RANCOUR: A gripping murder mystery set on the west coast of Scotland (Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 8)

by Pete Brassett

  Declining his request for a small glass of Cinzano Rosso and a plate of crostini, Dougal – in a rare display of churlish cynicism – led Ricci to his cell, pointed out the en-suite facilities and apologised for the lack of bed linen, Wi-Fi, and a mini bar before leaving him alone to run a cross-check on his fingerprints while Munro, frustrated by his sudden inability to dash up the four flights of stairs, made his way slowly to the top floor, drew a deep breath, and ambled into DCI Elliot’s office.

  ‘James! I’ve not seen you in days! Where the devil have you been?’

  ‘Och, here and there,’ said Munro. ‘Am I interrupting anything?’

  ‘No, no. It’s just admin.’

  ‘Admin? Are you joking me? You’re not one for paperwork, George, what’s the story?’

  ‘This paperwork,’ said Elliot, ‘is different.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Two boarding passes for a flight to Dublin.’

  ‘Not the fair city where the girls are so pretty?’

  ‘The same.’

  ‘Another holiday?’

  ‘A weekend away.’

  ‘You’re all heart,’ said Munro, ‘but I cannae make it, I’ve some decorating to finish.’

  ‘Another time, then.’

  ‘So, what’s the occasion?’

  ‘Anniversary.’

  ‘But it’s not your anniversary for months.’

  ‘It’s the anniversary of the day Mrs Elliot threatened to leave me unless I took her on a wee break.’

  ‘And when was that?’

  ‘Two days ago,’ said Elliot. ‘So, tell me, what’s bothering you?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ said Munro as he produced an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it over. ‘A wee favour is all. I wonder if you’d be kind enough to witness this for me. I’ve not had a chance to type it up yet but I thought I could leave that to the solicitor.’

  ‘Solicitor?’ said Elliot. ‘This all sounds very formal, James, what is it? A letter of… good heavens man! It’s a last will and testament!’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘What’s going on? Are you not telling me something?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I mean, you’re not…?’

  ‘Dead? No, not yet,’ said Munro. ‘I’m just getting my house in order. I’ve been meaning to do it ever since Jean passed on but I’ve not had the chance. Until now.’

  ‘There’s something macabre about this.’

  ‘You should do one yourself, George…’

  ‘They’re not planting me just yet.’

  ‘…or Mrs Elliot will get the lot.’

  ‘I have to admit,’ said Elliot, ‘you’ve a point there, James. You certainly have a point. Should I read this or is it personal?’

  ‘On you go, there’s no surprises.’

  Elliot, holding a superstitious belief that being privy to such information might tempt the hand of fate and cause his friend to expire on the spot, took a hesitant breath, read the first of four hand-written pages penned in a deep blue ink and glanced at Munro.

  ‘I’ve not seen my name yet, James,’ he said. ‘I hope it’s not here.’

  ‘No, no. You’re the last person I’d want to embarrass with material gain, George.’

  ‘Thanking you.’

  ‘Instead, I shall bequeath you my cheerful disposition.’

  ‘Very kind, I’m sure.’

  ‘You know me, I’m not happy unless I’m miserable.’

  Elliot turned the page, read the first paragraph and smiled.

  ‘You always were generous, James,’ he said, ‘but this? Your house?’

  ‘Well, I’d rather it went to someone who’ll care for it the way Jean and myself have done over the years, otherwise what will happen? It’ll pass to the crown, bona vacantia, and be sold off for two and six.’

  ‘Does she know about this?’

  ‘Charlie? Of course not,’ said Munro. ‘And she’s not to find out either, do I make myself clear?’

  ‘You have my word.’

  Elliot reached for his fountain pen, signed his name alongside Munro’s and just for good measure, rubber-stamped it with the date.

  ‘Nothing against Charlie,’ he said, ‘but I hope to God she doesn’t get her hands on that house for at least another twenty years.’

  ‘You and me both, George,’ said Munro. ‘You and me both.’

  * * *

  Whilst keen to uncover anything that might incriminate Alessandro Ricci on a charge of assault or justify Ella MacCall’s irrational desire to scale Arran’s tallest peak, Dougal – compelled to sate a burgeoning appetite – suspended his search of social media, school records, and news articles to order lunch just as Munro, desperate to put his feet up before heading to the solicitor’s office, shuffled wearily through the door and sat down.

