2007 - The Dead Pool

by Sue Walker; Prefers to remain anonymous

  The senior officer spoke quietly but firmly. ‘We have all the necessary consents in place. He is asking, pleading, for you to go in. Be with him?’

  Kirstin felt all eyes on her, and shifted her weight further on to the stick. She glanced from them to the small hospital room, containing one bed, with half a dozen people clustered around it, clearly visible through the glass.

  ‘No. Absolutely not.’ With that she took the offered seat and waited. A disembodied voice sounded out behind her.

  ‘The following is being recorded in the presence of a representative from the procurator fiscal’s office and is at the request of the accused, Ross James Munro.’

  Above her a television monitor flickered into life. The camera zoomed in and refocused. Ross was unrecognizable. His head was swathed in a white skullcap. Thin plastic tubing was laced into his nose and the side of his mouth. A variety of sensors were attached to his body and the tip of a finger, as the life-preserving machines emitted their steady chorus of bleeps. But he was conscious and lucid. His eyes, remarkably alert, gazed directly into the camera lens. Looking ather?

  An indistinct figure by Ross’s bed nodded at him. Kirstin breathed deeply and sneaked a glance at the TV monitor as he began.

  ‘I first met lona Sutherland because of my father. She came to my office to complain about his behaviour towards her and her friends. And to show me some photographs of him trespassing on her property. That’s how it began.’ He paused to swallow. Kirstin was amazed at how strong his voice sounded, his delivery hurried, almost garrulous. Had they given him drugs to get through this?

  ‘I thought we had something special, really special. I was going to give up my fiancée, Annelise. I would have had to leave the firm because of it. So I was giving up everything for her. I wanted lona. And then, early last summer, she dropped me like a stone. ‘Too serious.’ That was what she said. She didn’t want to be tied down. I kept trying to get her to see me, but she got angry. Threatened to tell Annelise. And then I found out about Craig Irvine and about the river party.’

  A neutral voice interjected. ‘How did you find out about that?’

  He didn’t answer immediately and, once again, Kirstin darted a quick glance up at the monitor. He had his eyes shut, the pale lids trembling with uncontrolled spasms. Then suddenly, the eyelids opened and he was staring down at her again, the multiple bleeps of the machines fading into the background as he spoke.

  ‘Through my father. His surveillance logs, and photographs he had taken of the two of them. I used to go through his study to find out what he had been up to.

  I decided to go and watch her that Sunday. Have it out with her.’

  The neutral voice was back. ‘Describe what happened.’

  Ross’s voice was weaker now. ‘I went to the art gallery that day. Hung around, and then I used the back steps down to the river and cut through to the wooded area. From there I could see what was going on. Sure enough, it looked like she was with Craig. I could tell from her behaviour. I watched for a while, wondering what to do, and then they started this game. Hide and seek. Suddenly, the two of them were skipping over the bridge towards me. I hid and before I knew it they were…they were having sex. Right in front of me.’

  There was another pause. Kirstin couldn’t help herself. Sure enough, the eyes were closed again. Is he seeing it? Reliving it? Re-enacting it! The rhythmic bleeps of the machines were beginning to tear at her nerves now.

  The questioner’s voice broke in. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I was going to talk to her…I mean, before they started…but once they’d started…I came out from where I was hiding to confront them. And…’

  ‘Please, go on.’

  ‘And she opened her eyes from underneath him and smiled. She saw me and smiled! A wicked, wickedsmile!’

  Kirstin gave in. She shifted her position to look direcdy at the monitor. His face was contorted now, his voice a near whisper.

  ‘There was an old metal oar lying very near, so near. I think it might have been one of my father’s. He lost one around there a long time ago. I used that. It didn’t take long. And after…afterwards…when I saw what I’d done, I could hear people coming my way. I saw my father approaching from one direction and Morag Ramsay from another. I scrabbled higher up the slope. My father actually saw the bodies. He had his camera raised. I think he thought they were having sex and he was going to catch them. And then he realized what he was really looking at and ran away. But he must have seen Morag about to arrive. At the time he probably thought he’d be suspected. After all, he had been in a bitter row with the group, lona in particular. All of that would have been swirling round his mind. But there is one other thing. My father had spent time in the army as a very young man. He’d seen violent death at close quarters. He knew the two of them were beyond help. I think if there had been any chance of them surviving, things would have been very different for him. And for me. But no, he fled, panicked and began lying. Once he started lying, he had to keep going. And that must have torn him apart. He hated lies.’

