by John Carson
‘Oh no, please don’t. I’ll get fired and they’ll lock me up upstairs.’
‘I was just kidding,’ Evans said, his cheeks starting to burn.
Vern laughed. ‘I’m just pulling your leg.’ She put a hand on his arm.
‘Oh, I knew that.’
‘My last boyfriend called it quits with me. He didn’t have a sense of humour at all. He was a nightmare. How about you? Your significant other have a sense of humour?’
Evans thought of Linda Fry and thought she definitely had been having a laugh with him. At his expense.
‘No. I don’t have a significant other at the moment.’
That’s it, Robbie, do the wee dance there, subtly asking each other if you’re available, Dunbar thought, eavesdropping on the couple. Then he left them to it.
David was tucking into a turkey sandwich and drinking some coffee at a counter while chatting with Alex.
‘David was just telling me he works in IT but from home,’ Alex said.
‘Ah, you’re a computer geek?’ Dunbar said.
‘For want of a better word. I usually call myself a nerd.’
‘Didn’t know there was a difference.’
‘One is a person who sits at a computer all day doing work on it. The other is somebody who plays games on it all day.’
‘Is that right?’
David grinned and pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘No. I’m just talking what you Scotch guys call pish.’
‘Pulling my fucking chain and I’ve not even had something to eat yet.’
‘Seriously, though, I work from home doing computer work for an IT security company. That’s how I met Shug. We’ve been together for three years now.’
‘I didn’t meet you when we were working on the island back in the summer,’ Alex said.
‘No, I was doing a job that meant I had to do a bit of travelling for a few weeks. But now we’ve rented a house for the season and we leave January first. We’re going to Glasgow after this. I can go wherever Shug gets a job.’
‘That’s a lot of moving about,’ Dunbar said. ‘I heard about Shug getting homophobic slurs at the police station.’
‘Yeah, there are ignorant bastards everywhere. We’re thick-skinned, though.’
‘Good for you, son.’
‘Maybe I could pick your brains sometime,’ David said.
‘About what?’
‘This case. In my spare time, I write true crime books. When Shug told me about the hanged girl, that got my radar going. Then I did a little online search and found out about the other two girls who were murdered here six years ago. I’m looking into it to see if it may be worth doing a book on it.’
‘Sure, anytime, pal. But you have to understand, there are some things that have to remain confidential, so we can’t talk about everything.’
‘Oh, I understand. Just any snippets of info you could throw my way.’
‘Let us get this investigation started properly and we can all sit down and have a chinwag,’ Dunbar said.
‘Sorry, I have to go,’ Alex said and ran out of the kitchen.
‘What’s wrong?’ Harry said.
‘Haven’t any idea. She just darted out,’ Dunbar said.
Harry ran out after her and found her outside in the car park, heaving into a snow-covered bush.
‘Jesus, Alex, are you okay?’
‘Do I look like I’m fucking okay?’ she said, straightening up and wiping her eyes and her mouth. Then she heaved again.
‘Too much turkey?’ Harry asked.
‘Too much sex,’ she replied. ‘I’m pregnant.’
Ten
Old Man Blair lived in the new wing on his own. He had staff to cater to his every whim, but he was a widower who wanted privacy. Tonight, his privacy was going to be disturbed.
While Dunbar didn’t exactly have to peel Evans off Vern, he was giving serious consideration to throwing a bucket of water over him.
‘There’s no stopping you when you get going, is there?’ Dunbar said. ‘How about you clear some space on the dining table?’
‘She’s nice. I feel a connection there.’
‘There you go with the fucking connection lark again. How about your arse feels a connection with my boot?’
‘At least she’s my age.’
‘Great. Stop with the New Age hippie pish. Connections. Just relax and be yourself. Or rather, be like me.’
‘Daft in the heid?’
‘Witty and charming, ya cheeky bastard. Come on, let’s go and speak to the old man. Get a feel for this place.’