  ‘Jeez-oh, don’t take this the wrong way, boss, but you’re looking a wee bit puggled.’

  ‘Well, it’s no surprise,’ said Munro, ‘I was up all night, I’ve not slept, and I’ve hardly eaten.’

  ‘You’ll be needing a brew then.’

  ‘Thanking you.’

  ‘And no doubt you’re hungry?’

  ‘Like it’s the last day of Lent.’

  ‘Good,’ said Dougal, ‘because lunch is on its way. You can choose between a pizza or a ham and cheese toastie.’

  ‘What’s on the pizza?’

  ‘Pepperoni and chillies.’

  ‘I’ll take the toastie. So, how’s our Italian friend?’

  ‘Well, he’s not happy about having to give up his belt and his jewellery and he’s not impressed with room service either. He ordered a cocktail.’

  ‘Is it not a bit early to be hitting the sauce?’

  ‘Actually, he called it an aperitif.’

  ‘He would,’ said Munro. ‘Let’s hope he’s not got any health problems, it wouldnae do for him to keel over in custody.’

  ‘Not much chance of that boss. He’s registered at the Carrick Glen hospital. It’s private.’

  ‘Well, at least he’s not here to sponge off the NHS. No doubt his lawyer’s already on the way over.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Dougal. ‘Get this, he’s refused any kind of legal representation.’

  ‘Really? Why so?’

  ‘He says he’s no faith in the judicial system and if he has to, he’d rather defend himself.’

  ‘More fool him,’ said Munro. ‘He’ll be like a lamb to the slaughter. What else?’

  ‘He’s matched positive for the prints off Sullivan’s motor.’

  ‘Well, that’s a given, he’s already admitted taking it.’

  ‘So I’m holding him until the DI gets back, she needs a word. Apparently, he and Ella MacCall were involved.’

  ‘Involved with what?’

  ‘Each other.’

  ‘Are you joking me?’ said Munro, his lip curling with disgust. ‘A man of his age? Dear, dear, dear. Is he aware of the fact that you know of their relationship?’

  ‘No, boss. I’m leaving that bombshell for West.’

  ‘Wise move, laddie. It doesnae do to show your hand all at once.’

  ‘And when she’s done with him, I’ll do him for driving with no insurance.’

  ‘And Miss Sullivan?’

  ‘I’ll not charge her just yet. Not unless she slips up.’

  ‘Instinct tells me she’s a step away from a banana skin.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Och, come on Dougal,’ said Munro, ‘you’re a clever lad, you’ve a great career ahead of you but as I’ve said to Charlie, if you’re going to get on then there are times when you need to step away from the facts and start listening to your gut.’

  ‘I’m not with you, boss.’

  ‘Read between the lines. Ricci marches into her office looking for business premises and in no time at all they’re co-habiting.’

  ‘Aye, it happens.’

  ‘Why? Why was he so keen to move in with her?’

&nb
sp; ‘Maybe she wanted him to.’

  ‘Or maybe it’s because he didnae have a permanent address. Do your research, laddie. If I’m right he’d have been laid up in a hotel or a bed and breakfast. One thing’s for sure, he’s with her for a reason and it’s nothing to do with love.’

  ‘So, what you’re saying is, this happy-family thing is some kind of a charade? A front? A cover for something else?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ said Munro. ‘I’ll not be surprised if he’s got something on her and he’s using her as an alibi for his shenanigans.’

  ‘Aye, you could be right.’

  ‘I’m not finished yet. A couple of months after moving in with Sullivan, her daughter winds up dead yet she’s as cold as a block of ice. Does that not strike you as a wee bit odd?’

  ‘In all fairness,’ said Dougal, ‘she said they didn’t get along.’

  ‘By jiminy!’ said Munro. ‘It’s her daughter we’re talking about! Her own flesh and blood! Where’s the remorse? See here, if they didnae get along then young Jessica would have moved out months ago! No, no, you mark my words, there’s something not quite right there. Not right at all.’

  ‘And there was I thinking she’d been quite sincere.’

  ‘Two words laddie: book and cover. Now, where’s Charlie? Is she turning her wee trip into a six-month sabbatical?’

