Avenge the Dead

by Jackie Baldwin

  ‘No, I doubt he’s got it in him. He’s more loveable rogue than psycho killer. The fact that he’s running, to me, means that he knows something and fears that knowledge might get him killed. He may even know the identity of Aaron’s killer.’

  ‘Maybe I could get him to come in?’ said Mhairi.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Byers.

  ‘Well, he still has no idea that I’m a copper. I allowed him to put his number in my phone in case it came in handy. What if I send him a text, asking him to meet up with me? It might be worth a punt.’

  ‘Presumably, you’re not meant to know he’s on the run,’ said Farrell. ‘Where could you suggest meeting up?’

  ‘I could text him all concerned and say I’ve heard the cops are looking for him and hope they’re not fitting him up like they did my sister. Maybe offer to meet him for a drink to hear his side of the story?’

  ‘Do you think he’d buy that?’ said Farrell.

  ‘Possibly,’ said Mhairi.

  Chapter 46

  The following evening, Mhairi finished curling her hair and swept it up into as elegant an up-do as she could manage. It had been another full-on day and she was shattered. The last thing in the world she felt like doing was going out to socialize with a bunch of lawyers. The night would probably be one long yawn-fest and they’d learn sod all. She hadn’t had anything suitable to wear. Fortunately, PC Joanne Burns was around the same build and had loaned her a gorgeous long red dress. The doorbell rang and Mhairi tried to convert her expression from tired and grumpy to vibrant and scintillating. It was difficult when her nose still hurt and her eyes were bruised.

  ‘Think, zombie princess,’ she muttered as she went to answer the front door.

  Sandy Gillespie stood there in a tux. As soon as he saw her, he let out a low whistle.

  ‘Looking hot to trot, DS McLeod.’ He grinned.

  She scowled at him.

  ‘Left your glasses at home? Look at my face. You’d think I’d been ten rounds with Frank Bruno.’

  ‘I’d a feeling you might say something like that.’ He grinned. ‘I’ve brought you a little something. Something we sometimes use in our line of work where concealment is required.’

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him in.

  ‘You’re a star! Can you put it on for me?’

  He stood with her at the window where the light was best and instructed her to close her eyes.

  Again, she felt that strange but not unpleasant feeling of vulnerability as his delicate fingers gently moved over the planes of her face. In a weird way she felt she’d been more intimate with him already than any bloke she’d leapt into bed with during her wilder days. He was slowly getting under her skin and they hadn’t even slept together yet.

  To her relief, he successfully covered up the damage.

  ‘You look stunning,’ he pronounced.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘You’re not so bad yourself. Right, let’s get this show on the road. Oh, and for the avoidance of doubt, if anything kicks off tonight and someone takes another pop at me, I want you to stay well back. I’m a police officer. Dealing with this shit is part of my job, so I need you to park the chivalry and hide under the table. Got it?’

  ‘Feeling my man parts shrivel up and retreat inside my body,’ he said.

  ‘Good enough,’ she replied with a satisfied smirk.

  ***

  They joined the throng milling about in the reception area of the stylish hotel. Sandy grabbed them each a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and waited patiently as Mhairi located the whereabouts of the rest of her team. She felt on edge. For all they knew the killer could be walking about in their midst, stalking his next victim. She shivered. Farrell materialized at her elbow, looking distinguished in his rented tux.

  He shook hands with Sandy before turning to her.

  ‘Byers and Laura are over in that corner talking to Jack and Sarah Kerr. I’m at their table.’

  Mhairi shot her boss a worried glance. That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

  He nudged her.

  ‘Look, over there. I didn’t know that Sheriff Granger and the Super knew each other.’

  True enough, they were sitting knocking back whisky at a small table with the relaxed demeanour of two old friends.

