by T F Muir
CHAPTER 34
Voices came at him, faint and indiscernible, then faded, like birdsong carried off by the wind. He tried to open his eyes, but the effort seemed too great, as if his eyelids had clotted. Then he felt a sickening sensation of spinning, falling, floating down into some deep, dark place.
He returned to the same dream.
She stood before him, her arms outstretched, beckoning him to her. He held her gaze, uncertain of her intentions, his heart swallowed up by her beauty. Wisps of blond hair framed her face like threads of gold. She smiled, and in her smile he saw she wanted their lives to be the way they had been before their marriage broke up. He walked up to her, and she lifted her arm and struck at him with a bamboo stave. He saw it coming down at him, down at his eyes, hard and fast, its point bloodied and bright. But he could do nothing to stop it. He tried to scream.
The voices returned.
‘Easy. Easy. Keep it level.’
He was lying on his back, his head lolling, body rolling as if from the motion of some small boat negotiating choppy seas. He opened his eyes, blinked against fluttering snow, and said, ‘What time is it?’
‘Hey, big guy.’
He tried to pull himself up.
‘Take it easy, take it easy.’
‘What time is it?’ he asked again.
‘Not a rat’s tail short of ten.’
Something clattered hard and loud, metal against metal, like the sound of an extension ladder collapsing. Then the movement steadied, and he felt himself sliding forward into some capsule, like being closed in a mortuary drawer.
He swung his feet to the floor, held steady while it tilted off to the side, then righted. It took several seconds for him to realize he was in an ambulance. He stood, shot out an arm for support, felt someone clutch it. ‘I need to go,’ he said.
‘Hey, steady. Steady.’
‘I’m all right. I need to go.’
‘You’re going nowhere.’
He patted his hand against his chest. No leather jacket. He remembered the lining, ripping it out. He glanced at his wrist, wondered what had happened to his watch. It must have broken off during the fight. He stared at the paramedic. Then he remembered white flakes falling into Sa’s eyes.
‘I need a phone,’ he said.
The paramedic put pressure on his arm, as if to lead him back to the stretcher. ‘You need a hospital.’
‘You’re hindering a murder investigation. I can have you charged.’
‘Charge me all you like, but I don’t have a bleeding phone. Okay? Now, sit down.’
‘Sorry,’ said Gilchrist, and shuffled to the back of the ambulance.
Dragonlights stood in the garden like a makeshift studio. The SOCOs were already on the scene. Four of them, clad in white coveralls, combed the grass like dogs. A camera flashed in the hedgerow, causing Gilchrist to divert his gaze. Over by the back porch, he recognized the military-like figure of McVicar talking to Patterson. Off to the right, the suited silhouette of DeFiore, mobile phone pressed to his ear.
Gilchrist jumped to the ground. Pain shot across his chest. His legs gave out. He collapsed against the rear of the ambulance, and shouted, ‘Sir?’
Patterson scowled.
McVicar turned to the sound of Gilchrist’s voice then marched toward him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Andy?’
‘I need to—’
‘You look like hell.’ McVicar beckoned the paramedics. ‘What’s going on here? Why isn’t this man being taken to hospital?’
‘We can’t force him into—’
‘Sir? I need to talk to you.’
‘Andy, you need to—’
‘Now, sir.’ Gilchrist struggled to stand erect. ‘Before we’re too late.’
‘Too late?’
‘You drive,’ said Gilchrist, and stumbled over the gravel driveway to McVicar’s BMW. He grabbed the door handle, gave a tug, but it was locked. He glanced back at McVicar, who now stood with Patterson by his shoulder. McVicar’s head twitched as Patterson whispered to him.
Then McVicar frowned and walked alone to his car.
‘We’ve no time, sir. We need to get going.’
‘Where to, Andy? Mark tells me if he hadn’t stepped in when he did, you might have been killed.’
Gilchrist had no time to waste trying to reason with McVicar. He could do that later. Right at that moment, he had other matters to resolve.
‘Mark said he was about to arrest the Stabber when you turned up. Despite being suspended.’
Gilchrist shook his head. ‘Can we go, sir?’
