by V Clifford
Viv shook her head. ‘Yeah, she was great at her job and sociable.’ She didn’t recognise her own voice.
They reached the hatch and Coulson said, ‘What the hell? Is this the crime scene?’
‘I don’t think so. This tunnel leads to the riverbank. I think the body was dragged in from the other end of the passage. There was no sign of anyone having been on this side. The hatch was covered in dust that hadn’t been disturbed. The body has blocked the passageway. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.’
Coulson wasn’t as tall as Viv and made quick progress down the tunnel. Her torch beam stretched a long way ahead compared to the one on Viv’s phone.
‘I can smell it. Did you?’
Viv was distracted. How had Sal managed to have such a social life without her knowing; first the vet and now the local constabulary? She said, ‘I did, but wasn’t sure if it was human or another animal. Could’ve been a fox or a badger or something. I certainly knew there was rotting flesh somewhere.’
Coulson approached Sholto as if she was approaching an injured animal. ‘Mr Auchenban, we’ve come to help. To find out what’s happened here.’ However injured he was or whoever he was she wouldn’t doff a cap for no man.
Cradling the man’s head as if it was a baby. He whispered, ‘There’s not much anyone can do to help him now.’
‘No, but we can find out how this happened. We’ll need your help. How will we find the entrance or the other end of the passage?’
‘By the fishing hut. If someone brought him here they’d have had to hack back the gorse and brambles. It should be obvious.’
Coulson glanced at Viv. ‘Could you go and tell the guys.’
Viv nodded, and scrambled back along the tunnel to the hatch. The stench of death and fear was overwhelming.
The uniforms were still on the porch so she said, ‘DCI Coulson said to check for the entrance by the fishing hut. Does anyone know where that might be?’
One of the men raised his arm. ‘I know where it is.’
Two of them were off before she needed to say anything else.
She went back to the kitchen to find the housekeeper. Or whatever her title was. The woman stood with her hands on her hips. ‘So what the hell is going on?’
‘I’m not sure I can say at the moment but you’ll find out soon enough. Did you see the press here earlier?’
‘Aye. One of them was trying the back door. That’s why I got such a fright when you were in the kitchen when I got back from giving him what for. Where’s Sholto?’
She’d called him Auchenban before. Was this a sign that she was more familiar with him? Maybe she’d known him as a child? She was as defended as a fort.
‘How long have you known him?’
‘All of his life. Although, he’s only fourteen years younger than me. I used to babysit him. Where is he?’ Her voice quivered.
‘He’s here. He was trying to get away from the press.’
‘Is he all right?’
‘He’s upset.’ Under-statement of the century. ‘But he’ll be okay.’ She had no idea what she was saying. How could he be okay after what he’d seen?
The woman looked older than her years and as if the bottle had played a significant role in her life.
Viv went to the kitchen window. There was one man with a camera standing beyond the garden wall having a cigarette, looking bored. ‘We’ll have to do what we can to keep the press at bay, but they’ll get their story sooner or later. Do you know where the rest of the family are?’
‘They took off this morning. They’ve gone north. They’ve another place. They wanted to get away.’
‘From what?’
‘From their son. From the humiliation.’ She could barely keep the disgust from her tone. ‘He’s always been a sensitive boy. They chose to ignore that.’
They were interrupted by footsteps out in the corridor.
Mac stuck his head round the door. Viv could have hugged him but instead introduced him to the housekeeper. She hadn’t been aware of feeling tense but with Mac’s arrival she rolled her shoulders and heaved a sigh.
‘Mrs Smith.’ He shook her hand. ‘DCI Marconi. I am a friend of Lord Auchenban.’
‘I know who you are. It was me suggested he ask for your help. I’d heard there was a detective living nearby.’
This came as a surprise to Mac and Viv. Mac said, ‘Thank you for suggesting me.’
‘I knew there was something going on. I knew he needed help outside the family.’ From the way she said this they knew what she was implying.
‘Did the family know that he was going to speak to me?’
