Castle Killings: A DCI Keane Scottish Crime Thriller (Deadly Highlands Book 4)

by Oliver Davies

  That was a good point. Personally, I wouldn’t be interested in anyone who expected me to pay for their company, however obliquely. Either there was a mutual attraction, or there wasn’t.

  “Transactional ambiguity?” Caitlin raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that your delicate way of calling them a bunch of mercenary slappers?”

  “Not at all. I don’t get judgmental about sexual promiscuity, and I wasn’t implying any form of prostitution either. I’m just saying that Visser may have viewed girls like that as unattractively opportunistic. If they liked him enough to want to take him home, they might have made a better impression if they’d been willing to invest as much as he did into making that happen.”

  “He’s got a point,” I agreed. “Just because our victim was horny enough to settle for what he could get, that doesn’t mean he found their attitude particularly enticing or flattering. Would you?”

  She shook her head slightly as she looked at me, but that had more to do with the way Shay had chosen to word his rebuttal than with its validity. “No, I wouldn’t,” she admitted. “So, how did you two get on at Visser’s flat?”

  “It was worth the visit,” I assured her. “I’ll wait until Philips and Collins get in before sharing, though, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. No point in wasting time repeating yourself. Alright then, I’ll leave you to get on with it.” She stood up. “Kettle’s on if either of you wants anything.”

  “Great, I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”

  It wasn’t much after four, still early enough to knock those last two house calls off my list and leave tomorrow clear for the pursuit of our much more promising new leads. I decided not to bother calling ahead first. If Visser’s ‘exes’ were out, I could just leave a note requesting they contact me as soon as possible. They both lived in town, so it wasn’t as if the trip would take up much time if we’d missed them.

  I finished updating my report and went to make us both a hot drink. I couldn’t go anywhere until everyone was back, not if I wanted to update the whole team before sending someone back to Harpers with our photograph. That needed to be done as soon as possible, or we’d have no valid excuse to start hunting for Monica Jamieson tonight.

  Fifteen

  Caitlin

  Lindsay Harris, the first of the two women Conall wanted to speak to, lived near Noss primary school, north of the river. She was thirty-two and had landed a good job with The Highland Council. Shay’s fact sheet also told us that she’d been living and working in Wick for the past seven years.

  Her house was a little mid-terrace place on Glamis Road. Nothing remarkable to look at but nicely kept. The general flatness of the immediate surroundings reduced the hemmed-in feeling you usually got in residential areas like this one. Big skies, nothing overlooking you, just low buildings, all on more or less the same level. There was quite a mass of clouds building up to the east as we got out of the car. We’d have more rain coming in soon from the looks of things.

  The woman who answered the doorbell was a leggy, grey-eyed blonde. Jeans and a t-shirt, no make-up, slender and naturally pretty.

  “Miss Lindsay Harris? I’m detective chief inspector Keane, and this is my colleague, detective sergeant Murray.” Conall produced his warrant card and held it up for inspection. “We’re sorry to bother you, but would you be able to spare us a little time to answer a few questions?”

  “Oh.” She stared at his warrant card, frowning slightly, and then at our faces. “I’m sorry, what is it you want to talk to me about?”

  “We’re investigating the murder of Kaj Visser,” I told her, trying to sound as sympathetically friendly as possible. “We gather you dated him for a few weeks. Last September?”

  “Oh,” she repeated, her face falling instantly. “Yes, of course. Poor Kaj… I’m sorry, did you say murder? Someone killed him? The papers seemed to think it was an accident.”

  “I’m afraid it wasn’t,” Conall assured her solemnly. “I know it must seem strange, us turning up here like this, but we’re trying to talk to everyone who knew him. May we come in?”

  “Of course,” she said doubtfully. “I don’t see how I can be of any help, but I suppose if you have to...” She stepped aside, holding the door at its widest for us. “The living room’s just on the left there if you’d like to go through.”

  “Thank you, Miss Harris.” I gave her my best smile as I stepped past her in Conall’s wake.

