The Distant Echo

by Val McDermid

  Alex felt his skin turn clammy. "I don't like this."

  "You and me both. This is too much of a coincidence, Alex. Ziggy and Mondo both die in suspicious circumstances… Hell, no, let's call it what it is. Ziggy and Mondo both get murdered. And the identical wreath turns up at both funerals. With a message that ties all four of us together to the unsolved murder of a girl called Rosemary." "That was twenty-five years ago. If anybody was going to take revenge, surely they'd have done it a long time ago?" Alex said, trying to convince himself as much as Weird. "It's just somebody trying to scare us."

  Weird shook his head. "You've had other things on your mind the past few days, but I've been thinking about this. Twenty-five years ago, everybody was watching. I haven't forgotten the time I got done over. I haven't forgotten the night they dropped Ziggy down the Bottle Dungeon. I haven't forgotten how Mondo got so wound up he tried to kill himself. The only reason it all stopped was because the cops gave Colin and Brian Duff the hard word. They were put on notice to leave us alone. You're the one who told me way back then that Jimmy Lawson said they'd only backed off because they didn't want to give their mother anymore grief. So maybe they decided to wait."

  Alex shook his head. "But twenty-five years? Could you nurse a grudge for twentyfive years?"

  "I'm the wrong person to ask that question. But there are plenty of people out there who have not taken Jesus Christ as their savior, and you know as well as I do, Alex, that there is nothing these people are not capable of. We don't know what's happened in their lives. Maybe something came up that set all this off again. Maybe their mother died. Maybe the cold case review reminded them they had a score to settle and it was probably safe to do it now. I don't know. All I do know is that this looks very like somebody's out to get us. And whoever it is, they've got time and resources on their side." Weird looked around nervously, as if his nemesis might be among the mourners moving toward their cars.

  "Now you're being paranoid." This was not the aspect of Weird's youth that Alex wanted to be reminded of right then.

  "I don't think so. I think I'm the one making sense here."

  "So what do you suggest we do about it?"

  Weird pulled his coat closely around him. "I plan to get on a plane tomorrow morning and head back to the States. Then I plan to send my wife and kids somewhere safe. There's plenty of good Christians who live out in the wilds. Nobody's going to get near them."

  "What about you?" Alex could feel himself becoming infected with Weird's suspicions.

  Weird gave the old, familiar wolfish grin. "I'm going on retreat. Congregations understand that those who minister to them have to go into the wilderness from time to time to reestablish contact with their spirituality. So that's what I'll be doing. The great thing about a TV ministry is that you can make a video wherever you happen to be. So my flock won't forget me while I'm gone."

  "You can't hide forever, though. Sooner or later, you're going to have to go home."

  Weird nodded. "I know that. But I'm not going to sit on my hands, Alex. As soon as I get myself and my family out of the firing line, I'm going to hire a private detective and find out just who sent that wreath to Ziggy's funeral. Because when I know that, I'll know who I have to look out for."

  Alex exhaled sharply. "You've got this all worked out, haven't you?"

  "The more I thought about that first wreath, the more I wondered. And God helps those who help themselves, so I made a plan. Just in case." Weird put a hand on Alex's arm. "Alex, I suggest you do the same. You have more than yourself to consider now." Weird pulled Alex into a hug. "Take care of yourself."

  "Very bloody touching," a voice said harshly.

  Weird pulled away and swung around. At first he couldn't place the grim-faced man glowering at him and Alex. Then memory erased the years and he was back outside the Lammas Bar, terrified and hurting. "Brian Duff," Weird breathed.

  Alex glanced from one to the other. "This is Rosie's brother?"

  "Aye, that's right."

  The confused emotions that had been tormenting Alex for days suddenly fused into anger. "Come to gloat, have you?"

  "Poetic justice, isn't that what they call it? One murderous wee shite sees off another one. Aye, I came to gloat."