‘I think Miss Hamilton had her suspicions. But never said. His mother knows him well but won’t admit . . .’ She bit off whatever words she was going to use. ‘Anyway he’s a decent man. Respectful and kind.’
‘He’s going to need a friendly face.’
Viv said, ‘Do you know David?’
Mrs Smith turned away to the sink and was diverted by invisible specks of something on the worktop. ‘Yes. He is also a very kind man.’
Viv and Mac looked at each other. ‘We’ll be back shortly but whatever you do don’t be tempted to let the press in.’
‘Hell would freeze over before I’d . . .’ Her sentence tailed off and she stifled a sob.
Viv gestured for Mac to follow her. When they reached the hatch Sholto followed by DCI Coulson were coming up the steps and clambering into the cramped space of the loo. He looked wrecked. Eyes and nose red and his clothes filthy from kneeling in the sludge at the bottom of the passage. He walked towards the stairs. ‘I’ll be in my room.’
Viv mouthed, ‘D’you think he’s safe to be by himself?’
Coulson shrugged. ‘Are his family around?’
Viv shook her head. ‘Apparently they’ve gone “north”. They have another place. The housekeeper said that because he’d called the wedding off they were humiliated and wanted to put some distance between him and themselves. Nice supportive types. The housekeeper has known him all his life. I’ll get her to take him some sweet tea.’ She left the other two together.
Mac said, ‘Can I go down and take a look?’
‘Sure. But I’d rather you were booted and suited. The fewer bits of DNA we have to eliminate the better.’
‘I didn’t see any SOCOs.’
‘I’m hoping they’ve taken their lead from my guys at the door. They should be going into the passage from the other end. Viv said there was no evidence of interference or anything disturbed at this end.’
‘She’s usually on the money. Time to go down to the river.’
Coulson glanced at the door. ‘Yes. I was just about to ask you the same thing. Shall we wait on Viv?’
‘She’ll catch us up. No way she’d miss out on the action. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. You enjoying being at a desk more?’
‘Yeah, said no detective ever.’
They laughed. ‘I know, I sometimes wonder why they promote us at all. None of us joined the force to sit at a desk. I mean being here is way below our pay grade and yet here we are.’
‘It’s in the blood. And that wasn’t intended as a pun. My dad was in the force.’
‘Same for Viv.’
‘Yeah, I heard he was something of a legend. D’you think she follows in his footsteps?’
‘Talking of footsteps.’
Viv jogged alongside of them. ‘Mrs Smith’s on the case. I take it we’re going to the other end of the tunnel?’
‘DCI Coulson was just saying she’d heard your dad was a legend.’
‘It’s weird to hear that. If he’d been someone else’s dad I’d have thought he was, but since he was mine we just thought of him as Dad - same old attitude to him as to anyone who kept us from going out late or to sleepovers. Do anything to have him back complaining that my music was too loud now, though.’
Coulson was nodding as if she knew exactly what Viv was on about. Maybe she’d also lost her
dad before his time. The sight of a uniform beckoning to them from the edge of a cordon of blue and white tape forced them to step up their pace.
The PC lifted the tape to allow Coulson through but she stopped and said, ‘We’ll all need suits and boots.’
They were each handed a set and clambered into them before stooping beneath the tape and heading to a gap in the gorse. The bushes had been cut back with a chainsaw, exposing white ragged edges like a set of jaggy teeth. Two SOCOs were on their knees doing a finger search of the ground at the entrance to the tunnel. Viv set off to the other side of the cordon. A few sets of recent tyre marks were evident on the riverbank. They all looked as if they’d been made by the same vehicle but she couldn’t be sure. She spotted the fishing hut, a small stone-built structure with a corrugated roof. Nothing fancy, no windows on the sides that she could see so the door must face directly onto the water’s edge. She wandered along and circled it to discover there wasn’t a door at all only an opening. Inside, a stone bench ran the length of the back wall, and that was as far as the comforts went but at least it provided shelter. It was clean and the roof didn’t leak. Nothing much lying around to indicate when it had last been used. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and crouched down at the doorway. A tiny metal eyelet, silver on one side and dark green on the other poked out of the mud. It could be from anything, it was a fishing hut after all. She slipped it into an inside pocket along with a small plastic vaping vial that lay closer to the edge of the water. Measly pickings. She moved over to where the tyre tracks had turned back inland away from the river.
