‘So I gather. But we’ll support you, you know that.’
‘You might have to. I don’t have the money to pay for a divorce.’
‘It may not come to that. Now, enough of this talk. What you need is a good long sleep. Away to your bed. Things will look better in the morning.’
Side-tracked
Maggie had been sounding Wilma out over some Innes Crombie invoicing, when she said, ‘I’ve been worrying about Kirsty.’ She pushed the paperwork aside.
‘What about her? She’s not cutting again?’
‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘At least I don’t think so.’
‘It’s that boyfriend, isn’t it? I can see it in your face.’
‘Yes. No.’ Nervously, Maggie wrung her hands. ‘I’m not sure. She’s had a pregnancy scare, that’s all she told me.’
‘And you think it might be him, this Shaz?’
‘I’ve no idea, to be honest. All I know is, her period’s well overdue.’
‘Christ!’ Wilma exclaimed. ‘That’s all you need!’
‘It’s all Kirsty needs. I wasn’t going to tell you, Wilma, but I’ve been worried sick.’
‘Why not? We’re partners, aren’t we?’
‘You’ve had your own troubles this past while. Ian…’ she began.
‘Ach,’ Wilma interrupted. ‘I’ve told you before, Ian’s a pussycat.’
‘Not lately. Look at the way he…’
‘He is. It’s just…men, they never grow up, Maggie. You should know that. They’re big kids. You need to feed their vanity now and again, give them their place.’
‘Right enough,’ she concurred. Though it had been so long since she’d had to humour a man she could scarcely remember.
‘When did all this hit you?’
‘Last week. Kirsty called me on FaceTime.’
‘Last week?’ Wilma shrieked. ‘And she was already late? Why in hell didn’t you go straight down there?’
‘Until I solved the Struthers case, I didn’t want to get side-tracked.’
‘Side-tracked, is that what you call it? Your own daughter?’
Maggie hung her head in shame. For weeks on end her focus had been channelled on Sheena Struthers, to the detriment of everything else. It was only over the past few nights she’d barely slept, torn in a tug-of-war between her only daughter and the woman who’d caused her so much grief.
‘Well, you’d better do something now, or it will be too bloody late.’
‘Too late for what?’ Maggie demanded. Her business partner surely wasn’t thinking abortion.
‘The morning after pill,’ Wilma clarified.
‘That’s no longer an option,’ Maggie said stiffly.
Wilma shrugged. ‘I know. But there’s got to be something you can do. First off, if I was you,’ she wagged a finger, ‘I’d have her home.’
‘She won’t come.’
Wilma’s brows met. ‘She’ll come if she’s told to.’
‘You don’t know my Kirsty.’
Wilma glowered. ‘Aye. Well.’
‘I feel so helpless,’ Maggie moaned.
‘No bloody point in that. If that daughter of yours won’t come to you.’ She bustled to her feet. ‘You’d better get yourself down to Dundee.’
‘Sit down,’ Maggie cajoled. ‘I’ve already decided to do just that. God knows I’ve a full enough diary. But, if I juggle things around, I can be there and back in an afternoon.’
‘Good. That’s sorted.’ She smiled encouragement. ‘Thank Christ for sons! Your Colin okay? Haven’t seen him in a while.’
‘He’s fine.’ She broke off, uncertain whether to admit the truth. Then: ‘That’s another thing I meant to tell you. Colin got nicked for vandalising a car.’
‘Christ Almighty!’ Wilma leapt out of her seat. ‘When was this?’
‘A while back.’
‘And you didn’t tell me?’ Incredulous voice. ‘Is there anything else you want to share?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie whispered. ‘There is, actually.’
‘There is, actually,’ Wilma put on a posh accent. ‘And what might that be?’
Maggie took a deep breath. ‘The car belonged to James Gilruth.’
‘Fucking hell!’ Wilma mouthed. ‘I thought I’d heard it all from you, Maggie Laird, but you still manage to surprise me.’ She paused. ‘You said this happened a while back?’
