The Innocent Dead - Rhona MacLeod Series 15 (2020)

by Anderson, Lin

  Magnus did remember her. He’d even spoken to Marge before he left, concerned about how withdrawn Karen had been during their session. Most of the other women had wanted to question him about the psychology involved in many of their troubles, although not Karen.

  Marge had told him then about the husband’s illness, explained how Karen had been completely isolated when caring for him. ‘She had her food delivered. She never even went to the shops. Said she couldn’t leave Jack, even for a minute. She would probably have drunk herself to death if she hadn’t come here. That’s what she told me.’

  ‘So,’ Magnus said to a waiting Pat, ‘what can I do to help?’

  Finishing the call, Magnus noted that Rhona must have completed her contribution as the meeting room was beginning to empty. Magnus waited, wondering who he should speak to regarding Pat’s phone call.

  Ideally, DI Wilson, but glancing in at the door, Magnus saw that Bill was deep in conversation with McCreadie and Rhona at that moment. However, both McNab and DS Clark were heading his way, so Magnus made up his mind to approach them in the first instance.

  Catching DS Clark’s eye – McNab wasn’t acknowledging his presence – Magnus called her name.

  With a quick aside to McNab, who seemed intent on going somewhere, and swiftly, DS Clark approached Magnus.

  ‘Professor Pirie, you heard what was said about Alec McLaughlin at the meeting?’

  ‘I did. May I have a word with you?’

  She looked unsure. ‘Is it about the McLaughlin interview, because it’s probably better if DS McNab’s there too, and he’s had to go out.’

  Magnus briefly wondered whether that was true or McNab was in fact just set on avoiding him.

  ‘It would be better if we three sat down together about that, although I thought it went very well,’ Magnus said. ‘I’ll send you both my thoughts via email. However, what I wanted to say is some new information related to the Mary McIntyre case.’

  Janice looked interested. ‘Shall we get a coffee in the canteen then?’

  Magnus was happy to agree, preferring the cafeteria to an interview room.

  Collecting their coffees, Janice led Magnus to a quiet corner.

  ‘So,’ she said, once they were seated. ‘Fire away.’

  Not for the first time did Magnus think how much easier it was to talk to DS Clark than McNab. And not for the first time did he try and analyse why that was. Dysfunctional relationships went both ways. Magnus found McNab’s sharp edges and cynicism difficult to handle at times. As for McNab, Magnus wasn’t sure whether the detective didn’t like him personally or whether he didn’t like what Magnus represented – the world of forensic psychology.

  And yet, he thought briefly, when they did work together, like in the sin-eater case, their combined knowledge of the criminal mind often resulted in success.

  ‘What did you want to run past me, Professor?’ DS Clark’s enquiry broke into his thoughts.

  ‘I’ve been visiting a number of recovery cafes over the past couple of months,’ Magnus told her. ‘I assume you know about these?’

  DS Clark nodded.

  ‘Well, while visiting Barlinnie recently, actually to interview Mr McLaughlin, I bumped into Pat Robertson, who was there with three colleagues to run the in-house cafe.’ Magnus checked to see if DS Clark was following him.

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘Anyway, I hadn’t seen her since she’d taken me for a session at the women’s recovery cafe in Raploch in Stirling.’

  At the mention of Stirling, DS Clark’s interest seemed to grow.

  ‘Anyway, I exited the strategy meeting to take a call from Pat.’ Magnus paused. ‘It turns out that Karen Johnston, who is part of their group, is in fact Karen Marshall, Mary McIntyre’s best friend at the time of her disappearance. She married a man called Jack Johnston and lives in Stirling.’

  DS Clark’s eyes lit up. ‘That’s excellent news. Is she going to make contact with us?’

  ‘That’s not a certainty,’ Magnus said. ‘According to Pat and the group’s leader, Marge, Karen’s been in a very delicate and often confused state since the death of her husband from dementia, and she left the meeting abruptly before the TV appeal with Mary’s siblings. They don’t know if she saw it, but up to now she has refused to put herself forward, suggesting it wasn’t necessary, since they hadn’t identified the body as Mary’s.’

