“Oh. Aye, I do,” Dougie said with an unrepentant grin. “All right, Mr. Davidson? What can we do you for?”
“I’d like a word with Mr. Duplessis,” Davidson said amiably. “And Mr. Brody, if he’s around.”
“Front door’s up there,” Dougie said with some satisfaction, indicating the fire-escape-type stairs just visible running all the way up the side of the house to the attic. “It’s a good climb.”
Davidson eyed it with disfavour. “I understood Mr. Duplessis lived in a caravan.”
“Aye, but he’s up there with Glenn, plotting something.” Dougie marched on towards the open door of the house, adding something only partially under his breath. It sounded like “Overthrow of the police state, hopefully”.
Aidan grinned and let Louise lead the way up to the outside door to Glenn and Izzy’s self-contained flat. It was Izzy who opened the door, the dog at her heels.
There had been no time for Louise to warn her or Thierry. She’d sat in the front seat beside Davidson on the way up to the house and refused to make anyone look guilty by any furious texting. But she saw at once that Izzy knew. Presumably Aidan had faster thumbs.
“I’m afraid we’ve come with the police,” Louise said as lightly as she could. “DI Davidson would like a word with Glenn and Thierry, and apparently we’re all invited.”
“I see.” Izzy opened the door wider and stood back. “Come in. They’re in the study. I’ll put the kettle on.”
Before she could lead the way down to the study, which had once been Glenn’s bedroom, Jack hurtled out of his bedroom shouting, “Hello, Louise! I just got the high score on Icky Monsters!”
“Fab,” Louise applauded. “How icky are they?”
“Really, really icky. Want a shot?”
“Sounds altogether too icky for me, but maybe Aidan will later. We’re just going to see Glenn.”
Jack grinned. “I beat Glenn’s high score.”
“He’ll get you back,” Izzy promised. “Come and help me get some drinks. Bring Rover.”
Rover, whose real name was Screw because of his propensity to guard what was his, especially Glenn, and now Jack and Izzy too, allowed himself to be dragged away from his suspicious sniffing at Davidson, who looked slightly dazed by this glimpse into the unlikely domestic life of the man once infamous as one of Glasgow’s hardest young criminals. However reformed Glenn was, the change obviously baffled the cynical detective. Even after January’s events when everyone in the house had co-operated to catch the traitorous Len and his drug-lord allies.
It was easier for Louise to think about Glenn and Davidson than about Thierry, who was discovered in a huddle around a laptop set up on a gate-legged table in the study. He was frowning in concentration, his fingers flying over the keyboard while from either side of him, Glenn and Charlie argued about something behind his back.
It was Glenn who looked up first, his sharp gaze taking in Louise and her companions at a glance. Charlie stopped talking.
Thierry threw himself back in his chair and shoved the keyboard away from him. “Like that,” he said with satisfaction.
Glenn nudged him and stood up. “Hello.”
“Mr. Brody,” Davidson said politely. “Nice to see you again.”
Only by the tiniest twist of the lips did Glenn betray his amusement at any policeman being pleased to see him. Thierry had glanced up eventually, but Louise refused to look at him.
“It was really Mr. Duplessis I wanted to speak to, though your input would also be useful—as would that of anyone else who knows anything relevant.”
“To the death of Ron Main?” asked Glenn, who rarely beat about the bush.
“I thought you might have heard already,” Davidson said, flicking a wry glance at Aidan, who smiled amiably.
“Small village,” Glenn said. “Sit down. How’re you doing, Louise?”
“Fine,” Louise said hastily. “DI Davidson asked me to come as well. I’ll go and help Izzy with the coffee.”
“No, no,” Charlie insisted, already bolting for the door. “I’ll help Izzy; you stay put.”
“Thanks,” Louise said, adding unkindly, if at least inwardly, Bastard.
Thierry stayed where he was, merely adjusting his position on the chair to face into the room, sitting astride it with his arms resting along its back. Louise sat on the sofa, where Glenn eventually lounged beside her, facing Davidson in the comfy old armchair.