  Kirstin looked back into the room. For the first time she could see the questioner. Medical staff had been blocking the view before. A middle-aged police officer with his head bent over a file. ‘What did you do with the weapon?’

  ‘I drove to St Andrews, played golf, and threw it and my clothes into the sea.’

  The questioner shifted slightly in his seat. ‘What do you know about the death of your father?’

  Kirstin shut her eyes this time. No. Please no.

  Ross gave a dry cough. ‘My father had no idea of what I had done until, by accident, we swapped cameras. I bought him the same model as mine as a gift, since he’d been admiring it for ages. He took mine home after lunch one weekend. When he brought it back, I just knew. It had had a selection of photographs that lona and I had taken of ourselves. Having sex. He confronted me. I admitted the affair. But denied being there that Sunday. I knew he didn’t believe me. He kept the memory card. He told me he’d been there that day and when Morag was arrested, he was an inch away from telling the police that. I tried to convince him that she’d done the deed, and that what he had seen was her returning to make sure that they were dead. He didn’t believe it, but I know this planted a seed of doubt about him coming forward. What if the police, hell-bent on getting Morag, threw this theory back at him? He would be in deep trouble for lying. Maybe he’d be accused of colluding with her. Why was he taking such a close interest in her case?

  ‘I know he thought of little else during those weeks after the arrest. And then he’d obviously made his judgement. He gave me an ultimatum. Prove that I wasn’t at the river that day and he wouldn’t go to the police. Of course, I couldn’t. That night, he called me and said…he had a heavy heart. He was g—‘ The dry cough was back.

  A doctor looked sharply at the interrogating officer. ‘He can’t take much more of this.’

  The officer gave a curt nod in reply. ‘What happened to your father?’

  ‘He said that he was going to do th—‘ The voice was faltering badly now. ‘He was going to do the right thing. I begged, pleaded. And then hung up on him. I…I had another idea.’ A nurse moved forward to check the tubing in his nose and then melted away into the background. ‘I called him an hour later. Said I was on my way to the Cauldron. I was going to end it my way. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, go to prison. Then it was his turn to beg. He pleaded with me to come with him to the police, admit what I’d done, have my day in court and take whatever punishment I was given. I rejected everything, and eventually he said he was coming down to the Cauldron to see me. That is what I wanted.’

  The neutral voice again. ‘What happened there?’

  ‘Conditions were appalling. He nearly did fall accidentally, but…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I helped the elements. Myown father! Going to turn in his own son!What else, what else could I do? Damn it all!’

  The last outburst had taken its toll.
He coughed again. A nurse bent over him for a moment, and then he was in shot again. ‘I thought…I thought I could get over it all then. Everything would be all right, until…’

  ‘Until what?’

  Kirstin, now chilled to the bone, knew what was coming. She leant back, eyes tight shut.

  ‘Until my ex-wife, Kirstin, returned and wanted to know why my father died. I did all I could to dissuade her, but she was determined. Utterly determined to find out the truth. Nowshe has what she wanted?

  Eyes still shut, Kirstin lowered her head into her hands. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t.

  ‘Eventually, in desperation, I was forced to falsify one of my father’s logs. The one with the ‘guilty’ verdicts and that incriminating sketch. Ever since childhood I have been able to copy my father’s handwriting. And I also share his ability to draw. It seemed…easy, simple. My father had always been secretive about his logs, and he kept the key to the desk drawer hidden in a baseball cap. I left it for Kirstin to find. And then the bombshell dropped. I had searched high and low in Mill House for that memory card. It wasn’t there, so I hoped he might have destroyed it. I called Kirstin on her mobile, but Glen answered. He said she’d left the phone at his flat. He told me about the box she’d been given by Donald. Then I knew.’

