AVARICE: Gripping Scottish detective crime fiction (Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 2)

by Pete Brassett

  ‘James Munro,’ she said, proffering her hand as she stood.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘that’s me.’

  Munro was struck by her somewhat sophisticated appearance, the dark, brown hair cut neatly to a bob, the fringe dusting the top of her eyebrows, the pearl stud earrings, the delicate, silver chain around her neck and the absence of a ring on her left hand. The corner of his mouth rose impulsively.

  ‘And you must be Isobel.’

  ‘Drink?’ she said.

  ‘Thank you, no. I’ll not stay long,’ said Munro.

  ‘Very well,’ said Crawford. ‘You’ve obviously got a lot on your plate, so I’ll be brief. I’m sticking my neck out here, James. If anyone finds out I’ve agreed to let a retired police officer look into this case, especially the senior Fiscal, I’ll be for the chop. Five days, understood? Not a minute more.’

  Munro said nothing, his face expressionless.

  ‘And keep your head down,’ she continued, ‘act like a tourist, or … or something.’

  ‘Nae bother,’ said Munro, ‘you’ll not even know I’m here.’

  Crawford smiled.

  ‘Good. Now, are you sure you won’t…?’

  ‘No. Thanks all the same. There’s somewhere I have to be.’

  Crawford returned to her seat and took a sip of whisky as the door closed behind him.

  ‘Christ, he’s a hard bastard, isn’t he?’ she said, quietly.

  ‘Has to be,’ said McGreevy. ‘Wouldn’t have a reputation if he wasn’t.’

  ‘Even so,’ said Crawford, ‘there’s something, dangerously attractive about him, something reckless.’

  ‘You’ve no chance,’ said McGreevy, grinning, ‘that’s a man who loves his wife.’

  ‘Wife? But I thought she died? In that terrible fire?’

  ‘Aye, she did that, Isobel. She did that.’

  * * *

  Munro was not unsociable by nature, as long as the company he kept was of his own choosing, he could hold court as well as the next man, but a crowded inn, rammed with folk, shoulder to shoulder, clearly already on their fourth or fifth round of drinks and shouting rather than talking, was something he found difficult to tolerate. He spied a couple at the bar, perched on stools, sharing a joke and struggling to make themselves heard above the din.

  ‘Iain,’ he said, ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  Sergeant Campbell, taken off guard, stood and looked at Munro with an air of unease, as though he’d been caught in the throes of a clandestine affair with his daughter.

  ‘Chief,’ he said, draining his glass, ‘just a, just a wee snifter after work, you know.’

  ‘I do indeed, Iain. I do indeed.’

  ‘Just thought I’d sit with Charlie, till you got here, so she didn’t… get bored.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you Iain,’ said Munro, ‘very kind, indeed. Let me reward your chivalry with a wee drink.’

  ‘Oh no, thanks, chief, I think I better…’

  ‘Will you not stay for supper, then? I hear they’ve a fine menu, here.’

  ‘Oh, they have, you’ll not be disappointed, but I should… go.’

  ‘Spoilsport,’ said West, as they watched Campbell fight his way to the door, ‘he’s quite sweet really. Funny too.’

  Munro gave her a wink.

  ‘We’d best order those steaks, lassie,’ he said, grinning, ‘if you’ve your eye on a Scotsman, you’ll need to keep your strength up.’

  Chapter 6

  Kappelhoff counted the bank of stainless steel doors, four rows of eight, 32 in total, and turned to Clark bewildered, as the bright, fluorescent strip lights fizzled overhead.

  ‘There are people,’ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, ‘in all these boxes?’

  ‘Fortunately not,’ said Clark as he opened number 19, ‘it’s okay, there’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Ready?’ said Munro.

  Kappelhoff took a deep breath.

  ‘Ready.’

  West turned away as Clark pulled back the sheet.

  ‘She looks … she looks so … peaceful,’ said Kappelhoff.

  ‘Is it Freida?’ said Munro.

  Kappelhoff stared at the cadaver, entranced, and paused before answering.

  ‘Well, it looks like her,’ he said, ‘but…’

  ‘But what?’ said Munro.

  ‘I can’t be sure, I mean, it’s many years since we, twenty years, she looks so much … older, so many lines on her face, I’m not…’

  ‘It’s alright, Rudy,’ said West, ‘don’t say unless you’re absolutely certain.’

