Dead at Third Man

by G R Jordan

  ‘Probably Katie,’ said Gordy. ‘Jackie had a go at Alice for sitting with me. I was sitting and she plonked herself beside me. Alice is a fine young girl, and a heck of a cricketer but really a little young for me.’

  ‘Aye, Jackie gave you some bollocks for being beside her. I know you were looking but you were just chatting.’ Big Jim sniffed. ‘But then Jackie’s got a thing about women. Ever since Declan took Katie off his hands, and now he thinks Alice and he are an item.’

  ‘Are they?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘Alice is just playing, friends and that. Genuine in it, but just wanting friendship. Jackie wants more, that’s why they row a lot.’

  ‘Tell me about Dickie Smith, please. I have a lot of people at the post match celebration say he was remarkably close to Summer that night.’

  ‘Silver fox,’ said Big Jim.

  ‘Yeah, silver fox,’ echoed Gordy. ‘He’s in his forties but still as fit as a fiddle. He’s not been up here that long, works as a consultant for the fish farms if I recall right. Quite private but has an eye for the women, bit of a Romeo. Punches way above his station.’

  ‘How?’ asked Hope.

  ‘Well, he’d try it on with you, no offence,’ said Big Jim. ‘Since I’ve known him, he’s had two or three affairs with women up here ranging from twenty to forty.’

  ‘You mean relationships?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘No, affairs. They all had partners. I think he likes the danger. He got caught last year in the bedroom of a young woman who’d barely hit twenty, stayed at home with her folks. The father comes in with a knife, screaming blue murder at him. Apparently, he legged it out the window with his trousers in his arms and nothing on his bare behind.’ Again, the pair laughed, and Macleod thought of them as a couple of stooges, propping up the bar and letting life pass them by while enjoying a joke at its expense.

  ‘But he liked Summer, that I know,’ said Gordy.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Hope.

  ‘Because every time she passed and we were chatting he’d mention her legs, her rear, her chest. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her, but it was like most of that football commentary, totally unnecessary. But then he wasn’t talking to me, really. He was telling himself, wallowing in her.’

  ‘But she was always Bubba’s,’ said Jim. ‘I’ve not seen such an attentive wife. Quiet, but attentive. They were awfully close. Such a damn waste, Inspector, damn waste. Make sure you catch the bastard that did this. They deserved better. Bubba brought a lot to this community, and she was part of that. They gave Alan a new life, sent Alice to the national trials, and kept us two farts out of serious trouble. Pair of angels, Inspector.’

  When the interview had concluded, Macleod watched the pair walk together from the hall, the odd comment passing between them. Is that how men go if they have no woman in their life? Buddies on the road together? He laughed inside.

  Hope touched his shoulder. ‘Seoras, Mackintosh is here; says she has something important.’

  ‘Good, in the side room.’

  ‘And Irvine called up. Says he has trouble getting his lawyer so has delayed his attendance until five.’

  ‘Arrogant clown. Fine, I’ll pick him apart then but come on, let’s not keep Mackintosh waiting.’

  There was always a little tension between Mackintosh and Macleod but when he saw her in the compact side room, he felt more sympathy for her than he had ever done before. The woman was usually neat and tidy, and had a lot of hustle about her. Right now, she looked fatigued, her hair straggly, and her shoulders drooping. She wore a t-shirt, with a logo from some holiday park on it and a pair of blue jeans. This was not her usual smart garb that spoke of a professional.

  ‘Sit down, Mackintosh, you look like hell,’ said Macleod. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’

  ‘Blimey. Yes, you can, thank you.’

  ‘I’ll get it, sir,’ said Hope.

  ‘No, let him,’ smiled Mackintosh. ‘It’ll mean more to me.’ The tired face brought out a smile and Macleod laughed.

  ‘Just once, mind,’ he said, exiting the room. When he returned, Macleod set the coffee on the table, complete with a small piece of shortbread and placed a mug before Hope and one for himself. Taking his seat, he smiled at Mackintosh but got a weary look in return. ‘So, what’s the news?’