  Alex lunged forward, stopped short by Weird's firm grip on his arm. "Leave it, Alex. Brian, none of us harmed a hair on Rosie's head. I know you need somebody to blame, but it wasn't one of us. You have to believe that."

  "I don't have to believe anything of the kind." He spat on the ground. "I really hoped that the cops were going to nail one of you this time around. Since that's not going to happen, this is the next best thing."

  "Of course it's not going to happen. We never touched your sister, and the DNA evidence will prove that," Alex shouted.

  Duff snorted. "What DNA evidence? Those fucking idiots have lost the DNA evidence."

  Alex's mouth fell open. "What?" he whispered.

  "You heard. So you're still safe from the long arm of the law." His lip curled in a sneer. "Didnae save your pal, though, did it?" He turned on his heel and strode off without a backward glance.

  Weird shook his head slowly. "You believe him?"

  "Why would he lie?" Alex sighed. "I really thought we might finally be in the clear, you know? How could they be so incompetent? How could they lose the one bit of evidence that might have put an end to all this shit?" He waved an arm toward the wreath.

  "You're surprised? They hardly covered themselves with glory first time around. Why should this be any different?" Weird tugged at the collar of his coat. "Alex, I'm sorry but I need to head off." They shook hands. "I'll be in touch."

  Alex stood rooted to the spot, stunned by the speed at which his world had turned upside down. If Brian Duff was right, was that the reason for those ominous wreaths? And if so, would the nightmare ever end while he and Weird were still alive?

  * * *

  Graham Macfadyen sat in his car and watched. The wreaths had been a master stroke. It paid to make the most of every opportunity. He hadn't been in Seattle to see the effect of the first one, but there was no question that Mackie and Gilbey had got the message this time. And that meant that there was a message to get. Innocent men wouldn't have turned a hair at such a reminder.

  Seeing their reaction almost made up for the nauseating parade of hypocrisy he'd had to sit through inside the crematorium. It had been obvious that the minister hadn't known David Kerr in life, so it wasn't surprising that he had done such a good job of whitewashing him in death. But it made him sick, the way everyone had nodded sagely, accepting the bullshit, their pious expressions acceding to this hypocritical fiction.

  He wondered how they'd have looked if he'd walked up to the front of the crematorium and told the truth. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today to burn a murderer. This man you thought you knew spent all his adult life lying to you. David Kerr pretended to be an upstanding member of the community. But the reality is that many years ago he took part in the brutal rape and murder of my mother, for which he was never punished. So when you thumb through your memories of him, remember that." Oh yes, that would have wiped the looks of reverent sorrow from their faces. He almost wished he'd done it.

  But that would have been self-indulgence. It wasn't fitting to gloat. Better to stay in the shadows. Especially since his uncle had turned up out of the blue to make his point for him. He had no idea what Uncle Brian had said to Gilbey and Mackie. But it had rocked the pair of them back on their heels. No chance now of them forgetting what they'd once been part of. They'd be lying awake tonight, wondering when their past was finally going to catch up with them. It was a pleasant thought.

  Macfadyen watched Alex Gilbey walk to his car, apparently oblivious to everything around him. "He doesn't even know I'm on the planet," he muttered. "But I am, Gilbey. I am." He started his engine and set off to haunt the fringes of the funeral buffet. It was amazing how easy it was to infiltrate people's lives.

  32

 
Davina was making progress, the nurse told them. She was breathing well without oxygen, her jaundice was responding to the fluorescent lights that shone night and day around her cot. While he held her in his arms, Alex could forget the depression Mondo's funeral had trailed in its wake, and the anxieties Weird's reaction to the wreath had generated. The only thing that could be better than sitting with his wife and daughter in the neonatal unit would be doing exactly the same thing in their own living room. Or so he'd thought until his conversation at the crematorium.

  As if she read his mind, Lynn looked up from feeding. "Just a couple of days now, and we'll be bringing her home."

  Alex smiled, hiding the uneasiness her words created. "I can't wait," he said.