Glenn and Izzy had turned this room into a comfortable sitting room/study, with furniture restored by Rab, including a very nice mahogany desk where Izzy’s computer sat, and a set of Glenn’s keyboards. There were loads of books and a vase of fresh daffodils. Again, Louise focused on Davidson, watching him take in this unlikely side to Glenn Brody. She didn’t blame him for that. Not so long ago, Louise would have been at least as surprised as he.
“So, Mr. Duplessis,” Davidson said, “when did you first meet Ron?”
“He nodded to me in the pub on Tuesday night,” Thierry said. “Once I’d caught him staring at me.”
“Did you speak?”
“No, not then.”
“Why do you think he was staring at you?”
“Maybe to see if I had a few thousand pounds in my pockets. Maybe to see if I’d got his latest email.”
Louise’s gaze flew to Thierry, whose steady gaze remained on Davidson. It was the first she’d heard about emails.
Clearly, it was news to Davidson too. He leaned forward, frowning. “He emailed you?”
“Yes, I traced them to him. Anonymous emails saying things like ‘Give the money back or else’, and ‘I know you’ve got it’. Stuff like that.”
“What did you think he was talking about?”
“Money he thought I’d stolen from London and Scottish Life.”
“Did you?” Davidson asked mildly.
“I did time for what I stole from them.”
“So you did. Did these emails bother you?”
Thierry shrugged. “They made me a bit uncomfortable, but, no, they didn’t really bother me. I set things in motion to trace them, but that was all.”
“Then can you explain how his fishing rod came to be leaning against your caravan?”
Shite, thought Louise.
“I thought he’d taken it back,” Thierry said.
“PC Harris recognized it and removed it yesterday. So can you explain it?”
“Of course. He left it there the morning he broke into my caravan. Wednesday.”
“He broke into your caravan?” Davidson repeated. “Can anyone else verify that?”
Glenn shrugged as Izzy came in with a tray of cups and a coffeepot. “I wasn’t around, but I heard about it.” He stood to take the tray from Izzy.
“I saw it,” Louise said firmly.
Everyone looked at her, even Thierry, though she couldn’t allow herself even to glance back at him. She kept her gaze focused on Davidson.
“I went to the caravan to ask Thierry to fix my computer. Ron opened the door.”
“Did he say what he was doing there?” Davidson asked.
Glenn sat down with the tray, began pouring coffee into mugs and shoving them across the table, gesturing towards milk and sugar.
Louise let her lips twist into a derisive smile. “He said he was waiting for Thierry, but when Thierry turned up, I realized they weren’t friends at all.” She took a deep breath and picked up the mug in front of her. “It was there I spoke to him about Nicole.”
“I see.” Davidson regarded her thoughtfully, then without warning spoke to Thierry, “Do you know what he did in there? Did he take anything?”
“Don’t think he took anything, no,” Thierry replied. Glenn stretched out one hand with a mug of black coffee and Thierry met him halfway to take it. “He had a good look around. Things were moved, rifled
, and I’m pretty sure he tried to get on to my computer.”
“Could he have found something that might have hurt you? Caused you any trouble?”
“No.”
Davidson smiled faintly. “You sound very certain.”
“I am.” Thierry lifted his mug and drank.
“Where were you on Friday evening between about nine and midnight?”
Louise, staring into her coffee, let her gaze flicker briefly to Thierry. She prayed the betraying flush of her body would be invisible to everyone. Thierry never glanced at her.
“I was in Oban for most of it.”
“With the rest of the Ardknocken House crew?” Clearly, Davidson was familiar with their habits.
“Actually, no,” Thierry said. “I went for dinner. With Louise.”
Davidson’s eyes didn’t waver. He already knew. Perhaps Aidan had told him. “Did you stay in Oban all night?”
“No, we drove home. Got back to Ardknocken around eleven, maybe a few minutes after.”