  ‘Bubba Carson, and I have confirmed it is him, was battered to death by a club of some sort. Round edges, nothing that would cut like a knife. Something you could swing easily, and wooden. I found small traces of wood in the wounds. If you get me a weapon, I can check against it for a match. Probably killed at the cricket pitch given the blood, which is his.

  ‘Summer Carson, beaten as well, not sure where in the sense of location. She was, however, beaten about the back area and not the face, and not to the degree that her husband was. But there were traces of wood in her back which means her back was bare when hit. But she did not die from those injuries, she drowned. In the Jacuzzi—the water in the lungs matches, chlorinated. She suffered more than him. From his beating I reckon he was dead or unconscious very quickly. But she was conscious when she drowned.

  ‘Any marks or traces of who did it?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘No, nothing. But she was tied with something—hands bound together, mouth gagged at some point. Not so, Bubba. It’s like someone wanted her . . . anger focused mainly on her.’

  ‘Seems strange as she is portrayed as a quiet angel,’ said Hope.

  ‘Well, I’ll break that myth. She had had sex that night and not that long before she died. With the water she was found in; things get a little awkward to pinpoint but she had sex that night.’

  ‘Well, she was on the pavilion the whole time of the match, and I think she had been in the party. Was it consensual sex?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘No signs of violence, but her hands were tied. I can’t tell if that was before, during or after, sorry. I have a sample of the sperm and if you get me DNA donations, I can hopefully match but it might not be your killer. It looks to be consensual.’

  ‘So, I’m looking for someone who loved her and someone else who clubbed and drowned her. Could the wood have come from a baseball bat?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. Given the blows, the weighting would be around the right amount.’

  ‘We checked the house,’ said Hope, ‘and we didn’t find any bats. Found that strange for a former baseball player. Surely you would have mementos at least if not actual bats.’

  ‘If they were stolen to do this that means someone was in the house beforehand, Hope. Any signs of a break in, Mackintosh?’

  ‘No, Inspector. I found nothing but then again, I’m not sure it was locked. They had an alarm system but it was not activated when you arrived. Logs said it had never been activated since it was installed, except for initial testing.’

  ‘Most people up here don’t lock their doors, Mackintosh, although I think it’s changing. Hit with your own bats, so it’s personal. Wife stripped, beaten, and then dumped in your Jacuzzi. I think it’s a statement.’

  ‘I’ll get over to the house and give it another go if you want, Inspector.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing. Are you over in your car, Mackintosh?’

  ‘No, one of the local team was good enough to drop me here.’

  ‘Hope,’ said Macleod, ‘get one of the team to drop Mackintosh to the hotel.’ Hope nodded and excused herself and Macleod came out from behind the desk he was sitting at. ‘Hazel—’

  ‘Hazel? Am I getting sacked?’

  Macleod ignored the jibe. ‘Thank you for the work so far but you need your bed. I haven’t seen you so tired on a case. Have you slept since you got here?’

  ‘No, Inspector.’

  ‘Seoras, if we’re in private, it’s just Seoras. We got off to a bad start, but I hope we are better colleagues now than back on that beach in the Black Isle.’

  ‘You’re a dark horse, Macleod, do you know that?’

  Macleod blushed. ‘I’m sure Mr Mackintosh
is a lucky man.’

  ‘There isn’t one,’ she said getting to her feet. ‘I’ll be back up after a short sleep tonight. If you do finish while they are still serving, how about dinner tonight? Maybe without the team?’

  There was a sudden feeling of butterflies. Have I just been propositioned? Dinner, alone. Looking at her, he took in the tired woman and saw a strong spirit which grabbed at him. For her age she was in good shape, and the wrinkles of time seemed to add to her, not distort the picture. Wow, seriously?

  ‘You’re welcome to join me for dinner,’ he said, ‘but I’m afraid we’ll need some company. I’m attached, as they say.’

  Mackintosh dipped her head and he thought he heard a sorry muttered under the breath. The woman seemed to reach quickly for the door, and he reckoned she had been hurt by the refusal. In no way was he thinking about a liaison, but this woman had given him a lift and he hated that she was crushed by his answer. He needed to do better. Macleod grabbed her shoulder turning her round.

