by G R Jordan
“I’ll be as quick as I can, sir, but I am running a murder investigation.”
“Of course, officer. Alan Jones. Come in and we’ll go to the office.”
The man led Hope through to a back room with a simple desk and a number of filing cabinets. He switched on a kettle before grabbing two cups and looking back at her with a jar of coffee in his hand. Hope nodded and they waited in silence while the kettle boiled. Coffee made, they sat either side of the table.
“According to her boyfriend, Sara was working here,” prompted Hope.
“That’s correct. In fact she was due to work today. That was her routine on a Saturday. Work here and then that fool of a boyfriend would come over and they would go out. You’d see them on the town together, her with eyes everywhere else and him oblivious to it all. Young men can be so daft.”
“What did you make of her?”
The man smiled. “She was a heck of a looker. It was nice having her around and she ran a good front of shop when she was in. As you can imagine I get a lot of tradesmen in here and she was great eye candy for them. I know that sounds a bit sexist but these guys are working hard and then they come in here to be served by a pretty and knowledgeable woman. And a masseur as well.” The man rolled his eyes knowingly.
“Did you ever get any trouble here, Alan? Any of the men get out of hand?”
He shook his head. “No. Like I said, these are tradesmen, she’s just the girl at the till, nice to look at and maybe have a wee bit of banter with but nothing beyond that. I know some of the customers went to her as a masseur as well since she started.”
“Any say they got more than that?” Hope could see the man was uneasy with the question.
“I don’t like to speak ill of the girl now she’s dead but... I know a few mentioned about it, even tried to say that’s why I had her here in store, to get extras but there’s no truth in that.”
“She ever offer anything to you like that?”
“No, officer, and I wasn’t looking for it either. I’m happily married. She was an employee, first and foremost. The fact she looked great was a bonus but that was where my involvement and interest stopped.”
“Can I ask your whereabouts on Thursday night into Friday morning? Just routine, sir.”
“Sure. Thursday was my art class, at the arts centre, seven to nine. Picked up by the wife and then we had a glass of wine at home and went to bed. Left home about eight and came here. Place was open at half past. Stephen, out there, was in here then too.”
“Have you many employees here?” asked Hope.
“As you can see we are not that big, so there’s myself, my wife also helps out from time to time, Stephen and we had Sara. Going to need someone else now, actually. It’s a real shame as I genuinely liked her despite the rumours you hear. Might have been her mother dying that sent her down that path. She worked here too before Sara. That’s why I gave her the job really. They were really quite alike.”
Hope looked out through the office window to the shop beyond. She saw a young man of over six foot, with arms that resembled tree trunks. “Is that Stephen?”
“Yes,” replied Alan, “Not the brightest but a keen worker. He’s been quite sullen today as we all have been with this business.”
“Call him in here please.”
Alan got up and walked to the door calling the man before returning to his seat. Soon, the tall, strapping young man walked in and smiled when he saw Hope sat there. Although his boss started talking to him, he continued with his eyes on Hope giving a dull leer.
“This is Detective McGrath, Stephen.” The man had bolted. The door banged shut behind him and Hope was on her feet in no time. Pulling the door open, she saw him disappear behind some racks of paint. She rounded the end of the rack but he was gone again, now through the aisle of power drills, pulling some to the floor.
“Stop, police. I only want to talk to you.”
Hope’s command was ignored and long planks of wood were dropped before her, slowing her pursuit. Realising that she was not able to simply catch up with him, she doubled back, keeping low and tried to anticipate the man’s movements. He had a choice of two directions at the end of the aisle he was on, so she double backed to cut off one of them. Keeping low, Hope was sure he would struggle to see her and then he came round the corner straight into her path.
Panic filled the man’s eyes and he took a swing at Hope which she ducked. Reaching for his other arm, she tried to take it behind him but he was too strong. With an almost casual flick he pushed her into the racking and she cracked her head off an edge. Despite the pain, Hope leapt back as the man ran off catching his ankles with a flailing arm sending him to the ground. He rose slowly, allowing Hope to jump on his back and take him to ground once more. She grabbed a wrist and slapped a pair of handcuffs on to it before attaching them to the other wrist.
“Stephen, what the hell are you doing?”
“She said it was okay. She let me. She offered. It wasn’t me.”
“Wasn’t you who did what?” shouted Hope.
“I didn’t kill her. It was my birthday.”
“Right, mister,” said Hope, “we are going to get up and go back to the office. You are going to sit down and tell me all about it. Up!”
The man did not resist and got to his feet, allowing himself to be led back to the office like a lamb. Hope took him to the seat his boss had occupied. As she was about to sit down herself, Alan asked to speak to her outside. She agreed and closed the office door keeping her eyes on Stephen through the glass.
“Before you jump to conclusions, you should know that Stephen does have learning issues. He’s able to hold conversations and that but he makes attachments sometimes more than they are. He has a different reality going on in his head sometimes. He’s very clever in a lot of ways but socially inept. I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend, not sure if he is really capable. Just so you know.”