  ‘She’s on her way,’ said Dougal. ‘Duncan’s taking her car up to FS in Glasgow to get some evidence tested so I have to arrange a pick-up for her. I’d go on my scooter but I’m not sure she’d be happy with that.’

  ‘You’d be surprised. Not too long ago she was galavanting around on the back of a Harley.’

  ‘Jeez-oh! You’re right! Maybe I should go after all.’

  ‘You stay here,’ said Munro. ‘If there’s one thing I have in spades just now, Dougal, it’s time. I’ll take care of it.’

  * * *

  With his coat zipped to the neck and his thinning, grey hair blowing in the breeze, Munro – clutching a white piece of card emblazoned with the word “West” – watched as a steady stream of passengers spilled from the ferry onto the quayside until a bewildered-looking West, the last to disembark, finally caught his eye and skipped towards him like a long-lost relative returning to the homeland.

  ‘There has to be a better way of supplementing your pension Jimbo!’ she said, grinning as she gave him a hug.

  ‘Please, Charlie, a handshake will do.’

  ‘Oh, stop being such a sourpuss! What’s up? You’re looking peaky.’

  ‘Not you as well,’ said Munro as he led her to the car. ‘I’ve not slept, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh cripes, sorry I forgot. How is she? Your mate’s daughter?’

  ‘Och, she’ll be fine. She’s just a wee bit shaken, that’s all.’

  ‘And the Sullivan girl? Is Dougal on the case?’

  ‘Aye, he’s like a dog with a bone,’ said Munro, ‘but a word to the wise, lassie, the poor lad’s going to need some time off before he has a breakdown, he’s fair worn out having to deal with her and this Ricci character, not to mention the fellow who was stabbed on Sandgate.’

  ‘Relax Jimbo, he thrives on it,’ said West, ‘he just needs to loosen up, get out a bit more.’

  ‘You know as well as I do, Charlie, when it comes to social animals, Dougal’s something of a sloth.’

  ‘Okay, point taken. I’ll pack him off on a fishing trip once we’re done. Anyway, how about you? What’s the score?’

  ‘Baneshanks 1 – Longevity 0.’

  Not wishing to show her ignorance regarding the Angel of Death West, assuming that Baneshanks played centre-forward for Celtic FC, settled down to enjoy the half hour jaunt back to the office while a melancholy Munro, pootling along at a steady forty, made a point of soaking up the scenery.

  ‘So, tell me, Charlie, did you enjoy your trip?’

  ‘Yeah, as it happens, I did,’ said West. ‘Tell you what though, it’s a shame we couldn’t have stayed a bit longer. I wouldn’t have minded a trek up that Goat Fell myself.’

  ‘Well, as they say across the water, you’ve got to go to come.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Never mind. How’s your investigation coming along?’

  ‘Oh please, not now, Jimbo,’ said West. ‘Can we talk shop later? What’ve you been up to?’

  ‘Och, nothing new,’ said Munro. ‘I was throwing some paint at the kitchen when Paul Jackson telephoned to ask if I’d help locate his daughter.’

  ‘Well it’s a bloody good job you did otherwise we’d have…’

  ‘That’s exactly what I said to Dougal. Apart from that I’ve nothing to report. And yourself?’

  ‘Shattered,’ said West. ‘What I need is a quiet night in, some decent grub and a bottomless bottle of red.’

  ‘You’re beginning to sound like somebody else I know.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Och, just some Luddite with time on his hands.’

  ‘That’ll be you then. So, what do you say? Fancy it?’

  ‘Fancy what Charlie?’

  ‘Dinner. You come to mine. I’ll cook, you pour.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Munro. ‘I’ve the decorating to finish and…’

  ‘Oh come on, I could do with the company. We’ll stop at the butcher on the way and get a couple of sirloins, there’s some skinny French fries in the freezer and I’ve even got a Balvenie on the go.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Munro, ‘I’d be a fool to refuse. You have yourself a deal lassie. You have yourself a deal.’

  * * *

  Munro glanced fleetingly at West, smiling as he caught a glimpse of Galloways grazing through the hedgerow.

