Murray thinks it’s very unlikely. Cassandra Trentham’s accident looks like just that, and for all the claims about Felix being clean it would be entirely consistent for him to seek out drugs wherever he could get them. But Murray’s quite sure that Hammond made no attempt to track where that might have been, and that their friend Jackson seems to have more money than he was likely to have come by honestly.’
‘Hmm.’ Borthwick thought for a moment. ‘Does Murray thi
nk Hammond’s just trying to protect his glittering reputation or is he in it too?’
‘Kickbacks, in her opinion. Not getting his hands dirty, but not actually averse to a brown envelope or two.’
‘So, we have an interesting situation. It might well be overkill to send you in because a woman trying to pull strings has some pet theory that may have no basis in fact, but it would let you check out what is going on in Halliburgh CID without calling for a formal investigation, which would undoubtedly leak and bring the press gathering like vultures.’
Strang winced. He always hated it that decisions were so often made on PR grounds rather than for operational reasons, but bad press did always have serious repercussions. ‘I suppose that’s right. According to Murray, Hammond was very keen on placating Ms Morelli, so her request would let me say that’s just what we’re doing, even if we don’t believe there’s anything in it. He can’t stop me digging a bit deeper than he has done so far. Jason Jackson’s another line I can follow.’
‘Right,’ Borthwick said. ‘I’d better clear it with the District Commissioner but if he agrees, can you get down there today? Once they know you might be coming there’s no point in hanging about and giving them time to tidy away the dirty linen.’
‘A couple of loose ends to tie up first, but I can certainly get down there later on.’
From his office, he phoned Murray to put her in the picture. He considered phoning Kate Graham too, but considering what Murray had said about her inability to lie convincingly he thought the better of it, and smiled. Nice woman, Kate.
It was all DI Steve Hammond could do to hold on to his reputation for omniscience. DS Wilson was well on the way to doubting him, almost quivering this morning as he stood there to be briefed on what they were going to do now.
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