  Once we were settled in her spotless, airy living room, Lindsay stared expectantly at us both.

  “I hadn’t seen or talked to Kaj for over six months, so I’m really not sure what you think I can tell you,” she said questioningly, sitting forward in her chair.

  “We’re really just trying to build up a picture of what he was like. We’ve already spoken to the men he worked with, and now we’re reaching out to his other friends.”

  “So, what do you want to know?”

  “Well, among other things, we’d like to know if you ever met anyone who seemed to have a grudge against Kaj or drew him into an argument. May I begin by asking how you met?”

  “Yes, of course. That happened when I was driving back from visiting my parents. That was early last September, a Sunday afternoon. I was about three miles from home when my car broke down. I was just about to call for assistance when Kaj and one of his friends drove by and stopped to ask if I’d like some help.” She flushed slightly. “To be honest, I was a bit nervous about accepting the offer at first, but Kaj was just so nice and friendly about it. No creepy vibe, if you know what I mean. Besides, there was quite a bit of traffic, with a car going past every couple of minutes, and it was broad daylight. He sounded like he knew a lot about engines, so I popped the bonnet for him, and he had it up and running again in no time.”

  “What was the problem?” I asked.

  “One of the battery connections had worked itself loose. I hadn’t changed the battery for over four years, and I was almost due for my next MOT. He said the terminals were pretty corroded and offered to switch the battery out for me if I picked up a replacement for him to fit.”

  “You exchanged numbers?” Conall prompted.

  “Yes. He came over here two days later after work. He was very quick and efficient. It was all done in under twenty minutes, even with him making sure to clean the clamps before fitting the new battery. When I offered to pay him, he just laughed and said I could buy him a drink instead if I insisted. We chatted over tea for ages and ended up arranging to meet for dinner later in the week.” She smiled. “He wouldn’t let me pay for that either, so we ended up splitting the bill. ‘Going Dutch,’ as they say.”

  “His friend, Lenny Buchanan, seemed to think Kaj really liked you, Miss Harris. How many times did you see him after that?”

  She thought about it.

  “More than eight, less than a dozen. I’m sorry, I didn’t keep count. I suppose it lasted about three weeks. Don’t get me wrong, Inspector. Kaj was very attractive, perfectly charming, and great company, but I knew better than to take any of it seriously. He wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. He was very open about that right from the start. Refreshingly honest, in fact. It meant there was no pressure on either of us, and we could just enjoy our little fling for what it was.”

  “Did you ever visit his flat?”

  “Yes, twice.”

  “Did you ever meet anyone else there?”

  “Only the lady who lived downstairs, in passing. She was in her seventies. Kaj often offered to pick up shopping for her. He was like that, always ready to lend anyone a hand. Quite the boy scout.” Her face fell again. “As to what you said before, about arguments and grudges, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I never heard or saw anything like that, and I never exchanged a cross word with him myself either.”

  “So you broke it off amicably? On both sides?” I asked.

  She smiled at me, a little regretfully perhaps. “Yes, perfectly. I told him I’d met someone else and wa
nted to see if it was worth pursuing. He wished me luck, and that was that. I knew he didn’t intend to stay in Scotland much longer, anyway; another year, at most.”

  None of his workmates had mentioned that. Perhaps he hadn’t told any of them of his plans.

  “Do you know why?” Conall asked.

  Lindsay shrugged. “He just said that there would be a lot of opportunities opening up back home in the near future, and he’d rather work there. It wasn’t that he disliked it here, but his family and all his closest friends were in The Netherlands. Then there was this whole Brexit nonsense too. He didn’t blame us Scots for that, but it had certainly lowered his opinion of the English. I suppose there would have been unwanted extra complications if he’d wanted to stay. Visa applications and things? I haven’t really looked into any of that.”

  “There would have been a few extra legal hoops to jump through, yes. He’d have needed to apply to the EU Settlement Scheme to maintain his right to work and live here.” Conall shifted uncomfortably. He’d never discussed it at work, but I knew exactly what the Keanes thought of Brexit. “Did Kaj ever express any strong political views?”