“Where did you go then?”
“I dropped Louise off and drove up to the house.”
He was lying for her.
Chapter Ten
Slowly, Louise lifted her gaze to him. What was going on? What was he doing? Saving her from suspicion? From gossip? Whatever, her heart beat faster than ever. She just didn’t know what to do about it. Should she call him a liar, force him to accept the alibi she provided? She swallowed down the instinct. She didn’t know what he was doing or why. So she held her tongue.
Aidan too was looking at him. Her brother must have known she didn’t come home until morning, but he said nothing. Thierry himself looked only at Davidson.
“Did you go straight to the caravan?” Davidson asked him.
“No. On impulse I drove past the gates, parked and walked a little way up Ardknocken Hill.”
“In the mist?” Davidson asked mildly.
Thierry gave his characteristic half smile. “Yes, in the mist. I like mist. It helps me to think, and I had an idea for a computer game I wanted to get straight in my head.”
“That’s what we were talking about when you came in,” Glenn added. “We’re going to call it Mists of Time.”
“I see.” Davidson leaned forward and heaped some sugar into his mug, added a slosh of milk before raising his gaze to Thierry once more. “Did you meet anyone on the hill?”
Thierry shook his head.
“Hear anything? See anyone or anything unusual?”
“No one and nothing. If Ron was there at the time, I didn’t see him.”
“Did you go as far as the waterfall?” Davidson asked, cradling his mug in both hands.
“Nowhere near. The mist was impenetrable. I came back and went to bed.”
Louise’s body flamed.
“Do you know what time this was?” Davidson asked. “When you went to bed?”
Thierry shrugged. “Not exactly. Maybe midnight.”
“Well, we might have a more definite time of death after the autopsy,” Davidson said. “But for now, did anyone see you come back here? Before you went to bed? While you were in bed.”
Thierry shook his head. Davidson looked at Glenn who merely shook his head.
“Do they all need alibis?” Aidan enquired. “Or just Thierry?”
“Possibly not even Thierry,” Davidson said easily. “We haven’t established foul play. It’s just suspicious that he died while he was investigating Thierry.”
“I’m not a violent criminal,” Thierry said with a hint of mockery. “Ask anyone.”
“Oh I have. I also know that you’ve stated to several people that you’ll never go back to prison.”
“Then killing someone on my own doorstep would be pretty bloody stupid, wouldn’t it?” Thierry retorted. “I don’t think anyone will tell you I’m stupid.”
Davidson curled his lip. “You got caught, didn’t you?”
“Technically, I gave myself up.”
“Leaving old crimes aside,” Glenn interrupted, setting his mug on the table in such a way as caught Davidson’s attention. “I never heard it was standard practice to demand alibis from suspects before you’ve even established a crime. Sounds like a waste of police time.”
Davidson smiled faintly. “It wouldn’t be the first.”
Aidan said, “But you’re not looking for a murderer, are you? Not yet. You’re looking for the money.”
A quick, irritated frown tugged Davidson’s brow and was gone.
“Oh for—” Thierry unwrapped himself from the chair and shoved his empty mug across the table. He looked Davidson in the eye. “There is no money for you to find. Whatever Ron was looking for, I don’t have it. I never did. I never will.”
And abruptly, Louise understood. While Davidson frowned—even Aidan betrayed a hint of bafflement, for truth seemed to shine out of Thierry’s words and his fierce, dark eyes—Louise grasped that either he was the best liar she’d ever encountered, or he really was telling the truth. Which meant he’d lied to her last night. Or…
Or he’d taken the money from London and Scottish and given it directly to someone else. “I don’t have it. I never did. I never will.”
Thierry had never been a true criminal like the others here. Maybe that was one reason Glenn liked him so much. Their friendship had never been the one-sided relationship some imagined—mere gratitude on Thierry’s part for Glenn’s physical protection in prison. Louise knew enough of Glenn to understand he’d been searching for redemption in prison, and he’d found it in one of the truly good men he’d ever encountered. Glenn and the others here were all trying to find a better way to live their lives. Thierry’s had been a temporary, if deliberate, fall from grace, for which he’d always intended to pay the price.