  ‘But we have now, and she’s a key witness,’ DS Clark said. ‘Do you have this woman’s contact details?’

  ‘I have her mobile number, which she isn’t answering, according to Pat. The group don’t have her address.’

  DS Clark considered this. ‘We can trace her through her mobile.’

  ‘It’s a pay-as-you-go,’ Magnus said.

  ‘Okay. There are other ways. You said her husband died recently?’

  ‘Within the last year, I believe.’

  ‘So we contact social services, check funeral parlours, find her doctor’s practice.’

  It all sounded straightforward, yet Magnus could foresee the difficulties even after they’d located Karen.

  ‘This woman is already traumatized,’ he said, ‘and from what Pat says, the discovery of Mary’s body could have made things worse.’

  Janice waited as he explained further.

  ‘Apparently she was having flashbacks about Mary’s disappearance even before the body was discovered. Finding out it was her friend might have brought back terrible memories.’

  ‘Memories we are keen to ask her about.’ DS Clark rose. ‘I need to get started on this, Professor. Thank you for bringing it to us.’

  ‘If or when you find her, I would urge caution on how you question her. Childhood traumas are deep-rooted, often buried well down in the psyche and devastating when they finally surface.’

  DS Clark gave him a studied look. ‘I have every intention of asking the boss to bring you in on this. The help you gave us regarding the McLaughlin interview was invaluable.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Even though my partner may not have given that impression.’

  Watching her leave, Magnus was conscious that, having been entrusted with the information about Karen Johnston, he had now just handed it over to the police.

  Was that what Pat, or even Marge, had intended?

  He’d asked Pat what he might do to help. Her advice had been to find Karen whatever way he could. Pat knew he would go to the police, because that was the quickest and most efficient way to contact Karen, but still Magnus wasn’t sure it was the best way.

  He pictured Karen again, sitting opposite him at the meeting. Magnus could see, looking back now, the struggle it had taken her to get herself there. If she was so fragile back then, what might her state of mind be now?

  He pulled out his phone. As requested, Pat had texted him Marge Smith’s number, with the message,

  She knows more about Karen’s state of mind than me. I only visit the cafe on occasion.

  Magnus contemplated the number briefly, then rang it.

  ‘Marge here,’ answered a booming voice he recognized.

  ‘Marge, it’s Magnus Pirie.’

  ‘Professor. How are you?’

  ‘Well, Marge, thanks . . .’ As he hesitated about what to say exactly, Marge rescued him.

  ‘I take it Pat got in touch about Karen?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘Something’s happened to her, Professor. I just know it. That bloody diary was haunting her.’

  ‘What diary?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘She had a diary she wrote around the time of her pal’s abduction. It was creeping her out and she asked me to look after it for her. Of course, I said yes. Then after the session earlier today, she runs off with the diary again. And I don’t think she’s planning to come back.’

  Magnus realized from the brief words spoken that there was more to this tale than Pat Robertson had been aware of.

  ‘Can I come and speak to you about this, Marge?’ he said.

  There was a
moment’s silence before, ‘Sure thing, Professor.’ Marge started to give him her address in Raploch, then said, ‘Or better still, we can meet at the community hub. There’s a great wee cafe there with good coffee and scones. How long will it take you to get here?’

  ‘I’ll be there in an hour,’ Magnus promised.

  33

  They had moved into Bill’s office. Rhona noted the familiarity of the room, which she hadn’t been in for a while. The old swivel chair that Bill had rescued when, during renovations, someone had been foolish enough to throw it out.

  It had been in here that Bill had tried to convince her to go to Castlebrae to recuperate and it was in this place that she’d thanked him for his concern and said no. That she would go to Skye instead.

  In the end she’d needed both places in order to heal. One hadn’t been enough.

  Bill was offering them coffee or tea, and urging them to take a seat. Rhona chose coffee, as did McCreadie, and both sat down. Rhona realized she wasn’t sure how to refer to the former detective. In her head, she thought of him as former DI McCreadie, but that had been a long time ago. She wondered whether he now preferred the Smart surname.

