Perfect Death

by Helen Fields

  ‘I’m at Cordelia Muir’s office,’ Callanach said. ‘I think you should come over. There’s something you need to see.’

  Ava’s new mobile buzzed as she was walking to her car. She opened the text as she fumbled in her handbag for keys.

  ‘OMG soz. Not sure who this is lol. Never remember to put names in. Who was talking about The Maz?’

  Ava typed a reply as she put on her seatbelt. ‘Lol. It’s Debs. Been a while since Cornton right? The boys at Glenochil was saying Dylan McGill’s got a nice new cell all to himself. They’re right jealous. When they was talking about The Maz I thought I’d say hi. Looking for work myself, if anything’s going? Let me know. Gotta be better than the street. Must go babes. Ask about that work for me yeah?’

  There was no way Sugar would want anyone from her prison days turning up to work at The Maz so the lie was as safe as Ava could make it. Given Sugar’s frequent trips in and out of Cornton Vale there had to have been at least one Debs in there with her. Chances were that Sugar was using at the same time she was dealing drugs. She’d have forgotten more people than she remembered from those days, Ava thought.

  By the time Ava pulled up outside Cordelia Muir’s office, Callanach was standing in the doorway looking up and down the road.

  ‘Waiting for me?’ she asked.

  ‘Checking for security cameras that might have a focus on this part of the road,’ he said.

  ‘What’s going on, and can we talk about it inside? It’s minus two out here.’ Ava walked past him and perched on a radiator inside the office, quickly abandoning the position when she realised it wasn’t working.

  ‘Tripp went out interviewing Crystal’s staff,’ Callanach said quietly, mindful of Liam Hood who was huddled over a kettle at the rear of the office. Tripp was on his mobile, making notes. ‘Cordelia Muir had a doctor’s appointment planned, made for her by a staff member, only we had no record of him. Turns out he’s an unpaid volunteer – recently taken on – so not on payroll and no formal HR records were prepared.’

  ‘And?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Cordelia only became ill after that volunteer started working here. She asked him to phone the GP on her behalf, only he turned down the offer of an early appointment with her doctor, and accepted one several days later.’

  ‘You think that was a deliberate delay to prevent her GP from diagnosing the problem?’

  ‘I can’t find any other explanation for it,’ Callanach said.

  ‘It’s leaving a lot to chance,’ Ava said. ‘What if Cordelia had just picked up the phone and called the doctor herself?’

  ‘Tripp spoke to Cordelia’s daughter about that. Cordelia was known to be stoic to the point of stubbornness. Almost never visited the doctor, came to work whether she was fit to or not. Hated making a fuss. Wouldn’t have taken much probing to have found out she was unlikely to have bothered the doctor with the symptoms until she was at breaking point. If it was a risk, it was a calculated one. Mr Hood, the gentleman back there, has been through the filing cabinet and found an application form for the volunteer who organised the doctor’s appointment.’ He handed the form to Ava.

  ‘Jeremy Dolour. What do we know about him?’ Ava asked.

  ‘We know that the National Insurance number he gave was either wrong or false. No one with that name and date of birth has any public records we can find. No driving licence. No NHS number. Tripp is on the line to a uniformed officer who’s checking the given address for us.’

  ‘Did Jeremy have access to Cordelia’s desk?’ Ava asked softly.

  ‘Her desk, and the fridge where Cordelia kept her meals in plastic containers. He made her drinks regularly too,’ Callanach said.

  ‘And he was a horrible little creep, did you tell her that yet?’ Liam Hood shouted from the far end of the room.

  ‘Let me introduce Mr Hood,’ Callanach said, raising his eyebrows briefly at Ava. ‘He’s worked here with Cordelia for three years. Apparently, Jeremy came in unexpectedly and offered to volunteer. Cordelia felt sorry for him and invited him to come in one day a week, unpaid, to do general administration and office assistant work. Soon after that he was in two days a week.’

  ‘He was too keen. Always there offering to help, following Cordelia around like a lap dog. No one else ever bothered going near her when he was in. I told her something was up with him and I wasn’t the only who felt it either. That wasn’t Cordelia’s way though. The more you tried to persuade her that someone was no good, the harder she’d fight for them,’ Hood said.

