‘You don’t have a telly, do you?’ said Elliot.
‘Radio Three,’ said Dougal. ‘And books. Plenty of books.’
‘Well, I must say, I don’t know how you can stand all the excite… James! Charlie! Thank Christ you’re back, I mean, good to see you.’
‘Not busy, then, George?’ said Munro as he loosened his tie.
‘Always busy, James, but I’d thought I’d make time to see how things were progressing with your investigation.’
‘I’ll make a brew, boss,’ said Dougal. ‘You two must have a lot to talk about.’
‘No, you’re alright, laddie,’ said Munro, checking his watch, ‘I have a meeting with my dear friend Mr Balvenie soon, and he’ll not be happy if I stand him up.’
‘So, what’s the story,’ said Elliot, ‘have you any news on the fella who jumped off the cliff?’
‘Tommy Hamlyn?’ said West. ‘Not yet, sir, but we do know who killed Jack Barbary.’
Elliot, arms flailing, spluttered as he scrambled to get to his feet.
‘Killed Jack Barbary?’ he said, aghast. ‘What on earth are you talking about? I thought you had him in for questioning!’
‘We did. And we let him go. And now he’s dead.’
‘Dear, dear, dear, what is it with you two? Every time you’re on a case the bodies pile up faster than an outbreak of the plague.’
‘You should be thankful he’s off the streets,’ said Munro, ‘his wife certainly is.’
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘It was she who killed him. A pair of scissors in the back of the neck, and a wee knife to the side of the head, just for good measure.’
‘But why?’
‘Domestic abuse,’ said West with a sneer. ‘Barbary had it coming, and not before time.’
‘Well, well, well,’ said Elliot, ‘I always knew he was rotten to the core, but I never had him down as a wife-beater.’
Munro, glancing at West, caught her eye and smiled slyly.
‘We do have a new lead on Hamlyn, though,’ he said, ‘don’t we, Charlie?’
‘Do we?’ said West, glaring at Munro for putting her on the spot. ‘I mean, yeah, kind of. I think. We reckon Barbary was still in touch with Hamlyn, even after all these years, and we know for a fact that Hamlyn was dealing; MDMA, hash, whatever.’
‘So?’ said Elliot. ‘Where are we going with this, Charlie?’
‘Well, based on what Barbary’s wife told us, we’re pretty damn sure Hamlyn was a regular visitor to their house, so there’s a good chance, a very good chance, that Barbary was his supplier.’
‘So, you don’t think Joe Doyle has anything to do with this, miss?’ said Dougal, ‘I mean, he was with Hamlyn the night he died, then all of a sudden, he’s dishing out drugs on the night bus. Could they not have been in it together?’
‘Unlikely,’ said Munro, checking his watch for a second time, ‘I’d wager Doyle simply helped himself to a bagful of goodies when he went to see Hamlyn. The man’ll be relieved to hear he’s dead.’
‘Which reminds me,’ said West, ‘I have to make a quick call.’
* * *
Much to his disappointment, the dining room was not the scene of utter carnage he’d been expecting, but rather, something resembling the opening act of a tame Agatha Christie novel staged by the local am-dram society.
Leaving the crime scene officers to their own devices, a crestfallen Duncan retired to the back seat of the Audi where he lay dozing until the buzz of his phone shook him to his senses.
‘Miss?’ he said, stifling a yawn. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah, all good,’ said West. ‘What’s happening there?’
‘SOCOs are over it like a rash. Oh, and your pal, the pathologist, he’s here, too.’
‘Okay, good, let them get on with it. I want you to go round the back of the house, to the garden.’
‘Oh, aye?’
‘There’s a huge shed there, it’s Barbary’s workshop. I need you to search it from top to bottom, turn the place inside-out, understand?’
‘Aye, no bother. What am I looking for?’
‘The same stuff you caught Doyle flogging on the bus.’
‘Really? Is this Barbary fella involved with that, then?’
‘Definitely,’ said West. ‘Probably. Maybe. Just have a look, quick as you can, and call me right back.’
‘Roger that, miss. Leave it to me.’
* * *
Smiling gleefully as she retrieved the long-lost Kit-Kat from her coat pocket, West sat down, swung her legs onto the desk, and offered it round.
