Dark is the Day

by Tana Collins

  ‘Was a philosopher,’ said his ex-wife. ‘She’s been dead nearly thirty years. She started the Objectivist movement.’

  ‘Are her books on the syllabus for undergraduates?’

  ‘No, they’re not, but I’m aware that some of my students are in an Objectivist club started by a visiting student here. Why do you ask?’

  ‘When we searched the room of our first murder victim, Rachel Abbie, DS Fletcher found a copy of Atlas Shrugged on her floor. That’s by Ayn Rand, isn’t it?’

  His wife nodded.

  ‘The same book has also made an appearance in the room of Serena Davis and Serena is studying history of art. Not philosophy. Originally, I thought we were clutching at straws but we’re desperate…’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Well, now we’ve unearthed Rachel Abbie’s diary. Not her academic diary. Her personal one. In it she says that Davey Munroe was hassling her and trying to convert her to Objectivism. That’s the word she used. Is this movement a cult?’

  ‘Well, first, can I just say it’s not unusual for someone studying a subject other than philosophy to read Rand’s work, although Randroids are much more common in North America than in the UK.’

  ‘Randroids?’

  ‘The followers of Ayn Rand. Personally, I don’t like Objectivism, and starting up an Objectivist club here in the philosophy department isn’t something that I would actively encourage, but I can’t really stop it and nor should I. This country still has freedom of speech.’

  ‘Is it a cult? From what Rachel Abbie had written in her diary it certainly smacks of one.’

  ‘It’s debatable. It’s not a cult in the true sense of the word, but some have called it a cult. It’s certainly cult-like and some believe it functions like a modified cult.’

  This piqued Carruthers’ interest. ‘In what respect?’

  ‘Ayn Rand’s followers always believed, like a lot of cult leaders, that she was superior to everyone else. The main difference is that other cult leaders cited God as their highest power. She cited reason.’

  ‘Why don’t you like it?’

  ‘Well look, this is just my opinion, but the thing about Objectivism is that it gives followers permission to indulge in their worst impulses. It makes a virtue of selfishness and encourages infidelity. It is cult-like in the sense that it targets a certain type of person and tells that person their weaknesses are their strengths.’

  Carruthers sat, intrigued and appalled in equal measure. He was starting to build up a picture of a typical Objectivist and he didn’t much like what he was hearing.

  ‘So, somebody who is emotionally weak, who has had a past history of mental health problems or someone who is inherently selfish, could be attracted to Objectivism?’

  ‘In a nutshell its appeal is rational self-interest so it appeals to the intelligent. It flatters their egos. In my opinion it’s a very seductive simplistic philosophy.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘As I said, that unfettered self-interest is good and altruism is destructive. To be honest it’s incredibly powerful stuff, especially for the young, and its appeal is far-reaching. Ayn Rand’s writing has influenced a number of politicians, including Republican Ted Cruz, even Donald Trump.’

  ‘How would Objectivists get on with each other? I mean, if they are all motivated by self-interest, how would society work if everyone was an Objectivist?’

  Mairi crossed her legs at the ankle while she considered the question. A habit Carruthers had noticed when they were married. He used to love the way she would sit on the couch snuggling into him with her legs crossed.

  ‘Another interesting question. Well, I did hear a story about two Objectivists who met at university. They moved in together.’

  ‘What happened?’ Carruthers was fascinated.

  ‘The relationship lasted less than six months. They argued about absolutely everything. Each wanted and expected to get their own way. Both were selfish to the last. I can’t see how a society that was based on Objectivist values would work, to be honest.’

  Carruthers picked his next words carefully. ‘How would an Objectivist treat someone else?’

  ‘Probably with contempt, especially if they didn’t think they were particularly intelligent or they didn’t follow Rand’s philosophy. The Virtue of Selfishness is the title of a collection of papers co-written by Rand. Basically, what she is arguing is that being selfish is actually good for you. What selfish person doesn’t want to hear that? Some would argue she was little more than an atheist adulterer. Her ideas are clearly used to justify inequality and give credence to institutional wealth-based elitism. Well, that’s my view anyway but, like I said, I don’t like her philosophy, so I’m obviously biased.’