  ‘Hazel, if I wasn’t, then I definitely would.’ He watched the smile which then faded.

  ‘I know you hope that makes it better, Seoras, but actually it makes it worse.’

  Chapter 10

  The view out to sea was breath-taking and despite the wind buffeting him and making his coat flap, Macleod remembered a time when he would stand here on days out to the west side of Lewis. Packed up in a small bus, he and his fellow schoolmates would be taken for a picnic, excitement running through them at simply being on a trip. These days of course it would not cut the same ice but back then it was something to be cherished.

  ‘You ready?’ asked Hope. ‘I’ve got Dickie Smith’s address.’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. Just coming.’

  ‘What were you thinking about?’

  ‘School days,’ said Macleod. But that was not the whole truth because he had only been thinking about them for the last minute. The five minutes prior to that were taken up wholly by the words of Mackintosh, and not those relating to the case. He had indulged in them by saying that he needed a little timeout in the day, let the mind rest. But the surge of feeling he had found was extraordinary. It was not every day a woman asked him to dinner and even though he and Jane were more than happy, it was a great boost to the ego.

  ‘What do you think of Mackintosh?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘Sounds like she has set us up with a killer who’s quite vindictive. I mean to tie Summer up, strip, and drown her in her Jacuzzi, maybe gives a sexual angle. She’d had sex. Someone who couldn’t keep his urges or desires in check? I doubt it’s someone from the past all the way out here.’

  Macleod had not meant his question that way but rather than correct Hope, he retreated into his thoughts and an image of his forensic colleague. Strong woman, really, he thought, lot like Jane, maybe. And then he fled back to the case.

  Dickie Smith’s house was a small bungalow on the main road, or as main a road as Bhuinaig had. In the sunshine it looked picturesque and had a recently painted white wall to match the slightly more weather-beaten white of the house. The garden was immaculate. Flowers were lined up in rows and whilst they were not exuberant, they were impressive. As Hope knocked on the wooden front door, she admired the hanging basket.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ said a voice behind them. A hand was extended from the strong arm of a bowler, and Dickie Smith shook first Hope’s hand and then Macleod’s. It was like a vice had grabbed his hand, powerful and relentless, but Macleod showed no grimace. He had shaken with the best of them and had a practiced face to hide the pain.

  ‘Mr Smith, DI Macleod and DC McGrath. Is it okay to have a word?’

  ‘I did come along for the interview. Is this something special?’ The voice was a little hesitant. The shoulders were slumped almost in resignation and his eyes were flicking from side to side.

  ‘Just following up, sir,’ said Macleod but now it was going to be something special because he had seen that Smith had something to hide.

  ‘Can I get you a cup of tea? There’s a sunroom at the rear of the house. You don’t get to sit outside all year here on Lewis.’

  ‘I know,’ said Macleod, ‘born and bred here. Your garden’s very impressive for the weather and soil. Obviously, you spend a lot of time in it, but you don’t look old enough to be retired, sir. May I ask your age?’

  ‘Fifty, and I am retired. I made a small fortune in running tours to America, to the sporting events. Super Bowl, the World Series, all the major golf and any other event that was happening. Did well at it, as I have a tidy mind. So was able to retire and just wanted away from all that excess and screaming punters. Had enough for a nest egg up here and plenty to live on if I’m sensible. Which I am, Inspector.’

  Smith led them into a white conservatory at the rear of the house which had an array of plant pots. Offering Hope a seat, he then pointed Macleod to a second one before fetching a third seat. He then retired to the kitchen leaving the pair to admire his plants. Looking into the rear room, Macleod saw a blue and yellow uniform lying neatly folded on a small sofa. He recognised the colours of the club.

  Five minutes later, Smith returned with a tray holding three delicate china cups and a stylish teapot. ‘It’s Darjeeling, I hope that’s all right,’ he said. Macleod had no idea if it would be but smiled politely.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Hope, who grabbed her cup eagerly. ‘You certainly are on top of the house, Mr Smith.’