‘Anyone want some?’ she said.
‘Very kind, but no,’ said Elliot as West crammed a finger sideways into her mouth. ‘I must say, Charlie, you’ve settled in remarkably well, it’s like you’ve been here for years.’
‘Feels like it, too,’ said West, ‘no offence.’
‘None taken. So, what’s your next move?’
‘Well, that all depends on whether Duncan finds anything, but to be honest, even if he does bring back a bagful of sweeties, we still have to prove that there’s a link between Barbary and Hamlyn. At the moment it’s all supposition.’
‘Quite right, lassie,’ said Munro, ‘but dinnae lose sight of the fact you’ve yet to find out what Hamlyn was doing at Greenan Castle in the first place.’
‘Well, boss,’ said Dougal, ‘based on the evidence we have, we know he didn’t go of his own free will. He was taken there.’
‘Aye, laddie, but by whom?’
‘Could it have been Barbary? I know we’re joining dots at the moment, but it makes sense; Hamlyn ripped off Barbary, Barbary found out, took him up to the castle, and gave him what for.’
Munro walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back, and gazed down at the empty car park.
‘You’re not convinced, are you?’ said West with a sigh.
‘See here, Charlie,’ said Munro, staring at his reflection, ‘Jack Barbary’s impulsive by nature, there’s no method to his madness, and he’s never been bothered about covering his tracks. Tying somebody up and driving them all the way to Greenan before throwing them off a cliff is simply not his style. He’d have broken his neck with his bare hands and tossed him in the Clyde.’
‘Well,’ said West, ‘I say we should follow it up, anyway, just in case Tamarin slips the net.’
‘Then, the first thing you have to do, lassie, is verify Barbary’s whereabouts on the night in question, which means tracking down the lassie he met in the Black Bull.’
‘No sweat. I’ll do it tomorrow.’
‘I admire your confidence, Charlie,’ said Elliot. ‘You push on, do what you think is best. As for me, I’m away for my supper, and I suggest you lot do the same.’
‘Before you go,’ said Munro as he turned around, ‘have you time for a wee quiz, George?’
‘A quiz? Well, I’m not sure, James, what did you…?’
‘If I said “blade”. What would you say?’
‘Blade? Well, knife, I suppose.’
‘And if I said “rhesus positive”. What would you say?’
‘Easy. Blood.’
‘And if I said “ambulance”?’
‘Ambulance? Why on earth…’
‘Because, by Jiminy, George, the way I’m feeling right now, I’m just about ready to open a vein! The way you’ve been shilly-shallying over the paperwork that I require to walk away from here, is procrastination in the extreme!’
‘Trust me!’ said Elliot, raising his arms as he beat a retreat, ‘the wheels are in motion, James! The wheels are in motion!’
* * *
Munro checked his watch for a third time and glowered at West, his ire heightened by the smirk smeared across her face.
‘He’s really wound you up, hasn’t he?’ she said, trying not to laugh.
‘The phrase “coiled spring” comes to mind, lassie, and if he’s not careful, the only wheels in motion he’ll be aware of are the ones on my
motor car as they go over him.’
‘I wouldn’t be too hasty, if I were you,’ said West, ‘that banger of yours is likely to come off second best.’
‘Right, that’s it, Charlie,’ said Munro, ‘I’m dehydrating at a rate of knots. Are you ready to go?’
‘Yup, guess so. You too, Dougal, grab your coat and, oh, before I forget, see if you can track down Barbary’s stepson, would you? Get an address off Annette, failing that, try a bar called Geordie’s or the car wash, tomorrow, okay?’
‘Aye, okay miss. I’ll just finish this, first.’
‘Finish what?’
‘Sifting through Hamlyn’s files,’ said Dougal. ‘We just might find that link you’re looking for, or maybe get an idea of who he knew, where he hung out, that kind of thing.’
‘I dare say you’re right,’ said West, ‘but now is not the time. You need to grab some dinner and...’
‘Good grief!’ said Munro impatiently. ‘Look, how many files do you have there, Dougal?’
‘Four, boss.’
‘Perfect. That’s one each for you and Duncan, and two for Charlie. Now, get your coat.’