  Mhairi spied a tight little group as the crowds parted. Were these guys glued at the hip or what? Fergus Campbell, Jack Kerr and Max Delaney were huddled to one side having what looked like an intense conversation while their respective partners stood together and made awkward small talk. Jane Pearson was wearing the silver gown that Mhairi had caught her trying on at the house. She’d lost weight and it now fitted her perfectly. Creepily her hairstyle too resembled pictures of his deceased wife. Mhairi felt her skin crawl but Fergus seemed clueless. He probably hadn’t even noticed that she was morphing into Gina.

  ‘DS McLeod,’ said a voice in her ear. ‘I’d like to say, once again, how truly sorry I am for hurting you.’

  She turned away from Farrell to see Gabriel Ferrante, his eyes declaring the truth of his words.

  ‘Is this the joker who assaulted you?’ snapped Sandy. She should never have brought him. Civilians and police business didn’t mix.

  ‘Sandy, I’ve told you before, he didn’t mean to.’

  She turned to Ferrante and gestured to a couple of chairs nearby. Sandy shook his head and disappeared off to the bar.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ she said.

  ‘I decided to come and brazen it out,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell you what it took to get to where I am today. It seemed fitting that I should attend the Faculty dinner one last time.’

  ‘I see you’ve brought your office manager with you,’ she said, smiling across to where Joe Capaldi sat glowering in a seat near the bar, his tux looking like it was trying to strangle him.

  ‘He’s one of my dearest friends,’ he said. ‘I’d trust him with my life.’

  ‘High praise, indeed,’ she said. ‘I feel the same about my partner, Frank Farrell. Even if he does drive me crazy sometimes,’ she added with a laugh.

  Mhairi heard Crawford Cunningham’s loud laugh and looked round. He was still talking to Sheriff Granger. She glanced back at Gabriel Ferrante whose attention had also shifted towards the pair.

  ‘The old boys’ network lives and breathes,’ he said.

  ‘Really? Is that how they know each other?’

  ‘Both went to Morrington Academy back in the day.’

  ‘You went there too?’ asked Mhairi.

  ‘No, I knew someone who did. Granger is a cruel bastard.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ asked Mhairi.

  ‘You’ve seen him in action. He made a lot of enemies in Glasgow. Anyway, don’t let me keep you, DS McLeod. I know you’ve got a job to do.’

  He excused himself and Mhairi was left with the feeling he’d wanted to tell her something more about the sheriff but thought better of it.

  The gong rang for dinner and everyone dispersed to their tables. She and Sandy were at Max Delaney’s table.

  As they stood for the top table to be seated, Chloe Delaney, who outshone every woman there in a midnight blue gown that would not have looked out of place at the BAFTAs, was busy snapping away. She pointed the camera at Mhairi who gasped in horror, not being a fan of having her picture taken.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Chloe whispered across the table, ‘I have loads of filters.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Mhairi muttered sarcastically.

  ‘Now, now, play nice,’ murmured Sandy’s warm breath in her ear.

  Max Delaney was on her right and as the first course was brought he turned to her and said in a low voice, ‘Do you think my wife and child are in actual danger?’

  ‘Truthfully, I don’t know,’ she said.

  ‘If anything happened to them …’ he said.

  Time to take a punt, Mhairi decided.

  ‘You need to tell us about what really happene
d in Jedburgh,’ she whispered in his ear.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he hissed, looking around to see if anyone else was listening.

  ‘Someone knows what you did.’

  Max Delaney went pale and said nothing for a couple of minutes, while Mhairi waited with bated breath for his response. His expression hardened.

  ‘I didn’t do anything. None of us did. Please, just drop it.’ He turned away from her.

  Reluctantly, Mhairi turned her attention back to the table. She noticed that despite photographing each course, Chloe Delaney barely picked at her food. Perhaps the strain was getting to her too underneath all the surface gloss.

  Mhairi attacked her food with gusto.

  ‘Is this a date?’ asked Sandy in her ear.

  Mhairi paused, her fork midway to her mouth.

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘You’re a hard woman to pin down, DS McLeod.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mhairi, giving him a quick apologetic grin as she placed the fork in her mouth.

