Old Sins, page 33
French was impressed. ‘You could be right.’
There was a knock on the door and Strang came in. ‘How are you doing?’ he said to French.
‘Oh, Livvy’s done a cracking job here.’ She held out her leg.
‘Well done, Livvy,’ he said, but he didn’t look at her. With her heart sinking Murray realised that he still hadn’t forgiven her.
French said, ‘Livvy says Danni Maitland was trying to get Flora’s case reopened and that would make her dangerous to Linton. It would explain how she was involved, wouldn’t it?’
It was kindly meant, no doubt. But Strang said only, ‘I’ll keep that in mind. Rachel, they’re sending the chopper to take Maia Reynolds to Inverness, and they can take you back with them afterwards. I don’t think you’re fit to drive and there’s no reason to stay here.’
‘I’m sure I could, but it is stiffening up a bit. I won’t say no to first-class travel. I’d just better get out of these and put on something a bit less draughty!’ She held out the rags of her trousers.
He laughed. ‘Good idea! Livvy, you could drive Rachel’s car back, couldn’t you?’
‘Yes, boss. Of course.’
Then they both left. He hadn’t asked her to join the Linton interview. Murray had never been a crier, but she sobbed until she began to feel ashamed of herself. She usually felt a terrific buzz at the close of a case but today she was too burdened by her own failures and it looked very much as if she wouldn’t be getting another chance.
The arrogant ones were easy when they still thought they could blag their way out. Ben Linton – not his real name – had begun by waving away a lawyer, talking about ‘misunderstandings’ with a confident smile, which faded as Strang, with Erskine observing, outlined the case they were building against him for Danni Maitland’s murder. He emphasised that there was a forensics team already analysing her clothing and would be going over his car, that there was considerable advantage in tendering an early plea and finished by reminding him that his alibi for the evening hinged on Maia Reynolds’ testimony.
‘I doubt if she’ll stick by it now,’ Strang said, and he could see Linton’s eyes narrow – making a rapid calculation of the odds?
Then his hand went up to his brow in a dramatic gesture. ‘Oh God, oh God! It was the most terrible thing that has ever happened. I have a temper, you see. My mother always said it’d be the ruin of me.’
‘That would be Mrs James Linton of Surrey?’
Again, he could see calculation – did they know it was fake, or not? Wisely, Linton said, ‘It was only so I could get away quickly. You saw the kind of people they are, this afternoon.’
‘Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about how you killed Danni.’
Linton gulped loudly. ‘The thing was, she was leading me on. That night – she laughed at me, mocked me for being a gold-digger – me! And the red mist came down – we were having a drink in her house and before I knew what I was doing I had broken the bottle and just lashed out. I didn’t mean to kill her. And the blood—’ He shuddered. ‘It brought me to my senses, but it was too late.
‘Then I panicked. The only thing I could think of was get back to my flat and clean myself up and Maia saw me. She said I had to get rid of the body, and it was her idea to take it up to the woods. It was a good hiding place, she said, easy to get to, and with luck it wouldn’t be found for years, even.
‘I know I shouldn’t have listened. I should have phoned you and confessed right then, but I was so scared! A moment’s loss of control – I’m paying for it now. I’m haunted by that poor girl! I’ll have to live with the guilt all my life.’ He bent forward, his hands curled over his head.
Strang waited for a moment. ‘I see. So it wasn’t because Danni was determined to make us reopen the enquiry into her aunt’s death?’
He caught a flash of panic, then became rigidly controlled. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ Linton said. ‘I never met the woman – I only started work here after she had died.’
‘Yes, we know that. But we’ve checked your fingerprints and we now know who you really are. Your name is Darren Thomson and you were an employee of Transco until you were jailed for weapons offences. They seem to have looked after you when you came out – I suspect you did a big favour for them by eliminating Flora Maitland, who knew too much. We haven’t proof yet, but we’ll keep digging.
‘I don’t know why you handed over the files, or why you killed Antony Stanton – internal politics, at a guess – but you were arrogant enough to believe you could drive away with the rifle you used to kill him still in the boot of your car. Oh, I admit I’m speculating there – we haven’t actually done the tests, but I’d be very surprised if it didn’t match up when we find Mr Stanton’s body, wouldn’t you?’
Darren Thomson’s face looked as if it had been cast in granite. ‘I want a lawyer,’ he said.
‘I think that’s a good idea.’ Strang got up. ‘I’m having you kept here until we see what we can charge you with. But don’t count on being out in time to take up that flight to Tunis you booked for tomorrow.’
EPILOGUE
Detective Chief Inspector Braithwaite was beaming when DCI Strang came in.
