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

by Pete Brassett

  ‘No,’ said McKenzie, ‘I’d like a large, bloody vodka.’

  Munro allowed a brief pause to hang in the air.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘the money?’

  McKenzie glanced at West and smiled nervously.

  ‘Couple of years back,’ she said, ‘it was just after my birthday, my eighteenth. The crappiest birthday ever, I couldnae afford to go out, sat indoors all night watching the telly with my Daddy. Do you know what he got me for my birthday? For my eighteenth bloody birthday? A card. That was it. A bloody card. Anyway, there was all this post piling up addressed to Mammy, most of it from the bank, so I opened one. I opened one and nearly bloody cried, I mean, my Daddy had always said she was minted, but this was unbelievable. I mean, the first thing I thought was, this is it, our troubles are over.’

  ‘So,’ said West, ‘what did you do next?’

  ‘I said I’d take care of the mail, pass it on to her, only I didn’t. About a week later, I wrote to the bank, asked them to set up a monthly transfer between the accounts, forged her signature, and that was it. Easy.’

  ‘And you weren’t worried you might get found out?’ said West. ‘You didn’t feel guilty about defrauding…?’

  ‘Guilty?’ said McKenzie. ‘Guilty? Why should I feel guilty? I had nothing, do you understand? Nothing. While she was living the high life, rolling in it, living in a big, fancy house, rent free. Let’s face it, she didnae need the money. Look, I just took what I would’ve got anyway.’

  Munro leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

  ‘Tell me, Lorna,’ he said, ‘I’m curious. Why did you not just transfer the whole lot? Take it all?’

  ‘I’m not that stupid, Inspector,’ said McKenzie, ‘give me some credit. If I’d have done that it would’ve aroused suspicion, isn’t that the phrase they use? No, see, I figured a small amount every month and no-one would turn a blind eye.’

  ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Lorna,’ said Munro, sitting back and smiling, ‘you certainly thought it through. It’s a pity circumstances contrived to trip you up. But, tell me, why on earth didn’t you just ask her for the money? I’m sure she would have…’

  ‘Are you mad? Me? Go cap in hand, begging? To her? Do me a favour, that supercilious cow would have been gloating for centuries, using it as an excuse to see me even more. No, that was never an option, believe me.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Munro, ‘so, to return to my earlier question, why did you go back to Dunmore House? See, I think you went to…’

  ‘I told you, I wasn’t there, okay? I was not there.’

  West gave McKenzie a moment to calm down before speaking.

  ‘Lorna,’ she said, ‘listen to me. These are very serious allegations being made against you, you’re still a young lady, you’ve got years ahead of you, do you really want to spend them banged up? If you co-operate with us, tell us the truth, it can only work in your favour.’

  McKenzie said nothing.

  ‘Your father,’ said Munro, ‘Callum. I take it he knows nothing of your foray into the world of high finance?’

  ‘That dimwit?’ said McKenzie. ‘Do me a favour, he’s not got the brains for it.’

  ‘He’s clever man.’

  ‘Oh, aye? If he’s that clever, how come he didnae figure a way out for us years ago? It was there for the taking.’

  ‘Maybe he’s just too … honest?’ said West.

  ‘Honest? He’s not honest, he’s just a creep.’

  ‘A creep?’ said Munro.

  ‘Aye, a devious, lecherous, creep.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  McKenzie, toying with her hair, glanced up at West and coughed.

  ‘I’d like some water, please.’

  West poured her a glass and slid it across the desk.

  ‘Thanks. He used to … when I lived at home, in the caravan … he used to … look at me.’

  ‘Look at you?’ said West. ‘How? Exactly?’

  ‘Oh, come on, are you that stupid?’ said McKenzie. ‘Not the way a father should look his daughter. Always leering, like he was thinking stuff.’

  ‘You mean stuff of a sexual nature?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Did he ever … did he ever touch you?’ said West.

  ‘No, no, nothing like that,’ said McKenzie. ‘He just had this habit of … of coming to my room when I was changing or, or entering the bathroom while I was in the shower. His timing was impeccable.’

  ‘But he didn’t…’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Because if he did, Lorna,’ said West, sympathetically, ‘you know we can…’

  ‘There’s no need, really. He didn’t lay a finger on me.’