  Chapter 47

  Farrell knew he was drinking more than he should but it was incredibly galling to be at the same table as Byers and Laura playing Happy Families. He was uncomfortably aware of her sitting beside him, her perfume and the drape of her dress. Had Byers been right? Was he jealous? Feeling more and more tormented he took another deep swallow of red wine. They were clearing away the main course. Suddenly, one of the waiting staff, a young lad, knocked his glass over. As everyone paused in their conversation to look at the blossoming red stain spreading over the tablecloth, Fergus Campbell went grey and leapt to his feet, running out the room with his hand over his mouth.

  Farrell excused himself, threw down his napkin and followed him. He looked in the gents but Campbell wasn’t there. Going outside into the warmth of the summer night, his eyes penetrated the shadows. He couldn’t have made it far.

  Before long he located Fergus Campbell around the corner of the building, retching into a bin. He waited until he was done then walked over handing across a clean handkerchief.

  Campbell took it to wipe his face and sagged back against the building, his skin clammy as though alcohol was sweating out of the pores. Farrell offered him a cigarette and lit it for him. Campbell took it with shaking hands and dragged deeply on it. He was chalk white and his eyes were sunken pits in the darkness.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It was just seeing the wine stain spreading like that. It made me think of when I saw Gina … all that blood.’

  ‘I can’t even imagine,’ said Farrell.

  ‘I still can’t believe that Gina’s murder can be linked to Jack’s son Aaron in any way. I mean, I know that they were both stabbed but so are a lot of people.’

  ‘We did catch someone watching Max Delaney’s house,’ said Farrell. ‘If there’s something that you’re keeping back, then now’s the time to tell me. If anything happens to that little girl …’

  ‘There’s nothing more I can tell you.’

  ‘What happened in Jedburgh, Fergus? You three are hiding something. Tell me what it is.’

  ‘We’re not.’

  He drew deeply on the cigarette once more.

  ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. It’s got nothing to do with Jedburgh.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘I just know. Why can’t you goddamn leave it alone?’ he shouted. He turned and slammed his fist into the wall, yelling in pain.

  Farrell was taken aback. Campbell was normally so controlled. This was a side of the man he hadn’t seen before. Perhaps a side that Gina saw the night she was killed if he’d twigged she was having an affair?

  ‘You know I can’t do that,’ he said quietly. ‘Why don’t you just tell me?’

  ‘I’ve never told another living soul. The others don’t know.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Farrell, feeling his spine stiffen in anticipation.

  ‘It’s bad … really bad.’

  ‘Did you kill her?’ asked Farrell.

  ‘No! Of course not!’

  ‘Well, what then?’ asked Farrell, confused.

  ‘I’m the reason Colette Currie died in that fire.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The day after the fire, I found the key to the front door of the cottage in my jacket pocket. I’d been drinking. We all had. I must have taken the key without thinking and locked the door.’

  ‘You don’t remember?’

  ‘No, it’s a complete blank. Like I say, we were young, playing drinking games and whatnot. I barely remember making it back to the guest house.’

  ‘Wasn’t there a key for the back door?’

  ‘No, it was locked when we got there. The key had broken off in the lock and wouldn’t budge. It needed fixed.’

  ‘And you’re sure you didn’t tell the others?’

  ‘No. What’s going to happen to me now?’

  ‘It was ruled to be an accidental death and nothing you’ve told me changes that. You did lie to the police, but if their conclusion would have been the same, then it’s not in the public interest to pursue it.’

  ‘I’d better get back inside,’ mumbled Campbell, looking relieved. ‘I’ve left Jane on her own at the table.’ He staggered back round the corner heading for the steps into the venue, still much the worse for wear.

  Farrell followed a distance behind him unsure what to make of his revelation. If he’d told nobody about the key then why were he and his friends being targeted? Maybe he wasn’t the only one of the three with something to hide? Either that or the murders weren’t connected at all.