  ‘I am sorry. I am not, almost, but…’

  ‘No problem,’ said West, ‘but listen, there’s something that might help, did Freida have any identifying marks, like a scar, or a mole or a birthmark? Anything like that?’

  Kappelhoff, still staring at the body, shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘that, I would remember.’

  ‘How about family?’ said Munro. ‘Did Freida have any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘A sister. She has a sister. Mathild.’

  ‘Did you keep in touch?’

  ‘No, they weren’t close, and after the divorce, why would I…?’

  ‘Fair enough Mr. Kappelhoff,’ said Munro as Clark slid the body home and closed the door, ‘fair enough. Come on, we’ll take you back, just one last thing before we go, we need a DNA sample.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘DNA. It’s perfectly harmless, we just need to take a swab from the inside of your cheek, takes two seconds.’

  ‘Inside my cheek? What else? A pound of flesh, maybe? You think I am guilty? You think I would do such a thing?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. It will simply assist us with our inquiry, that’s all.’

  Kappelhoff sighed and raised his hands in surrender.

  ‘Alright, alright,’ he said, ‘you want my fingerprints, too? Maybe you should also take a picture.’

  Doctor Clark collared Munro as West escorted Kappelhoff back to the car.

  ‘A quick word, Inspector,’ he said, ‘Sergeant Campbell asked me to check if this lady was a smoker, is that right?’

  ‘Oh, aye, Doctor, we found a cigarette or two at the scene, may be nothing, but…’

  ‘Well, I’m glad to say, she wasn’t, not even a nicotine stain on her fingers. In fact, considering her age, she was in rude health. Were it not for her untimely demise, I’d say she had another twenty years in her, at least.’

  * * *

  ‘Morning, Iain,’ said West, smiling coyly as they returned to the station.

  ‘Charlie, chief.’

  ‘And how was your evening, Iain?’ said Munro.

  ‘I’ve had better,’ said Campbell, casting a sly glance at West, ‘I mean, quiet. Quiet night, chief.’

  ‘Good. Is Nick hereabouts, or is he…?’

  ‘Here, James,’ said McGreevy, stepping in from his office, ‘how was it? Did Rudy give you a positive ID?’

  ‘No, he did not, he says it’s been too long since he saw her last, and I cannae blame the fellow, I can barely remember who was in the bar last night.’

  Campbell squirmed in his seat.

  ‘So, what do we do now?’ said McGreevy. ‘About IDing the body?’

  ‘We have Freida’s DNA, Nick,’ said Munro, ‘so we’ll try and trace her next of kin. Duncan, I think this is something you’ll enjoy. Duncan!’

  Constable Reid, leaning on the front desk, closed his book and turned to face Munro.

  ‘Sorry, chief, just getting to a good bit.’

  ‘Well, I’ve an even better bit here. Listen, I need you to find a relative of Freida’s, she’s a sister, name of Mathild, maiden name, Brandt.’

  ‘Roger that, chief.’

  ‘Start in Schleswig.’

  ‘Schleswig?’ said Reid, looking perplexed.

  ‘Schleswig-Holstein, it’s a province in Germany, that’s where she’s from.’

  Munro looked
frantically around the office, as though he’d lost something incredibly precious. His eyes settled on West.

  ‘If Duncan’s looking for Freida’s relative,’ he said, ‘who on earth is going to make the tea?’

  West smiled and made for the kitchen as Munro hung his coat on the back of a chair and took a seat opposite Sergeant Campbell.

  ‘So, Iain,’ he said, ‘your turn. How’s the search going? Have you some lads up there, just now?’

  ‘No chief,’ said Campbell, leaning back and folding his arms, ‘all done.’

  ‘All done? Already?’

  ‘Aye, we were there first light. Most of the undergrowth was too thick to get through but we did cover pretty much the whole area, as you asked. If we’d had more men, we could’ve done a more thorough search, but…’

  ‘So, that’s it?’ sighed Munro. ‘I don’t suppose you found anything, did you?’

  ‘No,’ said Campbell, reaching beneath his desk, ‘just this,’

  He held up a clear, plastic bag containing a small hammer, wooden shaft, approximately 12” long, with a polished head.