‘Well, you did stir up a hornets’ nest, didn’t you Kelso? I’ve just had a very complimentary call from the Chief Commissioner of the Met. They’ve had their eye on this Lucas Reith for a very long time. Have you worked out how it all fits together? Coffee?’
‘Thank you.’ Not only coffee, but chocolate biscuits. Oh, he was the wee boy, all right! ‘Mostly. We’ve had help from an unexpected source. Of course, with Maia Reynolds on a charge we can’t question her, but she’s insisted on giving us a full statement. She’s out for revenge on Darren Thomson and she’s setting herself up as the innocent victim of her wicked father’s crimes too. That’s Lucas Reith – his son Piers was killed years ago trying to outrun the coastguards on a suspected smuggling run, but the boat sank, so there was no further action.
‘He divorced a couple of years later and Maia is his second wife’s child. Auchinglass House had a long-term tenancy until Sean Reynolds with his wolf obsession appeared on the scene and it didn’t take Reith long to see the potential of the rewilding scheme – all that money neatly laundered through grants and fees paid by the volunteers.
‘Maia claims Thomson killed Flora, then Danni had to die because she was demanding a new investigation. She’s refuting his claim that she helped dispose of the body.’
‘But then she would, wouldn’t she?’ Borthwick said.
‘Choose which liar you fancy. Now forensics have DNA evidence from Danni’s body and with Antony Stanton’s body having been washed ashore they should be able to establish that the rifling on the barrel of the gun Thomson was dumb enough to leave in his car matches the bullet that killed him, so we’ve got him all tied up.’
‘Why, though?’ Borthwick said. ‘He was in a good position, all set to make big money.’
Strang shook his head. ‘She clammed up about that. Thomson killed Stanton just because Thomson was a bad person, and of course she would never have actually fired her own gun at anyone. So my only answer to “why” is what Flora Maitland’s friend said, that she was haunted by something bad she’d done, and she left money – conscience money? – to a woman she didn’t know had killed herself in jail. Could this somehow be payback?’
‘And it was Danni who had to pay. The sins of the fathers – or the aunt, in this case. Poor child.’
Strang sighed. ‘Old sins cast long shadows, as the saying goes.’
‘Still, a good result. Oh, and the wolf. What’s happened about that?’
‘They managed to trap her. She’s joined the pack at Edinburgh Zoo.’
‘Best place for her. And how did my friend Livvy do?’
‘Don’t ask,’ Strang said. ‘This time it’s a reprimand – insubordinate behaviour, which is annoying because she came up with some excellent stuff.’
‘Oh dear,’ Borthwick said. ‘Completely blotted her copybook, has she? How about Rachel French? Seemed a bit vague and timid when she spoke to me.’
‘You have to remember you’re kind of scary,’ he said, smiling. ‘Square peg, I’m afraid. In her own way she’s first rate, but not a leader.’
The phone on Borthwick’s desk buzzed and she raised her eyebrows. ‘Finished?’
He nodded and got up, swallowing the last bite of his KitKat.
‘Going to forgive Livvy?’ she said, picking up the phone. ‘Borthwick here.’
He pulled a face, then walked back down to his office. He was feeling the low you feel when you’ve been in a state of high tension and the adrenaline fades. He could take the rest of the day off, but he wasn’t sure what he would do with it and for once going back to the peace of the fisherman’s cottage wasn’t appealing.
He hadn’t seen Rachel French since she left Inverbeg, though he’d checked that she was all right, of course. But he liked her, and if he wasn’t going to live like a hermit for the rest of his life, he’d have to make an effort sometime. Asking how the leg was getting on was a good excuse to phone her.
She greeted him warmly, and for a few minutes they talked shop. Then he said, ‘I still feel guilty about landing you in a situation you just weren’t prepared for, not to mention getting you damaged! Could I take you out for a meal by way of apology?’
It obviously took her by surprise. ‘Oh!’ she said, then, ‘That’s very kind of you. Quite unnecessary, of course – if it wasn’t for your quick action, I’d have been dead.’
‘Self-interest came into it as well, of course. Do you like Italian?’
‘Doesn’t everyone?’
He rang off feeling buoyant. It was probably long past time he rejoined normal life.
The evening went well. The conversation flowed easily: a bit of work talk – including her plea for leniency towards the infuriating Livvy – and then general chat about interests they shared. He’d almost forgotten how pleasant it was to sit talking to a woman over dinner.
Afterwards, as they waited for her taxi to come, she said again, ‘That was very kind, Kelso. Thank you so much – I enjoyed myself.’