  ‘Would you work with one of our artists, Mr Hood? If we don’t have a photo of Jeremy you might be able to give us a likeness,’ Ava said.

  ‘That’ll take another few hours, I suppose. Not that I’ve got anything else to do on a Saturday. Every day’s a weekend until we’re told what’s happening to this place,’ Hood muttered.

  ‘We’ll have you driven to the station and make sure you’re bought hot food to keep you going if that helps,’ Ava said.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Tripp intervened.

  ‘That’ll be my cue to get lost then,’ Hood said, as he wandered back in the direction of the kettle.

  ‘The address Jeremy Dolour gave does exist, but when officers knocked on the door it was opened by a young woman and her husband. They’re on honeymoon in Edinburgh and have rented the place through Airbnb.’

  ‘Airbnb?’ Callanach asked.

  ‘Houses and apartments to rent if you don’t fancy a hotel. You can register your address and let your property through the website. We’re making further enquiries, although it looks as if all the information Jeremy gave was false,’ Tripp said.

  ‘Cordelia Muir obviously didn’t know him or suspect him. Where’s the motive?’ There was silence. ‘All right. Get officers out interviewing the remaining staff members about Jeremy. Maybe he let something slip that’ll lead us to him. A girlfriend, hobbies, a vehicle. Do we have his fingerprints?’

  ‘Hard to be sure. We can eliminate current staff members, but other people who’ve worked in this office previously are in the mix, cleaners were from an agency so different people each week, tradesmen, visitors. It’ll be almost impossible to ascertain which are his without a comparison,’ Tripp said. ‘Mr Hood describes him as having a pronounced stutter on words beginning with w. Jeremy’s in his mid to late twenties, wore glasses, didn’t really speak to anyone except Cordelia.’

  ‘I’ll have to talk to the Muir family,’ Ava said. ‘If it gets out that we’re investigating a specific suspect, they’ll be devastated. Keep this quiet for now, would you?’

  ‘They may be too busy to talk at the moment, ma’am,’ Tripp said. ‘Cordelia’s son, Randall, was disturbed attempting suicide a couple of days ago. They found him quickly enough that he wasn’t badly injured, but as a result he’s had to be committed. Also, and this may be nothing, but Cordelia’s ink-pen is missing from the box she kept it in on her desk. Apparently, all the staff knew never to touch it, as it was a gift from her deceased husband. I checked, and it hasn’t been located anywhere else that I can find from the evidence logs.’

  ‘Usual lines of enquiry,’ Ava said. ‘Cameras that might have caught him coming to or leaving these premises. Check with Cordelia’s daughter to see if she recognises the artist’s impression as soon as that’s completed. Luc, make sure there’s a briefing pack and get the whole squad together first thing tomorrow morning. The rest of the weekend is officially cancelled. I’m going back to my office to call the Superintendent. I’ll see you both there.’

  In her car, Ava sat back and closed her eyes. Cordelia Muir had over-ridden Liam Hood’s instincts about Jeremy. It was so often the way. Some people judged quickly, acted on their instincts and protected themselves effectively. The Cordelia Muirs of this world fought the desire to judge. They made themselves more kind to the dislikeable, not less. They opened their arms to those society rejected, then they became victims. There was no right answer, no litmus test for danger, but Jeremy Dolour had app
roached the charity offering help and Cordelia hadn’t had the heart to turn him away. If he was responsible for her death, it was a callous act facilitated by her goodness. The phone in her pocket buzzed.

  ‘You’ve started a bloody storm here Debs!’ the text read. ‘My boss called a screw at Glenochil who says a lady copper visited McGill. Does your Jimmy know anything about it?’