‘That’s right. I contacted Brian the minute I got the call Colin was at the station. Brian and I met up that same day. He said he’d see what he could do.’
‘So, what was the outcome?’
‘There wasn’t one.’ Small shrug. ‘Nothing happened.’
‘Nothing at all? That’s not like Gilruth. From what I’ve heard, he wouldn’t pass up a chance to rub Police Scotland’s nose in it.’
‘Came as a surprise to me, I must say.’
‘Surprise? It’s a bleeding miracle! Maybe he took a fancy to you, Maggie,’ she nudged her in the ribs. ‘Thon time you called on him at Rubislaw.’
Her face froze. ‘Doubt it.’ She could still taste the fear.
‘Maybe Gilruth just couldn’t be arsed with the paperwork, got more important things on his mind. There again, maybe someone had a word.’
‘Brian?’ Scathing look. ‘Don’t be daft. He doesn’t carry that sort of clout.’
‘Your pal Chisholm, then?’
‘Doubt it, even if…’ Reddening, she broke off.
Wilma wondered – and not for the first time – if Maggie Laird was carrying a torch for the senior policeman.
‘Whatever,’ she retorted. ‘If Gilruth’s done a favour, you can be sure as shit he’ll be looking for payola down the line.’
Heaven-sent
‘Sheena?’ Susan leaned over the bed. ‘Can you hear me?’
No answer.
She brought her face up close. Her instincts told her Sheena was dissembling.
Sheena opened her eyes. ‘Go away,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve told everything to the other detective.’
‘What other detective?’ Susan straightened, momentarily thrown.
‘The private detective.’
‘Sheena…’ Adrenaline coursed through Susan’s veins. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’
Her mouth tightened. ‘I’m not going through it all again.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’ Susan affected a careless tone. ‘I’m enjoying the peace and quiet here. I’m quite prepared to wait.’
Like hell! She never thought she’d see the day she’d miss the chaos of the station.
Several minutes passed, the only sound the hiss and bleep of the machines. Then: ‘I knew if I went to the police with a made-up story they’d see through it straightaway.’
Too right. Any seasoned copper would have sent you packing.
‘Those lady detectives seemed heaven-sent.’
Covertly, Susan switched on her phone, set it to record. Wouldn’t do for evidence but, were she to whip out her notebook, she reckoned it would kill the conversation stone dead.
‘They were heaven-sent, you said. What do you mean by that?’
‘Nothing.’ Muffled voice.
‘You must have meant something.’
No answer.
Susan shook her gently by the shoulder.
‘They were green.’ Sheena’s eyes narrowed. ‘Just starting out. I’d ruled out the police, and I needed my husband to back off. I’d tried everything: reasoning with him, making excuses, feigning illness. None of them worked. By the time I approached the detective agency, I was in such a state. I couldn’t take any more.’
‘And?’ Susan prompted.
‘I decided the only way to change Gordon’s behaviour was to give him a fright. Nothing serious,’ she rushed to add. ‘Just enough to, you know…’ S
he broke off, embarrassed.
‘So you hired Harcus & Laird to do what, exactly?’
‘I didn’t have a plan, not at first. Thought if I laid a trail. Nothing too specific, just enough to raise questions.’ Shamed look. ‘I spun Mrs Laird a story.’
Susan started back, aghast. ‘You concocted those allegations?’
‘Some of them, yes. I felt bad. But I told myself I was paying for her time, and at the end of the day there would be no harm done. Gordon would have been warned off, the detective agency would get paid, I’d get peace. And it’s not as if Maggie Laird was losing anything, was it?’ She looked to Susan for reassurance.
‘Only her reputation.’ Said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
Lost twice over. Susan thought of the trial, George Laird’s disgrace. ‘So you hired that decent woman.’ She reckoned she’d heard everything, now. ‘And told her a tissue of lies.’ Thank God this wasn’t a formal interview, she could have swallowed her tongue.
