“Well, there is something interesting,” he admitted. “I was hitting so many dead ends that I eventually got around to checking through all the family’s medical records, for lack of anything else left to look at.” He dug into his carton for another mouthful. “Young Archie either had three farm accidents as an adolescent, or someone gave him some severe beatings. And coincidentally, a day or two before they brought him in to be looked at, the dad fired one of the hands, all three times, without notice. Not that any of the doctors seem to have been suspicious. You know how often and how easily farmworkers get injured.” He was right, that was interesting.
“When did it start?”
“When he was sixteen. So big brother Gareth must have known.” The age of consent would still have been twenty one back then too. Legal trouble, if the hands had refused to go quietly, although I doubted the dad would have wanted it to get out like that.
“Right. And then there’s that odd little clause in the will. No money for Archie unless or until he married.” We looked at each other. “He had girlfriends, though. And Wendy didn’t have a clue about it, if we’re right.” Shay shrugged.
“Plenty of people go both ways. Do you know how many men with kids send me signals?” Shay had never really understood why anyone cared what freely consenting adults chose to do with each other. It was only the abuse of children and non-consensual acts that infuriated him. He found concepts like racism and sexism equally baffling. We were all just sentient minds to him; all trapped in flesh and bone organisms and making the best of it. What did the paint job, or a little difference in the wiring of the vehicle you inhabited matter? Your software must be seriously malfunctioning if you thought it did.
I lay down again when we’d finished eating, and Shay curled up for a nap too. Everything had gone really well with Caitlin, who’d turned up early, as expected. Shay knew he’d been set up of course, but he didn’t mind. In his book, I was perfectly within my rights to find a way to overrule him if a situation was making me uncomfortable. Besides, it had been too good an opportunity to miss, while he was still feeling guilty about upsetting her. I relaxed back towards sleep, thinking about Archie Ramsay, reassessing all of my earlier assumptions about the relationship between him and Ferguson.
Da turned up again at about three, bearing more spare clothes, for me, and refilled thermoses for all of us. We watched silly videos together for a while. Then my cousin made himself scarce before the visitors started appearing. All of my DCs dropped in, briefly, and Caitlin had thought to ask them to bring my laptop bag along too, which was a much more welcome sight than the well-intentioned fruit and chocolate gifts. They were soon supplanted by the arrival of James McKinnon, equally delighted by our latest catch.
He was a sly one. I’d noticed how he’d watched us both last night and could guess what conclusions he’d been able to draw. Shay’s flawless acting skills had partially deserted him for a while as he struggled to recover his usual composure; like when a film actor forgets that they need to use their whole body to be convincing on stage. The hands and feet don’t quite match what the head and mouth are doing, and the audience can see that all too clearly. James was a keen observer and had carefully asked only the most innocuous questions. He’d made a fantastic impression simply by making it clear that he’d like to drag Mike Gordon back from the grave so he could beat him to death himself. He didn’t seem to want to discuss any of that today though.
“Baird’s team have had a busy day of it.” He told me, when da excused himself so we could talk shop. Those two thoroughly approved of each other. “Your Mr Keane was right about what was under the floor of that old shed. Both Mr Peters and Mr Boyd, I’m afraid. They’d had their throats cut.”
“That doesn’t sound like Ferguson’s usual style at all.” I shifted restlessly, wishing I could get up and pace a bit. “They must have done something he took serious objection to.” I could see by his expression that he’d been thinking the same.
“Like becoming ambitiously greedy, perhaps? Going after the coins themselves?” It was certainly a possibility.
“He’d have had at least one of his boys keeping an eye on them. Someone absolutely trustworthy.” McKinnon nodded.
“Davie’s got quite a few hairs and other samples for processing. We’ll know who buried those two soon enough. Of course, if it was Mike or Vince, they’re a bit beyond our reach now. That’s not a reproach Conall,” He added hastily. “You handled yourself very well, indeed, did us all proud.”
“I’d like to think we all do our best Sir.” He scowled.