  ‘You’re not a fan then?’

  Mairi arched an eyebrow and uncrossed her legs. ‘Are you being facetious, Jim?’

  Carruthers tried hard not to stare at his ex-wife’s legs. Instead he said, ‘So I can see the attraction to young people. I can also see how volatile two Objectivists living together might be if they both believe in rational self-interest. What I can’t yet understand is how being an Objectivist can lead to somebody becoming a serial killer.’

  ‘Well, if I’m truthful I don’t see how it can. Objectivism is very clear on murder. They certainly don’t think it morally acceptable to kill another human being. That said, it’s still within the realms of possibility that there could be a serial killer out there who is an Ayn Rand fan. But no, generally as a movement, they are against murder.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m happy to do some further research for you if that helps?’

  ‘Yeah, that would be good. Anything you can dig up that might be useful. One other thing. Do you have a student by the name of Mary-Lou Gettier?’

  ‘Can’t say I know the name, no.’

  ‘We think she’s the student who started the Objectivist club here.’

  ‘She’s not a philosophy student, Jim, but from what my students tell me, the university’s Objectivist club was actually started by a student outside the philosophy department. They may have mentioned her name. I honestly can’t remember now.’

  Mary-Lou Gettier is still a mystery then.

  Chapter 28

  Back at the station Carruthers attempted to tidy up his desk by pushing bits of paper around. He chucked a couple of empty polystyrene cups into the recycling. A tired-looking Sandra McTavish walked into the office and up to his desk.

  ‘Well, didn’t take him long.’

  Carruthers looked up, interested. ‘Who?’

  ‘Superintendent Len sodding Campbell. We’ve had the chief super on the phone. He wants me to file a report on what we’ve got on the weasel’s son. Bingham was right when he said that Campbell wouldn’t waste any time bringing the big guns in.’

  Carruthers couldn’t help but smile at the DCI’s choice of words. He couldn’t put it better himself. ‘Do you want any help?’

  ‘No, don’t worry, Jim. Get yourself off home. You look done in. You’ll be no good to me if you don’t get some sleep.’

  Noting the shadows under her eyes and the pale face he wondered who was the more exhausted. Looking at his watch he realised it had gone 7pm. He nodded, said goodnight and gathered his things.

  As soon as he shut the front door of his cottage behind him his mobile rang. As he answered it, he walked into the kitchen, picking up a scrap of paper hastily scribbled by his brother and left by the kettle. Alan had gone down the pub. Carruthers sighed. Was he in for a repeat of last night’s performance?

  ‘Jim, it’s Mairi.’ A sudden intake of breath. ‘Look, I know it’s late. But I need to talk to you.’

  He put the piece of paper down. ‘Okay. Fire away.’

  ‘There’s been something bothering me about Davey Munroe. Something about him that just didn’t stack up. After our meeting I asked the secretary of the department to pull his file. She was off for a half day, but I got the temp to do it. I told her I wanted a closer look at Munroe’s applica
tion. You know he claims to be an exchange student from the University of Western Ontario?’

  ‘Claims to be?.’

  Mairi ignored his question. ‘I’m not sure whether I should come over and talk to you in person? Are you at home right now or still at work?’

  Was this a ruse to see him or did she really have important information? ‘I’ve just got home. If it’s pertinent to the case,’ he found himself saying, ‘which will require me to go back into work tonight, you should just tell me over the phone.’ God, why am I so bloody sensible? And so stilted?

  ‘Okay.’ She sounded impatient. ‘Look, I’ll just tell you over the phone and then you can decide what you want to do. Anyway, I’ve got plans for later on so that suits me.’

  He glanced at his watch. It was already gone eight. Fuck. That could only mean one thing. She must have a boyfriend. Who was he?