  ‘Sounds like you could use a new father,’ said Munro.

  ‘Aye, what a present that would be.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. Now, the thing about these chairs, Lorna, is they’re awfully uncomfortable and I cannae take sitting here anymore, so, last chance lassie. Do you want to tell us what you were doing up at Dunmore or …?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it. Lorna McKenzie, I am charging you with theft, fraud and obtaining goods by deception. Do you understand the charge?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Is there anything you’d like to say in reply to the charge?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay. In that case …’

  ‘What happens now?’ said McKenzie.

  ‘You’ll return to your cell until your appearance at the Sheriff’s Court,’ said Munro. ‘I hope for your sake they can squeeze us in before the weekend, because I’m not recommending you for bail.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And think about that lawyer, lassie. You’re going to need…’

  Munro, mildly irritated at the interruption, groaned as an audacious knock at the door was followed by the unexpected appearance of an exuberant Constable Reid.

  ‘Chief,’ he said, ‘am I…?’

  ‘No, no, we’re just about done here. What…?’

  ‘Forensics. Freida’s place.’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘No, not yet,’ said Reid, ‘they’re still analysing a few bits and bobs they took from her kitchen, but, did you know they have cameras there?’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Munro, casting a sideways glance at McKenzie.

  ‘Aye, all over the place.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The night in question, they captured a ghostly apparition hovering about the place.’

  ‘A ghost?’ said West.

  ‘Aye,’ said Reid, ‘in a dark red anorak.’

  As the severity of the situation finally dawned on her, McKenzie, feeling as vulnerable as a hare in the headlights, looked forlornly up at West.

  ‘Can I … can I ring my Daddy?’ she said, pleadingly.

  West nodded and smiled compassionately as Munro stood and pushed his chair beneath the table.

  ‘Duncan,’ he said, ‘would you kindly show our guest back to her room, please.’

  ‘Roger that, chief,’ said Reid, ‘this way, miss. You’ve an hour or two before we stop serving supper, breakfast is served in your room between 7am and 9am, light refreshments…’

  ‘Duncan,’ said Munro, ‘one thing before you go. I met your father earlier, he’s a very knowledgeable man.’

  ‘He is that, chief. Hope he didnae chew your ears off.’

  ‘Quite the contrary, but look, when you get home tonight, I think it might be … well, it wouldnae do any harm to stand him a wee drink or two, I think he could use the company.’

  ‘Chief?’

  ‘I’ve told him about Freida.’

  * * *

  Campbell returned from the bar, set the drinks down on the table and sat opposite West, grinning like a schoolboy on a first date.

  ‘Bit of a day, eh?’ he said, downing half his pint in one go. ‘You must be shattered, all that excitement.’

  ‘It’s not exciting, Iain,’ s
aid West, disparagingly, ‘getting married, that’s exciting. Watching a thunderstorm over the Sierra Nevada, that’s exciting. This job is more like finishing The Times crossword; the only thing you get at the end of it is a sense of relief.’

  ‘Aye, okay,’ said Campbell, ‘but even so, it is interesting; you must enjoy it.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah I suppose I do.’

  ‘Can’t be easy, though, having to work with…’

  West regarded him suspiciously as his words tailed off.

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘Och, no, you’re alright.’

  ‘No, I want to hear it, can’t be easy working with…?’

  ‘The chief. Inspector Munro.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ said West.

  ‘Well,’ said Campbell, staring into his beer, ‘he can be a bit harsh. Cutting, you know?’

  ‘Ah, did he hurt your feelings?’ said West, giggling. ‘Do you need a hug?’

  ‘Oh, very funny, you’ve not been on the receiving end.’

  ‘Trust me, Iain, I’ve taken more put-downs and sarcastic asides than you’ll ever get, and you know what? It did me good. Don’t be such a softy, it’s just banter, take it with a pinch of salt.’

  ‘I know, but he made me feel this big,’ said Campbell, ‘I mean, the way he embarrassed me when I called you in the car and later, when he lost his rag, treating me like I’m some kind of numpty.’

  ‘Oh, grow up Iain, for God’s sake,’ said West, her hackles rising, ‘you’re a bloody police sergeant, you know how it is.’