  Lindsay shook her head. “Not really. The general impression I got was that he thought most politicians were self-serving, manipulative liars. He was very concerned about climate change and the state of the world, though. That’s one of the reasons he liked working in renewable energy so much. A job that helped to improve things instead of making them worse.”

  We didn’t waste much more of Miss Harris’ time after that. Once she’d glanced at her watch a couple of times and mentioned that her boyfriend would be turning up soon, we wrapped up the interview, thanking her politely before taking our leave of her.

  “Nice girl,” I said as we got back into the car. “I’m not sure how useful that stop was, though.”

  “Well, it confirms one thing. Like everyone else so far, she didn’t have a word to say against our victim. If Kaj Visser had a nasty streak, he certainly hid it very well.” Conall buckled himself in, and I started the car. “I think we’ll want to talk to that downstairs neighbour, though, the one he shopped for. He was living in that flat for almost a year, and if anyone kept any sort of track of the comings and goings there, it would be her. If they were on chatting terms, she might even know about anyone who may have been causing him trouble.”

  “It’s certainly worth seeing what she has to say,” I agreed, pulling out. Our next stop was only a few minutes’ drive away, down in the Pulteneytown district south of the river, not far from the famous Pulteney Distillery.

  We were in luck. Visser’s second ‘girlfriend’ was also in, although she had company. Her mum and her sister, over for tea. Diane Burns’ house was a little single-storey cottage, but she was happy to leave her relatives in the living room whilst we went to talk in the kitchen. Diane had briefly dated Visser in January, but it was all over within a fortnight, according to what she told us.

  “I hit thirty last November, and I’m afraid I don’t have much time to waste on casual relationships like that these days,” she told us quite frankly. “I mean, it was worth giving Kaj a chance. You don’t turn your nose up when someone as nice as he was shows an interest.” She looked at me as she said that, and I nodded agreeably. “Six years ago, I’d have certainly kept seeing him for longer, but my biological clock’s ticking louder now. We found each other attractive and had a few very enjoyable nights together, but there was no hint of any emotional attachment from him. It was very casual while it lasted. He wasn’t even upset when I told him I didn’t want to see him again. He just said he hoped I met the right man soon because I was a lovely woman and deserved to be happy. Honestly, what are you supposed to do with men like that?”

  Pile up a few pleasant memories and let them go, in my experience. Then again, I’d never met anyone I’d liked enough to want to settle down with, and I certainly didn’t want kids. I shuddered to think of what the world might be like by the time anyone being born now had grown up.

  Unlike Lindsay, Diane had never been to Kaj’s flat. They’d met at the Old Smiddy one Saturday night, and he’d asked if he could buy her and her friend a drink. Diane had got the next round in, and then her friend had excused herself and left them to it. I was familiar with the drill. Jackie and I had got out of each other’s way like that a few times over the years. When Conall asked if she’d ever seen anyone who looked as if they had a grudge against Kaj, Diane just smiled.

  “I never saw him get into any sort of an argument with anyone, but I did see a girl giving him an unmistakably resentful look once when he was walking me home. I don’t think he noticed or had the faintest idea who she was. Maybe he’d had too much to drink the night he met her? She certainly wasn’t much to look at. Too much make-up.” Diane, like Lindsay, had a freshly scrubbed look about her today. “Decent figure, though,” she added, as a more charitable afterthought.

  Visser had certain standards if the crop I’d seen this afternoon were anything to go by. All of his chosen targets had been pretty girls in good shape, certainly above average, but he didn’t seem to have a specific ‘type’ that he went for. Eyes, hair, features, heights, they’d all been very different.

  “Would you say he was a heavy drinker?” Conall asked.

