Heather settled back in her armchair, crossed her arms and smiled.
‘We joked amongst ourselves, Inspector,’ she said. ‘Angus and I. We said Remo must have come from a long line of magicians because he was excellent at making folk disappear.’
‘You mean…’
‘That’s exactly what I mean. I’m quite sure Lars wasn’t the first. I can’t prove it of course but if you asked me I’d say Remo wanted a bigger piece of the business and with Lars out of the way, he got it.’
‘And when Lars disappeared and they were left without a driver, that’s when you…’
‘Brought Tommy over?’ said Heather. ‘Aye. Correct.’
‘So you knew what he was doing?’ said West. ‘Tommy, I mean. You knew he was acting as some kind of courier?’
‘All I knew, Sergeant, was that he’d been employed as a driver. Och, I had a fair idea of what he was up to, I’m not blind, but like I say, I can’t prove any of it.’
Munro finished his tea, set his cup on the table and cleared his throat.
‘Heather. Please understand I’ve no intention of upsetting you further so dinnae take offence but there’s something I have to ask: you knew Angus was dead before we even found his body, didn’t you? You knew it was Tommy who’d killed him?’
Heather nodded solemnly.
‘I did,’ she said. ‘He telephoned me straight away. He told me everything.’
‘And you didn’t think to call the police?’ said West. ‘Surely that would have been…’
‘And turn in my own brother, Sergeant? My own flesh and blood? I couldnae do it to him. I’ve told you before, he’s not right in the head. He can’t be held responsible for what he’s done.’
‘We realise that, Heather,’ said Munro, ‘and if it’s any help, he’ll be getting a full psychiatric assessment and we’ll be in touch with the hospital in Oslo too. He’ll be well looked after, I promise.’
‘Good. That’s a relief.’
‘There’s something else,’ said Munro. ‘Again, I apologise in advance for asking it but… Angus and Anita.’
Heather allowed herself a wry smirk.
‘Angus and Anita,’ she said. ‘That’s been going on for years. The old fool thought I didnae have a clue. Silly bugger.’
‘But you let them get away with it?’ said West. ‘Right under your nose?’
‘What else was I to do, dear?’ said Heather. ‘If I’d said anything at all he’d have either denied it or pleaded for forgiveness and I’m far too old to put up with such spineless behaviour.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Incidentally,’ said Heather, tapping the side of her nose. ‘I’ve some news for you, too. Did you know that Remo was cheating too? He was having an affair with that manageress up in Prestwick.’
‘Aye,’ said Munro. ‘We knew about that.’
‘You did? Och, well, I was only trying to help.’
‘Well, I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, Heather, you’ve been most helpful.’
‘Nae bother, Inspector. You’re always welcome here.’
‘Very kind, I’m sure. Oh, there is just one more thing.’
‘Go on.’
‘Your keys,’ said Munro. ‘The Carducci’s kept a spare set at their place, we know that because that’s how we got you back in.’
‘That’s right,’ said Heather, ‘I still feel foolish about that, such a bother over nothing.’
‘I was wondering, do you keep a spare set for them?’
‘I do indeed. I keep them on my chain. I can’t recall the number of times they’ve woken us up at one in the morning, much the worse for wear, I might add but I’m not complaining, that’s just the way it is.’
‘Of course,’ said Munro, ‘after all, what are friends for?’
‘Exactly.’
‘But here’s the thing, Heather. See, I dinnae think you locked yourself out of your own home that morning.’
‘I’m not sure I follow, Inspector.’
‘And I dinnae think you raced over to see Remo to fetch the spare set.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I think,’ said Munro as he retrieved a clear plastic bag from his coat pocket, ‘I think you locked yourself out of the Carducci residence.’
Munro opened the bag and pulled out a set of keys as West, almost choking on her scone, turned to face him and slowly smiled.
‘We found these hanging from the lock on the inside of Carducci’s front door. I couldnae figure it out at first, I mean, why would the Carducci’s have a key fob with the letter “B” on it. Then I realised, these dinnae belong to them at all, do they? They belong to you. Am I right?’
