Dark is the Day

by Tana Collins

  Bingham turned to a speechless Carruthers and McTavish. ‘He always was a jumped-up little shit.’ He turned to McTavish. ‘I’m sorry about that rampant display of sexism, Sandra. You shouldn’t have had to listen to that. I’m afraid Superintendent Len Campbell is old school.’

  McTavish was tight-lipped. It was pretty obvious what she thought of Len Campbell. ‘Thank you for coming to my defence but I can assure you I am able to fight my own battles.’

  Carruthers looked at McTavish with admiration. She really did have some guts and he was starting to like her. In some ways she reminded him of Fletcher and he remembered the way his younger colleague had stood up to the chauvinism of fellow Glaswegian, Alistair McGhee, in their first case together. He smiled. Fletcher had certainly given McGhee a run for his money. Not for the first time in his life he was thankful he was a man and didn’t have to deal with this sort of sexist shit at work. He wouldn’t want to put up with the sexism that he still occasionally stumbled across in the Scottish police force. They’d come a long way since the 1970s but sadly, as just witnessed, there were still chauvinistic senior police officers. He thought of a case recently in England where two male officers had been sidelined for putting their heads above the parapet and standing up for their female colleague. They’d just won a massive pay-out. Carruthers was glad, but he wondered what it had cost them on a personal level.

  ‘Jim, Sandra, I want half an hour of your time now before we meet with Rachel Abbie’s dad. We need to sit down and go through exactly what we’ve got on John Campbell. Our case against him needs to be watertight. I want to know every detail of why you brought him in for questioning. And it had better have been by the book. I want to be prepared before Len Campbell brings the big guns in, and bring the big guns in he will. You can be sure of that.’

  After they’d had their meeting about John Campbell, an emotional Mr Abbie was led into McTavish’s office. Mr Abbie was clutching a bulky, unmarked A4 padded envelope. Carruthers asked him to take a seat. The man was openly weeping. They’d decided, under the circumstances, an office was much more appropriate than an interview room. Carruthers noticed Fletcher was unusually pale-faced.

  Carruthers looked at Mr Abbie. ‘I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Something came up last minute.’ He thought of Superintendent Len Campbell, satisfied that they had a good case against his son, at least for the murder of Rachel Abbie. But if Campbell’s father had provided an alibi for his son, did that mean the man had lied for his offspring or were they back to the possibility of it being two murderers? Carruthers didn’t know.

  Mr Abbie pushed the bulky package towards the officers.

  ‘Does it contain…?’ Carruthers could barely bring himself to finish the sentence.

  ‘My daughter’s finger? Yes.’

  Carruthers stared at the package, noticing flecks of what looked like vomit on it, then at Mr Abbie, who had placed his hand over his mouth. The man had screwed his eyes tight shut. The detective hoped the distraught father wasn’t about to be sick. But he wouldn’t blame him if he were.

  ‘Has anybody else touched it?’

  Mr Abbie opened his eyes and shook his head.

  ‘Can I take it?’ Not waiting for an answer, Carruthers brought out a pair of latex gloves, put them on and carefully picked up the package. ‘We’ll get it sent to fingerprinting.’

  ‘Have you found the murder weapon of the latest victim yet?’

  There was hope in the man’s eyes which Carruthers didn’t want to extinguish. He could imagine hope was all Mr Abbie had left. Hope that they would discover the perpetrator of these terrible crimes and bring him or her to justice. But whatever they did would never bring his daughter back.

  It was Bingham who spoke. ‘Not yet. But we will catch whoever did this to your daughter. You have our word.’

  There’s something else.’ Mr Abbie brought out a flowery book. ‘I found my daughter’s diary. She never let me read it. I can’t face reading it now, it’s too raw, but if you think it might help catch whoever did this to my little girl, I’m more than happy for you to have it. All I ask is that you return it to me once you’re finished.’

  ‘Thank you. This could be really helpful.’ Carruthers took the diary from Rachel’s father.

  McTavish spoke. ‘Andie, do you want to give that a read?’

