But it wasn’t very funny, really. Or actually, not funny at all. She had a performance to do today and she’d heard Barrie arriving, so she’d better see what could be done before she had to face the world. She laid out every cosmetic in her extensive armoury and set to work with the Touche Éclat, then took particular trouble with her hair, twisting the thinning grey rope into its upswept coil before loosening it to form soft waves around her face.
The stress was getting too much for her. She’d always believed spirit could overcome age and infirmity, but it was only true if you didn’t push your luck. They were to film her big scene this morning, when she was to confront her attacker, and she was just afraid she wouldn’t get through it.
She must, though! Finished with her maquillage, if not satisfied, she picked up the moonstone ring from the dressing table and forced it over the swollen knuckle of the ring finger on her left hand, then looked at it. Laddie’s ring – her talisman. She must be brave. Not let the side down. On with the motley.
As she propelled herself across the hall, she was grateful that the drawing-room door was open – so humiliating, to have to struggle with the handle, or knock. Barrie spotted her and trotted over, his face tragic.
Marcus was standing by the fireplace looking sombre.
‘Such awful news, darling!’
Her heart began to race. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I don’t know how to tell you. They’re pulling the plug. And this was to be our showcase episode – the return of the legendary Sylvia Lascelles!’
Relief washed over her. Sylvia looked up at him with her luminous smile. ‘How sad – and sad for all of you, after working so hard. But I’ve been a pro for long enough, heaven knows – that’s just show business, isn’t it?’
Barrie picked up her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘I don’t know what to say. Marcus, she’s amazing, this lady. Takes a blow like this with so much understanding, such grace—’
‘Why?’ Her tone was a little sharper than she had meant it to be, but she couldn’t stand gushing.
Marcus said, ‘They’ve found a body. No, nothing to do with us – some brawl in the pub, probably. But the producer decided enough was enough.’
‘A body? Oh, Marcus, how terrible. Do they know who it was?’
‘A Polish labourer.’ His voice was soothing. ‘Like I said, some quarrel—’
‘But he was stabbed, Marcus, stabbed – that’s the thing!’ Barrie, oblivious to Marcus’s warning look, was revelling in sensation. ‘You have to think—’
‘Stabbed!’ Sylvia put a hand to her throat. ‘Marcus, that could have been you!’
Exasperated, Marcus said, ‘Thank you, Barrie! That really wasn’t helpful. Sylvia, it only means they’ll pull out all the stops and get hold of this maniac.’
‘But what if they don’t?’ she cried. ‘What if—’
Barrie, abashed, tried to soothe her. ‘He’s right, Sylvia. Anyway, you can get straight back home to London now and be safe and sound.’
He got a withering glance. ‘And leave Marcus here alone? I’m not afraid for myself – I’m too old to be afraid. But somehow, he’s got across someone, and though I can’t quite see myself leaping into action to protect him, I’m not going until he’s safe in Glasgow.’
Marcus came across to kiss her cheek. ‘Darling, you can’t take much more of this. I don’t mind you going back to London. I’ll be leaving tomorrow or the next day.’
‘I’d rather be here. Anyway,’ she smiled at him, ‘it may be the last time, you know, and in spite of everything it’s felt good to be so near darling Laddie again. As long as you’re around, I can feel I haven’t quite lost him.’ Her eyes misted over.
Barrie murmured, ‘So romantic! I feel quite tearful myself.’
Sylvia was grateful to Marcus for saying bracingly, ‘Well, Barrie, if there’s nothing else, you probably have a dozen things to do.’
Snarling wouldn’t really have suited her gracious image.
‘One of them thinks he could recognize the knife. The other’s not sure.’
MacNee had got back in time to question the two Poles, to Macdonald’s annoyance, then returned to Kirkluce to brief his boss.
Fleming was looking rough, suffering, he guessed, from divided loyalties. Her son must be on her mind, and she’d had all the demanding formalities to deal with – informing the DCC and the Fiscal’s office, putting out a press statement, starting her log of actions taken – and that was just for a start.
He went on, ‘Both said there’d been quite a stramash. Franzik erupted and went for Pavany with a knife. They’d to grab him, then Pavany took it off him – put it in his pocket or maybe down on the table. Then Pavany threw him out.’
