Knox turned into Drumbrae North and pulled into the kerb. ‘Well, we’ve yet to see Murch,’ he said. ‘I’m going to ring now and see if we can set up an interview. My real hope, though, lies with the labs. If forensics can find something that enables a DNA test, we can start a process of elimination.’
Knox took out his phone and keyed the numbers Hathaway had given him. The first, Murch’s mobile, rang three times before switching to voicemail. Knox then tried the landline, which was almost immediately answered by a woman. ‘Hello?’ she said.
‘Hello,’ Knox replied. ‘Could I speak to Mr Tobias Murch, please?’
‘Who’s calling?’
‘Detective Inspector Knox, Gayfield Square Police Station.’
‘Police?’ She paused a moment, then added, ‘Why do you want to speak to Toby?’
‘Could you tell me who I’m talking to, please?’
The woman’s voice took on a haughty tone. ‘Mrs Alice Murch. Toby’s wife.’
‘It’s in connection with–’ Knox was suddenly interrupted by a dog barking loudly at the other end of the line.
‘Sorry,’ Mrs Murch said. ‘It’s Charlie, our West Highland Terrier. Can you hold a moment, please? I’ll put him in another room.’
‘Okay.’
She came back on the line seconds later. ‘Yes, Inspector, you were telling me why you were calling,’ she said, now sounding more amenable.
‘It’s in connection with the murder of a young woman,’ Knox said. ‘I’ve reason to believe your husband can help us with our inquiries.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘I’d have to discuss that with your husband, Mrs Murch. May I speak to him?’
‘He’s down in London, on business. Won’t be back in Edinburgh until Monday morning. Can I give you his mobile number?’
‘We’ve tried his mobile. All his calls are being passed to voicemail.’
‘Ah,’ she said, ‘he’s attending a number of meetings, you see. Likely that’s why he’s switched it off. My husband runs a property business. I’m his secretary as well as his wife. The company’s called AN Properties Limited. We’ve an office at 28b Morrison Tower on Morrison Street. I can schedule you to see him there, if that’s okay. Monday at 10am? You’ll be his first appointment. I’ll e-mail to make sure he knows you’re coming.’
‘Fine, Mrs Murch,’ Knox said. ‘We’ll see him there at 10am on Monday.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. I’m usually in the office shortly after ten myself. I may see you then. Goodbye.’
Chapter Eight
Knox and Fulton spent the rest of the day following up on two other cases – a break-in at a bicycle shop in Goldenacre, and a Pakistani grocer in Bonnington who’d been held up by a youth wielding a knife.
In the first case, uniform had recovered two racing bikes at a lock-up in Leith, however three more expensive models were still outstanding. Knox was able to tell the proprietor they’d had a tip-off on the thieves’ identities. Inquiries were still on-going, but arrests were expected soon.
In the second, Mohammed Shatif, the grocer, had more than £500 taken from his till by the youth, who wore a hoodie. The shop’s CCTV tape gave no clue to identity, as it had only recorded a side view in which the perpetrator’s face was obscured.
Unluckily for the thief, though, it had been raining on the day of the robbery and a good print of one of his trainers had been obtained from the floor near the till. The print matched another taken from the scene of a burglary in Newhaven, where the man also left fingerprints. A match was made, and Knox informed Shatif that the youth had been arrested and charged and would be appearing at court on Monday morning.
Soon after they’d spoken to the grocer, he and Fulton arrived back at Gayfield Square. ‘It’s almost eight, Bill,’ Knox said, checking his watch. ‘Time to call it a day.’
‘Won’t argue with you on that, boss. I’ll check if there’s any messages, then get my car.’
‘It’s okay, Bill, you go on home. I’ll see if there’s anything for us.’
Fulton nodded in acknowledgement, then Knox went into reception where he was greeted by the duty sergeant, Ken McDonald.
‘Evening, sir,’ McDonald said. ‘You’ve just missed the rest of your team. Hathaway knocked off a half hour ago. Mason left a little before that.’
‘It’s okay, Ken. I’m getting ready to finish up myself. Any messages?’
McDonald handed Knox a piece of paper. ‘Yes, DI Murray called in. Told me to say he expects forensics on the O’Brian case to come through tomorrow. Said he rang your mobile earlier, but his call went straight to voicemail. He left you a message, but asked me to make a note and pass it on just in case.’
