The First Cut (Terrence Reid Mystery Series Book 2)

by Mary Birk

  Anne slipped off her shoes and headed for the kitchen to put the tea things away. She looked around, wondering where the cat had gotten to. He usually stayed close, and never went outside unless she made him. He had to be curled up in some corner taking a nap. After she took the cake to the security man, she would take a bath and then spend the rest of the night in bed with her book.

  Her thoughts already on the next week’s work, she entered the kitchen and immediately knew she wasn’t alone. Fear sucked the breath from her chest in a violent thrust. She tried to think of something she could use as a weapon, something to protect herself, to save her baby. Her heart pounding in her chest, she lunged toward the counter where she’d left the cake knife, grabbing it, then spun around to face the table.

  Moira Ramsey sat there looking at Anne in astonishment. Her clothes were dirty, and her hair was limp and needed washing. She was stroking the cat, eating a piece of chocolate cake and had a glass half full of a dark golden liquid in front of her.

  Anne clapped her hand to her chest. “God, Moira, you almost gave me a heart attack.” She dropped the knife on to the counter. “You scared me to death. Where on earth did you come from?”

  Moira grinned, “That was fierce. You and your knives.” She motioned her head to the patio door. “I thought he’d never leave. I was waiting outside. Who is he?”

  “Harry Ross. He works for my husband.” Anne wrinkled her nose. “What are you drinking?”

  “Brandy. I found it in the other room. The only choices were brandy or whiskey, and I needed a drink. You don’t have any wine or anything else around that I could find.”

  “Sorry, I can’t drink because of the baby, so I just don’t keep anything much here.”

  “So what was he doing here?”

  “Harry? He just keeps an eye on me for Terrence.”

  “Lord Reid’s still cheesed off at you?”

  Anne made a face. “I wouldn’t say that, but he doesn’t think we have much of a chance at a future together.”

  “That’s why you’re living alone, I guess.”

  “That’s why. I’ve been worried about you.” Anne went over to Moira, and clasped her in her arms. “Where have you been? You must know the police are looking for you.”

  Moira hugged her back, sniffling. “I know. The police and Walter’s men, both.”

  “Don’t cry. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

  “I knew I had to find you.”

  “And you did. You know there’s a guard here?” Anne released Moira gently to go to check the window. She peered out, but couldn’t see any sign of him. “At least, there usually is. Somewhere out there.”

  “Yeah, I know. He wasn’t there just now, though, so I came over the garden wall.” Moira got up and went to the refrigerator, opening the freezer compartment. “Okay if I have some ice cream? I’m starving.”

  “How about if I cook something like a real meal for you? Cake and ice cream and brandy aren’t very nourishing.”

  “What have you got?”

  Anne thought, then said, “I could make hamburgers and French fries? Or chicken with pasta?”

  “Cheeseburgers? You’re hungry, too, aren’t you? You’ve got to eat for the baby, right?”

  “Sure.” Anne started to get the things out she needed to begin cooking. Keeping her voice casual, she asked, “Where have you been all this time?”

  “Just here and there.” Moira nuzzled her face against the cat. “How’d you get Tiger?”

  “Terrence found him outside your flat.”

  “Figures. Walter hates Tiger. He probably threw him out and hoped he’d starve to death. Just like me.”

  “Haven’t you been eating?”

  Moira shook her head. “Not much. I ran out of money. I thought I’d be fine because when I got those account numbers for you, I got the bright idea to transfer some money to myself.” She took a drink of her brandy. “So I did. Four million pounds. I was mad at Walter because I thought he wanted me to sleep with those Nigerians. I wasn’t going to put up with being treated like that.”

  “Of course not. Who would?” Anne put two frozen hamburger patties in the skillet, then eyed Moira and added another one. She started the oil for fries in another pan as she listened.

