Dead at Third Man

by G R Jordan

  ‘So why does she live there?’ insisted Macleod.

  ‘She looks after me, tends the house and that as well as the children. A busy man like myself cannot hope to look after all that alone. But that is all she is. She’s sorting my needs out, well, not all obviously. I feel I’ve made the girl have something of a life when she would have been on the scrap heap.’

  ‘Were you ever married?’ asked Hope. ‘I mean to someone else, not Mairi.’

  ‘Yes, but she was not a woman I like to talk about. She dressed like you, she cavorted with others. Enjoyed the wild younger bodies of various of the sporting fraternities.’

  ‘Where was this?’ asked Macleod.

  ‘University. I offered her everything and she took me for a ride, sir. But she taught me what the female can do with her flesh and her evil mind.’ Irvine was staring at Hope, but she was sitting back in her chair, almost smiling. With his attack, he was finally showing where his motives may have come from, his anger at women finally betrayed to a single source. ‘You see, I learnt that woman is for the use of the man. Anything else and she betrays you. You are all Eves, all there to tempt us.’

  Twenty minutes later, Macleod stood outside, a single cup of coffee in his hand, watching the sun becoming lower in the sky. The orange glow was spreading rapidly turning the heather on the moorland to a caramel, like an inviting chocolate pudding covered in an orange sauce. Yes, he was hungry.

  ‘You okay, sir?’ asked Hope from behind him.

  ‘Very okay, excellent even. He did it, I just need to prove it.’

  ‘Really? I know he’s vile and that, but he needs people to go up against, not people becoming victims. While the Carsons were being the devil incarnate, he could have a go at them. But not now. He might get a few rounds of the wages of sin but beyond that, they have been expended. So why not keep them? Alcoholic fathers, dodgy husbands, all good for him, keeps the flock turning to him.’

  ‘I hear you, McGrath,’ said Macleod for the benefit of a nearby officer, ‘but my nose is bang on this time. We need to go into the relationships he has with his flock.’

  Hope coughed and moved closer to speak quietly. ‘Are you sure, Seoras—this isn’t just a get-back at a man who’s offended me, offended your God? There’s not a lot linking him to the murders. Yes, he didn’t like them but as I said they were good publicity for him. And all that crap he spouts, that’s what it is. Unhealthy and he’s probably a perv and user of women but I don’t think he’s a murderer.’

  Taking a long draught of his coffee, Macleod chewed on it. ‘I hear you, Hope, I hear you, but I’m right this time. But we’ll go through the motions and find the timings and how he did it, and the real reason why.’

  ‘And I’m guessing you want to know about Katie Macaulay and today’s visit.’

  ‘Yes, and tonight. I hope you can manage a late dinner.’

  Chapter 12

  Hope jiggled the keys at the front of the community hall, waiting for Macleod. It was unlike him to be late, especially after his desire to see Katie Macaulay and find out what was happening between her and the Rev. Irvine. Still, the view from the car park was quite spectacular and she could see the sun beginning its descent and setting the clouds on fire out towards the sea. The low moorland gave little protection but on a night like this none was needed and instead a wide-open vista was presented that took her breath away.

  ‘McGrath, inside a moment, please.’

  Hope hurried to the sound of Macleod’s voice and he pulled her into a quiet corner of the hall. ‘That’s the boss on the line from Glasgow looking for an update. Actually, she wants a bit more than that. Are you okay to interview Katie Macaulay? Might even be better with a woman’s touch if she’s got something going on?’

  ‘Woman’s touch, sir? Why would you think that’s what’s going on? We don’t have to have a female issue if we’re behaving strange.’

  ‘Easy, it was Stewart’s observation. In fact, take her with you; she’s got a keen eye, McGrath. The experience will be good for her, too.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Hope. Babysitting, I’m babysitting. And she’s an ideas’ person. Locating Stewart among the uniformed officers going through local statements, Hope told her to be outside in five minutes and got first a push back of the glasses and then a nod. Hope returned to the car park to wait once more.