  ‘Knew what?’ .

  ‘I knew…the card must be in the box. My father would have turned me in to the police. I know that. But, I also know that part of him would have been conflicted. He’d have kept the evidence, but he’d have wanted it away from him. It would have been a contaminant to him. His shame and hurt about me overwhelmed him. And he knew that if I could destroy what he had, I would. So, he hid it. When I heard about Donald—his most trusted friend—having a box of my father’s, I was sure. I thought it a miracle Kirstin hadn’t found the memory card. Prayed I was wrong, and that it wasn’t there. But I had to be sure. Glen said something about them having had a row and that he thought Kirstin must have gone to Morag Ramsay’s house. She had nowhere else to go. So I raced over there. Kirstin was gone. But I saw Morag had found it. She was trying to call Kirstin as I arrived. I stopped her. I took Morag to the Cauldron, never expecting Kirstin to know where she was.’

  ‘Why did you take Ms Ramsay there?’

  ‘I…I was going to dispose of her in an ‘accident’. But she managed to steal the camera and run away from me. By then, I thought I had probably critically injured her. I’d get the camera back. And then Kirstin arrived.’

  She kept her head down, hands over her ears now. Andwere you going to dispose of me too? In an’accident’?

  It was clear he was a spent force now. His pallor was grey and the drug-induced energy of earlier had leached out of him.

  The neutral voice sounded louder than ever. ‘There is one matter you have not covered, Mr Ross. Bonnie Campbell.’

  She couldn’t stand it any more. Flinging her chair back, Kirstin struggled to her feet and hobbled towards the door.

  Dr Lockhart grabbed her arm and Morag stood up, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘You need to hear this.’

  Kirstin nodded weakly and leant against the door frame.

  He had his eyes shut, the spasmodic, REM-like effect more erratic than before. His voice had reduced to a hoarse wheeze.

  ‘Bonnie…Campbell had been wandering around up at the art gallery that Sunday. I…didn’t remember seeing her until she and my…she and my ex-wife met outside my office recently.’

  He paused to swallow, giving out another dry cough. ‘I thought she’d recognized me. You see, one morning, lona and I were leaving her house and…and Bonnie had driven by and waved to her. lona said Bonnie hadn’t seen me and I thought no more of it. Until I saw her outside my office. I could see the look of puzzled recognition. She would work it out. I couldn’t let her. I didn’t.’

  Without warning, he sat bolt upright. Somehow, he found the strength to wrest the plastic tubing from his nose and mouth, followed by the sensors from his chest and finger. The low-level background rhythm of bleeps turned into a cacophony of alarms. Medical staff swarmed around the bed. And just for a second, as the wave of people parted, the camera picked it up. He opened his eyes once and looked straight at her, his voice finding a last gasp of volume.

  ‘I only wanted lona because I’d lost you, Kirsty!’

  As she fled the room, she heard one final sound screaming out above all others.

  ‘No!No! No!’

  The sound of her own horror.

  Fourty-Seven

  Three weeks later, August 2007

  The Water of Leith

  It had to be the hottest day so far. Kirstin kicked off her sandals and sat astride the wall, relieved to have the full use of both legs once more. Eyes closed, she raised her face to meet the welcome heat of the midday sun and listened. A mere gentle background hiss. The Cauldron was a silent millpond and the weir was running low. Far in the distance she could hear fragments of laughter intermingled with high-spirited banter. For a moment, she could almost imagine Jamie, stick in hand, striding along the river path, issuing his ‘welcome’s and ‘good afternoon’s.

  Jamie.

  No. Don’t be sad. Don’t. He’s gone. But he’s still here.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes and stood up, padding over to the bench, its fresh new wood shining brightly as the sun’s rays bounced off the thick varnish. She sat side-on, fingering the metal nameplate.

  In memory of JAMES ROSS MUNRO

  Born 24 March 1936

  Died 11 February 2007

  Peerless river guide and father-in-law

  From Kirstin and Donald

  With love always

  ‘It looks wonderful.’