A PC came over. ‘Can I ask what you’re doing?’
‘Ask away. I’m just wondering where those tracks lead but I’m guessing your boss will be on it.’
He said, ‘She is that. I saw you lift something off the ground over there.’
Viv took the vaping vial and the eyelet out of her pocket and handed them to him. ‘Not much to be going on with.’
‘Not much use to us now that they’ll have picked up stuff from inside your pocket.’
She pulled out the pocket to show him a plastic liner. ‘It’s clean. I have worked on stuff like this before.’
Mac shouted, ‘Viv. Over here.’
‘I’d better go. But you’re right to call me out on that.’
The guy flushed and put the two items into a small evidence bag.
‘By the way, where does that lead to?’ She pointed to where the tracks disappeared.
‘Into the wood, then under the old railway line. Starts getting a bit wet after that since there’s a burn runs off the hill and meets the river over that way.’ He pointed.
‘Thanks.’ Worth a look later but now she went to see what Mac wanted.
‘It’s quite a long way to where David is so whoever pulled him in must be pretty beefy.’
‘I take it we can’t go in?’ She hunkered down to see if she had a view into the passage from behind the cordon. Too many bodies milling around.
He said, ‘No, not until they finish taking samples, photographs and they get him out.’
‘Can’t be that many people know about this entrance . . . I think I might go back to the house and see if Sholto will let me spend a bit more time on the archive.’
‘D’you think that’s wise?’
‘It might be the distraction he needs. If I tell him it could help us find whoever did this.’
‘You think it will?’
‘No idea. But every little helps and I’d rather go through things before the rest of the family find their way back to interfere.’
‘Okay. I’ll stick around here with Coulson. What you doing for dinner?’
She grinned and shook her head. ‘The usual.’
He rubbed his hands over his chin. ‘How about going to the Coach and Horses? I’ll see if Coulson wants to join us.’
‘Fine. See you in a bit.’
She slipped off the suit, gloves and boots and placed them in an evidence bag. A PC said, ‘I’ll need your name and . . .’
Coulson shouted, ‘She’s one of ours. Put Doctor Fraser and Fettes on it and we’ll be covered.’
Viv waved her thanks and retraced her steps to the house. In the hallway the housekeeper was pacing, clearly distressed and ready to pounce on the first person who might give her some answers.
‘What is going on? What can you tell me? He’s not stopped crying. He’s like a baby. I don’t know how to console him.’
‘Best let him get it out. Most of us only have so many tears then something else kicks in. Look, I could murder a cup of tea and maybe if we take him one I’ll persuade him to join me.’ She winced at her stupid choice of word but the woman didn’t seem to notice, just nodded and took off.
The best thing was to keep her occupied, even if it was only making tea. Viv took the back stairs up to where she’d been in Sholto’s study. She knocked but got no answer so sneaked inside. He was sitting at his desk, head in his hands, shoulders still heaving. Would anyone ever love her enough to react like this? It was painful to see a grown man so uncontrollably broken. What would Pammy think? Where was she? Could she have done this? Surely not if those joyful childhood photographs could be believed.
The telephone on his desk rang. He ignored it. Whoever was on the line was persistent but he still didn’t answer it. It rang off. Silence settled into the room. He looked up and flinched, startled to see her.
He rubbed his face. ‘How long have you been there?’
‘Not long, but long enough to realise . . .’ She didn’t finish her sentence. There were many questions to be asked and it was imprudent to make assumptions about his innocence based on his tears. She’d seen this amount of distress displayed by someone who turned out to be guilty. Tears of guilt can be just as wet as tears of grief or joy. ‘Would you like me to call Pamela?’
