There was no particular order to anything and what was there was likely to be just a fraction of the case material at Leith, but there was absolutely no chance I could get to any of that, so I’d just need to use what I could find. Alyson herself could be in some deep trouble if anyone got wind that she had this stuff here. I guessed a mixture of tiredness and desperation had resulted in her failure to follow protocol. Besides, the way she’d described her boss, it was likely you’d find a similar scene in her home, too.
There was a recent statement taken from the grandfather. I took a photo of it, as well as some notes on addresses on a final sheet. There was a whole bunch of statements bundled together from Father McCauley’s congregation, tethered by a large, red elastic band. There was a post-it note on the front in Alyson’s handwriting that read ‘Waste of time’. Given my own limited time, I decided to trust her judgement and left it alone. There were DVLA printouts, but no real explanation why. There was a file marked ‘Fr McCauley work history’. Not much in there, but it’s likely this was an important avenue to explore and I imagined there would be much more of it in the office. I photographed what was there. There were technical notes on the locus at Rickerburn and at the church in Leith; I snapped them along with the initial statements from the witnesses who discovered the bodies in both murders. There were also statements from the immediate family and friends of Callum Bradley, as well as another combined pile of statements from classmates and teachers. It was all too much to go through and Aly would have mentioned something if there was anything to see, so I let it go too. What I had would have to do. I returned the documents as well as I could remember and then checked the picture I’d taken to make the final few adjustments. If Alyson noticed that anything was out of place, well, she’d left them on the kitchen table, nothing that couldn’t be explained away.
When I got to work, there had been another report of cowboy workmen; something the uniform shift had left for us under the flimsy excuse that we were already dealing with something similar. Morgan hadn’t seemed bothered – quite the opposite. He saw it as an opportunity to gather more evidence on his own case, and perhaps it was. Vikram had been given the go-ahead to train as a tutor constable and I left Morgan in his hands. Mandy had her own thing on and so I was left alone to read through everything I’d captured earlier. If there was any part of me that had hoped to find some glaring hole in a well-trained and well-run major investigation team’s efforts, it was quickly disappointed. Even from the scant details I could gather from the kitchen table, everything had been scrutinised time and time again. I didn’t know where to start. Even if I did, should I?
Fuck it, I thought. Let’s just kick the tires and see what happens. I ran through the pictures on my phone and stopped at a statement that was taken from close by. Close by, but dangerously close to the Leith office.
I parked down a side street and walked the short distance to Elm Place, one of these colony-style back-to-back streets that were common in the capital. The houses were packed tightly together with small front gardens. The address was a particularly well-kept example, even sporting a tiny greenhouse on the mowed patch of lawn. I rang the bell and was met with an older lady, who smiled warmly.
‘Josephine Wilson?’ I asked.
‘That’s right.’
‘I’m sorry to bother you, and I hope I haven’t come at a bad time. I was wondering if I might have a chat with you?’
‘Is this about Father McCauley?’
‘Yes. I appreciate you’ve been spoken to before—’
‘Three times now,’ she interjected, but not unkindly. I actually had no idea how many times she’d been called on, all I had was her initial statement. This really was looking more and more like a fool’s errand.
‘It’s just a few follow-up questions, Mrs Wilson. It wouldn’t take long.’
‘Call me Nan. Go through to the kitchen, it’s on the right,’ she said and pushed the door wide. I wiped my feet and entered. There was a young girl sitting on a stool by the countertop.
‘Hello,’ I said. She looked bashful. There was a smile, but then she went back to eating her scone and jam.
‘This is Poppy,’ said Nan. The granddaughter, I deduced, as Nan came in behind me to fill the kettle at the sink.
‘Nice to meet you, Poppy. How old are you?’
‘You can answer him, love. What does this man do for a living?’
‘A policeman,’ Poppy said.
‘How do you know he’s a policeman?’ said Nan.
‘’Cause of the clothes,’ the girl said. She was staring at the items on my belt.
‘Do you want to try this on?’ I said and took off my hat.
Poppy looked to Nan for confirmation and then nodded. I placed it on her head, it came down over one eye. She giggled and straightened it.
‘Poppy is six. Her mum’s due to pick her up any minute, then we can chat.’
By the time I was nearing the bottom of my cup of tea, Poppy had come out of her shell, telling me all about her school and how a policewoman had come to her class with a sniffer dog one day. ‘We weren’t allowed to pet him, ’cause he’s not a pet,’ she said.
‘That’s right. They’ve got an important job to do, don’t they,’ I said.
Her mother arrived and froze when she entered the kitchen. ‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ I assured her. ‘It’s a couple of follow-up questions for your mum.’
Poppy was full of smiles as she waved goodbye. I could hear Nan’s daughter whispering in the hall, asking if she was OK and if she should stay. She was soon shooed out.
‘Another cup before we begin?’ Nan said.
‘No, thank you. I really won’t keep you long.’ She gestured at the table and we sat. As we did, I thought about where to begin.
‘That must have been a hell of a shock, finding Father McCauley?’
Nan was using her hand to sweep together a few crumbs from the table surface. ‘I was a nurse, a long time ago, I’ve seen my share of blood, but I can’t say it prepared me for that.’