  ‘Aye, I do, but it’s not just that, it’s the way he takes the piss, about me … about me liking you.’

  ‘He’s just looking out for me, that’s all. Forget about it.’

  ‘I can’t, it’s not right, it’s demeaning. I was thinking, maybe, maybe you should have a word.’

  ‘What did you say?’ said West, enraged. ‘You want me to ask a D.I. to back off because you’re a bit sensitive? Fight your own battles, mate, I’m not here to…’

  ‘Aye, alright, alright,’ said Campbell, ‘I’m sorry. I just… look, let’s change the subject, okay? So, will we have another drink before we eat? I quite fancy…’

  West drained her glass, pulled her bag over her shoulder and stood up.

  ‘Actually, Iain, you know what?’ she said, ‘I’m not that hungry anymore. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  * * *

  Restricted, as he was, by his two-fingered typing technique, the charge sheet had taken longer to complete than anticipated. Munro sighed wearily, switched off the desk lamp and groaned as the clatter of heels behind him resounded off the wooden floor.

  ‘Isobel,’ he said, without turning around, ‘I’ve been expecting you.’

  ‘I’m flattered,’ said Crawford, whimsically.

  ‘I assume you’re here because Nick telephoned you?’

  ‘He did, he said…’

  ‘I can guess what he said.’

  ‘So,’ said Crawford, purring like a kitten on the prowl, ‘I thought, maybe, we could…’

  ‘Listen, Isobel,’ said Munro, tersely, ‘I’m not being funny, but Nick, in his caffeine-induced state of frenzy, has jumped the gun.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He had no right to call you.’

  ‘I see,’ said Crawford. ‘So, when he said you had it all wrapped up…’

  ‘I’ll wrap him up,’ said Munro. ‘Look, the fact of the matter is we’re far from done here. We are holding someone and she’s been charged. But with fraud, not murder.’

  ‘How irritating. Want to fill me in?’

  ‘Soon, Isobel, soon,’ said Munro, ‘but not just now, you’ll get the report tomorrow. Now, I really do need to get some rest. I’m sorry, sorry that you’ve had a wasted journey.’

  ‘Not wasted, James,’ said Crawford, ‘just not as fulfilling as I’d hoped. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.’

  Munro, unaccustomed to being the hunted, especially when the predator was of a female persuasion, hastily jumped in his car, lowered the window and turned the ignition.

  ‘We will have that drink, Isobel, I promise,’ he said, apologetically, as the starter motor whined, ‘just as soon as…’

  He flipped the ignition, tried again and cursed under his breath as the only response was a sound resembling the last, dying gasps of some hapless creature slipping the mortal coil.

  ‘The engine,’ said Crawford, ‘it’s not turning over.’

  Munro regarded her with a look of contempt.

  ‘You should get a job with traffic, Isobel,’ he said, ‘your talents are wasted behind a desk.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift.’

  ‘No, no, you’re alright, I’ll get a…’

  ‘Stop being so bloody stubborn. Move.’

  * * *

  Munro buckled up and adjusted the vanity mirror on the visor to get a clear view through the rear window.

  ‘Let me know what’s on the meter when we get there,’ he said, ‘I’ll settle up tomorrow.’

  Crawford allowed herself a wry grin.

  ‘You need to relax a bit, James,’ she said, ‘it would do you the world of good.’

  ‘How can I relax, Isobel? You gave me five days to crack this and we’ve barely enough time left to crack an egg, let alone a murder.’

  ‘So, you’re no nearer to finding out who…’

  ‘Actually, I am.’

  ‘But your suspect isn’t the girl you’re holding?’

  ‘No. Poor, wee lassie, I cannae blame her for taking the money, but I don’t think...’

  Munro tapped Crawford on the arm.

  ‘Slow down,’ he said, pointing through the windscreen at a middle-aged couple locked in a loving embrace outside The Oak Bar, ‘isn’t that…?’

  ‘My God, it is. It’s Nick!’ said Crawford. ‘Well, bugger me, I wonder who she is?’

  ‘If I’m not mistaken,’ said Munro, ‘I believe that is Mr. MacDonald from the yacht club.’