  As Bill dealt with the coffees, Rhona posed the question.

  He bestowed a smile on her. ‘Just call me J. D. That’s what my readers call me, and it’s also my autograph when I’m asked to sign books.’

  ‘Why did you change your name when you became an author?’ Rhona asked.

  ‘I started writing when I came out of the forces. It seemed sensible to have a pseudonym after both my previous occupations.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘I still have enemies from the past. What police officer doesn’t? Same could be said for Special Forces.’

  Bill came over then and handed them their coffee.

  ‘I thought it important that you two meet in person, since this case may hopefully be helped by forensic developments in the last forty-five years. And since we appear to have no record of what was done back then in forensic terms, you,’ he nodded to J. D., ‘would seem to be our only known source of information on that front.’

  Rhona watched as J. D. considered this. ‘You’ve not found the evidence boxes?’

  ‘Not as yet, but we’re still looking,’ Bill said.

  ‘I don’t think Dr MacLeod needs me to tell her how primitive it was in terms of forensics. She deals with it in her lecture on the World’s End case, specifically with that startling image of the row of plods standing six inches from the body on the beach. Now that made me grue when I saw it, although it was standard practice at the time.’

  He continued, ‘Bear in mind it was a missing child and not a crime scene or a deposition site we were dealing with.’ He looked to Rhona. ‘So all we could really do was map out her movements and interview any suspects.’

  ‘What, if any, material was taken from the suspects?’ Rhona said.

  ‘If it had been a murder enquiry, then fingerprints, blood type, maybe fibres. But this wasn’t a murder. So fingerprints only, which apparently we no longer have.’

  Everything he’d said just confirmed what Rhona already suspected. The dress found with the body was the only real link they had with the killer.

  ‘What you said in the strategy meeting about the dress and the DNA you’ve located so far not being from Mary . . .’ J. D. said.

  Rhona waited.

  ‘It reminded me of something I’d forgotten.’

  ‘Go on,’ Bill said.

  ‘It was odd, but her mum said the school clothes Mary was wearing before she got dressed up for the confirmation were missing from her bedroom.’

  ‘And you never found them?’ Rhona said.

  ‘No. We assumed she’d taken them with her to change into later.’

  ‘But she was coming back to the school, which was across the road from her house,’ Rhona said. ‘Why would she take a change of clothing with her?’

  J. D. nodded. ‘We wondered if she’d planned to go to the den she had with Karen and maybe change there, so as not to mess up her dress.’

  ‘Did you ask Karen about this?’

  ‘When she did talk, she just kept saying how much Mary loved her dress. Then she shut up altogether.’

  Karen was key to all of this, if they could locate her, Rhona thought. Even down to the actual dress Mary had worn that day.

  ‘I’m not convinced Mary was wearing the dress we found in the grave, either when she was killed or even when she was moved to the deposition site,’ Rhona said. ‘So maybe she was dressed in her normal clothes. Did her mother describe them?’

  ‘Her usual school clothes: a hand-knitted blue woollen jumper and grey pleated skirt, white ankle socks and leather sandals.’

  Rhona thought back to the trace samples they’d retrieved from the clothes and, in particular, the body. The taping she’d done in the grave before they’d taken the body to the mortuary had resulted in mostly peaty deposits, as she’d suspected, but not only that. There had also been microscopic pieces of hair, like shavings.

  ‘What?’ J. D. said, seeing her expression.

  Rhona shook her head, indicating she’d been absorbing what he’d just told her.

  ‘So,’ J. D. said, ‘it looks like it’s up to you, Dr MacLeod.’ He assumed an apologetic air. ‘Let’s hope you have more luck than I did.’

  J. D. said his goodbyes then, reminding Bill that anything more they needed from him, they only had to ask. Rhona stayed, keen to get Bill’s feelings on both the strategy meeting and their tête-à-tête with J. D. Smart.

  ‘So,’ Bill said, ‘what do you think?’