  “So I thought I’d have quite a bit of money I could use when I left.” She shrugged. “But I guess whatever Lord Reid did to those accounts did something to any scheduled transfers, and my money was gone when I tried to get it.” She screwed up her face. “To do it right, I guess I needed to move it out of that account right away to another one. But I didn’t realize that until it was too late.” She went to the refrigerator and took out the milk, holding it up to Anne, who nodded and pointed to the cupboard that held glasses. Moira poured a glass for Anne and one for herself, and went on. “I didn’t have any money but what I had on me. It’s been rough.”

  “Your mother?”

  Moira shook her head. “I didn’t even try. She’d never help me. My brother, either. They’re too afraid of Walter. I tried my Aunt Glynnis, but her mobile’s been disconnected.”

  “You need to turn yourself in, Moira. That would be the best thing for you. It would show cooperation, I would think.”

  Moira came over to the stove and stared at the food in the pan, but Anne knew the girl was seeing something else entirely.

  “I’m scared.” Tears welled up in Moira’s eyes. “I did some things. Bad things. Really bad things. And I’m afraid.”

  Anne took Moira into her arms again and let the girl cry. After Moira’s tears had subsided, Anne whispered, “Shall I call Terrence?”

  Moira wiped her arm across her face. “I guess so. But I want to eat first. It smells so good.”

  Anne nodded. “Let me get these fries before they burn. And we’ll have a salad.”

  “Not fries. Chips. If you’re to be a proper Scottish wife, they’re called chips.”

  “Chips, then, though my status as a Scottish wife is up in the air, and I hardly think I can be called proper.” Anne made a wry face and Moira laughed.

  When the food was ready, Anne dished up their plates and they ate companionably at the kitchen table. Anne did not feel any fear of Moira, no matter what she’d done. It wasn’t that she doubted Moira had done what she was supposed to have done; she could just tell that Moira was not going to do anything to her. They didn’t talk about what had happened; Anne decided it was better that she let someone who knew what they were doing get Moira’s story, and she wanted to keep the girl calm until the police came.

  Afterwards, Moira took a badly needed shower and Anne called Terrence—twice. She wasn’t really surprised that he didn’t answer. So she called Harry, who answered immediately.

  Chapter 95

  SITTING IN HIS OFFICE, Reid watched the screen on his mobile as it rang.

  It had been two weeks since the last time Anne had tried calling him. He knew Harry had gone over there this afternoon, and things were fine. Although he was hungry for news of her, he knew he had to wean himself from that need. He had been careful never to appear receptive to even the brief reports Harry had tried giving him in the beginning, so now he rarely heard anything more from Harry except that things were fine. Not even that she was fine. Harry always said only “things are fine” and that nothing was needed.

  She called twice in rapid succession, but he could tell she didn’t leave a message. He pressed in Harry’s number to tell him to call her and make sure nothing was wrong. Nothing ever was, she was just lonely. Sundays were the worst, he knew, for her as well as for him.

  Looking at his watch, he held the phone to his ear and started shutting down his computer. Time to go home—if an empty flat is a home. He’d come to High Street after Mass that morning and stayed all day, not bothering to eat. No one else was in, so it was quiet and he’d been able to work undisturbed. He’d get something to eat on the way home if he decided it was worth the trouble.

  He left his office, shutting off the l
ight. His mobile rang again. God, Anne, have mercy. How many times did he have to resist temptation? Automatically, he checked the screen. Not Anne, Harry.

  His heart lurched with terror. He dropped his computer bag and hit the talk button.

  “What’s happened, Harry? Is she all right?”

  “Moira got into the house. She’s with Lady Anne, guv.”

  “Is she armed? Is Anne all right?” As he talked, he ran for the front door. “I’m on my way from High Street. Tell me for Christ’s sake, is Anne all right?”

  “She called me just after you did. She says she’s all right. Moira’s all right, too. In the shower, your lady says.” Harry gave a little laugh. “She made them cheeseburgers and then Moira went to take a shower and wait for you to come get her. Lady Anne says the girl trusts you and that she’s sure there’ll be no trouble.”