‘Thanks,’ Knox said. ‘Haven’t got around to checking my voicemail yet.’ He waved the paper and turned towards the door. ‘I’m off home, then. Night, Ken.’
The sergeant nodded in reply. ‘Night, sir.’
* * *
The streets were relatively quiet as Knox drove south. Taking a slightly different route than he had that morning, he entered the Old Town via North Bridge. He continued along South Bridge, Nicolson Street and Clerk Street, turning left into East Preston Street, then right at the glass-fronted Scottish Widows building, and left again into Holyrood Park Road.
Knox drove almost to west entrance of Holyrood Park, then took a final left into East Parkside and reversed the car into his appointed bay.
Flat 4 at Number 139 was located near the end of a cul-de-sac overlooking Holyrood Park, where Knox had lived since his divorce eight years earlier.
Knox entered the flat and changed into a blue sweatshirt, matching jogging pants and slip-on shoes, then went to a drinks cabinet in the living room. He poured a generous measure of Glenmorangie into a tumbler, placed it on a table next to an armchair, then selected a CD and set the machine to play track eighteen. He relaxed into the chair and sipped the ten-year-old single malt as Frank Sinatra began the opening verse: Isn’t it rich, are we a pair, me here at last on the ground, you in mid-air…
Send in The Clowns had been one of Susan’s favourites. As the mellifluous tones of Ol’ Blue Eyes washed over him, Knox closed his eyes and was immediately transported back to 1990, the year he had met her.
He was twenty then and had been with the Lothian and Borders force for just under a year. They’d met at a dance in Peebles, the Border town where he was born and brought up. Susan was eighteen months younger; a pretty, raven-haired girl who lived with her parents at their farm close to the nearby town of Innerleithen.
They married in 1991 and a year later Jamie, their only child, was born. Knox began as a uniformed PC attached to the local station in Peebles, but within three years he transferred to CID as Detective Sergeant. Then in 2002, when Lothian and Borders HQ at Fettes put out a call for additional officers for Edinburgh’s new ‘A’ Division at St Leonards, he applied and was appointed.
He and Susan moved to Edinburgh the same year, but soon after his promotion to Detective Inspector in 2003, the first cracks began to appear.
It wasn’t long before the additional responsibility of rank and long anti-social hours began to have an effect. Susan started to suffer severe bouts of depression, then, in 2005, a nervous breakdown. Although Knox frequently changed shifts and took extended spells of leave in an effort to save the marriage, things didn’t improve. In 2006 Susan filed for divorce, which became final the following year. Although the court awarded his wife custody of Jamie and they both returned to Innerleithen to live with her parents, Knox still saw his son at weekends and on holidays.
In 2009 Jamie left Edinburgh University and went on to study dentistry, qualifying in June, 2014. Susan emigrated to Australia early the same year, where she bought a house near her sister Ruth, who lived in Moreton Bay, a suburb of Brisbane.
Jamie, who’d married in his second year of dental studies, had followed his mother to Brisbane together with his wife Anne and baby daughter Lily just three months ago.
‘Hello, Knox.’
‘Dad?’
Knox returned the tumbler to the table and muted the CD player. ‘Jamie?’ he said. ‘Isn’t that a coincidence? I was just thinking of you. How’re things? You’re all okay? Settling in?’
‘Yes, Dad. We’re champion. You?’
Knox settled back into the armchair. ‘Fine,’ he said, picking up the glass. ‘Just unwinding a little.’
‘You eating any better? Getting enough exercise?’ His son was making reference to the results of Knox’s latest medical in April, when he’d been told he had blood pressure readings of 145/80 and cholesterol levels of 5.5mmol/L. Doctors advised that these were slightly on the high side, and recommended more exercise and a change of diet.
Knox said, ‘Porridge every morning, and a three-mile jog around Holyrood Park three times a week.’ He laughed, and added, ‘I’m as fit as a flea.’
‘Great, Dad. By the way, Mum said she was asking for you.’
‘Tell her thanks. She’s okay?’
‘She’s fine. Dedicates every waking moment to spoiling her granddaughter.’