Heather, saying nothing, simply nodded.
‘See,’ continued Munro, ‘I think you went to Carducci’s place that morning and let yourself in. I think you found him sitting peacefully in his armchair, listening to his headphones while he worked off a hangover. And you took your chance. You took the knife from the kitchen and you stabbed him through the neck.’
Munro walked to window, stood with hands clasped behind his back and stared out across the fields.
‘See, Heather,’ he said, ‘I understand how much you loved Angus, despite his failings. I know you tolerated his behaviour just to keep him by your side but when Tommy called you and told you what he’d done, you knew Remo was behind it.’
‘Aye, I did,’ said Heather softly. ‘As soon as Tommy mentioned that MacAllister woman, I knew Remo was to blame. I knew it was him. An eye for an eye, Inspector. He robbed me of my Angus. I could see no good reason why he should be the one to enjoy the spoils of their efforts.’
Munro turned to face Heather and caught her eye, hesitating before he spoke.
‘Did you know Angus and Anita were planning to run away together? To Loddefjord?’
‘No. I did not.’
‘Angus was on his way there, to the ferry terminal, when it happened. Anita was going to join him later.’
‘Is that so?’ said Heather, huffing with disgust. ‘Well in that case, maybe he got what he deserved, Inspector. Maybe he got what he deserved, after all.’
* * *
‘You knew all along, didn’t you?’ said West as they watched Heather ease herself into the back of a patrol car. ‘You knew it was Heather who’d killed Carducci.’
‘No, Charlie. I didn’t,’ said Munro. ‘All I knew was, it wasnae MacAllister.’
‘But how? I mean, all the evidence was stacked against her. Everything. How the hell could you doubt it?’
‘Instinct, lassie. Now, let’s get you back to the office, you’ve a heap of paperwork to get through before your guests arrive and I need an early night. Tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in my own bed.’
Epilogue
West – normally self-assured and more than capable of fighting her own corner despite the occasional pangs of self-doubt – parked the Figaro, glanced up at the office on the third floor and, overwhelmed by an irrational sense of nervous trepidation, slumped back in her seat and sighed. With no Munro to back her up, she sought a degree of reassurance from her phone, optimistically checking for any missed calls or messages wishing her luck before, somewhat disappointedly, heading inside.
‘Dougal!’ she said, forcing a smile, ‘first in, as usual, I see.’
‘Morning, miss. How’s tricks?’
‘Yeah, all good. How about you? Did you enjoy your fishing date?’
Dougal hesitated.
‘Aye, it was okay,’ he said. ‘Actually, no. It was a complete disaster.’
‘Why? Did it not go according to plan?’
‘I didnae have a plan, miss. But Lizzie did. I should’ve listened to the boss. She wasnae interested in fishing at all, all she wanted to do was…’
‘I get the picture,’ said West, smirking. ‘Is that why you look so down?’
‘No, no,’ said Dougal, ‘I can live without Lizzie, it’s the case I cannae figure. I mean, what makes an old lady like Heather Buc
hanan do something like that? Just stab someone in the neck?’
West sat down and propped her feet on the desk.
‘Resentment, Dougal,’ she said. ‘Years of resentment.’
‘I still don’t get it.’
‘I do,’ said West, ‘I get it totally. You see, Heather devoted her life to Angus, right? She was his wife, his best friend, his housekeeper, his cook, his everything. She did her best by him and she was proud of it too, but all he did in return, was betray her. Then her best friend betrayed her. And then her best friend’s husband betrayed her. I guess she just got fed up with being taken for a mug, knowing what was going on right under her nose, bottling it all up and letting them get away with it.’
‘So, she just snapped?’ said Dougal.
‘Yeah, if you like. I don’t blame her, either. If it was up to me I’d let her off.’
‘Well, she nearly got away with it.’
‘Yeah, thanks for reminding me about that, Dougal. Nice one.’
‘I didnae mean it like that, miss. You did a brilliant job. I mean, all the evidence pointed to MacAllister. Even a jury would’ve sent her down.’
