Old Sins, page 18
There were two cars – a Discovery and a BMW 5 Series saloon – parked outside, but when she rang the bell, she got no answer. She rang again, and a half-door opened across a courtyard to one side and a man leant out. He was thickset and almost swarthy, with dark hair that looked as if he hadn’t combed it for days and he was scowling as he said, ‘What do you want?’
She walked towards him. Offices seemed to have been made out of what must once have been horseboxes, and he hadn’t opened the bottom half of the door.
‘DC Murray,’ she said, showing her warrant card.
He looked at it. ‘Oh,’ was all he said.
‘And you are … ?’ As if she couldn’t guess.
‘Sean Reynolds.’
‘We understand there’s a worker here called Joe Dundas. Is he here?’
‘No. Not working today.’
‘Have an address for him?’
‘Oh,’ he said again, then added grudgingly, ‘Yes. I’ll find it for you.’
He retreated, leaving her on the doorstep with nothing to do, giving time for a subversive idea to formulate.
When he returned with an address scribbled on a scrap of paper, his hand already going to the half-door to close it, she said, ‘Just a couple of other questions, if you don’t mind.’
He looked pained. ‘I suppose so. But I’m very busy – I hope you’re not planning to drag this out.’
Oh dear! What a lot he had to learn about a police investigation! ‘This is just a very preliminary enquiry,’ she said. ‘We’ll need a lot more of your time later. First of all, how many workers do you have on your books?’
‘There’s a number of cleaners, three office staff and our factor, Ben Linton. Eight estate workers, including Joe. I suppose I could find a list for you.’
‘I’ll certainly want one, but later will do. Are they all local?’
‘Within five miles, most of them. The labourers – there’s two, brothers, come in from Lochinver and one from near Unapool.’
‘Would any of them know Danni Maitland?’
Murray thought he flinched when she said the name, but he covered it with a shrug.
‘Unlikely. They’re all family men and they’re off home the minute they’re finished. All right?’ His hand was going back to the top of the door again.
She shouldn’t do it. She knew that perfectly well, but she was damned if French was the only person doing the interesting stuff.
‘Mr Reynolds, I understand you’re in the habit of going down the track past the woods where Ms Maitland’s body was found. Can I ask what you do there?’
It caught him on the raw. His eyes widened, and the hand on the door visibly tightened its grip. She could almost read the thought: Dare I say, mind your own effing business.
Wisely, he didn’t say it. He coughed, then said, ‘Sorry! You took me by surprise. Obviously, I patrol the estate, checking there’s nothing needing attention. The plantation’s old and overgrown and I need to weigh up whether to remove it once the planting’s complete at the lower levels.’
It was a disappointingly quick recovery. She hadn’t gained anything, and indeed might have thrown away a chance of putting him off balance at some later stage, if that was needed. She was irritated with herself, which was perhaps why she didn’t resist the temptation to say, ‘That’s not where the wolf is, then?’
Again, he stared at her. Then he said, in tones of disgust, ‘Oh, for God’s sake! If you’ve nothing better to do than to listen to fairy stories invented by silly little girls, I have. That’s it.’
The half-door slammed shut. Feeling slightly sick, Murray turned away. She’d handled that stupidly and she was too old now to think that ‘I was in a bad mood’ was a reasonable excuse.
If she’d been reporting to Strang, she’d have accepted she should go and confess. But if she had he wouldn’t have been judgemental, the way French seemed to be all the time. And it probably wasn’t going to be relevant, anyway – French had said that herself, to Jonathan.
With any luck, she wouldn’t ever need to know.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘He phoned me this morning,’ Angus Mackenzie said. ‘He wanted to explain you were to be in charge here now.’
‘Oh, I see,’ DI French said. It was ridiculous to feel relieved that Strang hadn’t felt so unconfident that he’d risked turning up in person to check how she was managing.
‘I’m sure he’s happy to leave things in your capable hands,’ he said, with a smile.
Was she that obvious? She said hastily, ‘But there was something he thought we should know?’
‘Yes. It’s this – this dreadful business, of course. Poor Danni! I’m only glad her aunt isn’t here to see it – she was devoted to the child, devoted!’ He took out a handkerchief with shaking hands and dabbed his eyes. ‘I can hardly bear to think about it. And it happened there, in her own house!’
‘Yes. You’re familiar with it, are you?’
‘Only from when Flora lived there. Danni – well, she had parties with her own young friends, but…’ Mackenzie’s voice tailed off. ‘She wasn’t interested in what I could tell her about her aunt – a shame, really. But after the car went on fire – you know about that?’
French nodded.
‘I heard the bang, and when I saw what had happened, I hurried along – I’ve a croft just along the road from here. By then Sean Reynolds had arrived and Hattie Sinclair, bless her, took Danni away – her poor feet were all cut with broken glass. I stayed to sweep it up and then another couple of neighbours arrived and between us we got cardboard to fill in the window – it was a terrible night with the storm, just terrible.
‘I’d said I’d get a glazier in to fix it, so I phoned him on Monday morning. But he said he wouldn’t be out this way for a day or two, so I suggested I could measure up for him and I went in to do that on Monday afternoon.’