Chapter 20
Delighted to discover that Hamlyn’s OCD didn’t stop with his obsession for cleaning but extended to an obvious addiction for cataloguing his bills in alphabetical and chronological order – Dougal, feeling he’d found a kindred spirit – put the demands from the utility companies to one side and was concentrating on an itemised phone bill when Duncan entered the office like the guest of honour at a surprise birthday party where nobody turned up.
‘Are you joking me?’ he said, dumping a sack on the desk. ‘Have they left already?’
‘Aye,’ said Dougal, miffed at the interruption, ‘forty-five minutes ago. What have you there?’
‘All the evidence we need to prove Barbary was dealing. I’ve another in the boot of the car.’
‘Nice one, I’ve something for you, too.’
‘It’s not a beer, is it?’
‘No, no,’ said Dougal. ‘It’s that box file there. Take it home and see what you can find.’
‘Are you serious? I’m ready for a bevvy, pal, I’m not spending the next few hours…’
‘Duncan! If the boss can do it, then so can you.’
‘Aye, okay, if I must. What’s in it?’
‘No idea,’ said Dougal. ‘It belongs to Hamlyn.’
‘Right, I’ll just ring Westie and…’
Duncan paused as he reached for his phone.
‘I have to take this,’ he said, stepping outside. ‘It’s personal.’
* * *
Judging by the brevity of the call, and the crimson colour of his cheeks when he returned, Dougal could only assume that Duncan’s night was not going to plan.
‘That’s me in the doghouse, again,’ he said.
‘Bad news?’ said Dougal.
Duncan took a seat, stretched his arms and ruffled his already unruly mop of hair.
‘Cathy,’ he said. ‘She wanted to meet and I told her I couldn’t.’
‘Does she not understand it’s because she’s linked to the investigation?’
‘I didn’t have a chance to tell her, she hung up. In fact, she thinks I was only after one thing.’
‘And were you?’
‘A few years back, maybe, but not now.’
‘Listen, Duncan, I may be the walking definition of inexperience when it comes to relationships, but if I were you, I’d call her back and explain why you can’t see her, not just yet, anyway.’
‘It’s not worth the effort, pal,’ said Duncan, ‘she’ll not pick up.’
‘No, but she’ll listen to her voicemail, I can guarantee it. As a species, curiosity is our biggest weakness.’
* * *
Looking every inch the master chef in his blue and white striped apron, Munro, sleeves rolled to the elbow, took a much-needed slug of Balvenie, uncorked a bottle of red, and slid a tray of stuffed chicken breasts into the oven as West – concluding that Hamlyn was more of a hoarder than somebody with a filing fixation – sat leafing through his yellowing archives.
‘This stuff goes back donkey’s years,’ she said as Munro handed her a glass. ‘What’s the point? I mean, really, what is the point?’
‘Insecurity,’ said Munro as he poured himself a glass of Burgundy, ‘stemming from an emotional desire to hang on to the past, no doubt the result of some traumatic event he suffered as a wean.’
‘That’s all I need,’ said West, gawping at Munro, ‘a dinner date with Sigmund bloody Freud.’
‘So, what have you got?’
‘Bank statements. Tons of them. I wouldn’t be surprised if the ones at the bottom are in pounds, shillings, and pence. Frankly, I can’t see why he bothered, there’s bugger all in it.’
‘That’s hardly surprising,’ said Munro. ‘Someone in Hamlyn’s line of work is hardly going to accept cheques now, is he?’
‘Yeah, fair point, I suppose,’ said West as her phone buzzed. ‘Duncan, you’re on speaker, how’d you get on?’
‘Jackpot, miss. I’ve two bags full of crap. Ecstasy, weed, poppers, uppers, downers, you name it, I’ve got it.’
‘Nice one. Where was it?’
‘Just where you said: in his workshop, under the engine housing of one of those lawnmowers you ride about on like a tractor.’
‘Sorry,’ said Munro, ‘am I missing something here? If there’s as much as you say, how on earth did it fit under the engine housing?’
‘No engine, chief.’
‘Ask a silly question.’
‘Is that it?’ said West. ‘Are you off home now?’
