“But you’re straight,” I protested indignantly. “And he’s your cousin!” Foster brother, too, in reality. In fact, they seemed to have some twin-like empathetic communication system going on most of the time. Daniel hadn’t exaggerated that at all. If anything, he’d even underplayed it. Conall shook his head at me disapprovingly.
“Firstly, straight, gay or whatever else someone is, you should be more careful how you say things like that. You don’t want to give the impression that you think being straight is necessarily better than being anything else. It’s not like any of us get to choose which we are.” I nodded, acknowledging the point, and he ticked off another finger. “Secondly, first cousins can legally marry here, even though a lot of people find the idea a little distasteful. The stigma only exists because of the heightened genetic risks of inbreeding, and there’d be no danger of that in our case. We could hardly pop out kids like Victoria and Albert did, or Charles Darwin and his cousin Emma.” Darwin? Really? I hadn’t known that. You’d think he’d have been aware of the risks, even in those days. Conall grinned at my expression. “Einstein’s second wife was both his first and his second cousin too, actually, although they didn’t have any kids. It happens a lot more than people realise. And lastly, just because I don’t like men that way, that doesn’t mean that I’m not aware of what Shay looks like. It’s never only been women that can’t take their eyes off him.”
I couldn’t argue with any of that, but I couldn’t believe he was being so calmly reasonable about it.
“It really doesn’t bother you?”
“Not any more,” he said wryly. “It used to really wind me up sometimes when I was younger, but I suppose that’s only normal. Teenagers can’t help being prickly, not that it does any good. I certainly don’t miss being one.”
“And Shay?”
“Oh, he’s never wasted time worrying what other people think about him. Quite rightly, too; it’s a pointless exercise. Any irritation there was entirely second-hand, on my behalf. Another good reason for me to grow out of it as quickly as possible. It was hard enough to get him out of the house in those days as it was.” He gave me a more serious look before adding. “Please don’t make me wish I hadn’t mentioned any of this, Caitlin. Any form of denial, from any source, always makes people even more inclined to speculate.” He was probably right about that too. I nodded my reluctant agreement, and the smile instantly reappeared. “Alright then. Come on, enough chit-chat. We’ve got work to do.”
In a way, I envied Conall that lack of concern, however hard-earned it may have been. I still cared far too much about what people thought of me, especially when they were totally wrong, and I was much thicker-skinned now than I’d been in my own ‘prickly’ teens.
As we headed towards the office, I found myself wondering what Shay’s preferences actually were, if he had any, and realised that I had no idea. He certainly went out of his way to try to go unnoticed, and I’d never seen him show the slightest interest in anyone. None of my business, I reminded myself sternly. Shay had more than enough people idly speculating about him already without me starting too.
Sixteen
Sunday or not, as far as my team was concerned, the next day was just another work day. We all knew the drill when a major case was being investigated. Time off was held in suspension for the duration.
Shay ran me through all of his latest updates over breakfast, setting his laptop up on the kitchen table so we could talk them over as we ate.
Monica Jamieson shared her rented house with two roommates, Julie MacAdam and Meghan Brooks. They were all in their mid-twenties, and they all had retail jobs in different shops in town.
“The rent’s less than two hundred a month each, plus utilities. Not bad, even on low wages. It’s pretty cheap up here,” Shay commented. I made a noise to show I’d heard him and kept reading.
“And it’s definitely Julie MacAdam with her back to the camera in our photo?” I asked when I’d finished with his background blurb.
“The next tab’s a slideshow. Just keep going through them.” He was spooning up another mouthful of his yoghurt mix, so I wiped my buttery fingers clean and tapped the mouse pad.
The uploaded photo that came up next showed our girl wearing the same red top. Not only that but the next few pictures, zoomed-in close-ups of her bare arms and the part of one ear that had been visible in our original shot, had been marked to show exact correlations in placement, size and shape. Moles, freckles, everything matched. Those photos were followed by a lot more examples of all three girls out together on various nights around town.
“Stop on that one.” Shay reached over to point. “That’s the guy who was on Visser’s other side. Nicholas Albert, another old school chum. He lives up in Thurso now.” Thurso, the only other sizeable town in Caithness, was only twenty miles away, up on the north coast. “I don’t know for certain who the other guy who joined them may be, yet, but we’ve got four of the five. Meghan was caught in one of the other pictures we got from Harpers that night, so she was definitely there.” He had every right to sound pleased. That was more than I’d been hoping for this morning.
I stopped to finish off my rapidly cooling toast and swallowed it down with a mouthful of mango juice. Shay had pulped some pineapple into this morning’s batch, and it was really nice and tangy.
“So, what’s your next move?” he asked curiously.
“With the girls? I think we’ll wait until about ten before going to the house. It is Sunday, after all. Do you happen to know if any of them are working today?”
“No, sorry.”
Well, that wasn’t a problem. If they were, we’d just go and find out what time they were finishing. The main thing was to prevent them from talking to each other before we’d had a chance to question them.
“Anything new on Melissa or Charlie Soames yet?”