  Fletcher nodded and Carruthers handed the diary over to her. He could see from the look in his DS’s eyes that she was itching to start reading it. He watched as her hands eagerly closed over it.

  McTavish glanced around the room before continuing. ‘As abhorrent as this is, the question we, as police officers, keep asking ourselves, is why did whoever killed your daughter send you her mutilated finger?’

  Fletcher looked up from the diary but it was Bingham who spoke. He kept his tone low, respectful. ‘It makes this very personal. In some way you’re involved and we are trying to establish how and why.’

  The grieving father nodded. ‘I know, and I have no idea why anyone would do such a thing.’

  There was a question playing on Carruthers’ mind. He took his opportunity. ‘We did wonder whether it could have anything to do with the fact you are a surgeon. I hate to ask this, but have you had any fatalities recently in your patients?’

  ‘Sadly, as a surgeon, you have to be prepared for people dying under the knife. Some don’t come out of the anaesthetic. You’re asking if it could be the member of a bereaved family who did this? I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt me or my family in such a way. The latest victim – did they also take her finger?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Did it get sent to the family?’

  ‘They haven’t received anything yet, no.’

  ‘God forbid that they do. Look, if these awful murders were committed by a family member of someone who died during my surgery, why would they target other women and other women’s families?’

  Why indeed? thought Carruthers. That had been a question that had been baffling him.

  Chapter 27

  ‘Boss, I’ve made a start on the diary. I need to talk to you.’ Fletcher waved the diary at Carruthers as he retreated from the DCI’s office. He’d stayed on after the meeting to discuss with McTavish his imminent meeting with his ex-wife.

  ‘What have you discovered?’

  ‘Something pretty big. Rachel Abbie had slept with John Campbell. According to the diary it only happened once, and she felt it was a mistake.’ Fletcher fell into step with him as he walked towards the office.

  So, John Campbell had been telling the truth after all. ‘An ill-conceived one-night stand then?’

  ‘Yes, and that’s probably why she didn’t say anything to Will or the rest of her housemates about the fact Campbell was bombarding her with nuisance texts. She wouldn’t want this to come out.’

  Carruthers stopped and faced his DS. ‘When did this one-night stand happen?’

  Fletcher started leafing through the diary until she came to the entry. She showed Carruthers. ‘That’s just it. November. And according to Will they started to go out in October.’

  He stroked his chin. ‘So, Will and Rachel were already an item when she slept with John.’

  ‘It would seem so.’

  He looked up at her. ‘Clearly, Mr Abbie didn’t know.’

  ‘It seems not, but it’s not really something you’d tell your father, irrespective of how close you are.’ Fletcher looked up from the diary. ‘There’s something else. It’s about her housemate, Davey Munroe.’

  ‘The Canadian guy?’

  Fletcher nodded. ‘Apparently, there’s some reference to arguments they were having which she found really upsetting.’

  ‘Interesting. Do we know what about?’

  ‘Ayn Rand and Objectivism. It seems he was trying to convert her to Objectivism–’

  ‘You say convert?’

  ‘That’s the word Rachel uses. Anyway, when she told him she wasn’t interested he went berserk. It gets real
ly nasty. According to what she wrote in her diary he told her she was too nice for her own good and that he was going to give her a nervous breakdown and get her kicked off the course.’

  ‘That’s pretty dreadful. And yet she was still living under the same roof as him?’

  ‘Yes, but here’s the thing. Apparently, according to Rachel’s diary, Davey found out about her one-night stand with Campbell. No idea how. Looks like he was blackmailing her. In one of their arguments she told him she wanted to move out and he said that if she did, he’d expose her betrayal to Will.’

  ‘So, he wanted her to stay under the same roof as him so he could continue to taunt her? Did her father know any of this?’

  ‘No, she didn’t tell him, but then perhaps she didn’t want to worry him. In her diary she also talks about how worried she was about her dad since her mother died. She sounded like a nice kid.’

