Penitent

by Pete Brassett

  ‘Aye,’ said Duncan. ‘He is.’

  ‘Then why the blazes would he have to hide? No, no,’ said Munro, ‘I’ll tell you what he did. He entered the building, changed out of his motorcycle gear and wandered about the place doing whatever it is he does in full view of everyone and nobody batted an eyelid.’

  ‘Makes perfect sense to me, chief, but I’ll tell you this for nothing, Westy’s not going like it, she’s not going to like it at all.’

  ‘There’s only two things I don’t like,’ said West as she plodded through the door. ‘Broccoli and bananas, and as this isn’t “Gardeners Question Time” you must be talking about something else, so come on, let’s have it.’

  ‘After you, chief,’ said Duncan with a sardonic smile. ‘I’ve got my career to think of.’

  * * *

  Listening to Munro’s interpretation of events like a disheartened teenager on the cusp of learning that her trip to Disneyland had been cancelled, West, in an unexpected show of positivity, conceded that contrary to her own beliefs, he was probably right.

  ‘Well, it’s certainly feasible, Jimbo,’ she said, ‘there’s no doubt about it but even if he was a regular at the centre, then unless he had good reason to be there, I still say he’d have raised a few eyebrows. And I still think he might have been better off tucking himself away until he was ready to pounce.’

  ‘Well, that’s your call, Charlie,’ said Munro, ‘and you must do what you think is right. So tell me, what are you going to do?’

  ‘Please don’t suggest anything involving stepladders,’ said Dougal. ‘I’m not good with heights.’

  ‘Numpty,’ said Duncan, struggling to keep his eyes open, ‘that’s not necessary now. All we have to do is take ourselves off to the centre and question everyone who was working that day and if they saw Nevin wandering about the place then we simply ask them what he was doing.’

  ‘There you go,’ said West, ‘simple when you know how! Right, so who’s going…’

  ‘Sorry, miss,’ said Duncan as he raised a hand, ‘but it’s too late for that. There’s a lot of part-timers down there and they’ll be done for the day now.’

  ‘You’re as slippery as an eel, you know that? But you’re right, so we’ll concentrate on something else instead. We’ll concentrate on finding that vital bit of something which will nail Nevin to the cross.’

  ‘And have you any idea what this vital bit of something looks like?’ said Dougal.

  ‘Buggered if I know,’ said West. ‘I need to sleep on it, or better still, drink on it. Dougal’s got a treat in store so we can all toast Jimbo’s success.’

  ‘Aye, nice one,’ said Duncan. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, chief, you did well to collar that McPherson fella, and Galbraith too.’

  ‘Credit where it’s due,’ said Munro, ‘it wasnae all down to me, I did have some help.’

  ‘So,’ said West, ‘who’s for a dram?’

  ‘Oh not for me,’ said Dougal, ‘I’ll take a juice, me and alcohol don’t get along.’

  ‘And I’ve a drive ahead of me,’ said Duncan. ‘Destination duvet.’

  ‘Oh well,’ said West, ‘looks like it’s just you and me then, Jimbo. We’ll have a snifter then you can crash at mine.’

  ‘Put the cap back on, Charlie, you’re driving too.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Aye, I’m convalescing, remember.’

  * * *

  Under the tutelage of his late wife, Munro had soon discovered the benefits of employing a “clean as you go” technique when toiling in the kitchen or for that matter when executing any task which involved a degree of detritus, whilst West, without the guidance of a spouse, partner, or parent, deployed the much simpler but ultimately more arduous method of utilising every available piece of crockery in the house until forced to face a mountain of grime-coated utensils armed with a bottle of detergent and a despondent sigh.

  Dumping the carrier bags on the dining table, she tossed her coat to the floor, grabbed two tumblers from the drainer and uncorked the Balvenie as a weary Munro, in dire need of a seat and some sustenance, glanced towards the kitchen and gawped at the array of pots and pans wallowing in the sink, the crusty plates piled high on the counter, the charred griddle pan sitting on the hob, and the oven trays coated in a fine layer of oil.

  ‘Jumping Jehoshaphat!’ he said. ‘If you were a restaurant you’d be closed down!’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘I’ll be needing a chisel to scrape the muck off these plates.’

