Avenge the Dead

by Jackie Baldwin

They exited the building the same way they had come in, thus avoiding the unstoppable Sophie Richardson whose media truck was now impeding the flow of traffic. Farrell opened the rear door of the airless basement, which contained the cells beneath the court. They were halfway across the car park when a cloud passed over the sun and they were caught on camera by Farrell’s nemesis of old, Moira Sharkey, with whom he had occasionally had a very uneasy symbiotic relationship.

  She stalked towards them, her vulpine features twisted with pleasure. She was dressed in her trademark shaggy black shapeless coat with her thick black fringe falling over hooded eyes. Even the warmth of the day had not caused her to shed any layers.

  Farrell felt a shiver run up his spine.

  ‘DI Farrell and DS McLeod. I see you’ve been having quite the day.’ She smirked. ‘Now, there’s two ways I could feature those photos. Heroes of the hour or heavy-handed police brutality. Any preference?’

  ‘Ms Sharkey,’ said Farrell, refusing to rise to the bait, even though he could feel his blood pressure climbing, ‘I’m afraid I’m in a hurry. My colleague has been injured in the course of duty. I need to get her to hospital.’

  Mhairi tried to rock the damsel-in-distress look whereupon Sharkey laughed with real enjoyment.

  ‘DS McLeod is about as fragile as I am,’ she said.

  Mhairi straightened up not sure whether to feel insulted or complimented.

  ‘I won’t keep you long. I have some information that might be of interest.’ She passed her card to Farrell with a bony finger.

  ‘And let me guess, you want something in return?’ he said, pocketing the card.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she said, walking away fast, her shoulders hunched.

  Chapter 34

  Farrell enquired at the hospital reception as to Fergus Campbell’s whereabouts and was told that, although he had come around, he still appeared to be suffering from concussion as well as a fractured cheekbone and bruised ribs. He was being admitted to a ward once his injuries had been attended to.

  That established, Mhairi McLeod condescended to have her own injured nose examined. Once the doctor had left, Farrell pushed aside the curtain.

  Both eyes were colouring up nicely either side of her swollen but thankfully reasonably straight nose. She looked somehow defenceless and vulnerable in her blue hospital gown. He sat down beside her and enfolded her hand in his own. To his surprise, she let him. He knew perfectly well that she talked a big game but wasn’t quite as tough as she liked to make out. She was also no fan of hospitals. She wrenched her hand away with a scowl after a couple of minutes.

  ‘Come on,’ she said swinging her legs out of bed. ‘There’s no time to waste. Let’s get up and see Fergus Campbell.’

  She was already pulling her trousers on and he turned his back until she was done.

  There were two old ladies in the lift up to the wards and they tutted in disapproval at Farrell, assuming he was responsible for Mhairi’s injuries. Escaping on to the second floor they were soon directed to a private room. They peered through the window and Farrell quickly pulled Mhairi out of sight.

  ‘Well, look who’s here?’ muttered Farrell. ‘Fergus Campbell and Jane Pearson looking very cosy.’

  ‘She certainly didn’t waste any time,’ said Mhairi, sidling along the wall to take a quick peek through the glass. ‘Look! She’s holding his hand.’

  ‘Doesn’t necessarily mean anything,’ said Farrell, ‘I was holding yours a couple of minutes ago.’

  ‘Tell anyone that and you’re dead to me.’ She glared.

  They walked into the room, and Fergus Campbell and Jane Pearson shot apart as though they’d been electrocuted. Both officers pretended they hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ asked Mhairi.

  ‘Not much worse than you, by the looks of things,’ said Campbell. ‘Are you here to take my statement?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Farrell. ‘Would you mind giving us a minute?’ he said to Pearson who seemed way more than professionally concerned about her boss.

  ‘I’ll grab a cup of coffee,’ she said at once as though eager to get away.

  ‘Where are the children?’ Mhairi asked.

  ‘They’re with my family,’ Campbell said. ‘The hospital notified them as my next of kin and for once they decided to be of some use.’

  ‘What’s the damage?’ asked Mhairi.