“Okay. Does he have a responsible adult or anything? I’ll need to take him in, given what he’s said.”
“Sure officer. I think his mum is his official carer, or whatever the term is. Would you like me to accompany you until you can get her? This will all be a mistake I’m sure.”
“I’d really like to think so, for his sake,” said Hope.
Twenty minutes later, Hope was back in the station getting ready to interview Stephen. Macleod was out chasing down street pastors and until she was sure Stephen had actually done anything she was not going to call him back. Instead, Allinson would have to come in with her when Stephen’s mother arrived.
“You want me to assist or just sit there fat, dumb and happy?” asked Allinson handing Hope a coffee.
“I’ll take the lead but I doubt you can do fat.”
“But dumb and happy, I’m fine with?”
“Hey, happy’s a good thing.”
“And dumb?” asked Allinson.
“You probably don’t even realise.” With that she swept by him, hoping his eyes were still on her. Allinson was just shy of six feet, slightly shorter than Hope but he was attractive and now she was getting tired, as ever, she felt lonelier. Maybe there would be time tonight if she made it.
Once Stephen’s mother had arrived with a lawyer, they all gathered in an interview room and Hope gathered her thoughts.
“Stephen, Mr Jones mentioned Sara at the DIY shop and you ran from me. You then said that she let you do it and that it was your birthday. And that you didn’t kill her. What did she let you do?”
Stephen looked at his mother who was a woman in her sixties and wearing a conservative dress. Her face was full of worry and her eyes were welling up but she nodded at Stephen as her hands trembled, presumably fearing what revelation would come.
“She said it was okay?”
“Okay Stephen, why don’t you just take us through it slowly?” asked Hope.
“I didn’t kill her. I didn’t do that.”
“Stephen, listen to me,” said Allinson. His to
ne was smooth and soothing and his eyes fixed on Stephen. As the man looked up at him, he caught his eye and held it. “Your birthday, tell me what happened on your birthday. Did you get a treat?”
Stephen nodded. “Sara said it was okay. She said it was what men liked, what men wanted.”
“Did you want it, Stephen?”
“Yes.” Stephen looked awkwardly at his mother. “I went to her shop like she told me to do. I was meant to be in my room working on my model but Mum was out. She took me upstairs. There were pictures of women on the wall.”
“Okay Stephen, and what happened then?”
Stephen went red and started looking away from his mother. “We took our clothes off and we..., we..., did the thing.”
“Okay Stephen, and what happened then.”
Stephen started to sniff and well up. “We met her friend and we took a bus out to a loch. It was still bright and we had some wine. Her friend was nice, she made me laugh.”
“What was her friend like, Stephen?”
“She was nice but not like Sara. Sara was beautiful.” He bent over as if ashamed. “Especially upstairs where the posters were.”
“Okay, Stephen, it’s okay. But out at the loch, what happened?”
“I told you. We had wine, and we laughed. We were silly and went for a paddle.”
“And then what?”
“It began to get darker. And Sara got a lot of calls on her phone. She got quite angry too. She said she had to meet someone. Her friend took me to the bus and I came home. They gave me wine as a present. Red wine. It was tasty.”
“Did you see her after that?”
“No. I heard she was dead when I went to work. But it wasn’t me. You don’t do the thing and then die. You don’t, you don’t...” He broke into a flood of tears.
“Thank God,” said his mother and reached over taking him in her arms as he snorted and cried.
Twenty minutes later, Hope was standing with Stephen’s mother and their lawyer outside the interview room. The woman looked drained and was so much smaller than her son.
“We have to check out his story but I’m happy to let him go as long as he stays at home. He may know more and if he says anything of note please contact me. Hope handed over her card. “I take it he has never had sex before this point.”
“No,” said his mother shaking her head, “I wasn’t even sure he could. Maybe he’s been too sheltered but after his father ran off, it was just hard enough to cope never mind educate him in those things. And he never seemed interested.”
“Okay, well, look after him and we will be in touch.”
“Any news from the boss,” asked Hope turning to Allinson.
“Yeah he wants to meet you at the hotel. Guess dinner is definitely scuppered then.”
“Dinner yes, but not everything.” Hope slipped a hand briefly into his before walking off. She didn’t miss the grin he fought to hide.
Chapter 14
Macleod walked his way through the town streets remembering days when they had done this together. She had liked their walks, holding his hand, constantly telling him all about what had happened. Well, at first it had been like that, before she had become more morose, more stunted by the place.
Turning a corner, he saw the church with its steeple rising up. Church life had been different here and he wondered if it was the same today. Back then, in the country church they had gone to, they would sit in silence before the start of the service, that clock thundering out the seconds as if you were in an abandoned clockmakers.
It was not that they had not had any friends but rather that you had to conform to a certain fit. Hats for the women on a Sunday. She had worn a hat even though she hated them but then she had refused. Macleod had not stopped her but the talk when she consistently refused to wear one had been oppressive. And then there were the words aside.