‘Dangerous young man,’ Fleming said. ‘A temper and a powerful motive. What was the row about?’
‘Pavany was cheating him over his wages – both lads agreed on that. Didn’t like the man, but said Franzik was mucking him about as well.’
‘Good solid stuff, if we can lay hands on him. They’ve got fingerprints off the knife – smudged, but quite clear. No doubt they’ll get Franzik’s prints by elimination if nothing else – off a toothbrush or something.
‘I’ve got the autopsy later, then I’ll come back, sift what’s come in and set up for tomorrow. Briefing at eight-thirty – I’m calling everyone in. We’re seriously stretched and Dumfries won’t be able to help. Don’t think we can press-gang Ewan, though – statutory paternity leave’s tricky. Pity – he’s got a real talent for cutting straight to the point. Anyway—’ Fleming looked meaningly at her cluttered desk.
‘Another thing,’ MacNee said. ‘My wee chat with the Hodges – that was quite interesting. Pavany turned up there last night wanting to discuss payment for the building work and it ended up being a bit of a barney. But Diane gave Hodge a solid alibi, so—’ MacNee shrugged. ‘I told him we knew about him and Ailsa—’
Fleming cut him short. ‘Let’s leave that meantime. Once this is over, I’ll pick up the Grant case again, but we’re stretched right now. Put in your reports ASAP, anyway.’
He tried again. ‘Suppose I see if I can try to trace any stuff about Lindsay’s speeding charge? Just quietly—’
‘Tam, we have a murder to deal with. Suppose we concentrate on that?’
‘Fine, fine.’
He left, disappointed. But she hadn’t actually forbidden him to phone one of his pals in Glasgow. The Fiscal would be all over them like a rash with the new case and having something they could use to get her off their backs could be very handy – very handy indeed.
18
The incident room was full by 8.30 on Sunday morning with uniforms as well as CID. Some were enjoying the buzz, looking at the diagrams and photos stuck to the whiteboard; some, like Tansy Kerr, were disgruntled.
‘I could still be asleep,’ Kerr grumbled to Andy Macdonald. ‘Dragged out of bed yesterday too. You can get sick of this bloody job.’
Macdonald eyed her thoughtfully. Tansy had been subdued since her ill-judged affair last year with a fellow-officer. She’d ditched her ferocious hair colours for more muted shades, but her enthusiasm seemed muted too. He was going to say something when Kerr exclaimed, ‘Oh, look – our very own new dad! Didn’t think they could pull you in off paternity leave, Ewan!’
‘Didn’t,’ DC Campbell said with his usual brevity. ‘Wanted to come.’
Macdonald and Kerr exchanged knowing looks. ‘Baby a bit much, is she?’ he asked.
‘Baby’s OK. It’s the wife and her mother. I don’t have the Gaelic and all they do is blether away. Sounds like breaking glass with their teeth. The only time they speak English is when they’re telling me what to do. Better here.’
Before they could coax him into further loquacity, Big Marge appeared and the briefing began.
It had been good to announce Kasper Franzik had been arrested and charged, Fleming reflected in her office later. Slick operations boosted morale, and her Force would be mo
re effective today as a result.
As usual, she’d kept it short, telling them Franzik had been arrested after a call from a householder alarmed by a prowler in his garage, and charged when his fingerprints matched some prints on the knife. She’d ordered door-to-door around the Stoneykirk area where they’d picked him up, and searches of bins and roadsides in between for the missing shoes – likely to be trainers, according to Pavany’s workmates. She had mentioned, as if in passing, that no other knife had been found on Pavany’s body, but since it was possible he had carried one it might have been thrown away.
Had anyone noticed how flimsy that sounded? She didn’t want to make her real reason public – that there was one major flaw in the neat case against Franzik which she was still hoping to argue away. Her team – MacNee, Macdonald, Kerr and Campbell – should arrive any moment, and she could only hope they’d brought their brains with them.