  ‘A fractured cheekbone and some bruised ribs. I’ve also lost a couple of my front teeth, as you can see,’ he grimaced. ‘I hope you’ve charged that bastard Gabriel Ferrante?’

  ‘From what we understand, you threw the first punch,’ said Farrell.

  ‘You’re telling me this was self-defence?’ He pointed to his ruined face. ‘A tad excessive, wouldn’t you say? That bastard barely has a scratch on him.’

  ‘I honestly don’t know what is going to happen,’ said Farrell. ‘I imagine a procurator fiscal from Glasgow will be sent down to manage this mess given that one of their own was also caught up in it.’

  Campbell gave a mirthless laugh.

  ‘I don’t know what set Peter Swift off. He’s normally so easy-going.’

  Farrell didn’t mention what he had read in the note left for Swift, as he was still unclear who had orchestrated the fracas.

  ‘I’d like to remind you, you’re still under caution,’ Farrell said.

  Campbell settled back on his pillows with a sigh. ‘Get on with it then.’

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘I came back in after lunch and took my usual seat at the table. There was an envelope on the table with my name on it. I opened it at once in case it related to that afternoon’s business.’

  ‘Did you see who put it there?’

  ‘No.’

  He paused and swallowed, his face twisted with emotion.

  ‘Go on,’ said Farrell.

  ‘Inside there was a picture of my wife and Gabriel Ferrante. They were … they were … going at it.’

  ‘You mean having sex?’

  ‘Yes. And the bastard was sitting right beside me making small talk like nothing had happened. It was a shock. I defy anyone not to lash out in those circumstances. My wife was barely cold in her grave. I’d only just started to come to terms with the fact she might have been having an affair let alone that it was one of my colleagues.’

  ‘Where was the photo taken?’

  ‘It was fairly dark and the quality wasn’t great. It looked like the inside of a garden shed. I don’t know where. All I can say is that it wasn’t in my garden. I could see them both quite distinctly. If my wife wasn’t already dead I might kill her myself. I can’t believe she would betray me like that.

  ‘I thought she loved me,’ he said, turning his face away.

  Chapter 35

  Despite going through the motions of kicking up a fuss, Mhairi was relieved when Farrell insisted on dropping her at their new accommodation. He said he would bring back some shopping on his way home from the station. The police house was comfortably furnished and perfectly adequate for their needs. She doubted they would see much of Dave who had hooked up with some of his old mates and kept late hours. It felt weird living in such close proximity to her boss, but she would get used to it.

  Mhairi fed Oscar and Henry and flopped on to the couch pulling the throw over her. Suddenly she remembered she was meant to be meeting Sandy Gillespie for a drink.

  She glanced at her watch in alarm and realized he was probably sitting there now waiting on her. Shit! Quickly, she pulled out his card from her purse and called his mobile.

  ‘Hello?’ he said in his warm highland burr.

  ‘Sandy, I’m so sorry! I was involved in a bit of a fight today and my face simply isn’t fit for public consumption. I’m only just back in the door. Can we do this another night? I’m honestly not blowing you off, I have two black eyes and a busted nose.’

  ‘Poor thing, you’ve been in the wars,’ he said, sounding so concerned for her that
she had to fight back a tear. It had been a long time since anyone apart from Frank had spoken to her like that.

  ‘You can come round for an hour or so if you like,’ she offered, wishing she could stuff the words back in her mouth the moment she said them. Her cheeks burned. He’d think she was a sad loser now, for sure.

  ‘Of course, you shouldn’t be alone. I’ll pick up a couple of things on my way.’

  While she was waiting, Mhairi managed to have a shower and wash her hair. She debated what to wear but thought he might as well see her warts and all. After the day she’d had she wanted to be comfy above all else. She got into her fleecy pyjamas and dressing gown, stuck her feet in her slippers and laughed as she caught a glimpse of her battered face in the mirror. Well, if this didn’t put him off, she didn’t know what would.

  The doorbell rang and she opened it.

  He looked so worried as he gently enfolded her in a big hug that she felt those treacherous tears start to prickle again.

  ‘Let’s get you comfortable,’ he said as he led her over to the sofa.