‘Maybe.’
‘So how did you figure out it was Buchanan?’ said Dougal.
‘Instinct.’
‘Instinct?’
‘Something Jimbo said.’
‘Okay,’ said Dougal. ‘And how is he, by the way? Back home, now?’
‘Yup,’ said West, ruefully. ‘Back home and probably half way up a mountain or knee-deep in compost, as we speak.’
* * *
Though not an ardent traveller, of the handful of hotels, guest houses and coaching inns Munro had had the sometimes-dubious pleasure of experiencing, those which held the fondest memories were the ones which reminded him of home. Despite the clinical surroundings of his room in the Dumfries Royal Infirmary, however – its stark, white walls and grating overhead light being the complete antithesis of what he deemed “comfortable” – he lay with his head propped up on two firm pillows, wallowing in the soundest sleep he’d enjoyed in years, oblivious to the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor by his side and the two figures hovering over his bed.
‘I came as quick as I could,’ said DCI Elliot. ‘Can he hear us?’
Doctor McKay, his voice soft and low, spoke candidly.
‘Possibly,’ he said, ‘but there’s no real way of knowing, not with concussion. The man’s taken a quite a wallop – three cracked ribs, a fractured clavicle and a broken arm, not to mention the bruising. What he needs is complete rest, he’ll come round in time.’
‘You’re sure of that? I mean, he’s not going to…’
‘No, no, he’ll make a full recovery, Inspector. I’m positive.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘Has he any next of kin?’ said McKay. ‘He’s going to need some looking-after once he’s up and about.’
‘No, no-one to speak of, Doctor,’ said Elliot, ‘not since his wife passed away. I suppose Charlie’s the nearest he’s got to family now.’
‘And that would be his nephew? Or a cousin, perhaps?’
‘No, no. Charlie’s like the daughter he never had. She’ll be here in an hour or two.’
‘Good. We should leave him be now, give him some peace. There’s a couple of gentlemen outside I’m sure you’re keen to talk to, that’ll take your mind off it.’
‘Right enough, Doctor. You’ll let me know of any change, won’t you? Especially if he wakes up?’
‘You’ll be the first to know, Inspector. I guarantee it.’
* * *
The two officers, dwarfed by Elliot’s towering frame, leapt to their feet like a couple of schoolkids about to receive a grilling from the headmaster.
‘DC Duncan Reid, sir,’ said the one in plain clothes. ‘And this is PC Ferguson.’
Elliot, bemoaning the fact that neither looked capable of winning a pub quiz let alone conducting an investigation, eyed them sceptically and sighed.
‘Okay, lads,’ he said, ‘let’s have it.’
‘He was in Dalbeattie, sir,’ said Reid, ‘by all accounts, stocking up on groceries.’
‘Aye, that figures,’ said Elliot, ‘he’s been with me up in Ayr the past week.’
‘He’d made a couple of trips to the shops already, there were bags in the boot of his car from the supermarket and the butcher. According to witnesses, he’d just dropped a third bag in the back and was walking around to the driver’s side door when he was hit.’
‘Hit?’
‘Aye. It seems the car came straight at him. A deliberate hit and run.’
‘You’re sure?’ said Elliot. ‘There’s no chance he could’ve stepped out without looking? Or that the driver was distracted, on his phone, maybe?’
‘No, no,’ said Reid, ‘the car came at speed, he was doing at least forty, swerved right into him and took off down the High Street. If you asked me, I’d say it’s probably someone with a grudge.’
‘Is that so?’ said Elliot sarcastically.
‘Aye. Does DI Munro have any enemies, sir?’
‘Put it this way, laddie. He doesn’t have many friends. What about the car?’
‘A white VW Golf, sir,’ said Ferguson, flipping open his notebook. ‘A two door, GTI which now has damage to the nearside headlamp and wing mirror. We’re still trying to trace it but so far...’
‘Did you get the number?’