‘So did I. You know, there’s a play by the Royal Shakespeare Company coming next week – I could get tickets, if you like.’
He suddenly realised she was embarrassed. ‘Oh, Kelso – I didn’t realise you didn’t know I had a partner. I’m sorry.’
He felt a fool. He’d been thinking this was the tentative start of a relationship; she was seeing it as a work outing. He was grateful that it was dark He felt the sort of frantic blush he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager sweep up his face and out until his ears were burning.
‘No, no, it’s not your fault. Gauche of me not to find out beforehand,’ he said with an awkward laugh. ‘My apologies to your partner.’
‘Jane would love to meet you,’ Rachel said. ‘She’s really grateful to you for saving my life. Will you come round to supper soon?’
‘That would be lovely. Here’s your cab now.’ He gave her a peck on the cheek and waved her off.
He didn’t hail another cab immediately. It was cold but clear tonight, with a full moon looking as if it had been specially placed to spotlight the elegance of the New Town and he walked on along George Street to Charlotte Square, where he and Alexa had liked to pretend they’d heard a nightingale. That seemed a long time ago now.
The summons she’d been dreading came and DC Murray’s legs were shaking as she reached DCI Strang’s office. She’d never known him be so coldly angry and she had small expectation that she could just blag her way through this time.
He waved her to a seat. ‘Livvy, we need a serious talk.’
She looked down. ‘Yes, boss.’
‘Do you know why I’m so annoyed with you?’
‘Yes, boss. I shouldn’t just have gone off on my own.’
‘No, you shouldn’t have. It’s your besetting sin. I keep hoping you’ve learnt a lesson, but no. Do you know why I am so particularly angry about this?’
She shook her head dumbly.
‘It’s not because you took away a car that was needed, annoying though that was. It’s that on previous occasions when you’ve struck out on your own it’s been because you thought, rightly or wrongly, that I’d stop you doing something. Did you really think if you told me, I’d prevent you going to Ullapool to check out your idea?’
‘No, boss,’ she muttered.
‘I want you to consider why you did that.’
This was worse even than she had feared. She knew why: she’d been feeling threatened by Rachel French and she’d wanted to showcase her own more brilliant detective skills in a way Strang couldn’t ignore. But how did you present that in a less humiliating way?
‘No, Livvy, don’t even try to bullshit me,’ he said.
She forced back the tears that were forming. ‘Jealous, I suppose,’ she said.
‘Yes. Not impressive. You and Rachel have different, not competing skills. And otherwise, you did well. It’s been a good result, and I’m giving you some credit for that.’
At least she’d managed to cover up some of the things she’d handled badly – and actually, did he but know it, he owed her for not sharing her fears about Ranald Sinclair when that could have messed everything up.
But he was going on. ‘I’m afraid this is going on your record. You’ve been well warned.’
She’d still hoped for forgiveness. The lump in her throat felt like a boulder and her eyes were really stinging now. ‘Not much point in going for my stripes now, is there?’ she said gruffly.
‘Don’t be dramatic, Livvy. Get your head down and study this time and don’t get any more bad marks.’
‘Sir,’ she said, with a surreptitious sniff. Then she asked the question she needed to ask, despite not being sure she wanted the answer. ‘Does – does that rule me out from future SCRS investigations?’
Strang sighed. ‘No, Livvy, I hope not. You’re a good detective and I would miss your insights. Just take the lesson on board this time, all right?’
‘Yes, sir. I’m really sorry.’
She felt more cheerful as she left. He’d said he’d miss her – but then a nasty little inner voice pointed out he hadn’t said he’d miss her, just her insights. It was better than nothing, but as she sneaked back into her favourite spot behind the filing cabinet in the CID room and took out her textbook, the heavy sigh wasn’t only because she hated studying, but also because of the dull ache somewhere near where she thought her heart must be.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My grateful thanks go, as always, to my agent Jane Conway Gordon, my publisher Susie Dunlop and all at Allison and Busby, especially Claire Browne and Felicity Bage.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aline Templeton grew up in the fishing village of Anstruther, in the East Neuk of Fife. She has worked in education and broadcasting and was a Justice of the Peace for ten years. She has been a Chair of the Society of Authors in Scotland and a director of the Crime Writers’ Association. Married, with a son and a daughter and four grandchildren, she lived in Edinburgh for many years but now lives in Kent.
alinetempleton.co.uk @Aline Templeton
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COPYRIGHT
Allison & Busby Limited
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This ebook edition published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2021.
Copyright © 2021 by Aline Templeton
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-0–7490–2723–0
Aline Templeton, Old Sins