  ‘The last couple of months must have been very stressful for her. She must have been living under intense pressure. She’s living in the shadow of a massive secret being exposed, being inundated by unwanted texts from Campbell, threatened by Munroe and on top of that she knows her father’s not coping well with her mother’s death. Not sure how I’d handle all that at that age.’

  ‘There’s one other thing. In her diary Rachel mentions another student called Mary-Lou Gettier–’

  ‘In what context?’

  ‘As being a friend of Munroe’s. She said that she was a bit freaked out because this girl looked the spit image of the dead writer, Ayn Rand. The thing is… I ran into a student in town. She wasn’t looking where she was going and almost knocked me over. It must have been this Mary-Lou Gettier. The resemblance to Ayn Rand is uncanny. I nearly did a double take.’

  They’d arrived in the office. Carruthers walked over to his desk and collected his jacket. He shrugged himself into it. ‘Keep going through the diary. In particular, I want to know anything you find on John Campbell and Davey Munroe. I’m starting to wonder if they could be in this together. And we had better find out more about Ayn Rand and Objectivism. And Mary-Lou Gettier.’

  Fletcher’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Do you really think Campbell and Munroe could be working as a pair? It would be unusual, wouldn’t it? Most serial killers are loners. I mean, I know it happens that people do work together. There’s the Moors Murderers for a start. I’ve never heard of two men.’

  ‘Well, we all have the stereotypical image of the lone serial killer in our heads, don’t we, but working as a pair is not unheard of. Let’s just keep an open mind – it’s at least a possibility. I need to be somewhere but I’ll be on the mobile. I think we now need to start looking at Davey Munroe as a person of serious interest.’

  Carruthers sat stiffly opposite his ex-wife. He watched her take a sip of water. Was she as tense as him? Maybe it was just the lack of sleep catching up with him and the frustration of the cases. He was now feeling well and truly exhausted. And it wasn’t helping that he was working out how to tell Mairi that her naked picture was plastered all over the wall of that nutjob, John Campbell. The nutjob she just happened to teach. But could the obsessive student also be the serial killer? Somehow, he just didn’t buy it.

  His thoughts drifted to another student. Davey Munroe. Carruthers found what Rachel Abbie had written about him in her diary deeply disturbing. He made a mental note to find out everything he could about Objectivism and Ayn Rand. If Rand had been a philosopher then his ex-wife should be able to shed some light on her.

  Between his brother descending on him with his bombshell news and the fact that they still hadn’t caught the serial killer, Carruthers felt drained. But if he was honest, he also felt uncomfortable spending so much time with Mairi after such a long absence. The problem was that the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to spend with her. That couldn’t be good. For either of them.

  ‘Jim? You’re miles away. And if I may say, you look exhausted. Have you heard a word I’ve said?’

  He looked at his ex-wife with his tired blue eyes. God, how could she chat away as if the years since she’d left him had never happened? He felt a surge of resentment as he took in her lovely face. He lifted his sagging shoulders. ‘Sorry, my brother arrived on my doorstep two nights ago.’ Was it two nights ago? He couldn’t even remember.

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  Did he see concern in her green eyes? He wondered if she knew about Alan’s shock heart attack. But then she probably didn’t even know about his own demotion. Why would she? He debated confiding in Mairi and then dismissed it out of hand. It had been too long. There was nothing between them any more and in all reality he didn’t want there to be anything between them. In some ways she felt like a stranger to him. But a stranger he still knew too well. It was an odd feeling.

  He couldn’t get his head round the fact his brother was going to need another op and his mother had cancer.

  He realised he hadn’t answered his ex-wife’s question. He forced a smile. ‘No, not really. But it’s not your problem.’

  ‘Why did you want to see me?’

  He pushed all thoughts of his family and how he currently felt about his ex-wife firmly out of his mind. ‘Mairi, first of all, can I just apologise for having to push this meeting back. It’s been crazy back at the station.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I wasn’t teaching today.’

  ‘I’ve been tasked by the DCI with finding out if there’s anything going on in the philosophy department that may have a bearing on the case.’