Dunbar waved Muckle over. Sparky stood next to Dunbar, waiting for his ears to be scratched.
‘I’m assuming the old boy who lives here has staff?’
‘He does, aye. He lives on his own in the wing, while his daughter and grandson live in the main house.’
‘Give one of them a shout, will you. I’d like to speak to Old Man Blair. And the laddie Martin, if he’s kicking around.’
‘He’ll be down at the market. He’s always hanging about down there. One of his old friends works there, a lassie from the town.’
‘I’ll start with the old man. Who else lives here?’
‘Martin and his mother. The staff. That’s it.’
‘Can you get word to the old man that we’d like a chat?’
‘Aye. I’ll call his personal assistant. She’s a nice lassie. The old boy likes to think this is the Playboy Mansion, only without the women. Or any sense of style.’
‘Go give her a call now, son.’
Muckle took Sparky away and left the huge kitchen. Dunbar took his phone out and called Harry.
‘I’m going to talk to the old boy who owns this place. You in?’
‘Alex has been taken ill. Can you manage that without me?’
‘Of course I can manage it. That was an FYI. How’s Alex?’
‘She started throwing up. Must have been all the turkey.’
‘Give us a shout in the morning, and if she’s not feeling up to it, then she can have a lie-in. Don’t be pushing her to go out and about.’
‘I won’t. She’s resting now.’
‘Stay safe.’ Dunbar hung up with a feeling in his gut that it was more than turkey that was bothering Alex. Never mind, Harry would tell him in due course if it was anything else.
They left by a different door to the one they had come through and entered a formal dining room that was big enough to feed all the king’s horses. Then through another door.
Muckle met Dunbar and Evans in the big entrance hallway. ‘Mr Blair’s a very private man, but somebody will come down and speak with you in the library.’
‘Where’s Vern gone?’ Evans asked him.
‘She’s needed down at the market. I’m going there now with the big boy. Some rowdy bastard is pished and starting to cause trouble. Call me if you need anything else.’
He walked away, Sparky starting to pull on his lead, sensing he was going back to work. ‘I swear to God, if I go on my fucking arse again…’
‘I wish Muckle would come back to the force,’ Dunbar said. ‘We need guys like him.’
‘Aye, they had their chance, though,’ said Evans. ‘They let him go.’
A young woman came down the stairs, dressed smart-casual. Dunbar had pictured some old frump in jodhpurs for some reason.
‘Officers?’ she said, smiling at them.
‘That would be us,’ Dunbar said.
‘If you’d like to follow me to the library.’
Both men followed her down another hallway and into the library. It was filled with shelves but the books weren’t the traditional choice.
‘Mr Blair likes to read thrillers and crime novels,’ the woman said.
‘You would be, ma’am?’ Dunbar said.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you knew everybody who worked here. Ainslie Ashworth. I’m Mr Blair’s personal assistant.’ The smile dropped from her face. ‘Isn’t it a terrible thing that happened to that poor girl?�
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‘It is indeed. That’s why we’re here, to try to catch whoever did it.’
‘It’s like history repeating itself, what with the other two murders.’
‘Did you work here at the time?’ Dunbar said, moving closer to the open fire, which had logs burning in it. He thought it strange that this big room would have a real fire going although there was nobody in it.
‘No. I only started a year ago. Word is, he can’t keep his assistants. Apparently, I’m going to get a long-service medal. I’m hanging in there, but it’s hard. I think New Year’s Day will be my last day here.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ Evans said. ‘There are plenty of bosses who are a pain.’
‘Do you get any light aircraft flying overhead?’ Dunbar asked Ainslie. ‘Even ones pulling banners behind them?’
‘No, I can’t say we do.’
‘First time for everything.’
‘To be honest, I wish you policemen were staying here at the house. There’s been some funny goings-on recently.’
‘Tell me more.’
Ainslie looked nervously at the door, then back at the two men. ‘I don’t want to speak out of turn, but after dark, when everything is quiet, there’s been a lot of arguing.’