“It’s just us two here, lad. Can’t you drop that nonsense when the juniors aren’t about?”
“Sorry, it’s a hard habit to break. Have Crawford or Daryl said anything yet?” He grinned.
“I don’t think Daryl Richardson could get an intelligible word out to save his life. Remind me to keep on your good side Conall. You throw one hell of a punch when someone really pisses you off.” The grin disappeared quickly enough. “Jimmy Crawford hasn’t said anything except to ask for his lawyer. I don’t think he’s too happy with how easily he was fooled by Mr Keane’s little performance. He’s a lot more dangerous than he looks, that absurdly bonny laddie.”
I made a noncommittal little noise, and McKinnon’s eyes twinkled alarmingly. He patted my leg and got up.
“I don’t suppose Daniel will have much to say on that subject either, ey? Quite the family, you Keanes.” Oh hell, he had been doing a bit of digging.
“James!” I protested. He just tapped the side of his battered nose.
“Need to know, blah, blah, blah. I’m aware, lad. I wasn’t born yesterday. Rest up, Conall. There’s nothing to concern you that can’t wait ‘til Monday now.” He sauntered off, leaving me to stew, wondering how far his digging had actually gone.
Hospitals have potential negligence suits to worry about these days. They weren’t about to allow me to walk out of there on my own two feet the next morning. Only once we were through the doors was I allowed to leave the chair they’d taken me down in. I could walk just fine, it was merely a question of being careful how I moved and placed my left foot. The stitches in the sole were more of an issue than the broken toes, but some good padding made it no worse than a hot, stinging sensation as the pressure of a step woke the nerves up a bit.
Da drove me home, with Shay following in his van. It was only once we were all in and settled that I belatedly remembered something. It was the sight of the lovely coffee table my cousin had made me that brought it to mind. “Your stall at the craft fair!”
“All taken care of,” he said smugly, “not that it really mattered. I boxed everything up and left it all at the camp with another note. Martin and Stephen jumped at the offer. If it all sells, they’ll pocket a couple of hundred each.” He kicked off his trainers and put his feet up. “I was thinking of doing that, anyway. There’s no way in hell I’d waste even an hour, let alone two days at one of those ghastly things without any good reason to.” He shuddered dramatically. “Still, I was glad of the chance to have a bit of a clear out. Maybe it’s time I started thinking about finding myself a bigger place.”
“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it, my boy!” Da jumped at the opening like a shot. “You need at least two bedrooms, preferably en suites, and another spare room, or an outbuilding, for your workshop. Your couch might be comfy enough, but I’d come to stay a lot more often if you offered me a nice little room of my own.”
“Seconded!” I put in hastily. “And you can’t pretend you can’t afford it either. You’ve probably got enough stashed away by now to buy a decent house in Inverleith if you wanted to.”
“I’m not going down there!” He protested, “It’s way too snotty for me around Stockbridge and the Botanic. And not the Old Town either. Too many bloody tourists and students.” Da grinned and shot off upstairs to get his laptop. I was already booting mine up.
“The gang will be thrilled to bits.” I told him, “Everyone’s
been dying for you to get your arse into gear and move to a bigger place. It’s been what, four years now in that pokey little starter flat? More than long enough.”
Looking through property listings kept Da and I happily occupied for a couple of hours. Shay soon got bored and wandered out with a parting “You can bookmark your favourite three each to show me. I’m going to make us all a proper Sunday roast with Uncle Danny’s shopping, so it’s dead pig for you two… and nothing over three-fifty for your picks either. I’m not selling the flat and taking out a bloody mortgage on top, no matter how keen you both seem to be all of a sudden.” All of a sudden? After all the endless complaints from everyone? Half an hour later, he stuck his head back in.
“And if there’s a garden it had better be easy to manage. I don’t have time to mess about with any of that.” Da and I grinned at each other delightedly. He was really going to do it; he wasn’t just playing with the idea.