‘Lily, she’ll still be sleeping?’ Knox looked at his watch. ‘It’s what, ten past seven in the morning where you are?’
‘Yeah, it’s a nice day, too,’ Jamie said, then added, ‘No, Lily’s up. She’s here with me. Anne’s having a lie-in, though.’
‘You’ll have to let me have a word with my granddaughter before you go,’ Knox said. ‘By the way, how’s the job hunting going?’
‘Actually, Dad, I was just about to say. I had an interview with a new dental practice here in Moreton Bay on Thursday. I think I might be in with a chance. They’re going to get back to me this week.’
‘That’s great, Jamie. I’m sure you’ll get it.’
‘I hope so. I’ve got my fingers crossed.’
Knox heard movement in the background and Jamie said, ‘I’m talking to your Grandpa, Lily. Want to say hello?’ Then to Knox, ‘Hang on a minute, Dad, I’m just going to pick her up.’ Then, a moment later, ‘Say hello to Grandpa.’
Knox heard his two-year-old granddaughter breathe into the phone, then she said, ‘’Lo, Gammpa.’
‘Hello, Lily,’ Knox said. ‘How are you, sweetheart?’
Knox heard his son whisper, ‘Say fine,’ then Lily repeated, ‘Fine.’
‘You coming over to see me at Christmas?’
‘Kissmas, Gammpa… bye.’
His son came back on the line. ‘There’s a distinct odour coming from Lily’s nether regions, if you take my meaning, Dad,’ Jamie said. ‘My little girl needs changing.’
Knox laughed. ‘Joys of parenthood, eh, Jamie? Okay, I’ll let you go. Speak to you soon.’
‘Speak to you soon, Dad. Bye.’
Chapter Nine
Knox awoke just after nine the following morning. He rose, showered and shaved, then changed into a tracksuit and trainers and went for a run. Turning left at the end of his street, he entered Holyrood Park and soon reached the foot of the Hawse, an incline which lay between the 251m summit of Arthur’s Seat and Salisbury Crags, a crescent-shaped formation of cliffs that girdled a vast stretch of hillside facing the Old Town.
Knox followed a path behind the crags which led to Hunter’s Bog, a long valley on the leeward side of the cliffs. There, he followed a mile-long track known as Volunteer’s Walk, which traversed the valley west to east and ended near a 12th Century ruin known as St Anthony’s Chapel. On reaching this, he veered left and doubled back using the Radical Road, a wide track which ran beneath the face of Salisbury Crags. Fulton, ever knowledgeable on Edinburgh’s history, had told Knox the path had been created in 1820 at the behest of novelist Walter Scott to give work to unemployed weavers from the west of Scotland.
Now jogging in the direction of his start point, the section of hill Knox tackled was the steepest of the run. But before long he reached a feature of the cliffs known as the Cat’s Nick, a cleft in the rocks at the highest point of the crags where the downhill stretch began. When he gained this point, Knox stopped for a moment to take a breather and marvel at the view.
The magnificent cityscape of the Old Town was laid out before him; Edinburgh Castle, perched high upon a plug of basalt rock, underneath which myriad spires and turreted roofs outlined the gradual slope of the Royal Mile from Castlehill to the Canongate and Holyrood Palace. The morning was bright and sunny, and the Firth of Forth and Fife hills were clearly visible to the north.
Knox was jolted from his reverie by the sudden ringing of his mobile. He gave the screen a quick glance, then answered. ‘Yvonne,’ he said, ‘what are you doing up this early?’
‘Early?’ Mason said in a mocking tone. ‘It’s nearly ten o’clock.’
‘It’s early for a Sunday. You are off duty, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thought you might be having a lie-in.’
‘No, I rose at eight and went out for the papers. I’m just about to make breakfast. Have you been up long?’
‘Since nine. I’m jogging round Salisbury Crags.’
Mason laughed. ‘Still keeping up the exercise, eh?’
‘It’s okay for you twenty-somethings,’ Knox said. ‘When you’re my age, you’ve got to work at it.’
Mason laughed again. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Jack. I’ve got to watch my waistline too.’
‘Speaking of waistlines,’ Knox said. ‘You’re still coming for lunch?’
‘That’s why I phoned. Wanted to make sure it was still okay.’