‘Between who?’
‘Mr Blair and somebody else. I don’t know who. But it’s scary.’
Just then, Old Man Blair walked in, all smiles, wearing a smoking jacket and a cravat, as if he was carrying the Hugh Hefner look too far.
‘Somebody talking about me?’ Blair said. ‘My ears are burning.’
‘Only good things,’ Dunbar said. ‘Miss Ashworth here was telling us how we should visit the Christmas markets you have going.’
‘You should. You can go now,’ Blair said, keeping his smile in place while he nodded for Ainslie to depart.
He watched her retreat, waiting for the door to close behind her before turning back to the two detectives. ‘Nice but a little dim. Please, sit down.’
Dunbar looked at Evans like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.
‘Would you like a drink, boys? Something to warm the cockles?’
‘We’re fine, thanks,’ Dunbar said as he and Evans sat down across from the old man. ‘What we would like is to talk to your staff. See if they heard anything last night.’
‘Oh, you mean the wee lassie who hanged herself in the woods?’
‘She didn’t hang herself,’ Evans said. ‘Somebody did that for her.’
‘I can assure you that Carol didn’t hang herself, Mr Blair,’ Dunbar said.
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. She was murdered, plain and simple. That’s why we need to hear from anybody who might have heard something.’
‘These walls are thick. They tend to keep their secrets.’ Blair smiled at Dunbar, but there was no humour there.
‘What is it about the woods behind your house? Why do young girls die there?’
Blair lifted his hands. ‘Young girls die every day. It just so happens that one died in the woods on my property.’
‘But it wasn’t just one, was it, Mr Blair?’ Evans said. ‘It’s three now. Including the one your grandson found.’
Blair lowered his head for a moment. ‘It was a shock for young Martin, right enough. Those two girls were his friends. He didn’t make friends much, but those girls took him under their wing. It came as a shock to him when they were murdered.’
‘He’s thirty. Six years ago, he was twenty-four. They were fifteen. Some people might think that strange.’
‘He’s not a bloody paedo, Dunbar! He’s simple.’
‘Big and strong too,’ Evans added.
‘He thinks like a young boy. When he reached a certain age, he stopped growing mentally.’
‘We heard about him ending up in the hospital,’ Dunbar said. ‘And now he’s back.’
Blair looked at him. ‘Yes, he’s back, and already the fingers are pointing. Martin the loony is back in town – lock up your daughters.’
‘Have you ever seen a man with a beard creeping about in the woods?’ Evans said.
Blair gave him a look as if questioning his sanity. ‘People hike in those woods. There are plenty of strange men with beards going about.’
‘Your head of security and two others saw a bearded man running away from the scene,’ Dunbar said.
Blair smiled. ‘Martin doesn’t have a beard. Sorry to disappoint you. He also walks with a limp. He’s disabled, and I don’t think he’s into cross-country running.’
‘What does he do with his spare time?’
‘Helps out at one of the market stalls. He likes the lassie who runs it. She likes his company too, so it keeps him…’
‘Out of mischief?’
‘Occupied. He doesn’t need to get a job for the money, of course, but a young mind like his is fragile. It took a lot of therapy to get him on the straight and narrow again. He still goes to therapy now.’
‘What about his mother?’ Evans asked.
‘What about her? You surely don’t think she went into the woods and killed those lassies, do you?’
‘Nothing’s beyond the realms,’ Dunbar said.
‘She’s in a fucking wheelchair, man!’ Blair suddenly shouted, jumping to his feet. ‘Now, if you want to know if I went creeping about in those woods, you’ll need to ask me through a lawyer. Goodnight, gentlemen.’
The detectives stood up. ‘We’ll be seeing you around, Mr Blair.’
The old man stormed out of the room, leaving them standing there.
Eleven
Then they heard him shouting outside the door.
‘No, I don’t fucking need anything from you!’