Suddenly, French was very, very interested. ‘In the house? You had a key?’
‘Goodness, we never lock our doors around here! No, I just went in with my tape measure.’
But someone had locked the door – Strang had been forced to kick it open. She said carefully, ‘And the house looked – normal, so far as you could tell?’
‘Apart from the broken window, yes. I’d swept up the glass, as I said, and the sitting room was just as usual.’
‘Can you remember what time it was?’
Mackenzie hesitated. ‘I’m not good at knowing the time – it never seems to matter much, out here. But I know I forgot about doing it until quite late and then thought I better go before it got properly dark. So it would maybe be five o’clock, or a wee bit after? I was certainly back home before the six o’clock news.’
‘Did you see anyone else around then? Cars parked, say?’
‘Not a soul. It was such awful weather. The shop shuts at five and the pub doesn’t open till six, so there’d be no reason for anyone to be around.’
This was solid gold. It had always been likely that it had happened at night but with this evidence they would only have to check movements during the hours of darkness on Monday, not throughout the whole day. It would simplify everything.
‘That’s been incredibly helpful, Mr Mackenzie. Thank you for coming to tell me,’ she said, with real gratitude.
He stood up, shaking his head. ‘Not at all, not at all. If there was more I could do, I’d be glad to.’
‘As a matter of fact, I think my sergeant may be looking for you, hoping you can save us some time. The township houses are very scattered, and we don’t have local officers to ask.’
‘Of course. I’ll go now and see if I can find him.’ As he went to go, he stopped and said, ‘I can only wish you every success. And maybe in finding who did this, you’ll find the person who killed Flora Maitland.’
As he went out, he passed DC Murray coming in. She was looking even less cheerful and outgoing than usual, but French decided not to notice it.
‘We’ve had a stroke of luck, Livvy,’ she said. ‘Mr Mackenzie visited Maitland’s house late on Monday afternoon and it was normal then.’
Murray’s face brightened at once. ‘And the boss’s notes said that Hattie Sinclair had knocked on the door but got no reply early on Tuesday morning and been around the village after that. So we’ve got time of death pinned.’
‘I’m just thankful I’ll have progress to report when next I have to speak to DCS Borthwick. I’m terrified of her.’
For once, she got a good response. Murray grinned. ‘I reckon that’s pretty smart. But she’s okay – you know, FFF?’
‘Oh, I know it all right. I’ve been well warned. Anyway – you got that address?’
For some reason, Murray stopped smiling, but she held out the paper. ‘Here it is.’ Then, as they reached the car she hesitated. ‘Do you want to drive, ma’am? DCI Strang prefers to.’
That felt liked a hint, and she’d tensed up – why? Then French remembered the roads round here.
‘Would you rather I did?’ she said. ‘I’ve come up this way a few times hill-walking and stuff, and if you’re not used to the driving it’s a bit unnerving.’
Murray’s face relaxed. ‘Thanks, ma’am. I’ll owe you one.’
French laughed. ‘Wait till you see how I drive before you say that.’
As they walked to the car, French was feeling optimistic. Improvement on two fronts – maybe she’d get there eventually.
William Maitland opened his front door a bare six inches. ‘If you’re from the press, get stuffed. Leave us alone.’
The man was pale and his fleshy face seemed to be sagging, somehow. When DCI Strang introduced himself, it was grudgingly opened wide enough to let him in and Maitland said, ‘All right, then. You’re him that was meant to come yesterday, aren’t you?’
Strang admitted that he was. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss,’ he said as he came into the sitting room, where Moira Maitland was sitting by an electric fire, huddled into her chair. Her eyes were red and swollen and though she looked up at him blearily she said nothing, as if speaking would be an effort beyond her powers.
‘I suppose you’d better take a seat.’ Maitland waved him towards a sagging sofa covered by a tartan throw. ‘Is there any news?’
‘Have they given you a family liaison officer?’ Strang asked, stalling for time.
‘Oh aye, there’s been a woman comes and yammers on for bit until we can get her to go away. But all she says is that enquiries are still at an early stage. Maybe you can tell me what you’re doing to find out who killed my daughter.’
Moira gave a stifled sob as Strang said, ‘I’m afraid she’ll know a lot more than I do. I’m not a part of this investigation. Look, I can leave now if you’d prefer – you’ve only to say the word. As I think my assistant told you at the time, I was wanting to ask a few questions about your sister, Flora. It won’t take long—’
He was interrupted by a scream from Moira. She had looked limp, but now she was on her feet. ‘No! I won’t sit here and listen to anyone talking about that woman! If it wasn’t for her my daughter wouldn’t be dead!’ Sobbing, she stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
In the awkward silence that followed, Strang got to his feet. ‘Sorry. I’d better go …’
Maitland said wearily, ‘You might as well stay. You won’t go away, will you – you’ll only go away just now, and then you’ll come back and I’ll have it all to go through again. Tell me what you want and we can get it over with.’
‘I’ll keep it brief. What do you know about your sister’s career?’