  Reid shut the front door of the offices behind him, heard the click as the automatic lock engaged, then ran to where his car was parked, just as the skies opened up with a pelting rain. “I’m on my way. Meet me there.”

  The security guard outside the house on Aytoun Lane waved him through. Where the fucking hell was he when a murderess got into the house? He’d deal with the man later. Harry’s car was already in the front driveway, so Reid pulled up behind him and ran up the front steps, ignoring the rain. The door was unlocked and he rushed in, his eyes scanning for Anne.

  “We’re in the kitchen, guv.” Harry’s voice called out.

  Reid brushed the rain from his face as he quickly walked to the back of the house. Moira Ramsey, hair still slightly damp, sat at the kitchen table in jeans and a pink shirt he recognized as Anne’s. Next to her sat Harry. They were both eating chocolate cake topped with vanilla ice cream. Reid shot a question at Harry with his eyes.

  “She’s upstairs, guv. She didn’t want to interfere with police business.” Reid detected a note of pride in his sergeant’s voice.

  “Oh.” He hid his disappointment. “Good, then.” Reid forced himself to focus on Moira. Sitting down next to her, he said, “Moira, I’ve been looking for you.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I know.”

  “I need to caution you about your rights.”

  She nodded her head toward Harry. “He did already. He had me sign that paper.”

  Harry held up the signed acknowledgement of rights and then took his plate to the sink. “You finished eating, Moira?” She nodded and he cleared her plate as well.

  Reid said, “Your brother wants to help you. He’ll pay for a solicitor for you. He’s having your father’s will set aside so nothing will go to Walter.”

  “But he wants to help me? After everything I’ve done?”

  “And after everything that was done to you.”

  Moira nodded, tears starting to pool in her eyes. “I’m ready to go now, Lord Reid. I don’t need to be handcuffed, do I?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, do you?”

  “No. I’m tired of running and I’m afraid of Walter’s men. And besides, I’ve got nowhere else to go. I ran out of money a week ago.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “I knew Anne would help me. I’ve been trying to get in here to see her, but there was always some guard around. Until this afternoon. I was so hungry.” She seemed like such a child right then, not a cold-blooded murderess. Nineteen. Just nineteen.

  “Did you get dinner then? Not just cake?”

  “We had cheeseburgers, chips, and salad. Anne cooked. She’s a good cook.”

  “Aye, she is that. All right then, shall we go?”

  Moira’s eyes searched his. “Don’t you even want to see her?”

  Startled, Reid couldn’t think of anything to say. He swallowed, recovering his composure. “Later, perhaps. Just now I need to take care of you.”

  “Can I go up and say goodbye to her? I need to do that.”

  He nodded. “Harry, you go on up with Moira. I’ll wait outside in the car.”

  Chapter 96

  MOIRA KNEW MORE than she thought she knew, and the Procurator Fiscal’s office, which would be responsible for prosecuting Von Zandt, was optimistic about being able to bring charges and eventually getting a conviction based on her information. Not only could she implicate Walter Von Zandt in Ramsey’s and DI Lawrence’s deaths, but she would be able to give them enough to tie him to the terrorists. She remembered dates of meetings, names of his associates. Not only that, but she was able to provide information about the places they went at times that tied Von Zandt to being in multiple locations at the same time as the men funding the university bombing plot.

  Her testimony would be critical, the piece that held everything together. The solicitor hired for her by Bert Ramsey secured a promise from the government for her freedom in exchange for her cooperation, with the proviso that she undergo psychiatric treatment in a secure facility after the trial was over. But the Procurator Fiscal insisted that she be kept incarcerated until the trial. For her safety, she was put in a private cell and kept away from the other prisoners. Her brother visited her every day, although her mother would not.

  Moira confessed that when DI Lawrence told Walter Von Zandt that Richard Ramsey was talking to Reid, Walter had ordered Frederick to take care of Ramsey. Frederick had come to Moira and they worked out how to do it together. DI Lawrence had been responsible for making sure Parsons dropped the surveillance detail on Ramsey. Moira said that they hadn’t known until afterwards when Lawrence tried to blackmail them, that he’d taken Parsons’ place and had kept watch himself.