The hat was a minor thing but there had been so many minor things before a lot of the women stopped talking to his wife. And that was the blow, the isolation, the thing that started her into the depression. And although this was not the church that he had been part of, the mere sight of the denomination name brought it all back. An anger was building in him and had been since he had stepped off the aeroplane. And it was continuing to grow. Looking to the sky, he raised an invisible fist to heaven.
But there was a killer to find and he had not expected to be searching here. At least not for a deliberate killing. Street pastors as well, that was a new one up here. He had heard of them in bigger cities, especially places like America with their gangs. Apparently there had been some great work done and the redemption of souls as well.
Approaching the church building, he saw a light on at the rear of the building and proceeded to the door. Knocking it, he received no response and so pushed at it gently. The door swung open and Macleod stepped inside to a rather dark hallway that led to another set of double doors. Inside he could hear voices in prayer.
Having been brought up in a small country Presbyterian Church, he was used to men standing to pray, everything done in a civilised fashion. But the voice praying now was a woman and around her were voices crying out every now and then to God. This type of prayer was not new to Macleod, for he had seen and heard it in Glasgow but he had not expected to find it here.
Cautiously, so as not to cause the door to squeak or bang, he opened it and stepped inside. The hall was adorned with pictures from a Sunday school or some other sort of kid’s group. Chairs sat around the edge of the hall and in a circle standing on the wooden floor were some ten individuals, praying.
Watching the woman before him, her eyes closed and hands upraised, he thought of his wife. She was passionate about her faith, always praying with such fervour in their prayer times together. But when at the prayer meetings she had sat silent, the tradition keeping her quiet. Or was it? Maybe they were meant to be silent in the meetings. Maybe it was a man’s place to lead. However seeing this woman with her dark hair swinging as she almost jumped as she prayed, made him question that premise. Her hunger for God was swaying him into a more liberal stance.
It was another ten minutes before they finished their prayers, with contributions coming in from most of the circle, many short and sweet but all given with energy. As they opened their eyes, a sudden murmur erupted at the man standing just inside the door and Macleod stepped forward to introduce himself.
“Detective Inspector Macleod, ladies and gentlemen, I was hoping to talk to your group leader.”
A small elderly woman stepped forward, dressed in a skirt, blouse and cardigan and some stout black shoes. Her hair was grey and had that thin quality of aging, the hair having lost the exuberance it had in its youth.
“Good evening, Inspector, Geraldine Pickering, I lead this group. I’m happy to offer you what assistance I can but if we can be brief that would be appreciated as we are about to go on patrol.” The body may have looked frail but the voice was as a strong as his own.
“I shall do my best not to delay you.” Macleod removed a photograph from his pocket. “Do you know this man?”
“I don’t believe so, Inspector but if you want to show it to the rest of the group, maybe that would yield a result.”
Macleod nodded and the lady called over her people. One by one they looked and shook their head until a young girl simply stared. The girl was only a teen, towards the later end of her teenage years but small in frame. Wearing a hoodie, her blonde hair barely showed and her jeans and black jacket gave off that dispassionate air he had encountered so often from the younger generation.
“Do you recognise him?” asked Macleod.
“I don’t know,” replied the girl in a voice so quiet, she could barely be heard.
Macleod hated this kind of witness. Either say yes or no. Surely people must know. Looking at the girl, he tried to size up if she was genuine or just seeking attention. Given her reticence and the fact that she looked like a hermit crab in her hoodie gave him the impression that she was telling
the truth.
“Okay. I need you to concentrate. This is important and I need for you to be as accurate as possible. Where do you think you have seen him?”
“Out here. On the street. Maybe a month ago.” The girl chewed in between words making Macleod grind his teeth but he kept up the focus on the photograph.
“Someone else told us that he was a street pastor, which is why I’m here. But I’m guessing he isn’t one.”
“He certainly hasn’t darkened our door, Inspector,” said Geraldine. “Anna, think again and tell the Inspector everything you can.”
“He was creepy. We were prayer walking and it was raining. My head was down and I was trying to catch up with Iain who had popped inside the hall for a whizz.”
“A whizz?” asked Macleod.
“A slash,” answered Anna.
“The toilet, Inspector,” said Geraldine. “Go on Anna.”
“Well, I felt a hand grab my shoulder and spin me round. As he did it, he said he wanted me. It was so creepy as he said it in a sexual sense, like he was expecting something from me. Then he said I had no right to stop. And then he pushed my hood back.”
Geraldine placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder. “You should have said.”
Anna shook her head. “He then realised I wasn’t who he wanted. And he turned and disappeared up the side street.”
“Did he say anything else?”
Anna looked at Geraldine almost apologetically. “Only shit.”
“Okay,” said Macleod, “so you had a brief look at him. Is this definitely him?”
“I can’t be sure. I believe so.”
“What was he wearing?”
“A long coat,” said the girl almost shivering. “And a cap. With the rain and the dark, it made it quite difficult to see well but I reckon that’s him.”
“And you said it felt sexual.”
“Very much,” said Anna. “For a moment I felt like he was going to grab me in other ways but then he recognised I wasn’t the girl he wanted. I put it down to him being pissed.”
“And was he? Did you smell any drink on him?”