  She always forgot that pathologists were also medical doctors so could tend the living as well as the dead.

  Gently he pushed her hair back from her face and probed her injuries with long, delicate fingers, his warm brown eyes crinkled with concern. Mhairi had never felt so exposed. Normally, she would have been totally freaked out, but for some weird reason she felt incredibly comfortable and safe around him.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Nothing that shouldn’t heal nicely when the swelling goes down.’

  He reached inside the carrier bag he had brought with him and pulled out a large jar of emollient cream, together with some arnica tablets and anti-inflammatories. He brought her a glass of water and after she’d taken the tablets, he opened the tub and gently stroked the soothing cream in a thick layer all over her face. Mhairi sighed with pleasure.

  ‘You are absolutely wasted on the dead,’ she murmured.

  ‘Ah, but at least they can’t answer me back.’ He grinned.

  He then made her two boiled eggs mashed in a cup with a slice of toast cut into soldiers and produced a romcom from the carrier bag.

  They settled down to watch it, Henry and Oscar between them, purring loudly.

  The front door opened and Farrell staggered in laden with groceries. He looked startled and not entirely pleased to see Sandy sitting on the couch but greeted him politely.

  ‘Sandy, I’m glad you’re here to keep an eye on this one. I have to head back to the station. Make sure she doesn’t get herself in any more bother while I’m gone.’

  ‘I’ll have my work cut out there.’ He smiled.

  ‘Sitting right here, guys,’ murmured Mhairi.

  She could feel her face redden under the cream. This whole situation was beyond awkward. What had she been thinking inviting Sandy back here? It must have been the pain meds talking.

  As Farrell left, she realized she had tensed up again. Sandy grinned at her.

  ‘I take it DI Farrell doesn’t get out much,’ he said.

  ‘He’s a bit reserved, that’s all. Just trying to give us some space.’

  ‘For this?’ he said, leaning over and gently touching his lips to her bruised ones.

  It felt good but this wasn’t the time and it certainly wasn’t the place.

  She pointed the remote at the TV. As first dates went it was either a total bust or the best she had ever had.

  Time would tell.

  Chapter 36

  Farrell and the remaining members of the team had been working tirelessly for hours. A while ago they’d ordered in pizza. Looking at the greasy, stressed faces around the table, Farrell knew that they mirrored his own, but without the split lip. The vinegar on his chips had been a bad idea.

  As if their limited manpower hadn’t been stretched enough without this brawl erupting today. The strands of this investigation were starting to resemble a multiverse. There were just too many unexplored avenues spooling out in all directions. Unless, of course, that was the idea? Maybe they were being played by a master manipulator using smoke and mirrors to cover something up. That whole carry on in court today had clearly been an orchestrated distraction, but who had been pulling the strings? Was Beth Roberts as meek as she seemed, or was it all an act? Why did Sheriff Granger seem to hate her so much? Was it just her or was he like that with all women? He clearly wasn’t crazy about Mhairi, but he wasn’t stupid enough to take her on either.

  ‘The Dean of Faculty has just got back to me,’ said DC Thomson. ‘The Faculty dinner is on Saturday night at The Cairnsmore Hotel.’

  ‘I reckon we should arrange to turn up en-masse,’ Byers said.

  ‘Agreed,’ said Farrell. ‘I’ve been invited to a few of these over the years. Once the formal part is over, it turns into a right old piss-up. We might catch some of them off-guard.’

  ‘I could bring Laura,’ said Byers, avoiding Farrell’s glare. ‘The only reason I’m suggesting it is because we can’t all turn up as blokes without a partner, or we might as well have “on the job” tattooed on our foreheads.’

  Farrell sighed. Byers was right. Besides, there’d been enough aggro today already.

  ‘I could team up with DI Moore and Dave can attend with PC Rosie Green.’

  ‘What about Mhairi?’ asked Byers.

  ‘Let’s see how she is first. We can’t all sit together. We need to be interspersed among the various firms’ tables. Perhaps the Dean of Faculty could arrange that by having a discreet word in the ears of the senior partners. The procurator fiscal will also have a table. It must be emphasized that discretion is key, however.’