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ said West, ‘I’ve been busy. Besides, when I studied Home Economics at school, we concentrated on the cooking aspect, not how to deal with the aftermath of a culinary disaster.’

  ‘If you were a dictionary definition, Charlie,’ said Munro as he rolled up his sleeves, ‘you’d be the antonym of domestic goddess.’

  ‘Thanks very much.’

  ‘No wonder you were so keen to get a takeaway.’

  ‘Alright, stop having a go!’ said West. ‘I’ll do it now. You sit down and have yourself a relaxing aspirin.’

  ‘Well, if you insist,’ said Munro as he sipped his whisky, ‘I’ll not argue. By the way, I forgot to ask, how was Nevin when you booked him this afternoon?’

  ‘Still as stubborn as ever,’ said West. ‘He’s not budging. Any idea how much a dishwasher costs?’

  ‘About eight pounds an hour. Did you mention the money? The fact that McPherson told us all about it?’

  ‘No. I thought I’d keep that one up my sleeve and play it as my trump card. I meant to buy.’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Munro, ‘but I’d wager it’s substantially more than a bottle of Fairy Liquid.’

  West flicked on the oven, returned a gleaming griddle pan to the hob and pulled two ten-ounce sirloins from a carrier bag.

  ‘My turn,’ she said. ‘You’ve still got some explaining to do.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Jimbo; for hijacking one of my team to aid your own private investigation.’

  ‘Och, that!’ said Munro. ‘It was nothing, Charlie. No, I correct myself. It was everything.’

  ‘I’m too tired for riddles, spit it out.’

  ‘I needed a computer to research this Galbraith fellow. You were busy so I telephoned Duncan and he brought me the spare from the office.’

  ‘You mean he drove it down to yours? Christ, no wonder he’s knackered.’

  ‘Aye, and he was kind enough to fetch me some groceries along the way and he stopped for the night.’

  ‘He kipped at yours? Why?’

  ‘Well, here’s the thing,’ said Munro. ‘I was that tired, Charlie, I fell asleep, not surprising considering I’d just driven all the way from Kennacraig. Anyway, I awoke at 4 am and he’d done it all for me. I didnae even tell him what I was looking for.’

  ‘Then how did he know?’

  ‘Because he used his brain. He checked my search history on the internet, had a wee peek at my notes, and off he went. I’m telling you Charlie, if it wasnae for Duncan, Galbraith wouldnae be behind bars and McPherson would still be wandering the streets.’

  ‘You’ve grown quite fond of him, haven’t you?’ said West. ‘I reckon he reminds you of yourself as a young copper.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Munro, ‘but that’s by the by. The bottom line is I can see a spark in him, Charlie, just like I saw a spark in you. All you have to do is fan the flame and watch it grow. Are we not having chips with our supper?’

  ‘They’re in the oven. So, what are you saying? About Duncan, I mean.’

  ‘Oh it’s not for me to say anything, Charlie. It’s your team, not mine.’

  ‘Don’t give me that,’ said West. ‘You know as well I do, they both still think of you as the gaffer.’

  ‘You underestimate yourself, lassie. I’m simply saying you should give the lad a chance. Why not put him forward for his exams?’

  ‘And what? End up with two sergeants? Douga
l won’t be happy.’

  ‘Och, they’re like chalk and cheese…’

  ‘Laurel and Hardy more like.’

  ‘…but they work well together. Like a pickled onion and a chunk of cheddar. I think Dougal will enjoy sharing the responsibility.’

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ said West. ‘I’ll think about it. Wine?’

  ‘Aye of course, but I’ll have a clean glass, please.’

  * * *

  Reminded of a wildlife documentary featuring a pride of lions on the Serengeti devouring an unlucky wildebeest, West, refraining from commenting on table manners, watched as Munro ripped into his steak as though it were his last meal on earth.

  ‘Are you sure you should be eating that?’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Nothing. Just all that cholesterol, that’s all.’

  ‘Are you a doctor now?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought not,’ said Munro with a wink, ‘because if you were, you’d know that the cholesterol in this steak was superbly balanced by copious amounts of iron and the vitamins B6 and B12...’

