by Caro Ramsay
And she ran. Heading for Haggerty.
Anderson stopped, watching in horror as she kept moving, grabbing Haggerty round the waist. He had been expecting a punch or a blow but not to be held, so low, her arms round his waist, her shoulder pushing him off balance. She was light, but quick, and she had the momentum of the roll of the land to carry them both stumbling towards the edge of the cliff. He saw Haggerty’s heels dig into the soft ground, his hands trying to prise himself free from her, but she had her prey. She wasn’t letting go now. Anderson thought he saw Haggerty manage to force up her head, forcing her to choose between releasing him or having her neck broken.
Anderson didn’t know if they went over the edge together or apart. He saw, he thought, blue sky and grey sea between them, before they hung in mid-air for the briefest of moments. Then they plummeted from his view.
Anderson stood shocked, blinking, thinking about running forward to make sure, but his legs didn’t move. He heard the waves, somebody screaming and somebody shouting. He turned. Patrick was pointing it at him, right at his forehead.
‘Drop! Drop.’
Anderson opened his mouth but dropped to his knees, this had all been so, so wrong. He heard the gun fire once, a bang so loud even the wind stopped in shock. Anderson felt himself fall. Face down into the grass, it was wet on his skin. He heard another blast then another two. He felt the rain fall on the back of his neck, a dribble leaked from the corner of his mouth. He heard Patrick approach. He thought there might be another bullet in the chamber; the muzzle would be cold against the back of his head. Military precision, Mathieson had said that. Why had he not listened?
He thought about Moses, about Claire and … then he felt a hand on his collar, pulling him up.
‘Silly bastard. That piece of shit was right behind you.’
Anderson raised himself up on his elbows and looked behind him. Neil Taverner, lying with bits of him missing, staring at the sky. Glinting in the grass was a knife, with a long thin blade. He was less than two feet away. Anderson had seen the damage that knife could do.
So very close.
Anderson put his head back on the grass, He wasn’t going anywhere for a wee while yet.
Anderson had to crawl the first few yards before he was up on his feet, walking towards the edge. His shoes slipped on the damp grass as he neared the precipice. Slowing, he stepped carefully, the edge was unstable, broken, land slips, mini cliffs, bites taken out here and there. He got back on his knees, hearing a warning shout from somebody behind him. He crawled to the edge, looking, his dirty fingers clawing through the mud then over at the waves crashing on the rocks below. Down near the narrow band of soft white sand lay the body of George Haggerty spread-eagled on the waterline. His head in the water being buffeted, rolling back and forth with the advance and retreat of the smallest waves like a nodding puppet. If the fall, over a hundred feet, had not killed him, then the sea surely would.
Anderson steeled himself to look along the water’s edge. Nothing. Then he moved closer, looking directly down, scanning the cliff, then he saw her, caught on a ledge. He shouted down but there was no reply, no response at all. He looked past her to the mass of blonde hair caught on a grassy ledge further down.
Not Costello.
Back at the Exciseman, Anderson had spent a long time in a hot bath thinking about Costello and where she was. As Valerie had been lifted from her narrow grassy hammock on the side of the cliff onto a cradle and winched up the cliff face, her eyes had sought out Anderson. They suspected a spinal fracture and a few broken limbs but as they carried her past she had weakly pointed a finger at him. He had lifted her oxygen mask just enough for him to hear, ‘Costello’s fine. She did good.’
He whispered in her ear, ‘And so did you.’ He replaced the mask, her eyes closed with a sense of peace. Mission accomplished.
He had felt like crying, Patrick had stood back, giving him a moment.
At the Exciseman bar, the owner was now very friendly, telling Anderson to get his jacket, there was a double measure of eighteen-year-old Glendronach waiting outside.
‘Outside?’
Beyond prying ears.
Alastair Patrick was sitting alone, on a bench on the seafront, two crystal glasses cradled in his gloved fingers. Without looking, he passed one over to Anderson and for a moment they sat in silence, the wind had died, the rain had stopped. They looked out over the dark water of the Sound, it merged into the darker sky somewhere beyond the horizon. Patrick seemed hypnotized by the rhythmic sweep of the beam of the Rua Riedh lighthouse.