  ‘Not the kind of thing you’d lose in the middle of the glen, now, is it?’

  Munro glanced at Campbell, smiled appreciatively and took the bag.

  ‘It’s awfully clean,’ he said. ‘You’ve not wiped this, have you?’

  ‘No, chief. Gloves, bagged and sealed.’

  ‘Where was it?’

  ‘About twenty yards from the path.’

  ‘Good. Then it’s not lain there long; this was tossed there recently.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Campbell, ‘one other thing, I took the liberty of measuring the diameter of face, about an inch and a quarter, same size as the wound to the back of Freida’s head.’

  Munro sat back and grinned.

  ‘You know something, Iain,’ he said, ‘keep this up and you’ll make detective in no time. Lab, please, we need prints, and see if they can lift a sample off the head, something that matches Freida’s DNA.’

  West returned with two mugs of tea and took Campbell’s vacant seat.

  ‘Thanks, Charlie,’ said Munro, ‘next task, start going through Freida’s clothes, see if you can find anything that shouldn’t be there.’

  ‘No probs,’ she said. ‘So, what do you make of the hammer? Think that’s our weapon?’

  ‘Aye, looks like it, I reckon our Freida was struck on the path, just where we found the cigarettes, before stumbling down the bank and into the burn. And I reckon it was someone she knew. I’d say they were there a wee while, chatting, or arguing. And whoever attacked her, was fond of foreign … Duncan!’

  Constable Reid, annoyed at the interruption in his pursuit of Frau Brandt, raised his head and frowned.

  ‘Chief?’

  ‘Duncan, drop that for a wee second,’ said Munro, ‘get hold of every hotel, B&B and guest house in the area and see if they’ve anyone staying with them from Germany, in particular, anyone travelling alone.’

  ‘Roger that, chief! Oh, hello Mrs. Fraser, what brings you here?’

  A short, bespectacled woman, mature in years, walked tentatively towards the front desk and smiled nervously.

  ‘Hello, Duncan,’ she said timidly, embarrassed that she may be taking him away from his work, ‘I wonder if I can have a wee word.’

  ‘Of course, you can, Mrs. Fraser, how can I help?’

  ‘Well, as you know, I’m not one to make a fuss but, I’m a wee bit, concerned.’

  ‘What about?’ said Reid.

  ‘My friend, we work together and she’s still not come. She’s usually very punctual.’

  ‘And is this just this morning, Mrs. F? Maybe she’s been delayed.’

  ‘No,’ said Fraser, reaching for a tissue, ‘it’s three days now. I do hope nothing’s happened to her.’

  ‘Okay, tell you what, why don’t we start with her name, then we’ll take it from there.’

  ‘Thank you, Duncan. It’s Freida, Freida…’

  Munro spun around and leapt from his chair.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said as he approached the desk, scowling, ‘did I hear correctly? Did you say Freida?’

  Fraser, startled by his less than subtle approach, instinctively took a step back and drew her bag to her chest.

  ‘Aye, that’s right. Freida Kappelhoff,’ she said anxiously. ‘And who are you? Duncan, should I be talking to this…’

  ‘It’s okay, this is Detective Inspector Munro. Chief, this is Mrs. Fraser, friend of the family, so to speak. She works up at the big house.’

  Munro gave her a warm smile and walked around the counter to greet her properly.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I didnae mean to alarm you. The big house, you say? What’s that?’

  ‘The manor, chief, up on the estate. Mrs. Fraser’s a cracking cook.’

  ‘Och, Duncan, stop it now, I am not. I just cook, that’s all.’

  ‘Well,’ said Munro, extending an arm, ‘why not come round and sit with us and I’ll take some details. Would you care for a drink? A cup of tea maybe?’

  ‘No, no,’ she said, taking a seat.

  ‘This is Detective Sergeant West, now what’s all this about your friend, Freida?’

  ‘Well,’ said Fraser, taking a deep breath, ‘she’s a lovely lady, ever so nice, and she likes her routine, punctual to the second, you could set your watch by her.’

  ‘So, you work together?’ said West.

  ‘Aye, in the kitchens. Well, it was Friday evening, we’d finished work and she said she was going into town…’

  ‘Inverkip?’