A woman came in through the open doorway, pushing the wheels of her chair. ‘I apologise for my father, gentlemen. Please, stay and have a drink.’
‘No, thank you,’ Dunbar said.
‘Marjorie Blair. I told my dad to wait for me, but the little lift they put in for me sometimes doesn’t want to work. He’s very impulsive. I hope he wasn’t too rude to you.’
‘We’ve heard worse.’
‘Please, sit. I’d be happy to answer any of your questions.’
Dunbar looked at Evans before sitting back down.
Marjorie wheeled herself closer. ‘It was tragic what happened to Carol. Martin’s devastated. She was one of his friends, and they had met up shortly after he got out. You know, there were fingers pointed at Martin when Chloe was murdered, and they hauled him in, questioned him like he was some kind of monster. He found her, that was it.’ She looked down at her wheelchair for a moment before looking back at the two men, tears in her eyes.
‘He’s nothing but a boy at heart. The psychologists think he has a mental age of ten. Thereabouts. Who knows for sure?’
‘Your father said Martin walks with a limp and that he’s disabled,’ Dunbar said.
‘Just a slight limp. The way my dad describes it, Martin walks with one leg hanging off. It’s just from an old injury he got years back. He fell, badly breaking his leg, and it didn’t set properly. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t notice it.’
‘He was cleared of involvement in Chloe’s murder, wasn’t he?’ Evans said.
‘Yes. They estimated the time of death and Martin was at a workshop at the time. Plenty of witnesses. Same for when Sarah was murdered three months later, but it didn’t stop the vultures rounding on him, even though he didn’t find her. He only found Chloe. He was supposed to meet her later that day. He had a complete meltdown after Sarah. That’s why he was in the hospital. He sees Dr Matthews now.’
‘How does he spend his days when he’s not in therapy?’ Dunbar asked.
‘Right now he’s spending time down at the market. Christmas Land is a godsend for him. He gets to be around people who don’t judge him.’
‘That’s good. Everybody needs a friend.’ Dunbar hesitated for a second before diving in. ‘Can I ask if you have a partner?’
Marjorie smiled at him. ‘I’m hardly the catch of the year. I’m forty-six and in a wheelchair. With a son some people might call retarded.’
‘Forty-six?’ Dunbar said.
‘Yes. I had Martin when I was sixteen. Even coming from a family with money doesn’t stop you doing stupid things. But I wouldn’t swap Martin for the world. I’m just thankful for what we have here. There are a lot of people who have it way worse than I have, so I don’t moan about it.’
‘You have a good attitude, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘Not at all. I just hope that helps clear some things up. In case you were wondering if Martin had killed Carol.’
‘It does.’
‘It’s not as if Martin would be able to comprehend what you were asking him. But if there’s anything else you need, just ask.’
‘I’ll have some uniforms talk to the rest of the people who live in the house here.’
‘Just let us know and they’ll be available.’ She turned the chair round and rolled out of the room.
Dunbar and Evans stood up just as Ainslie came back into the room. ‘I can show you out if you like,’ she said.
‘What do you think of Martin?’ Dunbar asked.
Her cheeks grew flushed, and not from the heat in the room. ‘I find him creepy, to be honest. When he sees me, he just stares. That’s why I’m leaving.’
‘Has he ever done anything inappropriate to you?’ Evans asked.
‘No, but one night I had been working late, and when I came downstairs, I saw him standing at the top, just out of sight. Another night, I looked out of my bedroom window with the light off and saw him running over the back lawn into the woods. He’s just creepy.’
‘But not last night?’
‘I didn’t see him last night at all. I heard screaming, and next thing, the security team were running across the back lawn through the snow.’
‘You’ve been very helpful, Miss Ashworth,’ Dunbar said.
The three of them left the library.
‘What do you make of this Martin?’ Dunbar asked Evans when they were outside.
‘I think he’s a creepy bastard who’s more switched on than people think. We should look into him more.’