‘I’m sorry that you had to see it. We’re working very hard to catch the person responsible.’
‘Is it true it’s the same person that killed that child?’
There was no point in denying it, she’d read it in any one of a dozen newspapers. ‘I’m afraid that appears to be the case. So, as you can imagine, we’re throwing every resource at this.’
‘Is that why you’re here and not one of the detectives?’
‘Yes,’ I lied, and was glad she’d given me a plausible explanation herself. ‘Can you think of a reason anyone would want to do this to Father McCauley?’ It was broad brush question, and unlikely to yield anything useful; its purpose was simply to get the conversation started.
‘Not one. He was a gentle man. I said as much to your colleagues. I don’t remember him ever having an argument with a living soul, a falling out of any kind.’
I thought about the statement I’d read, and about the two I hadn’t, trying to find some angle that hadn’t been covered. ‘Is it possible he had any personal debts he was hiding?’
‘As I said to the detective who was here last time, I can’t tell you for certain, I guess everyone has a secret, even priests, but no, there was nothing about his behaviour that gave me that impression. Aren’t you going to write this down?’ she said.
‘No, I thought we’d just keep this fairly informal this time, if that’s OK?’
‘Yes, this is already going so much quicker. Having to stop to let the person write down every word is tedious. But I know this is important,’ she said and pulled the gathered crumbs off the table and into her hand before leaning over and dropping them into the bin.
‘No, I get that. It’s not great having to do the writing down either, trust me. Is there anything you weren’t asked, that you feel maybe should have been? Anything you feel we ought to know?’ This was a little desperate on my part, but I was already running out of ideas.
‘I can’t think of anything
. I feel like I’ve been asked so much, even a lot of uncomfortable stuff. I’m hoping we don’t have to go through that again.’
‘Such as?’
‘This stuff about kids. “Is it possible Father McCauley was involved is some sort of …” well, you know.’
‘So, you discount that entirely?’
‘Entirely. While I didn’t know him all that well, I’d be horrified to hear of any sort of connection like that. I wouldn’t believe it. I’ve never seen him with a child beyond saying hello after service. Never.’
‘Who did he consort with? Who were his friends?’
‘He didn’t have much of a life outside of the Church. He’d get the occasional visitor. He played bridge on a Thursday evening with another priest and a few of the church elders.’
‘Were you able to give the names of these people to the detectives who were here before?’
‘Yes.’
‘Anyone else? Did he even mention someone in passing you weren’t familiar with?’
She thought on this, pursing her lips and staring out the window, but then shook her head.
‘Any other visitors to the manse, other than this bridge club? Anyone at all?’
‘Well, yes, but nobody regular. I mean he’s the priest, he gets visitors. The odd member of the congregation and there was the odd visit from other priests, all the stuff you’d expect.’
‘Again, were you able to give details of these visitors?’ Her eyebrows creased for a second and I suddenly felt I’d been found out. I’d know this stuff if I’d read all of the statements. ‘I know I’m repeating previous work, but we’re just trying to be as thorough as we can.’
‘I couldn’t be specific about the congregation, I wasn’t introduced to anybody really, so I couldn’t help there, but I tried to describe anyone I could remember.’ I thought about the large pile of statements marked as uninteresting by Alyson. ‘The priests he’d usually introduce me to and I have a good memory for names, so I was able to pass that on.’
It had all been asked. I don’t know why I thought I’d get more, but at least I tried. And if anything did happen, I hoped I could take some comfort in that.
‘Nan, thank you very much for your time, and for the tea. I know it’s not pleasant having to think about this stuff over and over, so I really do appreciate it.’ I stood and looked around for my hat, unsure where Poppy had laid it. I found it sitting jauntily on a melon.
‘It’s fine. I really do hope you catch this person soon and so I’m only happy to be of help, though I doubt I’ve been that, really.’
‘At this stage all information is useful.’
She stood too, using the back of the chair for leverage and breathing out hard. I held out my hand and she took it, leaning on me to get straight.
‘I wouldn’t recommend it,’ she said.
‘What’s that?’
‘Getting old. If someone offers it to you, you tell them no.’
I laughed. ‘I’ll do that. Just before I leave, I think you just said that when Father McCauley had priests at the house, he usually introduced you.’
‘Did I? Well, yes.’
‘Usually, but not always?’
‘What was I thinking when I said that?’ She scratched at an ear. ‘Well, yes, there was one time when he didn’t, or at least one time that I can remember.’ I’d just popped in with some shopping and he had a guest. I never caught his name.’
‘What do you remember about him?’
‘Blonde, he was. Like really blonde. Bit younger than Father McCauley, but not young, and it was maybe that he only looked younger with all that blonde hair. He seemed nice enough.’
‘Why do you think he didn’t introduce you?’
‘I don’t know. I mean I was only planning to pop in for a second, I was just passing with some heavy bags and I didn’t fancy taking them all the way home only to heave them back the following day. I surprised him, I suppose. It was a Monday you see, and Sunday and Monday I don’t go in. Not normally.’
‘How did Father McCauley seem?’