Last night Franzik, through an interpreter, had denied guilt, then clammed up, his dark eyes flashing hatred of his interrogators. Dishevelled and dirty after sleeping rough for two nights, he still looked romantic, as Karolina had said, in a mad-bad-and-dangerous-to-know Byronic way.
He certainly had a dangerous temper. He had flared up during their persistent questioning, and she had no problem at all with accepting that he was capable of stabbing his cheating boss.
There was just that one thing . . .
Jean Grant parked the old Vauxhall by the farmhouse door and got out with a basket of shopping from Ardhill. Her son, forking muck on to a trailer, didn’t turn his head as she slammed the car door.
She came across the yard. ‘Someone else been stabbed, they were saying at the shop. Dead, this time.’
Stuart still didn’t turn his head. ‘Oh?’
‘One of thae Poles. Do you know them?’
He turned to face her now. ‘Listen to me, woman. I’ve been thinking. If the polis come back, I’m not keeping quiet.’
Jean stiffened. ‘Oh yes you are! You’ll keep your mouth shut, like I told you. And if you don’t, that’s it. You lose the farm.’
He moved closer. She was a tall woman but he was inches taller, broad and burly. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘I got curious the other day, after the police were here. Something they said made me wonder and then I found a box under your bed, with a couple of interesting things in it.’
She took a step back, her face contorted. ‘How dare you! That’s – that’s private!’
‘Shouldn’t have been, though, should it? You’ve been using me, lied to me, again and again. All my life, practically. I’ve got them now, in a safe place.’
‘Give me them back!’
He smiled a sneer.
‘I’ll find them! And anyway—’
‘You’ll change your will? So what? I went to a lawyer yesterday, and he says whatever you say, I’ll get the bairn’s part – half the estate. That’s the law in Scotland. And once you’re dead, you were just a mad old biddy when you altered it anyway, weren’t you? After the way I’ve worked the farm for you I’d have no trouble at all in getting it set aside.
‘And if we’re talking about the law . . .’
Jean’s face changed. There was fear there now. ‘You wouldn’t do that, to your own mother!’
‘After what you did to my sister, this muck heap’s clean.’ He turned his back on her and went back to his task. Perhaps it was an accident that a lump of dung landed on her shoe.
It was Kerr this time who chose to perch on the table in the corner, while MacNee and Macdonald took the seats across the desk and Campbell pulled another forward to join them. Fleming had been concerned about Tansy recently, and this physical detachment from the group confirmed a suspicion that her heart wasn’t in it these days. She’d have to tackle that, even if today the last thing she needed was extra aggro.
She was pleased Campbell was back, though. What little he said was always sharply to the point.
‘I didn’t expect to see you, Ewan. That’s good. How’s the baby?’
‘Kind of noisy.’
Fleming laughed. ‘They tend to be. You get used to it, sort of.
‘Anyway, something emerged from the autopsy and I want your thoughts. As I said in the briefing, Pavany was hit on the head, then from a gash on his temple they reckon he fell forward on to the corner of something and was stabbed as he lay there. No evidence of whether conscious or unconscious.’
Nothing new here. They nodded.
The knife Fleming had taken into the briefing in its evidence bag lay on the desk before her, a razor-sharp blade with a Polish maker’s mark and a horn handle with brass studs. She held it up.
‘The kicker is, this wasn’t the knife that killed him.’
‘Wasn’t?’ MacNee exclaimed. ‘But—’
‘Found in the wound, yes. But look,’ Fleming indicated, ‘this has a curved blade. The knife that actually killed Pavany was longer and thinner, with a triangular blade. It was pulled out and this one, for some reason, inserted, not even far enough to reach the heart. The handle had been wiped, but they found Franzik’s prints on the blade.’
Again, MacNee was the first to speak. ‘According to the other two builders, Pavany had taken that knife off Franzik in a fight earlier. And those boys had grudges against him too.’
Macdonald gave a puzzled rub to his buzz-cut. ‘You’re not saying someone tried to frame him?’
‘I hope to God I’m not,’ Fleming said, ‘but obviously it has occurred to me.’
MacNee was thinking aloud. ‘If Pavany had Franzik’s knife in his pocket, one of them could have killed him with his own knife, then taken it out and replaced it with Franzik’s. Job done.’
