HUBRIS

by Brassett, Pete

  ‘Maybe not,’ said Dunbar, ‘but he was shouting too, raging, he was yelling something about an envelope and her father. All I could think was that, if he was hurting her, I had to do something about it.’

  ‘So, what did you do?’

  ‘I opened the door. He had Rhona by the scruff of the neck, I thought he was going to smash her head on the basin so I just lunged at him with the knife.’

  ‘Did he fight back?’

  ‘That’s the funny thing,’ said Dunbar. ‘No, he didn’t. Maybe it was shock because he wasn’t expecting it. He just swore at me, called me every name under the sun, and legged it downstairs.’

  ‘How did Rhona react?’

  ‘Not happy,’ said Dunbar. ‘She had a pop at me, too. She told me not to interfere, that it was just some silly argument.’

  ‘And you?’ said West. ‘How did you feel?’

  ‘I near wet myself. I was shaking. But then Rhona, see, she calmed down a bit. She gave me a wee hug and called me her knight in shining armour.’

  ‘So, she was grateful, after all?’

  ‘I think so, aye.’

  ‘What did you do next?’

  ‘She said we should go out, she said she was hungry, so we walked to the Indian.’

  ‘I can’t say I blame her,’ said West, ‘I think I’d have done the same thing. So, did you have a good night?’

  ‘Definitely not. She hardly said a word and barely touched her food. It was like she had something on her mind, like she was preoccupied, so we went back to the house. That’s when she…’

  ‘She what?’

  ‘She changed,’ said Dunbar. ‘Her mood. She was all anxious, like she was in a panic. She said she had to go, that she was having some time off and she needed a lift.’

  ‘Where was she going?’

  ‘Her parents’ house. In Lendalfoot.’

  ‘So, you dropped her there,’ said West, ‘and did you walk her to the door?’

  ‘No, no. She wouldn’t let me. I left her at the bottom of the lane but I waited, mind. I waited until she was safe indoors.’

  ‘Is that why she didn’t have any bags?’ said West. ‘Because she left in a hurry?’

  ‘Maybe. Just her handbag, that was it.’

  ‘I’m assuming, then, that you didn’t see her again?’

  ‘No,’ said Dunbar. ‘The last thing she said before she left the car was that she’d give me a call once she’d got her head together, and that I wasn’t to mention anything about what had happened to anyone, anyone at all.’

  ‘And did she keep her promise?’ said West. ‘Did she call?’

  ‘She did,’ said Dunbar. ‘Just the once. She said she was going to meet Callum to smooth things over and that she’d see me in a few days and explain everything. Next thing I know, you lot turn up and that’s the end of it.’

  ‘Hold on,’ said West. ‘Sorry, mate, but if she called you, then why wasn’t your number on her phone?’

  ‘She called on a landline,’ said Dunbar. ‘I didn’t recognise the number, I just assumed it was her parents’.’

  ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Dunbar. ‘That’s it. I never heard from her again.’

  Despite feeling a hint of compassion for the unlikely have-a-go hero who’d clearly reacted in the best interests of his partner, West, well aware of the risk that he might, at some point in the future, renege on his promise to give a statement, waited until he was halfway across the car park before delving into her pocket, retrieving the voice recorder, and switching it off.

  Chapter 23

  Unbeknownst to Kay Grogan, who was looking forward to spending a few hours snuggling up to the dashing DS Dougal McCrae in the darkest recesses of a romantic restaurant, her would-be suitor, pandering to her love of the great outdoors, had meticulously planned a rambling woodland walk in the hope that a jaunt in the countryside would be enough to fire her enthusiasm for a second excursion to the Galloway Forest Park where she might enjoy lounging on the banks of Loch Doon in the company of an erudite and pragmatic young fisherman.

  However, anxious that should the date be the unmitigated success he was hoping for, it might leave her keen to test the durability of his bed springs, he’d taken the precaution of setting the alarm on his phone for Saturday at precisely 5.17pm thereby saving himself the potential embarrassment of having to fumble with somebody infinitely more experienced than himself by feigning a call to arms.

  ‘Does she know what you’ve got in store for her?’ said Duncan, with a smirk.

  ‘No, no. It’ll be a surprise.’