  ‘Ain’t got much credit left. Will call when been to shop,’ Ava wrote, turning off the phone and opening her car door. She took out the sim card, crushed it beneath her heel, and dropped it with the phone into the bottom of a rain-filled bin, covering it with other rubbish. Her conscience pricked for a few seconds. The Governor at Glenochil had been good enough to comply with her request to move Dylan McGill into a cell on his own with full privileges restored. Ramon Trescoe had contacts amongst the prison guards. After the length of time he’d spent there, it was inconceivable that he wouldn’t. Now, though, Ava had crossed a line. She’d put McGill’s life at risk. If Ramon Trescoe believed his partner McGill had talked to the police, there’d be a price on his head already. Ava had signed in using her proper identification, knowing that the prison guards had access to the visitors’ log. Once they had her name and found a photo of her on the internet, Knuckles and Perry would know straight away it had been her at Glynis Begbie’s house. Of course, if Ramon Trescoe hadn’t been involved in Begbie’s death, he wouldn’t make the connection between the two events. But if he went after McGill, it was as good as a signed confession. Ava was banking on the latter.

  Back at her desk, feeling cold in spite of the blasting heating, Ava had already telephoned Glenochil’s Governor and requested a secure watch on Dylan McGill. The Governor had known better than to ask too many questions and in any event, Ava suspected her voice had said it all. Still, she was playing games with a man’s life and as hard as she tried to ignore it, she felt as if she’d stooped to a low that was the opposite of all the reasons she’d become a police officer. For a few furious moments she cursed George Begbie for landing her in the middle of such a mess. He’d profited from whatever he’d done and now others were suffering. Even so, her loyalty to her former boss wouldn’t let her drop it. If she didn’t close the case, it would plague her forever.

  Steeling herself, she flipped open the file on Louis Jones and forced herself to keep busy. The note with a phone number for the poor woman from Dimitri’s team who’d had been scapegoated for failing to pass on the forensics report was at the top of the pile of papers. Ava was dialling before she’d really thought through what she was doing. Anything to take her mind off the danger she’d put Dylan McGill in.

  ‘Janet Monroe,’ a tired voice said.

  ‘PC Monroe, this is DCI Turner with MIT. Is this a good time to talk?’ Ava asked.

  ‘I’m at home doing nothing, ma’am. I’ve been let go early on maternity leave, supposedly for my own good. How can I help you?’ Janet sounded like Ava felt.

  ‘I was phoning about the forensics report on the Louis Jones car crash. CI Dimitri said you’d—’

  ‘I apologise, ma’am. CI Dimitri said he’d asked me to chase that for you. I must have missed it. That’s why he let me go early, on full pay, mind you, so I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining.’

  ‘I didn’t call you for an apology, Janet. I called because I was concerned that I might have exacerbated the problem with CI Dimitri. I’d like to help,’ Ava said.

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Chief Inspector Dimitri was clear that whilst on leave I wasn’t permitted to discuss his team’s ongoing investigations. I probably shouldn’t be talking to you,’ Janet said.

  Ava bit her lower lip. She’d battled enough sexism during her early days in the police that it stung when she came across junior female officers still having to tolerate it.

  ‘How long before you’re officially on maternity leave?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Another eight weeks,’ Janet said.

  ‘And you’re fit for work? No concerns from your doctor or midwife?’ Ava checked.

  ‘No. My GP told me to relax and enjoy. I think he actually muttered the words “lucky girl” when I said I’d been released from duty early. He probably doesn’t know what I was thinking when he said it, or he might have backed out of the room rather sharpish,’ Janet said.

  Ava laughed. ‘I have a bit of a situation here. We have the Louis Jones murder, an unresolved situation with the Lily Eustis case, and what appeared to be an unlawful killing by illegal drugs may just have been upgraded to murder. As a result I’m short-handed. Just so you know, I’m offering you office duties assisting in the investigations. No field work.’

  ‘Sorry ma’am, I don’t understand,’ Janet said.

  ‘I’m asking you to help out in MIT, providing additional cover until you’re due to go on maternity leave. I’ll clear it with the Superintendent. You could start tomorrow,’ Ava said, knowing she’d have to grovel to Detective Superintendent Overbeck, but it was worth the humiliation for the sense of doing something right.

  ‘Gosh, I didn’t think … yes. Of course. I’d love to have a placement within MIT even if it’s temporary. But CI Dimitri?’

  ‘Technically Chief Inspector Dimitri has released you from his squad and I’m sure he’ll be understanding. Listen, I know it’ll be a Sunday but we’re briefing tomorrow at 8.30am on the Cordelia Muir death. No uniform. See you here. Bring your own mug.’