  ‘The new information on Mary’s clothes was important,’ Rhona said. ‘When I taped the body in situ, I picked up a lot of peat, but mixed with it were tiny bits of hair. I couldn’t think what that meant, but then I remembered a case from way back, in England. The murder of a young girl. She was found naked, but there were microscopic stubby hairs which turned out to come from her killer, who’d recently had his hair razor cut. Are there any photos of the suspects taken at that time?’

  Bill shook his head. ‘It’s as if the case files disappeared just like Mary McIntyre did.’

  ‘J. D. mentioned Sir Peter White as being his superior at the time. Is he still alive?’

  ‘No. We’re trying to chase up anyone else involved in the case, or with knowledge of it. Our best sources of information at the moment would seem to be former DI McCreadie and the siblings of Mary, and Karen herself of course.’

  Rhona wondered if J. D. was also keen to keep it that way.

  ‘What?’ Bill said, reading her expression.

  ‘Does it strike you that he only tells us what he wants us to know, and at a time of his own choosing? It’s like dropping clues in a crime novel,’ Rhona said.

  ‘In which we’re the players and he’s directing the plot?’ Bill suggested.

  ‘Exactly.’ Thinking on from that, Rhona added, ‘I’ll take a bet he’s writing a book about the Mary McIntyre case. One in which J. D. Smart leads us to the killer.’

  ‘You think our former DI may already know who killed Mary?’

  ‘I think it’s a distinct possibility,’ Rhona said.

  34

  ‘What took you so long?’ McNab enquired when Janice appeared. ‘Don’t tell me, Professor Pirie had loads to say about McLaughlin’s interview, mainly featuring how shite we were at doing it?’

  Janice bestowed a look on him that would have curdled milk.

  ‘Okay, okay, what did our friendly forensic psychologist have to say then?’

  Janice relented. ‘He thought the interview with McLaughlin went well, and we could meet sometime and talk about it further. Plus he would email us his notes.’

  McNab raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut, because his partner’s expression defied him to do otherwise.

  ‘Also,’ Janice continued en route to the vehicle, ‘he thinks he’s located Karen Marshall, married name Johnston, via a recovery cafe in Raploch, Stirling.’
/>   ‘Jesus!’ McNab said, coming to an abrupt halt. ‘That’s good news.’

  ‘Yes and no. It appears she was pretty freaked at the body’s discovery and is uncontactable by mobile, and the other women don’t know her address.’

  Having reached the car, McNab made his way swiftly towards the driver’s door, just in case Janice was considering taking the wheel again. However, Janice seemed unperturbed by his move, and opened the door on the passenger side.

  ‘So,’ McNab said, once safely in his seat of choice, ‘you’ve got someone looking for the address?’

  ‘Yes.’

  McNab started the engine with a smile. He was feeling good about all of this, including being back in charge of the car.

  ‘So where is Father Feeney residing now?’ Janice said.

  ‘Father Joseph Feeney, aka Declan Walsh, left the priesthood ten years ago. He now lives in a flat in the West End of Glasgow and is aware of our forthcoming visit,’ McNab said.

  ‘You spoke to him?’

  ‘He called us on the number given on the TV appeal, although Ollie had already located his whereabouts prior to that.’

  ‘Do we know anything about him over the time between then and now?’

  ‘According to Ollie’s trawl, Father Feeney was transferred to a diocese in Belfast after the Mary McIntyre case, where he served until he decided to leave the priesthood. Why he did that, we don’t know.’

  ‘Well, we can always ask,’ Janice said in her usual forthright manner.

  McNab hadn’t been strictly accurate about not knowing any more than he’d told Janice. It was just that Ollie couldn’t confirm the other stuff he’d told McNab, so it could of course be online porkies, and McNab preferred to carry his cards close to his chest anyway.

  Having a partner on the job was fine, even good at times (all that stuff about having your back), but it wasn’t that different from personal relationships. Better to keep a few secrets.

  Father Feeney now lived in the converted former Notre Dame Chapel in Victoria Crescent. McNab chose not to mention this, interested as he was to see Janice’s expression once they arrived.

  He wasn’t disappointed.