“I know the Beirut house went that first year, but he sold off his granny Bibi’s summer place in Al Qoubaiyat eventually too, didn’t he?” I said when he’d gone back to the kitchen. He had Mozart’s Jupiter blasting out in there and couldn’t hear us. Da nodded. We both knew he’d never voluntarily set foot in Lebanon again, so it had made sense to let it go. “He’s got a lot more than that stashed away, surely?”
“Probably invested elsewhere if he even kept any of it. You know what he’s like.” Yeah, Shay was a sucker for worthy causes. I’d be surprised if he kept even half of his annual income for himself. He liked the fact that it meant the tax office got a lot less from him too. He had some serious issues with the way the government chose to spend our money.
Lunch, when we went through to eat, would have won an approving smile from Douglas Kerr’s wonderful Martha. Our ‘dead pig’ was a perfectly cooked pork tenderloin, and he’d made an amazing chestnut loaf for himself, which we both stole from greedily. He’d roasted enough vegetables for six people and made separate gravies too. There were two bottles of Pinot Noir open ready as well. If he’d been plotting to ensure I couldn’t move for a few hours, he’d found a sublime way of achieving his goal. That fourth Yorkshire pudding with my second helping had definitely been a mistake.
“There are apple and pine nut pie for dessert?” he offered as he put the coffee machine on. We both groaned and waved our hands lazily. Later, maybe. Shay had been more moderate in his consumption, and he did love a good fruit pie. He served himself a slab with some Wensleydale and tucked in.
“Find anything good?” he finally asked us, so we all trooped back to the living room and collapsed onto the couch to show him.
My three were dismissed out of hand, but he asked da to send him the links to two of his. A promising start to our new family project. Shay and da moved to curl up and stretch out, respectively, in the armchairs after that whilst I spread out with my feet up and stuck a wildlife documentary on to doze off to. That Sunday was a much more pleasant day than Saturday had been. Just the three of us, feeling completely at home, like the old days that we all missed so much.
Da and I were definitely going to spend a lot more of our weekends in Edinburgh once my cousin moved.
Twenty-Seven
Shay drove the Peugeot in on Monday morning once da was satisfied that we’d both had a good breakfast and let us get off. “You should talk to your landlord about getting some more gravel put on this track.” My cousin commented as we bumped down to Culloden Road. “That last bit’s going to wash out with a few more heavy rains.”
“I sent him an email about it last week,” I told him, pleased that I’d remembered to do that. “Thanks, by the way, you really made da’s day yesterday, mine too to be honest.” He flashed me a rueful smile.
“Yeah well, maybe if you’d given us a proper scare a bit sooner, I wouldn’t have put it off for as long as I did. There’s nothing quite like another reminder that none of us know when the clock will run out is there?” I winced, but he was focused on avoiding the bumps. “We don’t all get together often enough these days, do we? And we should, while we can, even if it means spending more money on myself than I feel comfortable about.”
“You’re not spending it on yourself though, not really. Besides, whatever you buy will probably increase in value a lot faster than some of those odd little companies you’ve invested in.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, “but renewables are the future, Con, and I know my stuff. Most of those investments will do fine, and they’re all spotlessly ethical too. What’s the point of helping any needy kids if the planet they have to grow up on becomes uninhabitable?” He made the turn onto the road more smoothly than I usually did, sparing me a jolt. “Are we going to your place or McKinnon’s?”
“McKinnon’s, he’s got Ferguson there. No point in moving him.”
“Caitlin?” he asked.
“She’ll meet us there. I think I’ll have her in the observation room, though. If our speculations about Archie and Ferguson are right, he might react better to us two. It’s worth a try, anyway.” He arched an amused eyebrow.
“I’ll make sure to be properly solicitous of you then, my poor wounded friend.” Another grin. “Sounds like fun.”
“Just don’t ham it up. And don’t start until we’re in the room with him, for pity’s sake! I don’t want the whole bloody building gossiping.” Shay just snickered, but I knew he’d judge it perfectly. He always did.