  Driving home afterward, he thought about broaching the subject of the wreath and Brian Duff's revelation. But he didn't want to unsettle Lynn, so he kept quiet. Lynn went straight to bed, exhausted by the day, while Alex opened a particularly good bottle of Shiraz he'd been saving for a night when they deserved indulgence. He brought the wine through to the bedroom and poured them each a glass. "Are you going to tell me what's eating away at you?" Lynn asked as he climbed on top of the duvet next to her.

  "Oh, I was just thinking about Hélène and Jackie. I can't help wondering if Jackie had a hand in Mondo's murder. I'm not saying she killed him. But it sounds like she knows people who might, if the money was right."

  Lynn scowled. "I almost wish it was her. That bitch Hélène deserves to suffer. How could she creep around cheating on Mondo and pretend to be the perfect wife?"

  "I think Hélène's genuinely suffering, Lynn. I believe her when she says she loved him."

  "Don't you start defending her."

  "I'm not defending her. But whatever the score is between her and Jackie, she cared about him. It's obvious."

  Lynn pursed her lips. "I'll have to take your word for it. But that's not what's bugging you. Something happened after we left the crematorium and before you arrived at the hotel. Was it Weird? Did he say something to wind you up?"

  "I swear to God you're a witch," Alex complained. "Look, it was nothing. Just some bee Weird got in his bonnet."

  "Must have been the killer bee from Alpha Centauri to have this much effect when you've got so many other important things going on. Why don't you want to tell me? Is it boys' own stuff?"

  Alex sighed. He didn't like keeping things from Lynn. He'd never believed that ignorance was bliss, not in a marriage that was supposed to be equal. "In a way. I really don't want to bother you with it, you've got enough on your plate right now."

  "Alex, with what I've got on my plate, don't you think anything would be a welcome diversion?"

  "Not this, love." He sipped his drink, savoring its warm spice. He wished he could channel all his consciousness into appreciating the wine and lose touch with everything that ailed him. "Some things are better left."

  "Why am I having trouble believing you?" Lynn leaned her head against his shoulder. "Come on, spill. You know you'll feel better."

  "Actually, I'm not at all sure that I would." He sighed again. "I don't know, maybe I should tell you. You're the sensible one, after all."

  "Which is not something any of us could ever have said about Weird," Lynn said dryly.

  And so he told her about the funeral wreaths, making as light of it as he could. To his surprise, Lynn made no attempt to dismiss the story as Weird's paranoia. "That's why you're trying to convince yourself Jackie hired a hitman," she said. "I don't like this one little bit. Weird's right to take this seriously."

  "Look, it could have a simple explanation," Alex protested. "Maybe somebody that knew them both."

  "The way Mondo cut himself off from his past? The only people who could reasonably have known them both must come from Kirkcaldy or St. Andrews. And everybody there knew about the Rosie Duff case. You couldn't forget something like that. Not if you knew them well enough to be sending a wreath to funerals where the announcements said 'family flowers only,' " Lynn pointed out.

  "Even so, it doesn't mean somebody's out to get us," Alex said. "OK, someone wanted to get a dig in. That's no reason to suppose that the same person has committed coldblooded murder twice."

  Lynn shook her head in disbelief. "Alex, what planet are you on? I can just about credit that somebody who wanted to get a dig in might have seen the reports of Mondo's death. At least that happened in the same country as Rosie Duff's murder. But how would they have heard about Ziggy's death in time to get flowers to his funeral unless they were involved somehow?"

  "I don't know. But it's a small world these days. Maybe whoever sent the wreath had a contact in Seattle. Maybe somebody from St. Andrews moved there and ran across Ziggy through the clinic. It's not exactly a common name, and it's not like Ziggy was Mr. Nobody. You know yourself— whenever we ate out with Ziggy and Paul in Seattle, somebody always came over to say hello. People don't forget the doctor who treated their kid. And if that's how it happened, what would be more natural than to e-mail somebody back home when Ziggy died? A place like St. Andrews, news like that would spread like wildfire. It's not so far-fetched, is it?" Alex's voice grew agitated as he struggled to find something that would mean he didn't have to believe what Weird had suggested.