‘Why wouldn’t it be? Two o’clock okay? As we arranged?’
‘Two o’ clock’s fine, Jack,’ Mason said coquettishly. ‘See you then?’
‘See you then, Yvonne. Bye.’
* * *
‘Why do you keep mentioning our age difference, Jack?’ Mason said. ‘I don’t think of you any differently as I would someone my own age.’
‘You mean this morning?’ Knox said. ‘When I was out jogging?’
It was just after 4pm, and he and Mason lay together in a post-coital glow. She’d arrived at his flat two hours earlier and they’d enjoyed a lunch of smoked haddock kedgeree before relocating to the bedroom.
‘Yes,’ Mason replied. ‘You’re not having misgivings about our relationship, are you? As I told you when we started seeing each other, I’m not looking to attach any strings.’
Knox kissed her cheek lightly, then smiled. ‘But we can’t hide the fact I’m old enough to be your father.’
Mason shook her head. ‘Come on, Jack. You know your age makes no bloody difference as far as I’m concerned.’ She sat up and looked him directly in the eye. ‘You’re not worried anybody at the station will discover our affair, are you? I haven’t said a word to anyone, and I don’t intend to.’
‘Truth is, Yvonne, it doesn’t really bother me. Anyone finding out, I mean.’
‘But the age thing does?’
Knox put his arm around her shoulder. ‘I’d be less than honest if I said it didn’t.’
‘I was right,’ Mason said. ‘You are having misgivings. You want to call it off.’
Knox shook his head. ‘I didn’t say that, Yvonne. I’m just stating the facts. I am twenty years older.’
Mason gave him a beseeching look. ‘But we said we’d see how it goes, didn’t we, Jack? If you found someone else, I’d be okay with it, you know that, don’t you?’
Knox pulled her towards him and smiled. ‘I haven’t found someone else, Yvonne, and I’m not looking. But if you happen to find someone you like–’
Mason placed a finger to his lips. ‘Sshh, I’m perfectly happy with the way things are.’
‘But if that should change?’
‘If it changes, we’ll deal with it then.’
Knox nodded in agreement.
A second or two later, Mason
smiled and said, ‘You know, I’ve got to be extra careful when addressing you in the office.’
‘Extra careful, why?’
‘I often find I’m biting my lip. Almost calling you Jack, rather than boss.’
Knox laughed. ‘One sure way for the others to find out.’
Mason giggled and prodded him in the ribs. ‘I said almost.’
Knox returned her smile and both settled back into the pillows.
They lay silent for a long moment, then Mason said, ‘Hathaway and I spoke to Pastor McHugh yesterday. You know, the guy who runs The Church of the Hallowed Messiah?’
‘Uh-huh,’ Knox said. ‘And?’
‘Well, you know O’Brian was brought up by her grandparents after her mother and father were killed in an RTA?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, her grandparents were very religious, apparently – staunch Catholics – and made sure O’Brian was brought up with the same beliefs. He told us even though she was a sex worker, she held onto her faith. She joined McHugh’s church because she was afraid if she confessed to a priest she’d be excommunicated.’
‘She was that bothered?’
‘Almost terrified, it would seem.’
‘So, her grandparents literally put the fear of God in her?’ Knox shook his head. ‘Hard to fathom.’
‘Not really, Jack. With some folk, a religious upbringing can be deeply entrenched. Before I joined the force, I worked as a hotel receptionist in Perthshire. It was a live-in job and I shared a room with an Irish girl, a cashier called Bernadette. Anyway, she was seeing a chef and it became quite serious. We worked shifts, and one night when I was on duty, she asked me if it would be okay if she took the guy to our room.’
‘Really?’ Knox said in mock horror. ‘For a sexual liaison?’
Mason laughed. ‘Aye, Jack, I don’t think they were playing tiddlywinks. Anyway, that night when my shift was finished, I went back to the room. Of course, by then the chef had gone, Bernadette was cleaning her teeth.
‘I happened to glance at her bed and noticed that a portrait of the Virgin Mary – a religious icon she hung above her headboard – was facing the wall. I mentioned this to her and she became quite embarrassed. Finally, she explained, “I turn the picture, Yvonne, because I don’t want the Holy Mother witnessing my sins.”’
The Innocent and the Dead Page 5