‘Gilchrist.’ It was Patterson. He stepped closer, took a deep breath, then said, ‘For your gallant effort in helping me put an end to the Stabber’s reign of terror, I’ve decided not to ask for your resignation.’
‘And the trumped-up charges for my arrest?’
Patterson’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m pleased to say you can have your position back.’ His lips pressed into a tight line.
Gilchrist heard a click and pulled at the door handle. He was about to sit inside when McVicar said, ‘What’s this all about, Andy? Where are we going?’
Gilchrist nodded to Patterson. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ he said. ‘He says he’s solved it.’
McVicar gave a half-smile. ‘Well, Mark? What’s next?’
Patterson frowned. ‘I, eh ...’ He blinked at Gilchrist, then McVicar. ‘I, eh ...’
‘I see,’ said McVicar. He opened the door and slipped behind the steering wheel. ‘We’ll talk later, Mark. And this time you’d better come out with the truth.’ He let his words sink in, then added with a growl, ‘Or so help me God, I’ll have your job and your pension.’
Gilchrist clutched McVicar’s mobile. ‘Eddy, it’s Andy.’
‘How’s it going, mate?
‘Did Maggie turn up?’
‘Demanded her wages like she owned the place. Gave them to her and told her to piss off and never come back.’
‘When?’
‘About an hour ago.’
‘Walking? Or driving?’
‘Driving. Why? What’s the problem?’
‘What car’s she drive?’
‘Used to have a Volkswagen, but got rid of that for a Land Rover. One of those new ones. Discovery. Second hand, but I don’t know where she got the money. Not from doing overtime here. That’s for sure.’
‘Blue?’
‘Blew what?’
‘The colour of the Land Rover. Was it dark blue?’
Fast Eddy gave a fast chuckle, and said, ‘Think so. But don’t quote me.’
‘One last question.’
‘Shoot, mate.’
‘Was she with anyone?’
‘Can’t say that I noticed.’
Gilchrist bit his lip. ‘Thanks, Eddy.’
‘Gotcha.’
Gilchrist laid the mobile on the central console. ‘We may already be too late, sir.’
‘Let’s give it a try,’ said McVicar, ‘shall we?’
They pulled into Market Street before quarter to eleven. Gilchrist thought he had missed her, then saw a Discovery parked near the Whyte-Melville Memorial Fountain. He could not be sure it was Maggie’s. He walked toward it, brushed his hand over the driver’s door, felt the dent.
McVicar stood beside him. ‘Care to share your thoughts, Andy?’
Gilchrist shrugged. ‘Another one of my hunches, sir. I could be wrong.’
‘I see. Do I need to call for reinforcements?’
‘Not yet,’ said Gilchrist, and crossed the street.
The painkillers were wearing off and the fire had returned to his side. He tried to hide his discomfort from McVicar, but once, when he almost tripped and grunted in pain, McVicar said, ‘Is this a good idea, Andy?’
‘Probably not.’
They reached Maggie’s cottage, and Gilchrist was pleased to see a light in the dormer window and Patter sitting on the boundary wall. Once again, he worried that he had it wrong. He chucked
Patter under the chin, felt the throat vibrate and his own lips tug into a smile. ‘Do you like cats, sir?’
McVicar gave a wry grin. ‘Prefer to have a dog if it came down to it.’
‘Ever had a cat solve a murder case?’
‘Can’t say that I have.’
‘Say hello to Patter.’
McVicar looked at Gilchrist as if he had lost his mind. But Gilchrist ignored him, pressed the doorbell, and kept his finger on it.
From within, a voice complained, ‘All right, all right, hold your bloody horses.’
The door opened with a jerk, and Maggie Hendren stepped onto the threshold.
‘What the bloody hell’s the ... Oh, it’s you.’ Her anger softened into bewilderment as she took in his condition. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.
Gilchrist knew he looked dreadful. The paramedics had covered his stitched wounds with a bandage, which he had not even noticed until McVicar commented on it in the car. He caught Maggie’s shock of recognition as she noted McVicar’s uniform.
‘May we come in?’
‘What for?’
Gilchrist ignored her defiant tone. ‘It’s to do with Sa.’