  She should ring Allinson; she knew she should. Since she had left him at Glasgow airport, he had texted ten times and she had not replied to a single one. It was cruel but then he had been an arse. Where did he get off on telling her how she should be on a beach? He didn’t own her. She’d gone out of her way with the outfits she had bought, making the time to find somewhere they could have peace and quiet, to relax. How did I end up with the only man who would complain when you stripped off?

  He had grovelled though the rest of the week even if he had not relented on his position. In everything, he had been stepping back from what he wanted, been on the lookout for her. Maybe she should have let him have his way and even skipped the beach. But it was such a silly point. Why this? It had all been going so well.

  ‘Ready,’ said a voice and Hope almost started.

  ‘Great,’ said Hope, ‘in the car then. Here’s the keys.’ Why had she just given the keys over. That was a Macleod thing, letting her drive, letting any junior officer drive. Hope liked driving but she had just thrown the keys over as if this is what you do to the junior. Am I just following conventions? On the beach, too?

  The pair spoke little on the way to Kate Macaulay’s house which stood on the roadside with a separate empty shell of a house beside it. It was something that had bugged Hope about the island every time she had been on it, the number of empty shells, the long-forgotten abodes. It was not as if they were in a run-down estate of a solitary building in the middle of nowhere. Most were right beside a normal, occupied house, like the worst of eyesores, stuck right in the view of your property. Why didn’t they just knock them down? Macleod had muttered something about building costs and tax relief, but she had not understood fully as she had not listened closely, her eyes drawn to the drabness of the buildings.

  The driveway was just trodden down earth which was bare from repeated cars driving over it and the house itself had seen better days. A few chickens ran around their feet as they approached and Hope watched Stewart push back her glasses as she stared at them. Was that her response to everything?

  After two loud bangs on the door from Hope’s fist, it swung open and Katie Macaulay stood in her dressing gown looking white as a sheet. Her feet were bare, and the gown stopped at the knees which were slightly scuffed, like a carpet pattern had been indented onto them.

  ‘What the hell do you want?’

  ‘DCs McGrath and Stewart, ma’am. We wish to ask you a few more questions regarding the deaths of Bubba and Summer Carson. May we come in?’

  ‘If you want, but there’s nowhere to sit. That lazy bugger of a husband of mine hasn’t lifted a finger to help so there’s clothes all over the sofa.’ Katie left them standing on the doorstep and turned into the first door off the hallway.

  Hope followed with Stewart behind her, and they entered a room of knickknacks, a multitude of small items spread around, each standing wherever it found a space. The sofa was indeed full of clothing, roughly strewn but not dirty, some had the tell-tale lines of a wash that had not been ironed. Hope’s nose breathed in a deep peaty draught and she saw the open fire with the slow burning piles of black.

  Stewart had drifted across the room and was once again moving those glasses with her finger and staring at a photograph. She lifted it and showed it to Katie before allowing Hope to see it. There was a picture of the Carsons with Katie and Declan Macaulay. All of them were in the Carson Jacuzzi, Bubba with his arm around both women and Declan with a single arm around his wife. Maybe it was just the seating arrangement as they went boy to girl and surely someone else was there taking the photograph but Hope thought Bubba’s arm seemed to be rat
her tight around Katie.

  ‘Good friends, were you?’ asked Hope.

  ‘Declan loved him when he came,’ Katie spat. ‘Not so much now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Told him he was shit. At the cricket, I mean. I think Bubba only took him on for the numbers. He told him he was crap after the match on Sunday, proper dressing down but then Bubba had had a few by then.’

  ‘Was this a new assessment?’ asked Stewart. ‘Had he been told that before?’

  ‘No, Bubba was all sweetness and light with him at first until he saw the dream. Scotland’s top team. That’s why he brought up that Paisley mob. And on a Sunday, like my life’s not complicated enough.’

  ‘Did Irvine give you grief over it?’ asked Hope.

  ‘They know better—you don’t do that up here on the Sabbath. It’s a different place. It’s not like it’s Stornoway; things are changing there, cinema opening, there’s pubs, restaurants open, take-aways. Not up here. He shouldn’t have done it. There’s a lot of things Bubba should not have done.’