  ‘You’re telling me. Do you not think you should warn her?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘What if she turns up in a cocktail dress and stilettos?’

  ‘Jeez-oh!’ said Dougal, panicking. ‘I never thought of that! Do you think she might?’

  ‘Well, if she does,’ said Duncan, ‘give me a call and I’ll happily stand in for you. What about lunch? Have you booked somewhere nice?’

  ‘No! We’re away on a walk! I’m taking a packed lunch.’

  ‘Are you joking me?’

  ‘It’s no bother,’ said Dougal. ‘Fish paste sandwiches, a couple of boiled eggs, a bottle of Irn-Bru, and some teacakes for afters.’

  ‘There’ll be no afters if you offer her that lot. Listen to me, pal, it’s a first date, you need to take her somewhere decent.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Aye! Look, go for a walk if you really have to, but if you want my advice you’ll take her for a cream tea or a slap-up meal to make up for it afterwards. Push the boat out! Just make sure it’s not the Thistledonia.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ said Dougal, ‘she’ll probably think I’m trying to impress her.’

  ‘Well, you are!’ said Duncan. ‘Look, you don’t have to take my word for it. Chief!’

  Munro, standing by the window with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, failed to respond.

  ‘I say, chief! It’s dark out, you’ll not see anything there but some old fella staring back.’

  ‘Learning without reflection,’ said Munro, ‘is a waste. Reflecting without learning is dangerous. Confucius.’

  ‘You’re confusing me,’ said Duncan. ‘I said, should Dougal take his lassie to a restaurant or subject her to an SAS assault course in sub-zero temperatures?’

  ‘A restaurant, of course,’ said Munro, ‘unless you’re trained in CPR, in which case, the upside of the latter is that you may get to kiss the girl a wee bit sooner than you expected.’

  ‘Oh, that’s it!’ said Dougal, his fingers flying across the keyboard. ‘I’d best see what’s available, I bet they’re all booked up!’

  ‘No bother,’ said Duncan, ‘if the worst comes to the worst, you can grab yourselves a fish supper and head back to your place.’

  ‘I’ll cancel. Would she mind if I cancelled?’

  ‘Would who mind?’ said West as she lumbered through the door. ‘Blimey, that’s a pig of a drive, I’m not doing that again in a hurry, it’s a right pain in the backside.’

  ‘How was he?’ said Duncan. ‘Did he come clean?’

  ‘He sure did,’ said West, tossing Dougal the voice recorder, ‘and I got it all on tape. Download that for me, would you, and keep it somewhere safe. Right, Jimbo, why the long face? Do you need an aspirin or something?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Munro, ‘physically, I’m fine. It’s the mind that’s troubling me.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, but unless you’ve got a pot of savings, I can’t afford a care home on my own. What’s up?’

  Munro turned back to the window and gazed at his reflection.

  ‘If Duncan’s right,’ he said, ‘if those keys are for the house in Lendalfoot, then I fear we may be about to uncover some deep, dark secret between Tam McClusky and William Baxter.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘It’s crossed my mind that perhaps William Baxter didnae happen across the Thistledonia by chance. In fact, I’m
beginning to wonder if he was there deliberately.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, I’m wondering if he was there to meet it.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure about that, chief,’ said Duncan. ‘Have you seen him? He’s a poor, miserable sheep farmer with an alcoholic wife. Why would he be meeting some old fishing boat in the dead of night?’

  ‘To retrieve the cargo.’

  ‘Highly unlikely,’ said West, jangling the keys, ‘but we’ll soon find out. Come on, if we get a wiggle on, we can be there and back in an hour.’

  ‘An hour?’

  ‘Alright, two.’

  ‘Have you seen the time?’ said Munro. ‘If we go now, we’ll be late for our supper.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jimbo. A couple of hours won’t kill you, but I might. Tell you what, come with us and we’ll grab a takeaway on the way back. My treat, and no washing-up.’

  Munro raised a hand to his chin and pondered the proposition.

  ‘A haggis supper,’ he said. ‘Aye, okay, I could go a haggis supper. Alright, you’re on.’

  ‘Good man.’

  ‘But I’m riding with Duncan, mind. At my time of life I’m entitled to a wee bit of comfort.’