‘Aye, miss. I’ve managed to prise Dougal away from his computer so that’s us away, and before you ask, the answer’s yes, we’ve got our homework with us, too.’
* * *
Concerned by Munro’s aberrant preoccupation with the oven and his inability to remain seated for more than a minute, West, by way of distraction, drained her glass and waved it in his direction.
‘You alright, Jimbo?’ she said as he topped her up. ‘You seem a bit unsettled.’
‘Unsettled? Not me, Charlie. I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not, what’s up? Is this about your house?’
Munro removed his apron and hung it on the back of the door before joining West at the table.
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘The thing is, lassie, I’m still undecided about which way to go.’
‘You mean, you’re having second thoughts about Islay?’
‘Not second thoughts. I’m simply wondering if I should leave it a wee while. A month or two, maybe. Or six. Or twelve.’
‘And in the meantime?’
‘I’m not without my options but I do need to know when the insurance company are likely to pay out. I’ve still not heard a word.’
‘Well, that’s hardly surprising,’ said West. ‘For a start, you’ve been on Islay, and you don’t have a phone, and you’ve not been back to check on your post.’
‘Aye, fair point,’ said Munro, hesitating as he toyed with his glass. ‘Perhaps… perhaps I’ll drive down once we’ve closed the case and see what’s landed on the doormat.’
‘You don’t seem too sure about that.’
‘I just don’t know what to expect, that’s all.’
‘Of course! You didn’t hang around long enough to see the results of your handiwork, did you?’
‘I did not,’ said Munro, ‘but I imagine that explosion fair wrecked the place.’
‘Actually,’ said West, ‘you can relax. It’s not as bad as you think. I mean, you don’t have a cooker anymore, obviously, or a back bedroom. But on the plus side, you now have a double-height ceiling in the kitchen, and a smashing view of the garden.’
Munro smiled and took a large sip of wine.
‘Thanks, Charlie,’ he said. ‘That’s just what I needed to hear.’
‘So,’ said West, crossing her fingers under the table, ‘does this mean you mi
ght do the place up, after all?’
‘Possibly.’
‘And Islay’s definitely on hold?’
‘Put it this way, Charlie, my heart says go, but my head…’
‘Listen to your head, Jimbo. Hearts have a habit of getting broken. Now, let’s take a look at the other file before we eat.’
‘I’d rather courie down with a good book.’
‘Oh, come on, many hands make light work, and all that. Now, sit down, we’ll take half each.’
Munro perched his spectacles on the tip of nose and, glass in hand, analysed each page like a lawyer scanning a transcript for the one nugget of information that might save his client from the gallows.
‘Anything?’ said West.
‘Just his tenancy agreements, so far,’ said Munro. ‘According to these renewal documents, he’s lived in that flat a fair few years, and before that, it appears he was in Heathfield.’
‘Is that nearby?’
‘Aye, across the way. He wasnae there long, though. Six months, by the looks of it. How about you?’
‘Just a bunch of boring stuff,’ said West, ‘solicitor’s letters, mainly. Oh, hold on, here’s something from the Land Registry.’
‘Land Registry? So, he owned a house?’
‘Must have. Bear with me while I… yup, here we go. Twenty-six Paterson Street. What do you know, that’s in Heathfield, too.’
‘Well,’ said Munro, ‘that would suggest he was renting before he bought the house – while he was waiting for the sale to go through.’
West, cradling her glass in both hands, leaned back and gazed pensively at Munro.
‘It doesn’t add up,’ she said with a frown. ‘I mean, if he owned this house in Heathfield, then why’s he been renting this other place for the last ten years?’
‘Perhaps he has tenants in the house on Paterson Street.’
‘Hamlyn as a landlord? Nah, besides, that would involve money changing hands, and there’s nothing on his bank statements.’
‘There wouldn’t be if it was a private let, and knowing Hamlyn, he’d not touch anything other than cash. Is there nothing else in the file?’
‘Nope, that’s it. Maybe Dougal or Duncan have got the rest of the story.’
‘Aye, maybe,’ said Munro as he pulled a sizzling tray from the oven. ‘And tomorrow, Charlie? What are your plans for tomorrow?’
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