  ‘Was it all Bubba? How did you find Summer?’

  ‘That cow! Fine if you want someone to stand around looking all pretty with her false boobs and her plastic legs.’ A car pulled up outside and Hope heard the clucking of the chickens, presumably scattering from the noise. ‘She held him back from what he wanted. Look where it’s ended up.’ Katie stood wearily and looked out the window. ‘Bollocks, it’s Jackie.’

  ‘We can tell him to go away,’ said Hope.

  ‘No, he’ll only come round when you’re gone. Let him in; I need the bathroom.’

  Hope nodded at Stewart who followed Katie out of the room and opened the door for Jackie. There was a minor commotion before he entered the sitting room, sweating profusely like he had run over, rather than drive. He seemed agitated and stared hard at the washing on the sofa.

  ‘The lazy bastard. He does nothing for her, bloody nothing. Do you see that?’ Jackie shouted at Stewart. ‘He has done sod all.’

  ‘Are you doing it?’ asked Stewart and got an angry look in return.

  ‘Katie is indisposed at the moment,’ said Hope. ‘What’s the purpose of your call?’

  ‘Just checking up on her. She’s not been well. You see I know her.’

  ‘Got a sense of women?’ asked Stewart causing the man to spin around and look at her. He was between the two constables and looked like a man who was unsure where the next attack was coming from.

  ‘Known Katie since school, actually,’ he snorted. ‘Katie’s a good girl, even if that Irvine thinks he has his claws in. Nearly made it before Declan stuck his oar in. And look at this pig sty; what’s he given her? Sod all, that’s what. She’d have been better off with me.’

  Hope nearly burst out laughing at Stewart’s look of surprise. Jackie tried to hold his determined stance, his statement of superiority being broken down with Stewart’s incredulous eyes and then smashed to smithereens with a trademark push of the glasses back onto the nose.

  Katie re-entered the room, paler than before and sat down on the only available seat without looking at Jackie. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked around for something.

  ‘Water?’ asked Stewart.

  ‘No, fed up with water. Where’s the whisky, Jackie?’

  ‘Do you think that’s wise in your condition, ma’am?’ asked Stewart.

  ‘You do look like crap, Katie,’ said Jackie, kneeling before her.

  ‘Piss off; whisky!’

  Hope watched Jackie hunt and find a bottle before pouring a generous measure. The woman sunk half of the glass before looking for it to be recharged. Jackie duly obliged and then turned back to Hope.

  ‘And where is he? She’s not well but where is he? You need someone to look after you properly, girl. You know I’d do that. I did it before.’ Jackie knelt again and grabbed Katie’s hand. ‘I was the only man who was there for you, wasn’t I? Good times we had, the best of times. And you still have it, you still have those looks, those curves. God, you still look a peach, girl.’

  Hope looked at the woman he was talking about and she looked anything but a peach. Her hair, despite being full of body and life, was a mess tangled so badly that a brush would have cowered at the sight. The eyes were bloodshot, betraying a lack of sleep and although her skin looked healthy enough, she was dirty, with marks on her arms and knees which clearly had escaped any washing today. The grime of the peat still blackened her hands.

  ‘Just sod off, Jackie. You didn’t win, just sod off.’

  Jackie looked at Hope and Stewart, either for sympathy or support but neither was forthcoming. ‘You heard the woman—she asked you to leave,’ said Stewart.

  His stare was hard as he stood up, his mouth ready to spit fire at Stewart, but he kept himself in check as he left the room. Hope thought that the real hurt for Jackie was Katie’s blunt rejection, but it looked like it had been practised a hundred times.

  ‘Thank God,’ said Katie as they heard the car drive away. ‘What did I ever see in him?’

  ‘Former lover?’ asked Hope.

  ‘Boyfriend, no lover. Lucky if he knew what to do with it. That’s one thing Declan and he have in common.’ With that she burst out laughing, making a sign of smallness with her thumb and first finger to Stewart. The glasses were pushed back again.

  ‘You said Declan had a bit of a grilling from Bubba about his performance,’ reminded Hope. ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘He was distraught. Thinks himself to be Brian Lara.’ Hope raised her eyebrows indicating she needed more.