“Just more background information. Nothing of particular interest. Their financial records are squeaky clean, and they’re considered ‘the right sort’ around here. Golf club membership, charitable event attendances, supporting the local community and all that. Melissa’s on lots of committees, and they’re pretty cosy with most of the local bigwigs.” He scraped the last spoon of oaty gloop out of his bowl. “My programme’s still working through two weeks’ worth of CCTV footage from the public space cameras, but I borrowed some extra processing power from here and there to speed that up a bit, once I realised how many faces I needed it to check for.” I didn’t ask where or who he was borrowing from.
“How long until it’s gone through it all?”
“Sometime this afternoon at the current rate. But I’ll let you know if I spot anything interesting before then as the results come in. What time did you tell the others to be ready by this morning?”
“I said I wanted them all at the station by nine.” It wasn’t even eight yet. We had plenty of time before we needed to get moving. I emptied my glass and got up to gather the washing up and put the kettle on. “Want another tea?”
“I’ll shower and dress first. I don’t have anything else to get on with right now, so I might as well.”
I should probably have suggested an early morning run before breakfast, but I hadn’t been in the mood for it. Maybe we could do it this evening instead. Shay was already missing his treadmill, I could tell. He was worse than a border collie when it came to needing regular exercise.
In the end, I decided to leave Mills with Shay at the station whilst the rest of us went to visit the girls’ house on Louisburgh Street. I wasn’t sure, yet, if I would be able to justify bringing them in for questioning, but I could certainly keep them apart at the house with four of us there.
It was Meghan Brooks who answered our knock, and her flushed face immediately paled a little when I held up my warrant card. The fact that she had four detectives standing on the doorstep certainly seemed to rattle her. Meghan was a healthily padded little thing, all inviting soft curves, and a mass of chestnut curls framed her f
ace, a mess that she hadn’t got around to taming this morning. She looked up at me with a dismayed expression, her eyes on a level with my chin, and I curbed an instinctive impulse to smile reassuringly at her.
“Miss Meghan Brooks? I’m detective chief inspector Keane,” I said in my most businesslike tone. “My colleagues and I would like to ask you and your housemates a few questions. May we come in?”
For an answer, she gave us all a doubtful look and twisted her head around without moving to open the door any wider.
“Julie,” she called back into the house. “There are some police officers at the door asking if they can come in.”
“What do they want?” Approaching footsteps heralded Julie’s arrival, and the door was suddenly pulled wide. “Yes? Can I help you?”
I introduced myself again, and the others all helpfully held up their own warrant cards for a second time. “We’re currently investigating the death of Kaj Visser, and we’d like to ask you some questions about him.”
Her face went blank for a second, and she frowned slightly. Not the best bit of acting I’d ever seen. She knew perfectly well who I was talking about.
“You all met him at Harpers nine days ago, on Friday the fifth?” I prompted, and her face cleared.
“The nice Dutch guy who tried to pick me up? None of us knew him, Inspector, so I’m not sure how much help we can be.”
“That’s what we’re here to find out, Miss MacAdam. You are the last people we know for certain that he spoke with before he was killed. Is your other housemate here? Monica Jamieson?”
“She’s at work,” Meghan told me before Julie could answer. “Just a half-day today. She’ll be back at lunchtime.” Caitlin gave her an encouraging smile.
“Finishes at twelve, does she?”
“No, she works until one on Sundays.” Julie narrowed her eyes at Caitlin before casting a glance at Collins and Philips, standing quietly behind us. Her attention snapped back to me. “Look, Inspector, this isn’t a very convenient time. Perhaps you could come back later when we’re all here. Say three o’clock?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, and I’m sure neither of you wants to delay or obstruct an ongoing murder investigation. As the two of you are here now, I don’t see any reason to delay things. We can speak to Miss Jamieson later.” She hesitated a moment longer before relenting. The word ‘murder’ had surprised them both, I thought.
“Very well then. What do you want to ask us?” Did she really think we were going to do this standing on the doorstep?
“I think you’d better decide if you’d prefer to invite us in or accompany us to the station before we begin,” I said firmly. Given the choice, nobody ever chose the station. The two women exchanged a look, equally unsure of their legal standing in a situation like this. I’d mentioned obstruction. Was that something we could charge them with? They obviously weren’t sure, and an impatient cough and a little foot shuffling from behind me swung the balance.
“I suppose you’d better come in then.” Julie stood aside and let us all traipse down the hall after Meghan before closing the door behind us.
The living room was clean but messy. The carpet had been recently vacuumed, and there was no dust to be seen on any of the furniture, although there was quite a bit of clutter lying around. Meghan picked up a pile of ironing from one of the two armchairs and moved it onto the dining table as Julie came in at the end of our little file.
“Perhaps you could show inspector Philips and sergeant Murray to the kitchen, Miss Brooks? Then you can talk to them in peace while constable Collins and I talk to Miss MacAdam.”
“Good idea,” Caitlin seconded me. “We’ll be all done in half the time like that.”