  ‘Call me Dickie—everyone else does. It’s Richard on the documents but in my house it’s Dickie.’

  ‘We read through your statement concerning the night of Bubba and Summer Carson’s death and just wanted to go over a few things, just for clarification,’ said Hope, keeping her charming grin to the fore. But the man rattled his cup on the saucer.

  ‘It’s not easy to talk about,’ said Dickie, ‘they were friends. I was struggling up here, not with the upkeep of the place and that but with simple friends.’

  ‘You find yourself alone a lot?’ asked Hope.

  Dickie laughed. ‘Depends what you call alone.’ There was a lilt to the voice and Hope swore she heard a touch of Welsh valleys in there, the delicate rise and fall drawing out the words like they should be loved not spoken. ‘There’s been many a woman in this house.’

  Macleod detected no boast in the man’s tone. ‘Just casual relationships, or anything serious?’

  ‘That’s a bit personal, sir, but mainly casual, consensual, lonely women. You’d be surprised how many there are. Especially how many married ones.’ Dickie saw Macleod’s raised eyebrows. ‘Look I don’t go around breaking up marriages; I just help keep the loneliness at bay. That’s what they do for me. And eventually we part when they start healing up things at home or the risk is too great. It’s just a bit of fun.’

  ‘Did you have fun with someone at the club?’ asked Hope. ‘Everyone said that Summer and you were very chatty at the after-match party.’

  ‘Lovely woman,’ said Dickie, ‘who used to be a cheerleader in America when she was young. The thing was that they had started inviting me over. Had a lot of contacts in America and here for sports equipment and kit. Bubba was enthusiastically organising this little cricket jaunt and I was over more and more. But he was all about the business, all about the cricket. And right beside him was a woman dying.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘Who did she have here? No one except Bubba. She’s a stranger, a foreigner, who looks like a million dollars. Also has money. There’s a lot of jealousy right there. So yes, she’s welcomed, they bring over the traybakes and shortbread and tell her how delightful the house is but there’s no connection, no real friends.’

  ‘And you knew this?’ asked Macleod and caught Hope’s nodding head.

  ‘Most men don’t catch it, but it’s been something I have been good at, spotting the loneliness in women. Purely for my own cause of course. But I don’t take advantage, it is all mutual. I don’t force something to happen, just offer
it on a plate, so to speak. They don’t all take.’

  ‘Did Summer Carson take?’ asked Hope.

  ‘I was round one day, and Bubba raced off to some meeting. Summer then produces an old photo album, one from out of a cupboard. It has her at university, a cheerleader. Short socks, long legs, skirt, and a bright-coloured jumper. She looked amazing, like something from an advert. But homely with it, girl-next-door thing. She’s telling me how she missed those times, telling me all about her girlfriends and meeting Bubba, the star baseball player. She really was in a mess. And it all came out, including the tears.’

  ‘And what, you just moved in?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘Don’t be crass, sir. I started spending time with her. Going on walks, making her tea, right here in this sunroom. She’d pop by two or three times a week. She bought me that cactus by the window. Then one day she asks me to drop by. She didn’t say but I knew Bubba was going to be out. I was surprised as we don’t keep our shape from younger years, but she was wearing that cheerleading outfit. Turns out she had seen my stare when she had shown me the photograph. And she’d gotten the outfit adjusted.’

  ‘And that’s when you started the affair?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘The affair, helping her with her loneliness, call it what you will. We were discreet. Passionate but discreet. There’s been very few women who I wished to have but she would have been one of them. I know you think I’m some sort of lurker, picking the pockets of men, but I’m really not.’

  ‘No, I don’t think you are,’ said Hope, and received a glare from Macleod.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us about this at the hall when you were interviewed?’

  ‘Discretion, I guess.Didn’t want her name dragged through the mud and I still like the club, one of my social events, you see. I was just about hanging onto my place, but I didn’t want to lose it. Having been involved with the dead founder’s deceased wife, that might have put the kibosh on that.’