  Reid asked, “So where’d you meet up with Richard that night?”

  Moira pulled at a hangnail with her teeth while she answered Reid’s questions. “I never actually left the house after dinner that night. I just pretended to leave when Frederick came for me. He left by himself and waited where we’d arranged to meet. Instead, I let myself into Richard’s car and laid down in the back seat waiting for him. I actually fell asleep for a while.”

  “Did Richard expect you to be waiting for him?”

  “Duh. We’d planned it.” She left off on the finger that had started to bleed and started nibbling on the next one in line. “I knew he wanted me, but he waited for me to make the first move. So I did. Easy peasy.”

  “Why the wig?”

  With the smile of a naughty child who thought she’d done something very clever, Moira said, “Freddie watched something on television about people leaving hair at a crime scene, so we decided on a wig to keep my hair tucked away. That was my idea.”

  “When did you put it on?”

  “In the garage while I waited for him to come out. I brought it in my rucksack, along with the blade. Richard loved the wig.” She reached up and folded her hair to make it appear shorter. “It was short like this. The way Mum’s hair was when they first met.”

  Reid was beginning to understand. “And Freddie?”

  “Freddie followed us when we left the gates, then waited while I did what I needed to do. Then he helped me get Richard on the tracks afterwards.” Her teeth went back to work on her fingers.

  “What about DI Lawrence?”

  “Walter was mad when Freddie told him that the cop was trying to blackmail us. The idiot thought Freddie and I had gotten rid of Richard on our own or something. That Walter didn’t know.” She shook her head like she was disappointed in DI Lawrence’s stupidity. “As if. Walter told Freddie the man was past his sell-by date. Freddie didn’t understand that, but I explained.” She started to put a finger up to her mouth, but then seemed to catch herself, and put her hands behind her back, keeping the tempting finger treats away from her voracious teeth.

  “What happened after Walter found out DI Lawrence was trying to blackmail you and Freddie?”

  She shrugged. “Walter told me and Freddie to take care of him. So we did. We acted like we were going to pay the money, then at the meeting, Freddie twisted a wire thin
g around the guy’s neck.”

  “And the young cop?”

  She released her hands from behind her back and brought them forward in a “not me” gesture. “No frigging idea.”

  Reid nodded.

  Moira added, “Though if I had to give it a guess, my money would be on the slimy haired cop.”

  Reid thought Moira’s money would have been safe with that guess.

  TUESDAY, MAY 12

  Chapter 97

  HE DREAMED OF HER AGAIN, and as always, he was grateful for the dream, although even in his sleep, he was conscious it was only a dream. He loved these dreams when he could be with her, and every time he woke after having one of them, he just wanted to go back to sleep and be with her again.

  He seemed to have missed the beginning of this dream, though, and tried to make it start over again from the beginning, when he would see her and she would smile and he would tell her all the things he wanted to say to her. He would hear her laugh, then watch her think as he told her something serious. He needed all of the first part of the dream, as well as this part, to get him through his lonely waking hours. This dream was hurtling by too quickly. He was surrounded by the feel of her mouth in his dream when he suddenly woke and, at the same time, came with exquisite, agonizing pleasure. He heard himself groan with his release.

  After he could breathe again, he realized with a start that he could still feel her touch. He looked down and saw her golden hair in the faint moonlight from the window, then her face and the smooth skin of her naked body as she moved up to lay in his arms.

  His heart pounded rapidly, torn between what he wanted and what was right. “Anne...”

  She put her finger over his lips. “I’ll leave before morning. I need one more night with you before I go. I need it, Terrence. You don’t have to talk. I don’t want to hear any logic or what’s best for any of us. I just need this night. And besides, you can’t make me leave now, not when it’s my turn. That wouldn’t be fair.”