Ruled by fear for his sister and fury at the injustice of the company that just took and took and refused to play its part when they needed it to, he’d taken the law into his own hands. He’d made it pay. And he’d punished without personal gain.
Something twisted inside her. It felt like pride and pain rolled into one. She had to control the gasp that parted her lips, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Thierry. As if he felt the intensity of her gaze, he glanced at her, and for the first time that afternoon, didn’t look immediately away. He didn’t smile. But then, neither did she.
“Well.” Davidson drank and put his mug down on the table before getting to his feet. “That was definite. Thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch again if I need to. Thanks for the coffee.”
Glenn followed him from the room, presumably to see he went straight out.
Louise, released at last from Thierry’s mesmerizing gaze, said to Aidan, “You’ll notice we don’t get offered a lift back down the hill?”
Aidan gave a perfunctory smile. He was looking out the window. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he murmured. It seemed to be aimed at Thierry, who didn’t answer.
Aidan turned to face him. “I have to go back to Glasgow. If you want to talk, Louise has my number.” He strolled across the room, gave Louise a brief one-armed hug in passing and left.
Louise, still holding her cup because it was something to do, said awkwardly, “Aidan isn’t out to get you. He’s trying to stop you going back to prison.”
Thierry didn’t respond to that either. He’d taken Aidan’s place by the window, presumably watching the departure of the detective, and of Aidan who’d been a different kind of policeman and was now involved in private security. No wonder he felt hunted. And yet, still he’d lied to keep secret her presence on the hill and in his bed.
“Why didn’t you tell them I was there?” she blurted. “We alibi each other.”
“We don’t need alibis,” Thierry said without looking at her. “At least, I don’t think we do.” Abruptly, he turned to face her. “Why would Ron h
ave gone up there in a pea-soup fog?”
She shrugged. “Why did we?”
“You think he had a girl with him?”
“No, it would have been all over the village by now. But maybe he just likes mist. As you and I do.”
Thierry nodded. “That’s what I thought.” His frown deepened. “He was out in the other mist too, when you and I were. He assaulted Nicole, as if overcome by uncontrollable lust. As you and I were.”
Warm blood flooded into her face, spread through her body. “I never heard that mist was an aphrodisiac. It’s cold and damp.”
“And yet we had sex twice surrounded by this mist. Ron tried to have sex with Nicole. Maybe on Friday night, he was so restless with lust he just kept walking until he fell over the edge.”
She stared at him. “Are you really trying to wriggle out of responsibility for your own actions? You had sex. Get over it. Trust me, it won’t happen again, not with me.”
He dragged an impetuous hand through his hair as she flung away from him. “Shit, don’t,” he said. “Louise, wait.” In one quick movement, he caught up with her, grasped her hand to hold her still. Upstairs, Jack laughed and Glenn’s voice rumbled. “Look, we can’t talk here in Glenn’s place. I’m trying to put some very weird thoughts into words, and I can’t if you get offended.”
“How can I be offended by the idea that you’re ashamed to have had sex with me?”
“Ashamed?” He stared at her. “Ashamed? A girl like you shouldn’t even look at a man like me, and yet…”
Her breath caught. “You think I had sex with you just to get information for Aidan or Ron or the police or London and bloody Scottish. You think you had sex with me because the mist overcame your natural repulsion. What the fuck is the matter with you?”
Laughter seemed to choke him. Unexpectedly, both his arms went around her. “God, you are so wrong! And so good for me. Don’t be angry. I admit I’m an arse sometimes, but—” He broke off as Jack’s voice sounded at the top of the stairs. He was only calling something to Izzy and Glenn on his way to the front door, but it served as a reminder that they were in someone else’s home and hardly alone.
In the Mists of Time Page 12