  Laura gave him a searching look as he returned. Her dessert was untouched. Byers was turning on the charm with Jane Pearson to see what he could get out of her.

  It was now or never. Farrell sat back down beside Laura.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry about the other day. It was a shock. I didn’t see it coming.’

  She sighed but her face relaxed.

  ‘You weren’t around to see it coming, Frank. But if it’s any consolation neither did I.’

  ‘He makes you happy?’ he said.

  Another sigh. She filled up her glass, took a long swallow.

  ‘I thought so. I was adapting to the new normal.’ She looked down. He suddenly knew there was something she wasn’t telling him.

  ‘Laura, what’s going on?’

  Her eyes filled with tears; her full lip trembling she turned to face him.

  ‘Frank, it’s John. He’s been showing signs of awareness.’

  Farrell felt electrified. He swallowed and strove to remain calm.

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘Only a few days. It’s not much, he’s squeezing the doctor’s hand in response to pressure and his eyes are following the nurse about the room.’

  ‘But that’s wonderful, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m not sure. The doctors say he has a way to go yet. It’s early days but there’s a possibility he might come up to full consciousness.’

  ‘I need to see him,’ said Farrell. ‘What are you going to do about Byers?’

  ‘I have no idea. It’s such a bloody mess, Frank.’

  ‘You sound as though you’d rather he never woke up,’ said Farrell, his voice tinged with bitterness.

  ‘You bastard,’ she hissed. ‘No wonder I didn’t tell you before. You’re such a fucking hypocrite.’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ he muttered.

  ‘Why the bloody hell, should I? I know how you feel about me. I’ve always known. Every time life gets messy or too real you run and hide in the skirts of the Church. It’s moral cowardice.’

  An awkward silence fell over the table. Byers gave Farrell a hard look and came around to Laura.

  ‘Come on, time we were getting home,’ he said, gently lifting her under the elbow.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mike,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘Och, he had to find out sooner or later,’ said Byers, his mouth compressed in a thin line. Arm
in arm, they left.

  Chapter 48

  At the top table, DI Moore was sandwiched between the Super and Sheriff Granger. She’d never met Sheriff Granger before tonight and had no desire to ever clap eyes on him again. As his alcohol consumption increased so had his misogyny and, at times, crude comments. She had caught him squeezing the knee of that young solicitor, Beth Roberts, so hard she almost yelped. Had it not been for their overarching purpose here tonight, she would have called him out over it. Peter Swift, sitting opposite his fiancée, was looking angrier by the minute. She decided to deflect him by engaging the sheriff in conversation herself.

  ‘So, Sheriff Granger,’ she said, leaning into his space so he had no option but to disengage from the young woman he was tormenting, ‘how are you finding life in Dumfries after the hustle and bustle of Glasgow?’

  He swivelled his massive jaw around to face her and impaled her with his cold blue eyes. Beth Roberts hurriedly rose from the table and headed for the toilets, followed by Peter Swift.

  ‘Dull as ditch water,’ he said, raking her with his eyes from head to toe in a way that was a calculated insult.

  She wanted to slap him but instead smiled sweetly as she knew that would annoy him more. Bullies always wanted a reaction. DI Moore had dealt with worse than him in her time.

  ‘A shame you were required to leave Glasgow then,’ she said, curling her lip almost imperceptibly so that he would know she was aware he had been run out of the city by an enraged Bar. ‘However, I suppose someone has got to draw the short straw,’ she said, smiling sweetly.

  He stared at her with his cold brutish eyes and she waited for his attack. It wasn’t long in coming.

  ‘Isn’t your husband with you tonight?’ he asked. ‘Oh wait, that’s right you don’t have one. Any kids? No, of course, you don’t. You career women don’t want anything that could hold you back.’

  He took a long swallow of whisky, some of it missing his mouth and dribbling down his chin. Then he leaned towards her ear.

  ‘You’re a skinny bitch who’s going to end up dying alone and being eaten by your cat.’

  Before she had time to react, he had lurched out of his seat and headed for the bar.