  ‘That’s me told then.’

  ‘…not to mention the magnesium, which is essential in regulating blood pressure. So, lecture over, what’s next with Nevin?’

  ‘Apart from the obvious?’ said West. ‘Dunno. If nothing turns up, I might have to wing it on the evidence we’ve got and see what the fiscal says.’

  ‘It might work,’ said Munro, ‘but what you have is largely circumstantial and you’d be running the risk of seeing him walk away scot-free if she doesnae think the case has legs.’

  ‘I know, I know. Which is why first thing tomorrow we’re going to check in with Dougal, then head off up to the leisure centre.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yup. I want you to cast your eye over the murder scene, retrace his steps, that kind of thing. You never know, you might spot something we’ve missed.’

  ‘Aye, okay then,’ said Munro, ‘but I’m telling you now, Charlie, I’m not crawling around a ceiling, do I make myself clear?’

  Chapter 16

  Since the demise of his first ever long term relationship – a two-week dalliance with a mousey but insatiable law student with a minimalist wardrobe and a fondness for Smirnoff Ice – Dougal, who preferred the unconditional love of a brown trout and the solitude of a deserted riverbank, had gladly returned to the life of a singleton, free from the woes of worrying over what to say, what to wear, and what to drink.

  Comforted by the familiarity of his computer, he sat scrutinising the photographs of McPherson’s XT500 on one screen whilst procuring a season’s fishing at Kilbirnie Loch on the other when West, looking as bright as a button in her black jeans and crisp, white T-shirt, breezed through the door and plonked one tea, two cappuccinos, and three bacon baps on the desk.

  ‘You’re early, miss,’ he said. ‘Is the boss not with you?’

  ‘I certainly am,’ said Munro, trailing in her wake, ‘but not for long. We’re away to the leisure centre just as soon as I’ve had a word with your superior about installing a chair lift.’

  ‘What are you up to?’ said West. ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘Aye, maybe. I’ve been looking over the photos the SOCOs sent of McPherson’s bike…’

  ‘The bike? I thought you were done with all that. The scratches and stuff?’

  ‘So did I,’ said Dougal, ‘but I see now that the steering lock’s broken and the ignition wires are hanging loose.’

  ‘And what does that mean exactly?’

  ‘It means it can be started without a key. Just jump on the kick start and give it some welly.’

  ‘So you think Nevin might have nicked it before selling it on?’

  ‘Not according to the DVLA,’ said Dougal. ‘Nevin was the legal owner right enough. The only thing I can think of is that he lost the keys so he disabled the ignition.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit risky?’ said West. ‘Wouldn’t that make it easy to pinch?’

  ‘I doubt anyone would be interested. It’s twenty-three years old.’

  ‘Don’t make them like they used to, eh?’

  ‘Oh and by the way, McLeod’s on his way over.’

  ‘Andy? He’s coming all the way from Glasgow?’

  ‘No,’ said Dougal, ‘he’s been doing a post-mortem over at University Hospital Crosshouse. He’ll not be long.’

  ‘Well, what does he want here?’

  ‘You, I imagine.’

  ‘Steady.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Aye there is,’ said Dougal. ‘You’ll like this, boss, I finally got my hands on Wilson’s CV. The manageress at the centre sent it over.’

  ‘Is it not a bit late for that, laddie?’

  ‘Maybe, but at least it does provide us with a back-story.’

  ‘Aye, quite right,’ said Munro, ‘indeed it does. Apologies for being so hasty.’

  ‘Not necessary. Will I fill you in?’

  ‘Yeah, go on,’ said West. ‘Let’s see what the poor girl’s been up to.’

  ‘Okay, according to this, she’s been single since forever, enjoys outdoor pursuits and organic food, and she also supports the WWF.’

  ‘She’s into wrestling?’

  Dougal glanced at Munro and rolled his eyes.

  ‘The World Wide Fund for Nature, miss.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ said West. ‘Silly me. Carry on.’

  ‘Before taking up the post in Auchinleck, she was a swimming instructor in Maybole and before that at the Annan Academy. Education wise, she attended Dumfries and Galloway college where she gained an HNC and then an HND in “Coaching and Developing Sport”, but this is where it gets interesting.’