  Ava ended the call feeling better. She’d made it a policy to help other women on the way up the career ladder, just as Begbie had helped her. It didn’t take much to extend the hand of friendship. Between Lily Eustis, Cordelia Muir and Louis Jones, MIT needed every pair of hands they could get. Ava couldn’t escape the feeling that her squad was getting nowhere fast.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Mina Eustis sat with her phone in her lap. She’d lost count of the number of texts she’d sent. Christian had replied to a few, but he was still busy. It wasn’t clear if he was out of town or not, but there was some crisis, which meant that whilst he was thinking of her, he couldn’t be at her side.

  In a multitude of ways life was harder now than when Lily had first died. No more escape into the numbness of shock and disbelief. No more police visits, or flowers from well-wishers. Even the press had deserted them. The area outside their front door was a barren and harsh egress into a world that would never be what it once was. Her parents had slipped from grief into a chilled depression. If it was possible for human beings to become a season, they were winter. Mina had been angry at them for a bitter moment, then almost every emotion she had ever felt had left her. She could rationalise. Her parents should never have had to lose a child. No parent should suffer that fate. The loss had rendered them little more than walking corpses. They needed time. The world had continued to spin. Mina had missed so many classes and course-work assignments that the university had regretfully but formally written to confirm that her place was closed. They had at least urged her to restart the following year. She’d thrown the letter in the bin without her parents even seeing it. Mina knew it was the right thing to slip away quietly from her past life. Her friends needed to carry on living. They needed to laugh, study, watch films and get drunk. They had been sympathetic to a fault, but she couldn’t expect them to understand what it was like for her. She couldn’t keep burdening them with it. The universe could not fold in on itself for one family’s grief. Mina understood. She was alone.

  Christian getting bored of her should have been predictable, too. Who did she think she was kidding? Lily had been the beautiful, outgoing one. Lily who could have had any man she wanted but who had simply smiled kindly at the stupid boys who threw themselves at her so regularly. She was, her sister had always declared, waiting for someone special. Mina wasn’t destined to have men like Christian around her, and when she did it was always with that just-good-friends limitation.

  Lily had been with a man the night she died. It must have been a date for Lily to have hidden it from
them all. If she’d been going out with a mere friend there’d have been no need for secrecy. Mina could understand it. There was always the sense that by talking about things you jinxed them, and it was nice to have secrets. Mina just wished Lily had shared that one with her. They’d always been friends. Yes, there had been the usual childish squabbles, but in truth they’d grown up without much sibling rivalry. If Lily was alive now, Mina would be lying on her sister’s bed, talking about Christian, explaining how one day he’d appeared in the library, asking if she had change for the drinks machine, saying how much he liked the band whose retro t-shirt she was wearing. Funny that she couldn’t even remember which t-shirt it was now. After that they’d formed the habit of sitting near one another in the library to study, and there he always was. Until now.

  She wanted Lily to walk in, hug her and tell her she was being silly – to reassure Mina that Christian wouldn’t have deserted her. He alone amongst her friends had known what to say and how to say it, never treading on egg-shells the way everyone else had. Perhaps it was because he was that bit older, but Christian was unafraid to talk about death. Surely he wouldn’t just drop her because he was busy with other people. He knew how badly she needed him. He was the only one she had let see the full extent of her pain. Mina hit the call button she had promised herself she would leave alone. She had stopped leaving him voicemail messages, mainly because she could no longer stand the neediness in her own voice when she spoke. But now there was no prerecorded message to greet her. Christian had switched his voicemail off. That was it then. As clear a message as he could have sent.

  Mina walked to the kitchen cupboard where her mother kept the alcohol. It was kept better stocked these days than it had been in past years. She took a bottle of vodka from a shelf, considered taking orange juice from the fridge as a mixer but the effort was too much. Instead, she plodded back up the stairs, letting her mobile slip from her fingers to the floor as she opened Lily’s door. Closing the curtains gently – Lily had chosen them – she loosened the bottle cap and turned off the light. The bed was comfortable. The pillow still smelled of Lily’s favourite perfume. The sheets remained slightly crumpled where Lily’s feet had kicked around each night. If there was a sanctuary where Mina could find oblivion, then that was surely it.