  ‘West Indian batsman, ma’am,’ said Stewart, ‘Best in the world at one point. In the days of dominance and fast bowling terror from that part of the world. He was magical.’

  If an alien had heard that word for the first time there would have been no way to know it described something beyond the normal, something enticing and intriguing. Stewart’s voice made the magical, mundane.

  ‘He moaned at me, at the party but I didn’t care, stupid fool. Bubba was using him like he uses everyone. Got us all, didn’t he?’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Hope.

  ‘Dreams, big dreams, that’s what. Did he deliver on them? No, not for anyone.’

  The chickens scattered again at the sound of a car arriving. Katie stood up and fell back down almost immediately. ‘Ah, piss. He can bugger off, too.’

  Declan Macaulay mouthed Stewart to Hope as she glanced out of the window. Hope nodded and waited in silence for the man’s arrival.

  ‘Did I see that piece of crap? Was he here again?’ shouted Declan as he opened the front door. ‘Was he casting more bollocks about me? He better not have—’

  ‘Hi,’ said Hope, ‘DCs McGrath and Stewart, just been talking to your wife.’

  ‘What has he said? I haven’t touched her; it’s a pack of lies. I’d never hit her. She’s just unwell, got some sort of bug or that. I told her to go to the doctor, but she won’t. They’ll check, tell you I haven’t touched her.’

  ‘I haven’t said or accused anyone of anything, sir,’ said Hope. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s been said.’

  ‘It’s that bloody Jackie, he’s never forgiven me, never got over the fact that she wanted me, not him. He’s saying I’ve been beating her because she’s going to run off with him. He’s here all the time. Never leaves her alone. It’s put her off everything. Three months since we—’

  ‘You don’t have to tell people that. Bloody hell, Declan, why don’t you just fill in a form and give them all about you. Four inches, policewoman, and that’s generous.’

  ‘Shut up! Why are you so hateful? It’s been like this for three months, three months of mood swings and changes. And she’s been ill. Look at her but she won’t see a doctor. Instead I get accused of beating my wife, tormenting her by that bloody boy, that arse. Just because he’s an ex doesn’t mean he knows her. I’m her husband—I know her. Inside and bloody out.’

  Hope saw the glass
es being pushed back up again and thought she would interject before a comment was uttered. ‘Just for the record, ma’am, has Mr Macaulay been violent or abusive towards you in any way?’

  ‘No,’ snapped Katie. ‘You’d need to be a real man to do that. He couldn’t take hold of a woman if she fell at his feet. And that’s my lot is it? Crap cricketer and crap husband.’

  Declan stormed off, slamming the door behind him and the chickens fled for their lives one more time as the car engine fired up. Katie finished her glass of whiskey and then simply closed her eyes. As Hope wondered about the next line of questions, she heard the loud snores of the woman. Well this has been one great success, she told herself sarcastically. Where do we find these people?

  Nodding at Stewart, they took their leave of the house and sat in the car for a moment, Hope finding the silence from her colleague disturbing. Tapping the dashboard, she watched Stewart take the hint and pull the car out of the drive, as once more chickens fled their beloved patch of land. Driving back, Hope decided she needed to give her colleague a branch and make some sort of bond between them. The woman was quite cold, efficient yes, but cold.

  In the police world it helped to have a bright, outgoing disposition. Stewart lacked that. Hope had also gained advantage through her looks, not that she flaunted them, but if someone invited her into conversation or onto groups because they enjoyed having her about then she was not going to stop them. She knew she had the ability, and you took your chances, however they came up. But Stewart was, if anything, and she hated herself for saying it, dumpy. Did she work out? Did she take time over herself?

  Hope stared at the plain ponytail coming from the rear of Stewart’s head. The black glasses sat on the ears and there was a total impassivity on the face. Hope wondered if Allinson would have a problem with Stewart on the beach. Would anyone look? That was cruel. There was just no connection coming from her in any sense. No give to the world that said like me. She was not nervous, acted with discretion, could handle herself but there was no ray of sunshine to light up anyone’s life. It was time to throw her a bone.