  “Not really.” She shook her head. “Not on our dates, anyway. He had a very good head for it, though. He could drink twice as much as me and end up only half as tipsy. It didn’t seem to affect him much at all. It’s just awful, the idea that someone would want to kill him. I can’t bear to think about what his family is going through. Such a waste! I’m sure he’d have settled down with the right woman, eventually. A nice Dutch girl, probably. I think he got a little homesick sometimes.”

  We left Diane Burns’ house no wiser than we’d entered it. It looked like Shay had been right about his ‘transactional ambiguity’ theory, though. The two girls who’d held Visser’s interest the longest had not expected him to shell out for the pleasure of their company, and he’d been happy to keep seeing each of them until they’d decided to ditch him.

  “Want to swing by Visser’s place and talk to the neighbour before we head back to the station?” I asked Conall.

  He shook his head. “Not today. It’s after five. Better to leave that for tomorrow.”

  That was probably best. If she was anything like most people her age, the woman would probably be getting her dinner ready by now, and we’d get a better, less hurried reception if we called at a more convenient time.

  Back outside the station, we both pulled our warrant cards out again and slipped them into their holders before dropping our lanyards over our heads. I couldn’t remember how long I’d been out of the uniforms before that habit became automatic. Rules and regs. ‘Police officers in plain clothes must wear clearly displayed warrant cards on police lanyards when on police premises.’ Wearing the obligatory body armour under my shirt, instead of in plain sight, had taken longer to get used to. If we didn’t keep that on all day, there’d be a five-minute delay every time we went in and out. At least plain clothes officers like us usually only wore the lighter, less bulky ‘stab proof’ vests. I’d only faced a gunman once during my entire career, and a level IV vest wouldn’t have done anything to protect me if I’d been shot in the head at close range. Knives though? The statistics just kept getting worse. We’d seen an increase of almost twenty-five per cent in knife-related offences in the past five years.

  Conall wasn’t making any move to open his door and get out.

  “Something you wanted to talk about before we go in?” I asked.

  “There is. I was thinking about what you said yesterday morning when we stopped in Helmsdale. Look, Caitlin, I didn’t mean to sound like I was being short with you, and I’m sorry if I’ve given you any reason to feel worried about me lately. It’s just…” He flailed to an uncertain stop.

  “Complicated?” I suggested, smiling. “You don’t need to apologise, Conall. I’d have been pretty str
essed out, too, in your shoes, and I know you don’t want to talk about Shay. All I need to know is whether or not you’re still worried about him.”

  “I’m not. Not at all.” He looked me straight in the eye and smiled as he said it. I was ninety-nine per cent sure he was telling the truth. Good enough.

  “Alright then.” I started to reach for my door handle but stopped, remembering that there was something he might like to know. “Philips has finally decided that your cousin isn’t a dangerous lunatic, by the way. We had a little chat after dinner yesterday and got that sorted out.”

  “Good to know.” He made an amused little noise. “Is that all that was bothering him?”

  “Why? What else did you think it was?”

  “What do you think I thought it was?” He sounded surprised that I’d needed to ask. “You said he was very curious, asking a lot of questions. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has jumped to the wrong conclusion about Shay and me, and Philips has more reason than most. After all, he saw the state I was in when he came to the house with McKinnon after Shay went missing, and I did punch him in the face the one time he tried to lay a hand on him.” He shrugged. “Plus, you know, we do share a house again now, even if my da lives there too.”

  Oh hell! I hadn’t even thought of any of that, but now that he’d said it, I could see how it might look to someone who didn’t know them better. It wasn’t as if Conall ever discussed his private life with anyone at work. Remembering some of Simon’s comments from last night, I decided he might easily be thinking exactly that.

  “Christ, Conall! You might be right. Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

  “Why should it? I can’t help what people choose to think. Besides, sometimes it even turns out to be useful. Look how quickly Walker lost interest once she’d seen us together.” My mouth must have dropped open because Conall just laughed. “Some bloody detective you are. You’re supposed to be able to analyse your observations better than that!” He had known all along then about Mary’s hopeless crush on him. I’d never been certain either way. Surely Walker hadn’t thought that the cousins were a couple, though? Had she?