  She continued, ‘The thing is that Davey Munroe is struggling in all his courses. He doesn’t even seem to have the basic knowledge, even for an undergrad, so I started to make some of my own enquiries. Apparently, he–’

  The buzzer to Carruthers’ cottage sounded, interrupting the conversation. Carruthers swore. Who the hell would this be at this time of night? The only person he could think of was his brother – but he’d given him the spare key. ‘Hang on a sec, Mairi,’ he said, walking towards the door with the phone in his hand. ‘That’s my doorbell.’

  ‘Don’t answer it.’

  Carruthers stopped mid-stride. ‘Why?’

  ‘I really need to discuss this. Please.’ She sounded scared. That wasn’t like her, at least the Mairi he used to know. If what she had found out had made her feel this scared then it must be big.

  The door buzzed again. Carruthers ignored it. A third time. Still Carruthers ignored it.

  ‘Are you there?’

  ‘I’m here. Keep talking.’

  ‘Promise you won’t answer the door?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Mairi. It’s most likely my brother. I can’t keep him locked outside.’

  ‘Jim, If I’m honest I’m probably still a bit freaked that John Campbell got into my house, but I’m also scared by what I’ve found out about Davey Munroe.’

  ‘Tell me what it is.’ Carruthers had moved to the window and, phone still in hand, had moved the curtain aside a few inches in the vain hope of seeing who was outside. It was pitch dark. He couldn’t see anyone. Disappointed, he stepped away from the curtains and walked over to the couch. He took a seat on the bucket chair, grabbing a pen and his notebook.

  She spoke into the phone urgently. ‘I don’t know how he did it, but I think Davey Munroe managed to falsify his documents to come and study in Scotland. Like I said, I’ve been making some enquiries about him.’

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘I’ve got contacts in academia over in Canada. Anyway, I found some stuff out. He was kicked out of university back in Ontario. He’s not currently enrolled on a course over there from what I can see. Jim, there’s more. The year before he got kicked out a student in his philosophy class got assaulted. The perpetrator was never caught. The student was blonde, female and slashed across the face.’

  ‘Jesus, Mairi.’ No wonder she was freaked out. What she’d found out was explosive. In all likelihood one of her own students was the serial killer. As he was contemplating how Munroe had managed to falsify his documents, he heard another doorbell sound. This one on the other end of the line.

  ‘Jim, I’ve got to go. That’s my… guest. He’s early. Can we meet up at any point tomorrow morning? I’ve also found out some disturbing personal information about Ayn Rand – the woman who started the Objectivist movement.’ Her bell rang again. She talked rapidly. ‘Apparently, she admired a serial killer. A William Edward Hickman. If you get a chance google it.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll ring you in the morning.’ Carruthers felt a knot of irritation. Mairi was happy to end the call on her terms and open her front door when it suited her.

  At the same time as Mairi put the phone down, a disembodied Glaswegian voice rang through the letterbox. ‘You going to open the door then, or not?’

  Wearily, Carruthers climbed to his feet and slowly walked over to open the front door to his brother.

  Chapter 29

  Mairi opened the front door, smile on her face at the thought of seeing her lover. ‘You’re early. Shift go okay?’ Her smile froze as she stared into the face, not of her lover, but of one of her students.

  ‘Hello, prof.’

  Mairi stared at the handsome, freckled student with the mop of reddish hair. ‘How the hell did you get my address, Davey?’

  The student stood menacingly in the threshold. ‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’

  Mairi tried to slam the door on Davey Munroe but he shoved it open. Before she managed to scream, he had slammed the door shut behind him with his foot and crossed the distance between them. He clamped his hand over her mouth while he hissed in her ear. ‘A little bird tells me that you’ve been asking questions about me. You asked how I’d got your address? Probably the same way you found out about my falsifying my documents to study in Scotland. From the obliging temp I’ve been shagging. Thanks to her I got the Abbies home phone number. She even told me you’d been married to a cop. I’ve met him, you know.’

  He threw her across the hall. She fell into a table, knocking it over. A vase smashed. He looked down on her lying on the floor.