  ‘About time,’ said West, tossing him a sandwich. ‘Here, dive in before it goes cold.’

  ‘Did you get one for me?’

  West turned to face the grinning, willowy figure hovering in the doorway and smiled.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said as McLeod pulled up a chair. ‘If I’d known you were coming… I could make you a brew if you like?’

  ‘Thanks,’ said McLeod, ‘very much appreciated. ‘And how are you, James? I hear you went under the knife recently?’

  ‘I did indeed,’ said Munro. ‘Nothing serious, the pump was suffering from a wee bit of wear and tear, that’s all. They gave it a clean-up and changed a couple of parts so it’s fine now.’

  ‘Well, just remember, you might be firing on all cylinders now but you still need to take it easy. Not too much exercise, and are you watching your diet?’

  ‘You know me,’ said Munro as he slipped a napkin over his toastie, ‘never one to ignore the advice of doctors.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. So you’re cutting back on the red meat and getting plenty of fresh vegetables?’

  ‘Aye of course! Green beans, you cannae beat them.’

  West, smirking as Munro squirmed in his chair, handed McLeod a mug of tea.

  ‘Here you go,’ she said. ‘Now, I don’t want to sound rude but we’re a bit pushed for time this morning so if you’ve come to give us an update on the beard it’s going to have to wait, okay?’

  ‘Charming as ever,’ said McLeod. ‘Actually, I was wondering where you were with the Wilson case.’

  ‘Nearly there, why?’

  ‘Because that’s what I’ve come about.’

  Seizing what might be his only opportunity, Munro slipped the bacon roll into his pocket and answered the call of his phone.

  ‘I have to take this,’ he said as he made for the door, ‘it’s DCI Clark, you carry on without me.’

  * * *

  As one of the enviable few who could force an all-you-can-eat buffet into administration in a single sitting, West, in an uncharacteristic display of magnanimity, split her toastie in two and handed half to McLeod as Duncan, looking none the worse for wear, ambled through the door.

  ‘Aye, aye,’ he said, ‘all present and correct, I see. Mr McLeod, you okay pal?’

&nbs
p; ‘Very well, thanks. And yourself?’

  ‘Aye, not bad. A good night’s sleep makes all the difference.’

  ‘Have you been burning the candle?’ said McLeod. ‘Or has Charlie been overworking you again?’

  ‘No, no. I’ve been overworking myself. Stretching the old brain cells a bit too far. So, what’s the story?’

  ‘Andy’s come to fill us in on the Wilson case,’ said West. ‘At least I think he has.’

  ‘Well, don’t let me stop you,’ said Duncan. ‘I’m going to stick the kettle on.’

  McLeod took a folded sheet of A4 paper from his inside pocket and set it on the table.

  ‘I did email this to you,’ he said, ‘but you’ve obviously not got it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The DNA results from the hair and skin samples I extracted from Wilson’s fingernails.’

  ‘That’s just what we’ve been waiting for!’ said West elatedly. ‘This could be the proof we need to put Nevin away once and for all! What? Why the face?’

  ‘What face?’ said McLeod.

  ‘Your face. You look, I don’t know, puzzled.’

  ‘Do I? No reason.’

  ‘I’m beginning to get a bad feeling about this,’ said West. ‘Just to be clear, the samples you sent for analysis, if they did throw up a match, then it would definitely be the perpetrator, right? I mean, there’s no other way that stuff could have got there?’

  ‘None,’ said McLeod. ‘The fragments were too deeply embedded. What’s more the skin still had a moisture content which, in terms of a time-frame, would match the time of the attack. Oh, and I also found a tiny sample of blood.’

  ‘So she definitely put up a fight?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said McLeod, ‘and a good one too. In fact there’s every chance her assailant still has scratch marks on the top of his head.’

  ‘Right then,’ said West, ‘down to business. The reason you’re here, obviously, is because you have got a match.’

  ‘Correct.’

  West stared at McLeod and took a deep breath.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘in that case, the name we’re looking for – the name we need – is John Nevin.’