  * * *

  There were times, mused Munro, when the need to arrive at a crime scene or an RTA as a matter of urgency necessitated the use of excessive speed but, with the needle nudging ninety and not so much as a winged pheasant lying in the road, he questioned the reasoning behind Duncan’s attempt at the land speed record and shook his head disparagingly when, as if deliberately trying to exacerbate the situation, he killed the headlights before slowing to a crawl and turning off the main road towards the Baxter residence.

  Illuminated by the unearthly glow of a December Cold Moon, West, zipping her coat against a snell wind blowing in off the firth, surveyed the house from a distance and concluded that, in the absence of any lights, Mr and Mrs Baxter had either nipped to the supermarket for their weekly shop, or popped into Girvan for a pie and a pint.

  ‘The place is dead,’ she said, softly.

  ‘Well, if there’s no-one here,’ said Duncan, ‘why are you whispering?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said West, pointing at the dog, ‘but it’s so flipping quiet, it just seems wrong to shout. Are you bringing him with us?’

  ‘Aye, of course,’ said Munro. ‘If I leave him in the car he’ll get anxious and just start barking, and that would never do. I still cannae see why it takes three of us to turn a key in a lock.’

  ‘Because,’ said West, ‘you can’t be too careful. Some blooming great animal might leap out of the woods, like a wild boar or… or a wolf, then what would we do?’

  ‘Rejoice,’ said Munro. ‘Rejoice at the reintroduction of Canis lupus to Caledonia after an absence of one hundred and twenty years. Right, on you go, knock the door.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To see if anyone’s home, lassie! Then you can ask their permission to try the key.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be daft,’ said West, ‘look at the place, it’s in total darkness. Duncan, give it a go, but do it quietly.’

  Duncan took the first key, slid it gently into the night latch, and gave it a quarter turn.

  ‘It works,’ he said, ‘but the door’s locked.’

  ‘What did I tell you?’ said West. ‘They’re out. Try the Chubb, they must have double-locked it.’

  Duncan spun the key in the lock and winked.

  ‘We’re in.’

  ‘There’s a great deal of satisfaction to be had when your instinct pays off,’ said Munro. ‘Commendable, laddie. Commendable, indeed.’

  ‘Right, will we go inside?’

  ‘What for?’ said West. ‘We came to see if the key works, it does, job done.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said Duncan. ‘Just a wee peek, I mean, should we not check they’re okay? They might have taken a fall or something.’

  ‘You’re having a laugh,’ said West. ‘Come on.’

  ‘But if they’re home, we could ask them about Tam McClusky. Chief, what do you reckon?’

  ‘It’s not for me to say,’ said Munro, ‘but I think you should heed the advice of your…’

  Munro smiled as Duncan, ignoring the pair of them, eased the door open and stepped inside to find the house, save for a slither of light beneath the cellar door, swathed in darkness.

  ‘There’s a light on downstairs,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘Either they forgot to turn it off, or there’s somebody down there.’

  ‘No, that doesnae make any sense,’ said Munro, ‘if there was somebody down there, then why would they lock the door from the inside?’

  West, desperate to get her hands on a piece of deep-fried haddock and a side order of mushy peas, brushed by Duncan and, in her own inimitable style, flung open the door to the cellar and stomped down the stairs, shouting as she went.

  ‘Mr Baxter!’ she said. ‘Willy? It’s DI West! Are you there?’

  * * *

  The room, even down to Rhona’s tote bag lying on the ottoman and the crusty bowl sitting on the sideboard, was exactly as she remembered, apart, that is, from the sound of laboured breathing coming from behind the sofa which was inexplicably two feet further from the wall than it should have been.

  Spooked by Duncan’s prophetic sixth sense and envisaging a comatose Willy Baxter lying flat on his back with a broken hip, West took half a pace forward and paused in disbelief as Maureen Baxter’s head appeared from behind the backrest.

  ‘It’s yourself, Inspector,’ she said, slurring her words.

  ‘How are you, Mrs Baxter?’

  ‘As well as can be… what are you doing here?’

  ‘I need to ask you some questions,’ said West, as Duncan and Munro made their way down the stairs. ‘Do you want to come and sit down?’

  ‘Is this about Rhona?’