  Kirstin swung round. Morag was standing smiling, looking cool in a pale-coloured linen dress, sunglasses in hand.

  ‘When did they bring it?’

  Kirstin shrugged. ‘Oh, just this morning, I think. They gave me a call. You look…dare I say it? Happy?’

  Morag stepped forward and sat down. ‘I think you could say that. Something I should get used to being, maybe? And in shock. Good shock. You’ll never guess who visited me last night. Ally Sutherland, would you believe? Quite a changed man. Genuine, very genuine apologies pouring out of him.’

  ‘Really?’ Kirstin frowned. ‘You sure?’

  Morag laughed. ‘Oh, yes. And I’ll tell you how I know. He offered to pay off the arrears on my house. I was astonished. He rang this morning. It’s done. The bank has backed off. I’m in the clear. All I need to do now is get a job.’

  Kirstin leant forward to embrace her. ‘That’s fantastic! Don’t suppose you fancy a job in Devon still?’

  ‘Maybe. But what about you? You going back there?’

  Kirstin looked away, across to the Cauldron and beyond to the wooded area. ‘I honestly don’t know. Too soon to say. This is all going to take a very long time to get over. But I’m determined to do so. It’s funny. Deep down, I’m all right. I feel free. Yes. Free.’

  ‘And Glen?’

  Kirstin shrugged. ‘I’ve talked to him on the phone. About the bench, among other things…but…too much has gone on. It can’t work for me. It’s broken. Can’t be fixed.’ She met Morag’s eyes again and half smiled. ‘It’s the trust thing. You know what I mean?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I know. Look, I can’t stay. Just wanted to see you in the flesh. Check that you were okay.’ Morag opened her bag and handed her the newspaper. ‘It’s all over the news. So weird. But fitting. It’s probably not sunk in yet but, if you need me, just call. I’ll be there.’ She stood up. ‘Oh, and here. Have these.’ Kirstin held out a hand as Morag offered her the sunglasses. ‘I don’t need them any more. See you!’

  She answered Morag’s playful wave with one of her own and, sunglasses on, bent her head to read.

  FINAL TWIST IN THE CASE OF THE REAL ‘CAULDRON KILLER’

  Wrongly accused: ‘I have seen justice at last.’

  Ross Munro, the man charged with the notorious murders kno
wn as the ‘Cauldron Killings’, has been found dead in his prison cell.

  Munro, 41, was arrested and charged three weeks ago. Although critically injured, Munro managed to stagger towards the river. After a dramatic night-time manhunt, he was found unconscious on the banks of the Water of Leith, near to the spot where Dr Craig Irvine and lona Sutherland were found dead in August last year.

  Munro was captured downstream from the Cauldron. He was near to death after falling into the river and made a full confession while in hospital. Against all expectations he recovered and was remanded in prison. However, yesterday morning Munro was found strangled in his prison cell, having put together a makeshift garrotte from clothing.

  Ironically, this is the method attempted by Morag Ramsay earlier this year, when she was on remand for the same murders. Speaking through her solicitors, Ms Ramsay issued the following statement: ‘I am thankful beyond words that I have seen justice at last. But, more important than my exoneration is the fact that the victims of this horrific crime have received justice. However, for all concerned, it would have been preferable if Ross Munro had spent a long life in prison paying for what he has done. But he has robbed us of that opportunity. Finally, I would like to extend a heartfelt thanks to all who believed in me during my darkest hours and to convey my deepest condolences to the families of Craig and lona.’

  Kirstin lifted her head and sighed. The gaggle of excited voices was nearer now. She saw them, over to her left. A loose grouping of young men and women in shorts and bikinis, weighted down with beer, wine, food and picnic rugs. Gathering her sandals, she got to her feet smiling.

  And why not? Let the place live again. Picnics, laughter, loving.

  Barefoot, she passed by the happy crowd and smiled at one of them. ‘Have a great day!’

  ‘Yeah! And you too!’

  Raising a hand in a valedictory wave, she took a final look at the glassy, inviting waters of the Cauldron.

  Oh,I will. I will.

  THE END

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two