  "It's stretching it a bit, but I suppose you could be right. But you can't just leave it at that. You can't rely on a faint possibility. You've got to do something, Alex." Lynn put down her glass and hugged him. "You can't take risks, not with Davina coming home any day now."

  Alex drained his glass, paying no attention to the quality of the wine. "What am I supposed to do? Go into hiding with you and Davina? Where would we go? And what about the business? I can't just walk away from my livelihood, not with a child to support."

  Lynn stroked his head. "Alex, take it easy. I'm not suggesting we jump off the deep end like Weird. You told me earlier that Lawson was at the funeral today. Why don't you go and talk to him?"

  Alex snorted. "Lawson? The man who tried to con me with lentil soup and sympathy? The man who's carried the torch so long that he came along to see one of us cremated? You think he's going to give me a sympathetic hearing?"

  "Lawson might have had his suspicions, but at least he stopped you getting a kicking." Alex slid down the bed, nestling his head against Lynn's stomach. She winced and pulled away. "Mind my wound," she said. He shifted back, settling against her arm.

  "He'd laugh in my face."

  "Alternatively, he might take you seriously enough to make some inquiries. It's not in his interest to turn a blind eye to vigilante justice, if that's what this is. Apart from anything else, it makes the police look even more crap than they already do."

  "You don't know the half of it," Alex said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Something else happened after the funeral. Rosie Duff's brother turned up. He made sure Weird and I knew he'd come to gloat."

  Lynn looked shocked. "Oh, Alex. That's awful. For all of you. That poor man. Not to be able to let it rest after all this time."

  "That's not all. He told us that Fife Police have lost the evidence in Rosie's case. The evidence that we were relying on to produce the DNA that would clear us."

  "You're kidding."

  "I wish I was."

  Lynn shook her head. "All the more reason why you need to talk to Lawson."

  "You think he wants me rubbing his nose in it?" "I don't care what Lawson wants. You need to know for sure what's going on. If there really is someone after you, it might be the realization that they're not going to get justice after all that has set them off. Call Lawson in the morning. Set up an appointment. It would put my mind at rest."

  Alex rolled off the bed and started to undress. "If that's what it takes, consider it done. But don't blame me if he decides the vigilante's right and decides to arrest me."

  * * *

  To Alex's surprise, when he called to arrange a meeting with ACC Lawson, the secretary gave him a slot that afternoon. It left him enough tim
e to go to the office for a couple of hours, which left him feeling more out of control than he had previously. He liked to keep a close eye on the day-to-day business, not because he didn't have confidence in his staff but because not knowing what was going on made him feel uneasy. But he'd had his eye off the ball too much lately, and he needed to get up to speed. He copied a stack of memos and reports on to a CD, hoping he'd squeeze some time at home later to get on top of things. Grabbing a sandwich to eat in the car, he headed back to Fife.

  The empty office he was shown into was about twice the size of his own. The privileges of rank were always more visible in the public sector, he thought, taking in the big desk, the elaborately framed map of the county and James Lawson's prominently displayed commendations. He sat down in the visitor's chair, noting with amusement that it was much lower than the one behind the desk opposite.

  He wasn't kept waiting long. The door behind him opened and Alex jumped up. The years hadn't been kind to Lawson, he thought. His skin was lined and weathered, with two patches of high color on his cheeks, the broken veins the badge of a man who either drank too much or spent too much time exposed to the harsh east winds of Fife. His eyes were still shrewd, however, Alex noted as Lawson took him in from top to toe. "Mr. Gilbey," he said. "Sorry to keep you."

  "No problem. I know you must be busy. I appreciate you fitting me in so quickly."

  Lawson swept past without offering his hand. "I'm always interested when someone connected with an investigation wants to see me." He settled into his leather chair, tugging at his uniform jacket to straighten it.