‘What about her?’
‘She’s dead.’
Maggie’s lips threatened to purse, then broke into a forced smile that showed large teeth. ‘This is a joke. Right? A sick joke.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Gilchrist, and watched tears well in her eyes. ‘We’d better come in.’
Maggie gave the slightest of nods.
Gilchrist ushered McVicar ahead, then followed him into a small lounge with a low ceiling. The room lay dark. A table and chairs sat at one end, a sofa and single seat at the other. Three suitcases lined the back wall. Near the corner by the front window a faded rectangle of wallpaper, as tall and narrow as a bamboo bookshelf, overlooked a strip of clean carpet like a spectral shadow of what used to stand there.
Gilchrist waited for Maggie to wipe the tears from her eyes before asking, ‘When were you intending to leave?’
‘In the morning.’
‘Early?’
She sniffed. ‘About six.’
Gilchrist noted an airline ticket on the table. ‘Not the south of England.’
‘Majorca.’
‘Flying out of Glasgow?’
‘Edinburgh.’
‘You never told Sa?’
‘No,’ she whispered.
Gilchrist glanced at the suitcases. ‘Plan on staying long?’
‘You could say.’
‘One-way ticket?’
‘You’ve got one guess.’ Maggie sniffed. ‘How did she ...?’
‘She didn’t suffer,’ said Gilchrist. ‘Her last words were for Timmy.’
Maggie squeezed her eyes shut then, and shook her head. ‘She loved him,’ she whispered. ‘She missed him more than anything else in the world. He came between us, you know.’ Her voice trembled. ‘I think it was that more than anything that hurt.’
Gilchrist watched tears spill from her eyes. ‘What were you going to do with Patter?’ he asked.
Maggie frowned, as if confused. ‘Patter?’
‘Were you going to leave him?’
‘He’s an outside cat. He doesn’t need us.’
‘Us?’
‘Humans.’
‘Would Lex not take him?’
She tutted. ‘One’s enough for that bitch.’
‘You don’t like Lex, then?’
‘She tried to steal Sa from me. Before Patsy.’
Now Gilchrist understood. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. ‘So,’ he said, ‘when Sa fabricated the charge against me for harassing Lex, you jumped at the chance to get one over on her, and lied about being a witness.’
Maggie’s nostrils flared.
‘Were you not concerned you’d be found out?’ he asked.
‘Who cared? I was leaving anyway.’
He glanced at McVicar to make sure he had caught it all, then said, ‘Lex didn’t know you were going to Majorca?’
‘No one knew.’
‘Not even Patsy?’
Maggie lowered her gaze.
‘Was Patsy going to travel with you?’
‘She’s meeting me out there.’
‘Were you going to tell Sa?’
‘Eventually.’ She sniffed. ‘When things settled down.’
‘What sort of things?’
Maggie’s gaze flickered to the grate.
Gilchrist glanced at McVicar. ‘I want you to be careful how you answer this, Maggie.’
Maggie stared at him, as if not understanding. ‘Do I need a lawyer?’
‘That’s your prerogative.’
‘But I didn’t do anything.’
Therein lies the problem, Gilchrist wanted to say. ‘Who stashed the bamboo staves under Lex Garvie’s floor?’ he asked.
‘Sa did. She thought no one would find them there. And she had a house key. From when she and Lex were close.’
‘And Lex never knew?’
‘No.’
‘How long had you known about Sa?’ he asked.
Maggie’s gaze darted to the grate once more, and Gilchrist made a mental note to have the ashes tested for traces of bamboo shavings. ‘We met after she came up from England. We were no more than ten or eleven at the time. But it seems as if I’ve known her for ever,’ she whispered.
‘You should have come forward,’ he said.