His head shot round. Eyes bulging. He shook his head. ‘God, no. She’ll know soon enough. I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.’ And with that he began to weep again. This time tears streamed silently down his face. Efforts to stem them with his knuckles were fruitless. He folded his hands across his chest embracing himself with his upper arms. ‘What will I do?’
She wasn’t sure how to answer. Her own methods for survival left a lot to be desired, and were not to be recommended for others. She kept on the move and bottled up as much as possible. Seeing him she felt a pang of guilt at not demonstrating this level of distress at Sal’s death. A sharp pain in her ribs reminded her that not all distress was outward. ‘Perhaps the best thing to do is something practical.’
‘Like what?’
There was a gentle knock on the door and Mrs Smith came in with a tray. ‘Tea. And there’s a miniature of brandy there if you think it might help.’
‘Thanks, Smithie.’
As she left she said, ‘I’ll come back in a bit for the tray.’
The woman’s fondness for Sholto was written all over her face. Viv recalled that there wasn’t that much difference in their ages and yet she was definitely a nanny figure.
‘I can’t imagine life without him. Smithie gets it. She’s always known and always been my ally.’
Viv nodded. ‘Thank goodness for that. But what about Pamela.’
‘Oh, Pammy’s also in my camp but in a different way. She’s there because it suits her own life style. Smithie’s just been an incredibly good friend.’
‘Does she live in?’
‘No, she lives in a cottage on the estate. Mind you she might as well sleep here. She’s here when I wake up and sometimes still here when I go to bed.’
‘Even now that you’re an adult?’
‘Yes. I’ve told her it’s unnecessary but she won’t have it.’
‘She must like it here otherwise she’d find excuses not to.’
The notion of someone finding excuses not to be at work seemed alien to him and his eyebrows knitted. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I know many pe
ople who, with the slightest excuse or even without one at all would avoid being at work. So you’re lucky that she’s loyal. Look, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to have a little more time in the archive.’
‘Sure. Do what you like.’
‘DCI Coulson will no doubt be in to speak to you once they’ve . . . well I’ll head back to the archive.’
Back amongst the records she hauled boxes onto the floor. Peeled off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves. Time to get down to business without the threat of anyone bothering her. In one of the boxes there was another metal box. Not very deep, but locked. There’s nothing like a lock to get a researcher’s curiosity fired. She searched for a key but couldn’t find one in the larger box. She searched in other boxes but still no sign of a key, only other smaller boxes, which were also locked. There had to be a bunch of keys somewhere.
She sat with her back against the shelves and let her eyes roam the room. If she were hiding a set of keys where would she put them? She climbed up the ladder and swept her hands round the backs of the shelves. Nothing. She went out of the door into the library and did the same sweep of the shelves where Sholto had first unlatched the secret panel. Nothing. She was thinking about searching through the desk drawers when she spotted a thick book that, although it was part of a set, was shinier and didn’t look like leather. Her instincts were right. She retrieved the book which turned out not to be a book at all but a container. Inside, a row of keys hung on small individual hooks. She took the book and returned to the inner room. Time to try each of the locked boxes with the keys. She was like a child in a sweetie shop. Nobody locked boxes unless they contained something precious, and she didn’t mean jewels, she meant things that might one day be useful. None of the keys fitted. Time for drastic measures. Her own picks were intended for most modern locks but there was one heavy enough to try on this. The clunk an old lock makes when it is released is such a sweet sound. In one of the boxes all of the documents had Vatican seals. This was more like it. She folded her jacket and placed it beneath her butt preparing for a long session of reading Latin text.
It took a while. She was fascinated by everything that she read. Lots of old Sasines deeds, charters and documents setting out who had rights to what. All very odd. Had they never heard of Chief Seattle’s Manifesto? Finally she found a letter from the Vatican, written in a Latinate Scots. It felt like fabric and the ink had turned a bloody brownish colour, but it was legible and probably all she needed for now. She photographed it and stacked the boxes back on the shelves. Once she’d closed up she made her way back to Sholto’s study.