  ‘On it, boss,’ said Thomson.

  ‘I reckon we need to get Beth Roberts in for questioning,’ said Farrell. ‘If Sheriff Granger and the Bar officer are to be believed, she may have been the one who placed those envelopes on the table in court today. I want to know whether they originated with her or whether someone told her to do it on their behalf.’

  Donald Sloan, the custody sergeant, popped his head round the door.

  ‘Are you sure we can’t release those bloody lawyers on police bail, boss? They’re doing my bloody head in with their moaning. Bloody divas, the lot of them.’

  Farrell shook his head.

  ‘Sorry, Sergeant. They’re having to bring down a senior procurator fiscal from Glasgow to decide how best to play things. If charges are to be brought another sheriff from outwith the area will have to be bussed in as well.’

  ‘The two old lags we’ve got in custody are proper loving life,’ Sloan grumbled. ‘Everything those lawyers are demanding they’re piping up with too. Like a bloody echo chamber, so it is. Ah, well back down to the seventh circle of Hell.’ Sighing, he trundled away.

  Farrell continued typing out separate reports on the two investigations to date for both DSup Crawford and also DCI Buchanan. He hadn’t been able to face speaking to her on the phone and knew that Mhairi wouldn’t have done so either, in the circumstances.

  While he was typing the word ‘distraction’ kept rumbling round his mind like wind. Assuming this whole carry on had been a diversionary tactic, who was behind it and for what purpose? For some reason Max Delaney popped into his mind, along with a burgeoning feeling of unease. Could an attack be launched on Max Delaney’s wife or daughter while he was tucked away in custody out of the way and unable to protect them? Could that be what this was all about?

  He was so shattered he could hardly think straight and was craving a drink to settle him after the events of the day. It was already gone nine and he would need to be in at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

  DI Moore put her head round the door. ‘I’m calling it a day,’ she said. ‘Night all.’

  Kate had declined the offer of a takeaway earlier and Farrell assumed she had had nothing to eat yet. In fact, now he thought about it, he hadn’t noticed her eat at all since they’d been in Dumfries. He didn’t want to go back to the house yet, in case he walked i
n on Mhairi and her new bloke up to God knows what. The mere thought made him feel sick. If he hurt her in any way … He gave himself a mental shake. She was a grown woman. Her love life was none of his business. Why was he feeling so twitchy about this? Making a decision he jumped to his feet.

  ‘Hold on, Kate and I’ll walk you out.’

  He grabbed his jacket and followed her.

  Chapter 37

  ‘Fancy grabbing a bite to eat?’ he said.

  ‘But you’ve just eaten,’ she said. ‘That pizza you put away would fill a family of three.’

  ‘I’m happy to have something light while you eat, keep you company.’

  She stopped and turned to him, stony-faced. ‘Frank, really, I’m not hungry. I’ve been on a bit of a health kick recently and feel much better for it.’

  You could have fooled me, thought Farrell, taking in the sharp planes of her face and emaciated frame. Time to try another tack.

  ‘Okay, forget dinner, that was just an excuse. I really need to talk to you about some stuff. Is there anywhere we can go? I would welcome your advice.’

  She smiled at him with those level grey eyes that always seemed to see straight through him. He turned away, fearful of what she might find. He wasn’t the same man she had known before. He didn’t know if he would ever be that person again.

  ‘Come to mine for a coffee then. I can’t promise I’ll manage to stay up for long.’

  With a start, he realized, as he followed her out of the police car park, that he didn’t even know where she lived. Fiercely private, Kate Moore was something of an enigma and liked to keep it that way. Since the very public hurt and humiliation she had suffered at the hands of an art critic two years ago, she had built a carapace so thick he doubted she would ever allow anyone to pierce it again.

  To his surprise, they ended up at the luxury apartments near the rowing club overlooking the river. The very same apartments where his former girlfriend, Clare Yates, had lived. He fervently hoped they didn’t run into her.

  ‘I didn’t know you lived here, Kate,’ he said as she let him into her first-floor flat.