  ‘Tell me, Charlie, the wee house we looked at in Auchencairn, did you ever follow it up?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry Jimbo, after all the trouble you went to, I should’ve said. It’s a bit of a let-down I’m afraid.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ said West, ‘I loved the place but I got a copy of the home report and it’s a no-go. The rafters are riddled with woodworm, the roof leaks, and it’s got rising damp. The whole place needs gutting from top to bottom and I can’t afford to do that.’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Munro, ‘it’s obviously not meant to be.’

  ‘Yeah but it’s a shame really, I’d kill for a nice little house with a garden. The flat’s alright but it’s not me.’

  ‘Well, never you mind. Something else will turn up, you wait and see. Now, back to business.’

  ‘Do we have to?’

  ‘Aye, we do. Ella MacCall, have you got anywhere?’

  ‘Hold on, Granddad, why the sudden interest in MacCall? Apart from the fact that you’re retired, I thought you had your hands full with your mate’s daughter.’

  ‘Had,’ said Munro. ‘Past tense. So, Ella MacCall, she was drugged, am I right?’

  ‘Spot on Sherlock.’

  ‘Sophie and her pal Jessica were drugged too.’

  ‘You are joking, right?’

  ‘I kid you not. Unfortunately for Jessica, may she rest in peace, the dose was fatal.’

  ‘Bleeding hell,’ said West, ‘so we’ve got three on our hands? It’s turning into a flipping epidemic. Do you reckon they’re related?’

  ‘I’d be surprised if they’re not,’ said Munro. ‘Three young girls, all single, all troubled, and all spiked with Rohypnol.’

  ‘Hold on, what do you mean, troubled?’

  ‘Exactly that. Have you seen the films Ella MacCall posted on her Facebook page?’

  ‘Yeah, I mean, no. I mean I haven’t seen them but Dougal’s filled me in. It sounds like she was suicidal.’

  ‘She looked it, too. Then there’s Jessica Sullivan, by all accounts your average happy-go-lucky kind of a girl, then her mother takes a new boyfriend and all of a sudden she’s stopping out all night, hanging around with neds and jakeys, and popping pills like they were going out of fashion.’

&n
bsp; ‘Okay, slow down,’ said West. ‘That’s those two but what about Sophie? You’ve always said how bright she is.’

  ‘Aye, right enough,’ said Munro, ‘but see here, Charlie, young Sophie’s not been right ever since her mother passed on and she doesnae have a very high opinion of herself either. Paul does his best, God knows he’s a martyr to her needs but it doesnae help when the few friends she does have ridicule the way she looks.’

  ‘Unforgiveable,’ said West, ‘bullying, plain and simple, but it does sound to me like their vulnerability could be a common denominator in them being targeted.’

  ‘You’re the expert, lassie. In all my years I’ve never come across a single case of spiking.’

  ‘I have,’ said West, ‘it’s rife down south and in my experience the perp’s a chancer, an opportunist. He’ll prey on girls who’ve had one too many or like I say, seem depressed or vulnerable. The only thing that’s pre-meditated about these kinds of attacks is the fact that the perp knows he’s going to do it. As far as the victims are concerned, even he doesn’t know who it’s going to be. He strikes at random, more often than not playing the Good Samaritan with the offer of a lift home.’

  ‘Well, we’re not in London now, Charlie. Or Glasgow. Or Liverpool. Or Leeds. And from where I’m standing, I’ve reason to believe this fellow was no stranger to the girls. He knew them on a personal level.’

  ‘You’re talking about Alessandro Ricci, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am indeed,’ said Munro. ‘Apart from the fact that he and Ella MacCall were in a relationship, according to Miss Sullivan, he and her daughter were, for want of a better word, close.’

  ‘No way!’ said West. ‘You mean he and she were…’

  ‘I cannae say for sure, you’ll have to grill Ricci about that.’

  ‘God, the man’s a slime ball. Hold on though, if they were close then why did she go off the rails soon after he moved in?’

  ‘There’s seven deadly sins, Charlie. Try lust and anger for starters.’

  ‘And Sophie Jackson,’ said West. ‘I hate to ask, but did he have anything to do with her?’

  ‘If he did,’ said Munro, ‘I will personally ensure he’s boxed up for the crematorium faster than you can say “pass the matches”. That aside, she and Jessica were the best of friends, so I’ll not rule it out. Not yet. After all, they were together when he went to pick them up from the nightclub.’