  As Mairi rubbed her sore hip, she saw a knife flashing in his hand and her heart skipped a beat.

  ‘You really shouldn’t have started snooping, should you? I really liked you, too. Best lecturer I’ve ever had. And not bad to look at either.’

  Malcolm Duggan had been staring through the net curtain at his next-door neighbour’s front door.

  His wife clicked her tongue in annoyance. ‘Come away from that curtain, Malcolm. What will Mairi think?’

  Malcolm let the curtain fall while he turned round to talk to his wife. ‘I’m sure I’ve just seen a man force his way into Mairi’s house. At least I think I did, but it’s pretty dark and as you know my eyesight isnae so good.’ He lifted the curtain again and peered out.

  ‘Oh Malcolm, what if you’re mistaken and it’s just her boyfriend? I would come away from the window and have your cocoa. It’s getting cold.’

  ‘I heard him speak to her on the doorstep. It didnae sound like her boyfriend.’ He turned to face his wife. ‘I think I’m going to call the police. After all, you cannae be too careful. And she did have that intruder.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Malcolm. You’ll end up looking like a fool if you phone the police and get them out on a wild goose chase. And you’ll embarrass Mairi into the bargain.’

  Malcolm was bending down, taking his slippers off and putting his shoes on.

  ‘Why are you taking those baffies off, you silly old bugger?’

  ‘I’m going round to her house. I just want to make sure she’s okay.’

  ‘Ach, you daft old eejit. I ken you’re fond of her. If you have to go round, I’ll keep your cocoa warm. Don’t be too long.’

  Carruthers picked up his mobile and called McTavish. Even though the conversation with Mairi had been cut short he’d heard enough. There was something disturbing about Davey Munroe, and they needed to take a closer look at him.

  Twenty minutes later, he was back inside the DCI’s office discussing getting a search warrant for Munroe’s room. He had felt hellish leaving his brother on his own once again but what could he do? And he still hadn’t had time to google Ayn Rand.

  There was a knock at the door. Brown put his head round. ‘There’s a young lady asking to see Andie. As she’s not in the station at the moment I’ve told her you’ll have to do.’ He grinned.

  Carruthers frowned. ‘We’re right in the middle of something. Who is she?’

  ‘Annie McLeod. Girlfriend of Davey Munroe. Says it’s important.’

  McTavish stood up. ‘Put her in interview room o
ne. Make sure she’s offered some refreshment. We’ll be there in a few minutes.’

  McTavish and Carruthers walked into the interview room a few minutes later. Annie was already seated; her coffee in front of her remained untouched. She was a slim, attractive girl with fine features. The girl wiped her hands on her jeans.

  What does she have to be so nervous about? wondered Carruthers.

  Carruthers spoke first. ‘I understand you wanted to talk to the police? I’m Detective Inspector Jim Carruthers and this is Detective Chief Inspector Sandra McTavish.’

  The girl wiped her hands on her thighs once again. ‘I’ve met DS Fletcher before. Is she here? I would really like to speak to her.’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. She’s currently out of the office, but we both work in the same team as DS Fletcher. How can we help you?’

  ‘It’s about Davey Munroe. I’m his girlfriend. Or at least I was.’ She started biting her nails. They were already bitten to the quick on both hands.

  Carruthers was well used to people he interviewed being nervous, even when they had voluntarily come into the station. But this girl, there was something different about her state of nervousness. She looked terrified.

  Carruthers took his seat. ‘Take your time. What did you want to tell us?’

  ‘It’s about Davey. I think he’s seeing someone else.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a police matter, is it?’ said McTavish quickly.

  Annie McLeod looked from McTavish to Carruthers. It was Carruthers to whom she spoke. ‘No, of course not. What I mean is that he wasn’t with me when I said he was.’

  Carruthers felt his stomach give a sudden lurch. This was a pivotal moment in their investigation. He spoke slowly. ‘You gave him an alibi for the time Rachel Abbie was murdered. Is that what you’re referring to?’