Anderson felt comforted by it. How many sailors out there in the unseen darkness, were watching.
‘So, what are you SO14? SO15? Any other number we mere mortals are not allowed to know about?’ asked Anderson, sipping the malt. It warmed his heart.
‘SO 15? Do I look like a tosser?’ Patrick whispered. ‘Anyway, all this almost makes you believe in the Good Lord, now that the demons have been chased, the resident evil is no longer … resident.’
‘That was some shooting you did.’
‘Not that difficult. I wasn’t caring if I hit you.’ Patrick kept his eyes on the water.
‘You a weapons man, somewhere?’
‘Some might say.’
‘Was Valerie trying to fire that gun? Did it jam? How did you know it would fire?’
‘Ruger. It fires OK if you release the safety.’
Anderson smiled.
Patrick continued, ‘And for your paperwork, you need to know that Kieran Cowan was never left alone after he was discovered. The chain of evidence was kept intact, your little orange fibres are safe evidence. And he’s alive to testify that it was Haggerty who attacked him.’
‘Would I regret asking who was watching over Cowan on the Bealach that morning, if I needed a statement?’
‘No, you wouldn’t regret it. But you wouldn’t get an answer.’
‘OK. Is something going on up here? Something important?’
‘Some folk might say that. Preparation. Exercises. You’ve seen the news.’
‘The Yemen? Are they going to—’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
Another silence felt between then.
‘You saved my life, Neil Taverner was going to slit my throat.’
‘You would have survived. He’s watched too many Hollywood films to do it properly.’
‘You knew for a while though. About them both.’
‘They were clever but it was a house of cards. We needed a catalyst, after we found Cowan, I knew it was game on. It was stepping stones after that. The McCaffrey boy. Then the Abernethy woman came here, stuck out like a sore thing. We were watching, of course, waiting. And she was following him. He wasn’t expecting that so his guard was down. Sneaky woman, Abernethy, surprised me.’
‘He thought he had killed the woman who had been following him. Haggerty must have thought they got away with it.’
‘Feeling secure made them sloppy.’
‘Why did you take Finn?’
‘For his own safety. Morna said she was doing her sergeant’s exams. Neil immediately increased her life insurance. Then there were a couple of accidents, incidents? Nothing was going to happen to Morna on my watch. Easier to lift them and contain them. She’ll forgive me when she calms down. She has more to concern her.’
‘It was not lawful. And what happened to Neil Taverner wasn’t lawful.’
‘It was quick, better than he deserved,’ Patrick’s voice was hard.
‘What happened to his body?’
A shrug.
‘I thought you might have an idea.’
Patrick ignored him. ‘The Millennium Falcon is in Taverner’s garage. Abernethy’s fingerprints are on the inside which is perfectly natural as she’s on record as saying she built it with Malcolm last Christmas.’
Anderson nodded, glad of solid evidence.
Patrick said quietly, ‘Did you not see Neil Taverner roll down that hill? I think his body got
washed out to sea.’
‘I saw him lying …’
‘You saw nothing, you were chewing the grass.’ Patrick looked along the water, watching the light sweep. ‘Aye well. They’ll be a wee hiatus in the efficiency of drug running for a while. Hope the drug squad try to capitalize on that. Slip in someone undercover, somebody good.’
‘Sounds like you fancy the job yourself?’
‘Twenty, thirty years ago nae bother.’ Patrick took a large slug, smiling. ‘It’s always the same. You need balls to do that kind of job.’
‘Who dares wins?’
And Anderson thought that Alastair Patrick might have winked at him.
FIFTEEN
Sunday, 3rd of December
Costello was in her hospital bed, sitting up like a posed doll, stiff against the pillows. The bruising around her eyes had blackened. Her hair was sticking up. She looked like a drunk raccoon.