  ‘That’s right, Inverkip, for a wee drink, with a gentleman friend of hers. To be honest, I was a little surprised.’

  ‘And why was that?’

  ‘She wasn’t feeling herself, she looked a little … peaky. We’d had a few glasses of wine the night before, you see. We often do that, drink and a wee chit chat. Have to say, I didn’t feel that great myself.’

  ‘And where was that? Did you go out?’

  ‘Oh, no, we don’t do that. It was at Freida’s place. We take it in turns, you see.’

  ‘Okay, so, she went out, you say?’

  ‘Aye, she insisted on going, said her friend had gone to the trouble of booking a table somewhere, so she couldnae let him down.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Munro.

  ‘Well, Saturday’s her day off, so when she didn’t come back, I thought nothing of it, I just assumed she was having some fun. But she’s still not back.’

  ‘Have you been to see her?’ said West. ‘Tried knocking the door, see if she’s…’

  ‘We stay at the house,’ said Fraser, ‘live-in, her rooms are next to mine. We don’t get paid much but we get free accommodation, and food, of course.’

  ‘I see,’ said Munro, ‘and would you happen to know who this gentleman friend is? The one she went to meet?’

  Fraser fell silent and fiddled with the strap on her bag, rankled by the question.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ said West.

  ‘Let’s just say, I have an idea,’ said Fraser, ‘but that’s all it is, an idea.’

  ‘Okay, but you’ll not say who?’ said Munro.

  ‘No. The man has a family. It wouldn’t be right to jeopardise his marriage. I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘Fair enough, Mrs. Fraser. Fair enough.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said West, ‘how long have you two known each other?’

  ‘Oh, long enough, we’re like sisters, really. Must be all of twelve years, or thereabouts.’

  ‘Just to be sure, now,’ said Munro, ‘could you give us a wee description of your friend.’

  Fraser raised her eyes to the ceiling and frowned.

  ‘Taller than me,’ she said, ‘not by much, but taller, all the same. Not a big lass, slight, you might say, mousey hair, and pretty – very attractive for her age.’

  Munro stood, clasped his hands behind his back and strode around the table before returning to his seat.

 
; ‘Mrs. Fraser,’ he said with a sigh, folding his hands beneath his chin, ‘I’m afraid I’ve some bad news. See, we’ve found a body, and it appears to match the description of your friend.’

  Fraser said nothing. Stunned, she stared at Munro, held his gaze for a few seconds, then turned her attention to West, half expecting her to utter something to the contrary.

  ‘What?’ she whispered, ‘I mean, where, where did you find her? What happened?’

  ‘In the burn, it looks as though she drowned,’ said Munro, fearful of upsetting her further.

  ‘I see,’ said Fraser, quietly, shaking her head. ‘I see.’

  ‘Listen,’ said West, softly, ‘I know you must be in shock, but the thing is, we have no way of positively identifying the body and, as you were obviously close friends, and quite possibly one the last people to see her alive, I wonder, would you mind…’

  ‘You want me to come to the mortuary? And look at the body? And tell you if it’s her?’

  ‘Only if you’re up to it.’

  Fraser closed her eyes and nodded.

  ‘It’s the least I can do,’ she said. ‘When should we…’

  ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ said Munro, ‘it’s entirely up to you. Tomorrow…’

  ‘Will we go now? I’ve an hour before my shift, I think I’d like to get it…’

  ‘Of course,’ said Munro, ‘I’ll run you there myself, and once we’re done, I’ll drop you back at the house. You’ll have to show me the way, mind.’

  ‘Och, there’s no need, Inspector, I’ve my car outside.’

  Chapter 7

  ‘There y’are, Charlie,’ said Sergeant Campbell as he smoothed a white, polythene dust sheet over the desk, ‘best we can do.’

  He stood back and watched, transfixed, as West laid out Freida’s waxed cotton jacket and inspected it closely with a magnifying glass.

  ‘So, this is what detectives do all day, is it?’ he said, quietly.

  ‘Mostly,’ said West, ‘when we’re not down the pub or fitting-up narks. Freida had dark blonde hair, right Iain?’

  ‘Aye Charlie, dark blonde, that’s right.’

  ‘Then who belongs to these?’ she said, gently retrieving two red hairs snagged around a button on the cuff with a pair of tweezers. ‘Bag, please.’