  She frowned. ‘I thought you were the DCI?’

  Ouch. What can I say? Clearly, she doesn’t know about the demotion, after all. ‘We have a new DCI at the station,’ he said carefully and a little too brightly. Well, it’s true. He tried to smile. There was no way he was going to tell her he’d been demoted. She really didn’t need to know and, to be honest, it was none of her business. Not any more.

  ‘Is that unusual? Having two DCIs at the same station?’

  God, he really didn’t want to lie to her but they weren’t here to talk about him. ‘It can happen although it’s not common.’ That would do.

  Mairi scratched her neck. ‘I’m not sure how I can help. What sort of thing do you want to know about?’

  He rubbed his forehead. ‘I don’t know, but two of the murdered students and two of the main suspects are registered in the philosophy department, so that’s as good a place to start as any. Is there any information you could give me that might help with our enquiries?’

  ‘What sort of thing?’

  ‘Any affairs between the students? Problems between them?’ Even as he said this, he wondered how this would tally with the possibility of the murderer being a serial-killing stranger.

  Mairi shook her head. ‘No affairs as far as I know, but then, of course, I only know what goes on in the department. I’m concerned about John Campbell, but you already know that. It looks as if he got in through the bathroom window. I’m taking no chances though. I’m getting the locks changed.’

  That’s a great lead in. Here goes. ‘I was going to advise you to do that.’ He leant in towards his wife. ‘He’s a bit more than just a problem, Mairi. We managed to get a search warrant for his room here in Castletown. I’m afraid my officers found pictures of you plastered all over his walls. Some of the photos were of you, naked.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘He also had photographs of Rachel Abbie.’

  Mairi’s face drained of colour. Carruthers couldn’t blame her. ‘Oh my God. I thought I was being followed and I was right. But I can’t believe that I was being followed by one of my own students. Am I in danger? Is he the murderer?’

  ‘My instinct says not. But we’re going to charge him with stalking. I would imagine he’ll be removed from the university. And we’ll certainly apply for a restraining order for him. My money would be on a stranger for the murders, if it weren’t for the philosophy connection. Can you think of anyone else that you are concerned about?’
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br />   The lecturer sat in silence for a few moments. She shook her head. ‘Sorry – I just can’t get over what you’ve just told me. I’m shocked. And really worried. I mean, the man knows where I live. I just can’t believe he’s been taking photos of me. That’s just so creepy. A real invasion of privacy.’

  ‘I can understand you being worried but don’t be. As I said, he’s going to be charged.’

  ‘You should have told me sooner,’ she admonished. ‘Not wait until we met up. My God–’

  ‘I’m sorry but we are dealing with a multiple murder case, Mairi. And then with my brother just landing on my doorstep with his news about Mum.’

  ‘Oh no, what’s wrong with your mum? I really liked her.’

  Shit. I’m not going to tell her about Mum. ‘Look, let’s not worry about my family for now. Let’s just focus on what you can tell me about your students and staff.’

  ‘Well, there’s something a bit odd about Davey Munroe.’

  Carruthers’ ears pricked up. This was the second time the housemate of both Rachel Abbie and Sarah Torr had been mentioned. ‘The Canadian guy?’

  ‘That’s right. The thing is, he just doesn’t seem to be up to the mark with his studies. And he doesn’t show that much interest in the subject either.’

  ‘That in itself isn’t that strange, is it?’

  ‘Perhaps not. After all, it’s not unusual for students to enrol on a course and find out it’s not for them. But the strange thing is, he’s on the exchange programme, that’s all. I just have no idea how he got onto it, to be honest. As you can imagine, it’s highly competitive. Only the most gifted of students are selected, and as I said, he just doesn’t hit the mark.’

  Carruthers steepled his hands and looked into the face of his ex-wife. ‘See what you can find out about him, will you? Perhaps have a good look at his application form. Mairi, I was meaning to ask – there seems to be a book doing the rounds by an author named Ayn Rand. I understand she’s a philosopher?’