‘But someone I spoke to definitely said those lads were in the pub all evening till closing time – midnight on Saturday,’ Macdonald argued. ‘Though I suppose they could have got him earlier – left him dead in the house, then dumped him at the pub once everything was quiet.’
MacNee shook his head. ‘Doesn’t work. Pavany was at Sandhead around eight, having a run-in with Gavin Hodge about payment.’
‘Everybody’s pal, Pavany,’ Fleming said. ‘Any other thoughts?’ Throwing ideas around with everyone participating was a useful exercise. If everyone participated. She looked pointedly at Kerr, trying to draw her into the discussion, but again it was Macdonald who answered.
‘Pavany had taken Franzik’s knife off him. So Franzik used another one, but maybe he had felt humiliated – losing the knife made him look helpless, a loser or something. So when he found it in Pavany’s pocket, he switched the knife he’d used. A revenge, sort of.’ He grimaced. ‘Just an idea.’
‘Certainly lateral thinking,’ Fleming acknowledged.
‘But would it convince anyone, that sort of psychological guff?’ MacNee was sceptical. ‘I can see his brief having a field day with that.
‘Any chance it was the knife that stabbed Lindsay? If we’d just had him on a slab, they could’ve compared the wounds – that would have been a help.’
‘I really don’t want to think you’re sounding regretful, Tam,’ Fleming said. ‘Maybe the surgeon who stitched him up could tell us something. But leave Lindsay out of it for the moment. It’s what happened last night that we need to focus on.’
‘You’d think he’d have realized the knife would incriminate him,’ Macdonald said.
Fleming sighed. ‘Yes, but with his temper, does he think ahead? Didn’t have much of an escape plan, did he?’
Campbell was frowning. ‘Anyway, how did he get the man there?’
‘Who where?’ Kerr made her first contribution, but the others looked at Campbell with respect.
‘Didn’t have a car, did he?’ MacNee said slowly. ‘Could hardly have wandered through Ardhill with a body over his shoulder.’
‘Might have nicked one and returned it,’ Macdonald suggested. ‘Half the time around here they leave them unlocked with the keys in.’
‘That’s certainly possible,’ Fleming sai
d. ‘Any other thoughts? No? Thanks for the input, anyway. Mull it over, and if anything occurs to you come back to me. Now, assignments . . .’
As they were going out, she said, ‘Oh, Tansy – a word, if you don’t mind.’
Startled, Kerr turned. ‘Oh – fine,’ she said, and came to sit down, but it was with the sulky, slightly nervous air of a child who knows a discussion of unsatisfactory behaviour is on the agenda.
Fleming began mildly enough. ‘You didn’t seem to have a lot to contribute today, Tansy.’
A little shrug. ‘Didn’t think of anything someone hadn’t said already.’
‘You didn’t seem to be thinking much at all.’ There was a slight edge to her voice.
That was Kerr’s cue to apologize, but she didn’t pick it up. ‘I was tired. I didn’t expect to be on duty today. It’s my weekend off.’
Fleming raised her eyebrows. ‘How many years of service do you have? And you haven’t understood yet that when there’s an emergency we all get hauled in?’
‘Doesn’t mean I like it.’
Fleming was startled, then annoyed. She was on edge and exhausted herself, and she wasn’t about to take that sort of impertinence. She said coldly, ‘Constable, I think you have to rethink that response. Right now.’
Kerr flushed and sat up a little straighter in her chair. ‘Sorry, ma’am. But it’s just all a bit much for me at the moment.’
Perhaps the girl really did have problems. Fleming said more gently, ‘I have missed the sort of enthusiasm you used to bring to the team, Tansy. What’s wrong?’
After a brief hesitation Kerr said, ‘Well, to be honest, I’m just getting tired of missing out on things. I’d plans for today, and they’ve all been ruined.’
Suddenly, Fleming saw red. ‘It just might occur to you that the plans the victim probably had for today, and all the other days, and all the rest of his life, have been just slightly dented! For heaven’s sake, Kerr, you’re a grown woman, not a teenager, and until you’re ready to behave like one, you’re not much use to me on the team.’
Dead in the Water Page 28