‘Only it didn’t work. Mrs Laird was so genuine. Really cared about my well-being. But she didn’t believe me, I could tell. Anyhow, it’s not as if I make a habit of that sort of thing.’ For the first time, there was a note of defiance in Sheena’s voice. ‘If it wasn’t me shooting her a line, it would be somebody else. I thought if suspicion fell on Gordon…’ She broke off. ‘If the police were to pull him in for interview, it would frighten the life out of him. The scandal…’
Susan had seen the old boy network in action. She could imagine.
‘You say you wanted your husband to back off. Surely it would have been less convoluted simply to leave him.’
‘And write off all those years I’d given to the marriage? No way. What sort of future would I have, tell me that? I’ve precious little money of my own. I haven’t worked in years. And besides, outwith the marital bed, Gordon and I rub along well enough. We enjoy the good things in life. At least we did, until…’ Her voice wavered. ‘But when I approached Mrs Laird I wasn’t thinking straight. Plus, I was so angry: that I should have been at such a low ebb, and still he’d…’
Hell hath no fury!
‘So you were bent on revenge?’
‘Not even that. Self-preservation would be more like it.’
‘Would you care to expand on that?’
Sheena’s eyes welled up. She covered her face with her hands.
‘Remember what I told you. Sheena. I’m not here to upset you. I want to help.’
For long minutes Sheena Struthers remained silent. Finally, she spoke through her fingers. ‘I never meant it to go this far.’
Magdalen Yard
Maggie made her way along the Perth Road and down the hill to Magdalen Yard. She’d always liked this part of Dundee, ever since the day she and George had driven Kirsty down to matriculate at university. Maggie had mixed emotions then: excitement at the world that would open up for her first child and only daughter, mingled with a deep sense of loss as she watched Kirsty prepare to fly the nest.
Now, her mind tumbled with equally conflicting thoughts. It was almost a week since Kirsty had rung with the news of a possible pregnancy. Maggie was sick with worry, especially given she’d allowed the Sheena Struthers case to overshadow concerns closer to home. Time and again, she’d scrolled through her telephone contacts, thumb hovering over her daughter’s number. Time and again, she’d put the phone down. Once she’d spoken face-to-face with Sheena Struthers, she’d make the journey. Then, she’d be in a position to offer practical help, or at worst – should Kirsty prove unreceptive – moral support.
She’d skipped out of school before noon, made a bus by the skin of her teeth. In other circumstances, she’d have enjoyed the journey, savouring elevated views of the craggy coastline or the soft farmland of the Mearns. Today, though, she’d picked nervously at her cuticles, unable either to concentrate on the couple of traces she’d snatched from the table that morning or to close her eyes and switch off.
Her heart thudded in her chest as the narrow road opened out into a verdant green space. A Victorian bandstand stood in its centre, cast iron tracery looping from its supports. Beyond, the Tay Rail Bridge formed a shallow curve as it sought out the shores of Fife. Above it, the sky was dingy grey, as was the water below.
Summoning all her courage, Maggie pressed the red sandstone tenement’s entry buzzer. There was no answer.
Dammit! They’d be at lectures, Kirsty and her flatmate, Sarah. Maggie should have known better than to arrive in the early afternoon.
She could check out the university. But where to start? Kirsty’s lectures were in the law faculty. But she could be anywhere: the Tower, the Dalhousie Building, the library, the union. Maggie would go off and have a bash at those traces, she decided, come back later. She turned to go.
‘Mum? Is that you?’
Maggie swivelled on her heel as a door banged behind her.
‘What are you doing here?’ Kirsty’s hair was scrunched in a loose ponytail, her jeggings topped by an oversized jumper.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ Maggie retorted, her stomach rumbling. ‘Shouldn’t you be in class? It’s the middle of the day.’
Instantly, she regretted her outburst. Her daughter looked about sixteen, and so vulnerable that all Maggie wanted was to take her in her arms.
‘We’ve been coming home at lunchtime for a plate of soup. It works out cheaper.’
‘Oh.’ Small voice.
‘I’d offer you some, only Sarah’s just finished it. And I can’t ask you up. She’s got a friend in.’