She was wondering when the pain would cease when the door opened. A tall blond man walked in followed by a small man, better dressed, with salt and pepper hair. OK, maybe not better dressed but he carried his clothes better, as if he owned them. With the taller man, it was the other way round.
‘So here you are,’ DCI Colin Anderson said, not keeping the bite of anger from his voice. Just because she wasn’t fit enough to hear it, didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to say it.
‘How’s Valerie?’
‘Three vertebral fractures, both femurs broken. She’s in Raigmore.’
‘Did you really think it was me?’ asked Costello.
‘I hoped,’ answered Anderson. ‘Especially when she went over the cliff.’ He resisted the urge to lean forward and pat her on the head. The fracture at the rear of her skull was covered by a dressing. He had seen the film now, Costello running forward to help a fatally wounded McCaffrey. Not hearing the second man, Taverner, arm raised ready to bring a tyre lever down on her head. O’Hare said she had been lucky. She had her hood up and a hat on under that. The cushioning had saved her life.
Costello’s eyes looked at Anderson then to Walker, back to Anderson. ‘And who are you, exactly?’ She wasn’t laughing; there was no sarcastic humour in her face.
Now it was Anderson and Walker’s turn to look at each other.
‘You two are so easy to wind up.’ She smiled. ‘Getting a bit of memory back every day.’
‘I’ve brought you some grapes,’ said Walker, pulling up another seat.
‘How long have we worked together?’
‘Must be about twenty years, maybe more,’ said Anderson. ‘It seems like a life sentence.’ Injecting a sense of their normal relationship into a conversation. ‘How is your memory really? Do you remember resigning?’
Costello tried to shake her head, then stopped as it hurt so much.
‘You told the big boss to stick his job up his arse.’ Anderson said gleefully. ‘But Mitchum didn’t process it as he thought you …’
‘Weren’t serious?’
‘No, he thought you were barking mad. There will be an investigation but I think Police Scotland will have you back. So how is the memory really?’
She shrugged. ‘Patchy. It’s not so bad, living in this world in my head. Things are very clear, very cut and dry, I know the essence of somebody, nothing else. It’s useful.’ She chewed on her lip, looking out the window, a slow smile formed on her lips. ‘So Valerie got him. Our plan worked.’ She closed her eyes now, as if with that knowledge, she could sleep more easily. ‘She’s paying for me to be here you know.’
‘Well she can afford it, she’s going to inherit the house.’
Her eyes flashed open. ‘You were with me.’ Her forefinger drifted towards Walker’s face, seeing a small nod of agreement. ‘When we found the bodies. Haggerty killed them both.’
‘He couldn’t have, he was on the A9 at the time. He got his sideman to do it for him. Haggerty helped Taverner with the rapes. Taverner did Haggerty’s murders for him. As you guessed, he was in the garage all along.’
‘Bastard. I knew Haggerty was behind it. You lot were doing bugger all about it. So I did something myself. Poor Abigail, targeted by George after Oscar disappeared.’
‘You were very sure, on very little evidence.’
‘I was on the receiving end of his taunts. I have a very clear memory of that. I have a clear memory that he had persuaded you lot not to listen to me, he wanted to discredit me. Though I doubt he thought I’d get suspected of murdering Donnie. He must have loved that. You can’t protect yourself against gossip and lies, so in that way, he got me. And he got me good.’
‘Why were you there at the lochside? Whatever it was, you could have come to us,’ said Walker delicately. ‘We would have listened.’
‘You didn’t. You told me to get lost. All anybody could talk about was his alibi. Donnie was the only one who listened to me. And that got him killed.’ She blinked back a tear. ‘George was tailing me at times after Abigail’s death, I did tell you that. And what did you do? You told George.’
Anderson closed his eyes. Had he really done that?