McKinnon was ready for us, and he had a new little file for us to read through before we got started too, a very tasty morsel he’d decided to hold back over the weekend while I ‘rested up’ properly. Once Ferguson had been brought up, we left James and Caitlin in the next room, to watch, and I threw my right arm over Shay’s shoulders so he could help me limp into the interview room. He got me settled across from Ferguson with a very restrained, cool bit of fussing and settled into the next chair which he surreptitiously moved close enough to allow him to place a light hand on my thigh, under the table where Ferguson couldn’t see it. He could easily judge the angle of the arm though and did so. Shay smoothly shifted very slightly and scratched his own leg before moving the arm up to let his torn and bruised fingers tap idly on the file that he’d placed on the tabletop. Yeah, Ferguson had a good look at that hand, speculating. Then my cousin lifted his head, swept back his hair, and stared coldly at our captive audience.
That got Ferguson’s total attention. His knowing little smile disappeared as he reacted like most people did, with a shocked little intake of air. His eyes flicked over to take in my face, but I gave him absolutely nothing. Shay reached out and switched the recorder on.
“This is Detective Chief Inspector Keane,” I said clearly, “with the operative identified as Shay, Justice Department clearances verified and sealed, interviewing Mr Peter Ferguson at 9:12 a.m. on the nineteenth of March.”
An anxious frown from Ferguson as that sank in. I gave it a few seconds before saying anything else, which gave Shay time to toggle the remote in his pocket and pause the recording, along with the device’s digital clock. The red light didn’t so much as flicker.
“We found Mr Peters and Mr Boyd,” I told Ferguson. “I imagine someone was a bit annoyed with them. Rather extreme, for someone like you, Pete?” No visible reaction. “Of course we’ll soon know who put them there. It doesn’t matter if you choose not to comment.” Shay leaned back with a pleased little smile of his own at that last. A slight grimace crossed Ferguson’s face, but he mastered it swiftly, and I doubted it was connected to anything I’d said. I pressed on. “I gather you’d been ‘self-medicating’ when our team popped by to see you on Saturday. Quite an interesting little cocktail, according to the lab analysis.”
I glanced at Shay, who captured my eyes wordlessly for a moment before sliding the file over. I allowed my expression to soften just a tiny fraction before I broke the look and read through the report again. “Tramadol and Oxy, not to mention the booze. Goodness Pete! There must be something seriously wrong with you! Somet
hing similar to what your Archie went through, perhaps?” I turned the page. “No hospital appointments booked, though. How long do you think you have?” He didn’t answer. “Well,” I smiled, “longer now than if they hadn’t intubated you and started you off on the naloxone quickly enough, right? You might have stopped breathing, and that would have been just tragic. Maybe you should thank my good friend Shay here for saving your life.”
“No need for that Conall,” Shay smiled unpleasantly. “A good deed is its own reward… even if Mr Ferguson’s employee did try to throw you off a cliff.” His fist clenched spasmodically as his voice cracked, which made a patch of skin break open and start oozing. He dropped his head again, “Maybe I’ll have Mr Ferguson put in one of our nice, private facilities where he can get all the treatment he needs until the case goes to trial… of course that might not happen for a year or more, with all the backlogs. It’s just a pity the budget cuts have limited our palliative care resources so much.”
Oh, that was pure venom, that voice. Ferguson eyed him with horror. Cops he was used to dealing with, no sweat, but ‘the operative identified as Shay,’ was a whole new level of trouble for a man of his experience. He had no idea how to deal with that kind of threat. I fished out a clean handkerchief and dabbed at Shay’s hand until he snatched it off me to do it himself. I sighed and turned my attention back to Ferguson.
“I’m afraid my colleague takes it a bit personally when people try to kill me, Pete. I’m sure your Archie felt the same whenever anyone tried to hurt you?”
“Aye.” A shaky break in the silence from across the table. “He was the best friend I ever had.”
“Well,” I eased myself back and stared at him neutrally, “perhaps if Shay could understand what happened better, he might be a little more tolerant, a little more understanding of the cause of recent, unfortunate events. He’s not made of stone.”
Dark of Night Page 27