Maggie could imagine. Her mind ran wild.
‘The reason I’m here…’ she broke the silence, then stopped. She sounded way too formal. ‘I just wondered,’ she continued lamely, ‘how things were…’
Kirsty shrugged her satchel higher up her shoulder. ‘Fine.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Yes.’
This was followed by an awkward pause.
‘Any news?’ Maggie enquired, trying to keep her voice casual.
‘News?’ Puzzled voice.
‘Your period?’
‘Oh, that.’ Kirsty’s tone was dismissive. ‘It was a false alarm.’
Maggie’s knees went from under her. She put out a hand to steady herself on the wall of the building, felt the rough stone prickle her palm.
Oh, George!
‘And you didn’t think to pick up the phone?’ she asked, irritated now.
‘No. Why would I?’
Because I’ve been worried sick, Maggie wanted to scream.
Instead: ‘Wh-when did you find out?’ she stuttered.
There was another long pause, then: ‘Can’t remember.’
Bloody kids! Not for the first time that day, Maggie’s emotions churned, faint and furious in turn.
She inhaled deeply, let the breath slowly trickle out.
‘That’s all right, then,’ was all she managed.
‘Was there anything else?’ Kirsty asked pointedly. ‘I’ll be late for my tutorial if I don’t get a move on.’
‘No. Just a social call.’ The lie tripped off her tongue. ‘But now I’m here, did you ever find that pen, the one you were chasing Colin about?’
Kirsty furrowed her brow. ‘The pen Dad gave me when I got into uni?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Oh,’ she shrugged. ‘I put it to the engraver last semester and forgot all about it.’ Sheepish look. ‘Dad told me he’d meant to put my name on it. And the date. Only he decided to ask me first.’ She smiled, sadly. ‘Didn’t want to do the wrong thing. I’d been meaning to do something about it. Only, what with…’ She broke off.
Maggie’s heart stood still. Wasn’t that so like George? ‘Never mind,’ she managed to say. ‘It’s a nice thing to have.’ She gathered herself. ‘Right,’ she said, briskly. ‘I’ll
let you get on.’
Grudgingly: ‘Thanks.’
‘Before I go, I meant to ask…’
‘Yes?’
‘That boy, the one you brought home…’
‘Shaz?’
‘That’s the one. How’s he doing?’
‘Dunno.’ Bored voice. ‘Haven’t seen him in yonks.’
Loving Adults
Susan perched on the edge of the vinyl chair. ‘How are you, Sheena?’ she kicked off on a cordial note.
‘Some better,’ Sheena Struthers responded. ‘Thank you for asking.’
‘Today I’d like to take a formal statement.’ Susan smiled encouragement.
Last time a nurse had sent her out of the room, she’d nipped to the toilet, taken a sneak peek at her phone. With the ‘txi inhibit’ button engaged on her airwave radio and her mobile switched off, she’d felt divorced from developments at HQ. But all she found was a series of text messages from Douglas. Increasing in urgency, they demanded Susan call in. There was no way she was going to respond, lest the smarmy bastard muscle in on her progress. No, she’d wrap up Sheena’s statement tighter than a boiled sweet and deliver it to Chisolm on her own.
‘I’d also like to record our conversation, if that’s okay with you?’
‘I suppose.’
Susan stood up. ‘I’ll give one of the nurses a shout.’
‘Why?’
Corroboration. She knew she should call in a senior officer, someone not directly involved. But this was Susan’s chance, maybe her only chance, to get Sheena Struthers to open up. A civilian witness would have to do.
She drew a deep breath. ‘I think you know why.’
Sheena shot forward from the bank of pillows. ‘No.’ Shrill voice. ‘I’m willing to talk to you, nobody else.’
Bugger! Susan sat down again. So much for wrapping the case up tight.
She should charge Sheena first. Protocol dictated that a voluntary statement could only be obtained from an accused person who had already been charged with a crime. But charge her with what? Wasting police time? And, besides, Sheena had already admitted culpability.
Burnout Page 27