‘George was off his work after the murders, he had all day to annoy me, and you lot were happy to stand aside and let him. I was following him as much as he was following me. Donnie and I were nowhere near careful enough. It had become comical almost, it made us forget how dangerous he was, and I will never forgive myself for that. But we had no choice. But you know …’ She was getting angry. ‘It took us ten minutes looking into George’s life up north to come to Neil Taverner as the man with the opportunity. Donnie and his love of the sidemen, he almost profiled Taverner before we got near him. An adoring wife who earns more than he does, whose value goes up as a mother, yet the father is not close to the child. You do my crime and I will do yours, not an uncommon thing when there is a long-term bond between two people. The bond between Taverner and Haggerty was much stronger than the bond between Taverner and his wife, or Haggerty and his wife.’
‘Costello? What were you doing at the lochside?’ Anderson asked again.
‘We met to go to the campsite, it’s only four miles up the road, and wait for Taverner to do his pick-up of the luggage. That was all. We met at the loch so we were only in one car, to look less conspicuous. But we didn’t think they were following us, we didn’t think.’
In hindsight, Anderson had thought it through. They hadn’t been as careful as they should have been. Costello had believed that Haggerty thought she would accept his warning off, but Haggerty had realized that she had taken it as a sign to freelance her investigation. He had made her more dangerous. Anderson might have told Haggerty that himself. Donnie had thought Cowan was Taverner and had followed him up to the viewing point. Cowan had been in the wrong place, wrong time.
Walker filled up the gaps. ‘So Taverner and Haggerty realized there were three of you and only two of them, so they placed a stop box on each vehicle in the car park. They came prepared to clean up the situation. As you were left alone, they presumed you were dead. Haggerty goes after Kieran, and waits for him to pull over. Taverner takes Donnie away from the scene and drives up north, as he was scheduled to do. You were in the grass bleeding. Haggerty had to retrieve your phones, mix the blood, spill a little cocaine, pour some drink around the scene. They wanted to destroy your reputation. Cowan made them panic, it made them careless.’
Costello settled back into the pillow on her chair. She closed her eyes, her eyelids pink islands in the bruised patches around her eye sockets. ‘I think I can see Donnie on the ground, I was coming up the hill, my thighs are sore because of the climb. I remember trying to get away. I ran forward to help but … Then I don’t remember. I was on the ground at one point. I tried to get up, I remember wet hands round my neck. There was a blow on the back of my head, not sure what happened then. I don’t recall much but being in here.’
‘You crawled away, through the undergrowth. You got out.’
Walker said, ‘The doctor explained your thinking brain shut off
, your deep brain was looking for patterns, for safety. People do the weirdest things. So by the time you were picked up in the middle of Glasgow, you had changed, showered and gone back out. You left your car at Lochmaben Road.’
‘Where my grandmother used to live.’
‘You drove it there, ignoring the clatter of the ball bearings. You sat in the park then ran off when the police were called. Then you walked home, then out to Buchannan Street, we have you on CCTV. Do you know why you did that?’
She shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’
‘You could have come to me,’ said Anderson.
‘George was at your house, so what good would that have done me?’
And it was true, he’d lost count of how many times George asked him if he’d seen Costello.
And George had known she was onto him. He knew they could be intercepted and caught red-handed at a baggage pick up or drop and the one closest to Glasgow seemed most logical. He wondered how many times they had watched Costello and she had not moved, but when she did they were ready. She had been arrogant and stupid, and because of her, three wee boys would grow up without a dad.
‘Taverner was picking up and distributing drugs, mostly cocaine. The big bags, like a golf flight bag, well they contained the luggage for transportation to the different sites, and they were lined with old carpet, orange tri-lobular fibres. That puts a lot of connections together.’
‘So George wasn’t the rapist,’ asked Costello.
‘He wasn’t. He was the facilitator of the rapes. There’s a team on it now. They have already proven he knew Sally and that Haggerty and Taverner were in Glasgow when she was raped.’
‘But it was very useful for him to have us pursue him on something he was innocent of. The “Clapping Song” playing. He clapped at me at the funeral. So no I did not work it out, he told me. The clapping is in Sally’s notes, it’s in the case file of Gillian Witherspoon as well, and there will be more, there will be more out there. Haggerty clapped, Taverner raped, Haggerty probably watched.’ Costello thought about shaking her head again.