  Chapter 15

  Munro joined West at the breakfast table, her plate piled high with square sausage, black pudding, extra bacon, one fried tomato, two tattie scones and a runny egg.

  ‘This,’ she said, stuffing her cheeks as though she’d not eaten for a week, ‘is what makes this job worthwhile.’

  ‘Where’s your porage?’ said Munro.

  ‘If I wanted a bowl of gruel,’ said West, ‘I’d get a part in Oliver Twist.’

  Munro smiled.

  ‘Okay, by the by, we’ve no car this morning, so we’ll have to get a taxi.’

  West, grinning, sat back and downed her cutlery.

  ‘So, someone stay out last night then?’ she said.

  ‘No, no,’ said Munro, ‘it’s at the station, broken down. I’ve telephoned young Duncan and asked him to arrange a mechanic.’

  ‘So, how’d you get back? Did you take the bus?’

  ‘That was my intention, but I was forced to accept a lift instead.’

  ‘Isobel?’

  ‘Aye, Isobel, that woman will not take no for an answer, and, if you must know, it was just a lift, no drinks and definitely no supper. Which reminds me, I thought you were stepping out with Sergeant Campbell last night, did you enjoy yourself?’

  ‘No,’ said West, ‘early night.’

  ‘I see, well, I’ll not pry, just as long as you’re okay, not upset or anything.’

  ‘No, not upset, thanks for asking. Let’s just say that under that burly exterior, is a very immature … so, what’re we doing first?’

  ‘Well, once we’ve got ourselves some transport, we’re away to see Inverkip’s very own Mr. Personality of the Year.’

  * * *

  Munro was content with his ageing Peugeot Estate. It was comfortable, lived-in, a little frayed around the edges and, unlike the squad car he’d unofficially hijacked from the pool, it provided a degree of anonymity.

  ‘Shall we have the sirens?’ said West as she eagerly slipped in to the driver’s seat
.

  ‘No Charlie,’ said Munro, ‘we shall not. Travelling in a glorified ice-cream van, we’re conspicuous enough as it is. We don’t need to draw any more attention to ourselves.’

  * * *

  Rudy Kappelhoff downed tools as the squad car pulled up outside his shop, opened the door and, for the first time since they’d met, smiled. He wiped his hands on his apron and welcomed them inside.

  ‘Mr. Kappelhoff,’ said Munro, ‘I hope we’re not disturbing you.’

  ‘No, whatever I am doing can wait. Come, we will sit in my room, it is more pleasant.’

  West shrugged her shoulders in disbelief as they followed him through to the back.

  ‘I will make you tea or coffee, or a glass of milk, if you like?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ said West, ‘very kind, but I’m fine.’

  ‘Inspector?’

  ‘No, thanks all the same,’ said Munro, frowning, ‘but if you don’t mind me saying so, Mr. Kappelhoff, you seem a little … subdued, not your usual, ebullient, self. Are you sleeping alright?’

  Kappelhoff sat down and smiled.

  ‘I am sleeping very well, Inspector,’ he said. ‘You want to know why? Because the anger has gone. Whatever my Freida did in the past, whatever reasons she had for leaving, she has made up for it now. She has taken my anger with her.’

  ‘And do you know why you feel so much better, Rudy?’ said West excitedly, as though addressing a nine-year old. ‘I’ll tell you, it’s because you’ve purged yourself of all that negative energy. And now that you radiate positivity, people will be drawn to you, you’ll be surrounded by love, light and happiness, in abundance.’

  ‘Good grief,’ said Munro.

  ‘Yes,’ said Kappelhoff, ‘I agree. Good grief. So, you are not here for a social visit, tell me what I can do to help.’

  ‘It’s the other way round, actually,’ said Munro, ‘we’ve some news for you, a surprise, of sorts. I’m just hoping it’s a pleasant one.’

  ‘Good,’ said Kappelhoff, smiling softly, ‘I very much like surprises.’

  Munro pulled up a chair, folded his arms and, with a scratch of the nose, addressed Kappelhoff in a tone normally reserved for the recently widowed.

  ‘Did you, er, did you know Freida was pregnant when she left you?’ he said.

  Kappelhoff stopped smiling.

  ‘You are crazy man,’ he said, ‘how could she be?’