‘We did, sir. It was registered as SORN to an address in Prestwick almost three years ago so it’s been off the road a wee while. All we have is the last registered keeper of the vehicle, so not much use.’
‘Probably stolen, then,’ said Elliot. ‘And you’ve checked it’s not been returned to that address?’
‘We have. No sign of it.’
‘Okay,’ said Elliot. ‘Just out of interest, who was the last registered keeper?’
‘Let me see,’ said Ferguson, flicking through his notebook. ‘It was owned by a fella called Gundersen, sir.’
Elliot froze, his eyes narrowing as he scowled at the officers.
‘Gundersen?’ he said.
‘Aye, Lars Gundersen. But apparently he’s no longer at that address.’
‘Who is?’
Ferguson hesitated as ran through his notes.
‘A lady called MacAllister, sir. Miss Clare MacAllister.’
‘Are you okay, sir?’ said Reid nervously. ‘Rest assured, I’ll do everything I can to make sure we get this fella. I guarantee it.’
‘You’ll do no such thing, laddie,’ said Elliot, reaching for his phone as he stormed off down the corridor. ‘From now on, you’ll be working under Detective Sergeant Charlotte West. Do I make myself clear?’
Character List
DI JAMES MUNRO – Shrewd, smart and cynical with an inability to embrace retirement, he has a knack for expecting the unexpected.
DS CHARLOTTE WEST – Finally overcoming her self-doubt after a floundering engagement, she finds her feet and regains her confidence with Munro as her mentor in his native Scotland.
DC DOUGAL McCRAE – A clever, young and unintentionally single introvert with more brain than brawn who’d rather be fishing than drinking in the pub.
DCI GEORGE ELLIOT – Laid back and relaxed, happy behind a desk and happiest at home, he prefers to let others do the dirty work having spent a lifetime dicing with death.
REMO CARDUCCI – Proud of his Italian heritage and his buxom wife, Remo is an ostentatious narcissist with an eye for the ladies, fast cars and designer clothes who spends his time overseeing his chain of restaurants.
ANITA CARDUCCI – Married to Remo, she considers herself to be the epitome of Italian style and runs her own hair salon more as a hobby than a business.
ANGUS BUCHANAN – A retired, easy going and affable bon-viveur, Angus – lifelong friend and business partner of Remo – manages the restaurants’ finances as well as his wife’s.
HEATHER BUCHANAN – Independent, industrious and at her happiest w
hen looking after other people, Heather prides herself on her skills as a housewife and, despite her ability to render anything she puts in the oven inedible, as a cook.
TOMEK DUBROWSKI – Scarred by a troubled upbringing as a result of his low IQ and regarded as unsociable, unemployable and untrustworthy, Tomek, in spite of his differences, has an insatiable urge to please everyone he meets.
CLARE MacALLISTER – Brash, single and lonely with an over-inflated ego and a desperate need to feel loved, she’ll take her chances with anybody.
MISS MARGARET McCLURE – Mature, professional and bored of dining alone, she craves companionship and thinks she’s found her future partner in the single but unattainable DI Munro.
Other books in this series:
SHE – Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 1
With a serial killer on their hands Scottish detective Munro and rookie sergeant West must act fast to trace a woman placed at the scene of crime. Yet discovering her identity, let alone finding her, proves difficult. Soon they realise the crime is far graver than either of them could have imagined.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01CDFGPBM/
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01CDFGPBM/
AVARICE – Detective Munro mysteries Book 2
A sleepy Scottish town, a murder in a glen. The local police chief doesn’t want a fuss and calls in DI Munro to lead the investigation. But Munro is a stickler for procedure, and his sidekick Charlie West has a nose for a cover up. Someone in the town is guilty, will they find out who?
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01IIGMW1W/
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01IIGMW1W/
ENMITY – Book 3
When it comes to frustrating a criminal investigation, a killer has all the moves and a spate of murders is causing havoc in the local police department. Enter DI Munro to catch the red herrings and uncover an elaborate and wicked ruse.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01N06ITWI/
DUPLICITY: A compelling Scottish murder mystery (Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 4) Page 18