  ‘Yup. The thing is, Mrs Baxter, we know who her father is.’

  Maureen smiled like a hapless drunk trying to focus on a bottle and eased her way around the sofa as if negotiating a perilous precipice at the peak of Ben Lomond before flopping down with her arms sprawled out beside her.

  ‘I see,’ she said, her eyes fluttering.

  ‘Can I get you a glass of water?’

  ‘Aye, if there’s a wee dram in the bottom of it.’

  ‘I think you’ve had enough,’ said West. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Just a minute,’ said Maureen, wagging her finger. ‘How did you get in? Did I not lock the door?’

  ‘You did,’ said West, ‘but we’ve got a set of keys. Tam McClusky’s keys.’

  ‘What were you doing back there, Mrs Baxter?’ said Duncan. ‘Did you lose something?’

  Maureen glanced up and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘Aye,’ she said. ‘I dropped… I dropped…’

  ‘What did you drop?’ said Duncan as Murdo shot behind the sofa. ‘By the look of the dog, I’m guessing it was food. A biscuit, maybe?’

  ‘Aye, that’ll be it,’ said Munro. ‘A few crumbs, perhaps. He’ll soon hoover them up.’

  Duncan peered behind the sofa and smiled as Murdo, nose twitching, scratched furiously at the floorboards.

  ‘No crumbs, chief, but there’s definitely something down there, a wee mouse, maybe. Will I take a look, Mrs Baxter?’

  ‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ said Maureen, ‘Willy can–’

  ‘Oh, it’s not trouble,’ said Duncan, ‘the board’s loose, anyway. I’d say if there’s something dead down there, then we best get it out before you’re plagued by bluebottles.’

  Maureen stared glassy-eyed at Munro and sighed with the weight of someone drawing their terminal breath.

  ‘Well, it’s not a mouse,’ said Duncan, ‘but I think we best fetch Willy, don’t you, Mrs Baxter? Where is he?’

  ‘Up the way,’ said Maureen, ‘he’s hauling feed to the sheep. You’ll find him in the bothy if he’s not on his way back.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said West, ‘but would you
mind telling me what’s going on?’

  Duncan rose to his feet and held a small package aloft. A small, silver package wrapped in copious amounts of cling film.

  ‘I think wee Murdo should join the drug squad, miss. He’s a nose for it.’

  ‘Right,’ said West, ‘I’m going to have a chat with Maureen, you two look for Willy and no hanging around, bring him straight back here.’

  * * *

  Hovering by the kitchen door to the rear of the house, Duncan, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom of the night, gradually picked out the form of a shingle path weaving its way between several raised vegetable beds, the outline of a garden shed and, parked by a timber-framed garage, the profile of a large, white car.

  ‘Hold on, chief,’ he said, as he pulled a flashlight from his pocket. ‘I think I recognise that.’

  Directing the beam towards the 4x4 with one hand whilst aiming the Toyota key fob with the other, he gently pressed the button and grinned as the lights flashed in acknowledgment.

  ‘It’s the Hilux, chief. The one the Boyds were using.’

  ‘So, this is where he kept it,’ said Munro. ‘I’ll say this for McClusky, he knows how to keep his hands clean, I’ll give him that.’

  Passing through a five-bar gate, they embarked on the half-mile trudge up a boggy field to the bothy in the distance, Duncan with his hands in his pockets, Murdo on the scent of a badger, and Munro struggling to stay upright as the terrier dragged him along at a pace greater than he was used to.

  ‘I’d say you were right,’ said Duncan. ‘With all that toot under the floorboards, it looks as though Willy Baxter was out to meet the Thistledonia after all.’

  ‘Aye, it would appear so,’ said Munro, ‘but everything’s not always as it seems.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘His wife, Maureen, she’d not be on her knees behind the sofa unless she had a hand in this herself.’

  ‘Right enough,’ said Duncan, ‘although there’s still a possibility that she wasn’t lying, chief. Maybe she did drop something back there and doesn’t know anything about the drugs at all, I mean, she’s completely hammered, and let’s face it, she didn’t have the floorboards up.’

  ‘You might be right,’ said Munro, ‘either way, she’ll be needing some coffee before you bombard her with questions. You can give Mr Baxter the third degree while you wait.’