He made a disgusted sound. ‘She was into some sort of dirty stuff, Flora. Oh, it was just that one time she got in trouble with your lot but only because she was smart. She was in it along with Reith all right – and he was rotten to the core. Got what was coming to him, getting killed like that – there’d be other folks died because of him. But it never stopped her. She’d the sort of money you don’t come by honestly, and she’d make a big joke of it when we asked her where it came from. Export and import, she liked to call it, but she always winked when she said it.
‘Whenever Danielle was old enough she started undermining us – letting her do all the stuff we always said she wasn’t old enough for, taking her places she never should have been at her age, and we knew the two of them laughed about us behind our backs. We were always scared she’d get her into real trouble and it was a relief when she wasn’t around in the last few years. But now look what’s happened.’
‘Do you know who she was working for?’ Strang asked.
‘Never told us, and I didn’t want to know. After my father left her the croft all I wanted was to forget about her. She’d taken what should have been mine.’
He sounded angry, but Strang could see hurt on his face too as Maitland went on, ‘That’s what you get for being the honest one who stuck at a job and looked after his family. She would float in and make the old fool laugh, and that was what he liked. If my mother’d still been alive, she’d have talked sense into him – she was a good, decent woman and she saw right through Flora.’
‘So she never talked to you in detail about the work she did?’
Maitland gave a short laugh. ‘Wouldn’t have asked her. And if I had, she’d have laughed at me.’
Strang shifted in his chair. Would the man baulk when it came to authorising the lawyer to release the papers?
‘Mr Maitland, you’ve been very helpful and I don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary. But your sister’s lawyer is holding some personal papers of hers that might be helpful to the continuing investigation into her death. Unless your daughter left a will, which seems unlikely, you will be the sole beneficiary. Would you be prepared to instruct Mr Mackay to allow us to see them?’
‘Investigating Flora’s death?’ He was angry now. ‘What for? She got drunk and fell over a cliff. The last thing I want is the secrets of her mucky past getting dug up to humiliate her family. She’s dead now, and I can’t say I’m sorry.’
Strang had been afraid he’d say that. He made one last attempt. ‘If we don’t need to make it an official request, there will be much less risk of publicity. And I’ll tell you something in strictest confidence. It’s only my personal opinion, but I think it’s possible that your sister’s death, and your daughter’s, are linked in some way and if we can establish what that link is, it might help us bring Danielle’s killer to justice – though I have to stress that it’s only a suspicion.’
Maitland’s face worked. Strang hadn’t been sure about his feelings for his daughter; Donald Mackay had told him about his rage when the inheritance had gone to her instead of to him, and so far he’d seemed unemotional. Now, though, he turned away and blew his nose, hard. It seemed a long time before he spoke.
‘Oh, very well. I’ll speak to Mackay.’ Abruptly, he stood up. ‘And now you can go and leave us alone.’
Dismissed, Strang went back to his car. What he’d said hadn’t, perhaps, been strictly professional, but it had been truthful. Of course, he could be entirely wrong; it was hardly unknown for young men who’d been publicly humiliated to take disproportionate revenge and even now DI French might be arresting Joe Dundas. But the deaths of the two related women living in the same house over a comparatively short period of time were a compelling reason to look more closely for some pattern that was not immediately obvious.
Ranald Sinclair came into the kitchen for the third time that morning. Hattie had been working to fill an order for the freezer in the shop and had broken off to make him coffee twice already; he didn’t seem to have spent much time through in the office today.
‘Are you wanting an early lunch?’ she said, trying to conceal her irritation. ‘I’ll just need to get this pavlova into the oven and then—’
‘No, no,’ he said. ‘I can wait. Just wanted to see if you’d had anyone in here?’
She was puzzled. ‘Had anyone?’
‘There’s journalists around, stopping people to ask if they know anything.’
‘Oh dear. Did they speak to you?’
‘A couple of them tried, but of course I brushed them off. But there’s plenty of people only too keen to get their names in the papers. God knows what rubbish they’ll be telling them. And the police haven’t been?’
‘No. I went to the shop earlier and someone said they were going round all the houses, so I suppose they’ll be here sometime.’
Ranald didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t leave either. ‘They’ll probably ask about our movements, though.’
Hattie looked at him, frowning. ‘Well, yes, I expect they will.’
‘So we should be clear about what we’re going to tell them, and not stammer around looking stupid – right?’
She didn’t like the sound of that. ‘It’s not difficult, surely? I told Kelso yesterday most of what I did after Danni disappeared.’
‘Oh sure, sure. And of course I can tell them what I did on Monday – went into Lochinver to give a bollocking to Chris Peterson about getting the feed delivery wrong, came back here for lunch, worked in the office, then had to go back to Lochinver to fetch the replacement. Then, of course, remember, we were here together all evening.’
Hattie wasn’t likely to forget that evening. It was when she’d realised her husband was in love with another woman. It had been hard to hold things together, not to break down and have a confrontation. She’d been grateful when he went through to the office to catch up with paperwork and she could have her cry out in peace.
‘Yes, that’s right. At least, you were in the office.’
He glared at her. ‘That’s here, isn’t it?’
The conversation was getting uncomfortable. She agreed, weakly, as she put a final swirl on top of the meringue and put it into the oven.