‘Surprised, like I said. Maybe a wee bit embarrassed, he was in his usual half-dressed way. But don’t go reading anything into that. More often than not he’d be searching for his trousers when I appear in the morning. I’d had words with him about it.’
‘Sorry to ask, but nothing, you know, hanging out or—’
‘No, no. Nothing like that.’
‘So, it was normal for you to see him half-dressed when you pop round, as you did most days pretty early. But if he had a visitor, did you ever see him like that? Not fully clothed?’
Again, her eyes went to the window. ‘No, I suppose not.’
‘And what sort of time was it this particular day when you popped in? Still really early?’
‘Not on a Monday. I meet a few ladies for coffee after I drop Poppy at school. It was before midday probably, but around that time.’
‘And you’ve never seen this blonde priest before or since that day?’
‘No. I’d have remembered that hair. Lovely it was.’
‘How much of this did you mention to the detectives before?’
‘I think maybe I mentioned it. I can’t be sure, I’m sorry. But you’ll have all that back at the police station?’
‘Yes, of course. Thanks again for your time, Nan.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hangover
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Ethiopian food. Having grown up watching the plight of the country on television through fundraising events and concerts, I’d failed to ever think about their customs and what the cuisine might be like. In fact, when Marcella had suggested dinner over text and I’d asked what sort of place she might like to go to, I thought for a second her reply was some kind of a joke in the poorest taste; that maybe I’d misjudged her as a liberal and compassionate person. In fact, the restaurant on Morrison Street was quite lovely.
I’d left the ordering to her since she’d been there before and soon an enormous flat bread that reminded me of a dosa but on an epic scale, was laid between us. Upon the flatbread was various pastes, dips and salad. Our drinks sat precariously at the very edge of the table.
‘You’re into the new flat then?’ I said, ripping a corner from the bread and scooping up one of the dips.
‘Yes, thank God. It’s costing a fortune with renting this flat and paying the mortgage on the other, but it’s worth it to be out of that place.’ There was a definite lift in her mood. Not that the previous times we’d met she’d been morose or melancholy, but there was a brightness about her now, as if she’d had the first good sleep in a long time.
‘How about you? Your dad still living with this new woman?’
‘Yeah. Looks to be going well. I was worried that they’d taken this step bizarrely early, but it seems to be working out. Besides, I don’t know how long they were seeing one another before he told me about it, could have been months. Perhaps it’s not so strange.’ I tore more bread and tried another paste, this one green and fresh.
‘And what about work? You know I asked Mandy what it was your job entails. I hope you don’t mind, it’s just that you don’t ever seem to want to talk about it. She said she doesn’t really know what you get up to.’
What I get up to? I thought about the chat with Nan and the trip I’d arranged for tomorrow. ‘There’s not much to tell. The life of a community cop isn’t particularly exciting, I’m sure Mandy’s told you that?’
‘I think it’s a matter of perspective. She tells me about initiatives she gets involved in, the arrests and the car chases … it all sounds pretty exciting to me. She says the same thing you do, that it’s mundane, but she doesn’t seem to know what you do day-to-day.’
‘Similar to what Mandy does, really, but with more paperwork.’
‘That’s it?’
‘You thought dating a cop would be more interesting?’
She raised her glass to her lips and said ‘Is that what we’re doing? Dat
ing?’ She watched me carefully as she drank.
‘It’s probably the word I’d use.’
‘Does that mean you’re coming to see my new place after this?’
‘Uh, I don’t know. I thought you wanted to take things slow?’
‘Well, there’s slow and then there’s slow. I thought maybe we might move things forward. But you’re not sure?’
‘I mean I would, it’s just … I’ve got a lot on my plate right now with work and—’
‘You mean the boring, mundane community cop job that’s not very exciting?’ She was smiling, but I felt I was perilously close to a cliff edge.
‘OK,’ I said and took a large gulp from my glass. ‘There’s some stuff going on at work, some stuff I can’t talk about, I wish I could. It’s constantly swimming around in my head and I think maybe it would be a bad time to, move things forward, as you say. Though I would like to at some point, believe me.’
She placed her elbows on the table, interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on top. ‘I can’t quite work you out.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I get the feeling there’s a lot I don’t know about you. If I hadn’t already been to your place, I’d be thinking maybe you were married, or at least seeing someone, but I don’t think that’s it.’ Her eyes were slits, scrutinising me.
‘No, I’m not seeing anyone. I’m sorry if I seem guarded or whatever.’
‘Well, I won’t press on it for now, but you can talk to me if you want to.’
I reached forward and took one of her hands. ‘I know. Thanks.’
We moved on to breezier topics and shared a dessert before settling up.
Her flat in Newington was entirely the wrong direction for me, but I insisted on walking with her, deciding I’d flag down a taxi on the way back. I felt I’d taken something of a backward step with her and thought the gesture couldn’t hurt. While we walked, we talked about movies we loved when we were kids, about holidays we’d taken and the conversation again circled around to her ex, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t prompted it. Then we were at her door and kissing. We were soon inside, which I hadn’t intended, and then I stayed the night, which I really hadn’t intended.
Into the Dark Page 20