Meghan cast an unhappy glance at Julie but allowed herself to be ushered out without protest. Two inspectors? One each? I think they’d both realised by then that our visit was by no means a trivial matter. Collins and I seated ourselves on the couch, and he got his notebook out and ready as Julie settled into the cleared chair. I fixed my gaze on her. She’d adopted a semi-relaxed pose and was being careful not to fidget.
“I knew that Mr Visser had died, of course,” she said. “The article I saw seemed to imply that it had been accidental. You did say you were conducting a murder investigation?”
“Yes, that’s right. Please refrain from asking me any questions and try to answer mine as best you can. Did you and your housemates all go to Harpers together that night?”
“We did, yes.”
“What time did you get there?”
“A little after nine, I’d say.”
“Was that your first stop after leaving the house, or did you go anywhere else first?”
“We went straight there.” Julie seemed determined to keep her answers brief and to the point. After I’d taken her through Visser introducing himself and joining them, with a string of similarly rapid-fire questions, I found myself eager to get to the part where our two young ladies were likeliest to trip each other up if they were hiding anything.
“And the two gentlemen who joined your table not long after Mr Visser? Who were they?”
“One of them was a friend of Monica’s who I already knew slightly. The other was a friend of his that I didn’t know. I hadn’t met him before.”
“Their names?”
“Nick and Anthony. I can’t remember their last names.” I didn’t allow my expression to change, but I found that lie extremely interesting. Mills had managed to get Carl Scott, one of the bar staff from Harpers, on the phone to confirm a few things before we’d come here today. When prompted, he’d remembered seeing Nicholas Albert with the girls at Harpers that night. Oh yes, they were all old friends.
“And the six of you were seen leaving Harpers together,” I stated as a known fact. “What time was that?” She swallowed nervously.
“A little after half-past eleven, I think.”
“Where did you go next?”
“We all agreed to pop in at Camps for a last drink, but we were only in there for about fifteen or twenty minutes. When we left there, Nick and Anthony asked if we wanted to go on to The Waterfront with them, but none of us was in the mood, so they went off by themselves.”
“And Kaj Visser?”
“He insisted on walking us home. As I mentioned, we’d hit it off rather well, and I think he was hoping to be invited in, not that there was any chance of that. After all, we’d only just met. I did give him my number, though. He’d made a good impression, and I liked the idea of going on a proper date and getting to know him better.”
“So he didn’t come into the house?”
“No. He got a thank you and goodnight from us all, and I gave him a peck on the cheek at the gate. The last I saw, he was walking off towards the footpath back down to the main road.”
“Was there anyone else in sight at that point?” She made a point of thinking about it.
“There were a couple of men standing chatting further up the road, but I didn’t pay them any attention, and they were too far away to get a good look at.” I waited for Collins to finish noting that last answer down before wrapping things up.
“Do you wish to add anything to the information you’ve just given us, Miss MacAdam?” I asked. “Can you think of anything you may have missed?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Inspector. It’s very sad about poor Mr Visser, he really did seem very nice, but I was just about to head out to the supermarket when you arrived, and I really don’t see what else I could possibly tell you. Are we done here?”
“Not quite,” I told her. I held out my hand, and Collins passed me his notebook. His shorthand really was very good now. Neat and perfectly legible, almost up to Caitlin’s standard. I stood up. “If you’ll just stay here with my colleague while I check in with Inspector Philips, we’ll soon be on our way.”
Meghan Brooks had not been quite as quick with her answers as Julie had been, so I managed to catch her version of the end of the evening
as well. It mostly matched the account I’d just been given, although she claimed she didn’t remember seeing anyone when they got back here. Philips and I stepped out into the hall to check over both sets of notes.
Nick and Anthony appeared in both versions, and Meghan seemed to have been suffering from the same selective amnesia as Julie. It was obvious that they’d rehearsed their simple version of events and stuck to it. That was usually an effective tactic when people were worried that they might be questioned. Don’t elaborate on the details. They hadn’t expected us to know that their old school friend, Nicholas Albert, had even dated Julie for a while, a couple of years ago. Shay had found numerous ‘night out’ shots of him in groups that included each of our girls, all posted within the last year too. As for ‘Anthony,’ whether they knew him as well remained to be seen.
Once we were all back in the living room, I gave them a last chance to change their minds, and their stories, by asking again if either of them had anything else they wished to tell us. Neither of them chose to take me up on the offer, so I did what I’d expected we’d end up doing and arrested the pair of them for withholding information.
“You are only being arrested at this point, not actually charged with a crime,” I reminded them once I’d officially informed them of what was happening. “But a man has been murdered, and I’d advise you both to think very carefully about that before you get yourselves into real trouble. Any continued refusal to be anything less than totally honest with us will make it far more likely that you will be charged and will then face prosecution. Withholding information can lead to a sentence of up to six months in prison.”
They both looked a little shocked to hear that. Technically, it was perfectly true.
Castle Killings: A DCI Keane Scottish Crime Thriller (Deadly Highlands Book 4) Page 14