Maggie seemed to stare through him, as if his eyes were portals through which she could read the memories of her past. ‘Sa had no one to talk to. She was lonely. She used to tell me things she told nobody else.’ She giggled then, and the pitch of her voice rose. ‘Just the two of us, you know. Me and Sa. It’s always been me and Sa. We were close. Really close. We used to keep pets. When we were little girls. Rabbits and guinea pigs and mice. White mice. Lots of mice. I liked the mice. And cats. We used to feed the mice to the cats.’ She giggled again, a high-pitched sound, like a little girl, then sadness glazed her eyes. ‘They never lived long, the cats. Or the rabbits. They always ended up dead. I used to blame Alex. Or the other boys. But it wasn’t them. Sa told me. That was our secret,’ she whispered. ‘Me and Sa. It was our secret.’
CHAPTER 35
‘Can I drive you home, Andy?’
‘No thanks, sir. I’ll walk.’
‘To Crail?’
Gilchrist shook his head. ‘To see a friend.’
‘Local?’
‘Fairly close.’
‘Well, in that case, if you don’t mind, I’d like to walk with you.’
For some meteorological reason, the snow had failed to reach the town. The streets glittered with frost as if the cobblestones were riddled with gems. McVicar insisted on covering Gilchrist’s shoulders with a tartan woollen blanket he kept folded in the boot. When Gilchrist pulled it around him, he caught the faintest smell of perfume.
‘Never know when you’re going to need it.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Normally, McVicar strode with military-like authority, but he paid deference to Gilchrist’s wounds and eased along beside him.
‘This friend of yours, Andy. Anyone I know?’
‘Beth Anderson.’
McVicar seemed to lose his stride for a brief second, then said, ‘Wasn’t she the lady who was—’
‘Afraid so.’
‘Of course, Andy. Of course. Now I understand.’ He paused. ‘Don’t know if anyone told you, but they arrested a young man earlier this evening. Turns out he was the son of that couple, the man found murdered on the West Sands and the woman who disappeared. You remember them?’
‘I do indeed, sir.’
‘He’s to be arraigned tomorrow morning for murder.’
Gilchrist almost stumbled. ‘Murder, sir?’
‘His ex-girlfriend. Alice McGhee. And her boyfriend. German-sounding name.’
Hearing how close Beth had come to being murdered sent a shiver the length of Gilchrist’s spine.
&
nbsp; ‘Expect his lawyers will plead not guilty by reason of insanity. Apparently the man’s a wreck.’ McVicar shook his head. ‘Sometimes I wonder what the world’s coming to, Andy. I despair. I really do.’
‘Mind if I ask a question, sir?’
‘Not at all, Andy.’
‘You don’t believe Patterson’s version, do you?’
‘Not one bit. The man’s proven he’s a damned fool. I had the opportunity of speaking briefly to his wife. Becky witnessed the whole incident from the bedroom window.’
Gilchrist almost smiled. It had troubled him that in the absence of a witness, Patterson might have convinced those who mattered. ‘Will she be expected to say what happened in front of her husband?’ he asked.
‘I wouldn’t put her through that.’
‘What’ll become of him, sir? Patterson.’
McVicar sighed. ‘Not quite sure yet. Need to listen to what he’s got to say for himself, of course. Always try to be fair about that sort of thing. But he made a serious misjudgement in pulling you from the case. That’ll weigh heavily against him. Probably pull him under in the end.’
They walked on in silence and reached the hospital ten cold minutes later. Gilchrist slipped the blanket from his shoulders and handed it back to McVicar.
‘Keep it, Andy.’ McVicar gave Gilchrist’s shoulders a tight squeeze then turned and strode into the night.
As Gilchrist pushed through the hospital entrance, tiredness swept over him in a wave and he fought off the ridiculous urge to lie down on the cold tarmac and let sleep take him.
Dawn broke to a grey-tinged sky and white-edged roads.
Gilchrist opened his eyes. The waiting room had filled, but space either side of him lay clear.
Doctor Ferguson stood before him.
Gilchrist pulled himself to his feet. ‘I know, I know,’ he said, and took hold of Ferguson’s outstretched hand. ‘No need to stand.’
‘But you feel better upright.’
‘I do,’ he lied. ‘How is she?’
‘Better than you, by the looks of it.’
‘Put it down to old age and the rigours of a job meant for the young. Can I see her?’
Ferguson shook his head. ‘She’ll be out of it for the best part of the morning.’ He frowned at Gilchrist’s head, and said, ‘Follow me.’
