by Val McDermid
‘Why? What’s she done?’
‘Nothing that concerns you. Can we do this inside? I’m sure you don’t want everybody in the block to see you having a cosy wee blether with the polis?’
She’d found his weak spot. Anderson’s eyes flicked from side to side and he stepped back, waving them inside. Breathing in was like an olfactory catalogue of Anderson’s life. Cigarette smoke, stale fat, old farts and body odour tempered with a drift of piss as they passed the bathroom.
The living room contained a sofa whose upholstery was shiny with wear and grease and a massive TV dating from the days before flat screens were dreamed of. A spindly table with a laminated top sat by the window, a pair of wooden stools flanking it. Two upside-down cardboard boxes that had once held bottles of wine served as occasional tables. A pile of crushed lager cans lay on the floor by an overflowing pub ashtray. ‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ Karen said.
‘You can fuck off any time you like.’ Anderson threw himself down on the sofa.
Karen had no intention of sitting on any surface in the room. She leaned a shoulder against the wall, crossing one foot over the other. Jason was less fussy. He chose one of the stools and took out his notebook. ‘So,’ Karen said. ‘You remember Jeanette?’
‘Aye. Nice lassie. She always said hello. Well, until she took up with that Fenian bastard she went off with. He didn’t like her talking to the likes of me.’
‘That would be Kevin O’Toole?’
Anderston tittered. ‘Tool, right enough. He was a tool, take it from me.’
Karen couldn’t fault O’Toole’s judgement. ‘Were you living here when Jeanette had her baby?’
‘Aye. It wasn’t O’Toole’s bairn, though. That was a good few years before he appeared on the scene.’ Anderson pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit up with a cheap plastic lighter. Karen could see the health warning on the pack wasn’t in English. She’d been right on the money with the smuggled fags.
‘Did you know who the father was?’ She sounded offhand, as if it wasn’t important.
‘She’d been going out with a soldier. I saw him in his uniform a couple of times. I suppose it must have been his, for I never saw her with anybody else.’
‘Did you know his name?’
Anderson snorted. ‘We were never introduced.’
‘Did she have a lot of boyfriends?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really. I heard she gave the bairn up for adoption and it was a long time till I saw her with another guy.’
‘So there’s no doubt in your mind that the army sergeant was the baby’s father?’
Anderson sucked hard on his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. ‘That’s what I heard. There’s no secrets round here.’ He sneered. ‘Except from the likes of you. But what folks were saying was he got her up the duff then legged it. So what’s he done?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say.’ Karen pushed off from the wall. ‘Why? Is there something you’re not telling us about what he was up to back then?’
Anderson shook his head. ‘I’m like Manuel. I know nothing.’
That, thought Karen, was the most reliable thing Anderson had said. ‘In that case, Mr Anderson, we’ll take up no more of your time.’ She gave Jason a tiny jerk of the head to indicate they should make a move.
‘Is that it?’ Having been so reluctant to let them in, he now seemed aggrieved that they didn’t want anything further from him.
‘That’s it.’ She moved towards the door, Jason on her tail. ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’
As they waited for the lift, Jason heaved a sigh. ‘What’s the matter?’ Karen asked.
‘See guys like that? They give me the creeps. His life’s burst. How do you end up like that?’
‘Bad chances, worse choices.’
Jason sighed again. ‘I just think sometimes, they were kids once. They ran about the park kicking a football. They had things they wanted to be. Nobody dreams about being that guy there. Nobody sets out to be like him. And we keep coming up against folk that have got themselves completely fucked up.’
It was probably the most profound statement she’d heard Jason make. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘If you think about it too much, you’d never get out of bed in the morning. The way I look at it, we’re the lucky ones. We can’t fix it for everybody, but we get to try and make it a wee bit better for some people.’
‘I suppose,’ he said, following her into the lift.
‘And now we’ve got a name and a degree of confirmation that Darren Foreman is our man. So let’s get on his trail.’
Karen made the call to army records as soon as they got back to the office. It was always easier to call from a landline so they could call back via the switchboard to check she was a bona fide cop. While she was on hold, her mobile buzzed with a text from Giorsal.
Ship Inn, Limekilns. Table booked for 8. Fish suppers are on you.
Karen’s mouth filled with saliva at the memory of the Ship Inn’s haddock and chips. That was something to hang on to as the tail end of the day dribbled away.
The phone crackled into life. ‘DCI Pirie? I think I’ve got what you need. Darren Foreman joined the Royal Highland Regiment in 1987. He was sixteen and at the time he joined, he was living in Glasgow. He was a combat infantryman—’
‘What does that mean, exactly?’
‘A foot soldier. Patrols, guard duties, protecting convoys. What most people think of when they think of a soldier. The boys on the front line who get shot at.’ The voice on the other end sounded mildly amused. ‘The equivalent of a bobby on the beat, I suppose. He appears to have been rather good at it. He hit Lance Corporal in under three years, full corporal in six and sergeant at eleven years’ service. He left at that rank after fifteen years in, in 2002. Managed to miss the second Gulf War.’
Karen was a little surprised. If pressed, she’d have marked Tina McDonald’s killer as having some issues with impulse control. ‘No problems with him? No disciplinary issues?’
‘Nothing on his record that I can see. Good soldier, by the looks of it. There’s a note here that his commanding officer recommended him for SAS training with a view to recruitment, but he didn’t make the grade. No disgrace there. Only about fifteen per cent of the men who go through the training make it to the regiment.’
‘I don’t suppose you know what he’s doing now?’
The man on the line chuckled. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Why would I know?’
‘Because he’s one of yours. He’s a firearms officer with Police Scotland.’
43
Karen watched Ian Lesley as he went up to the bar to get the drinks in. A short, compact frame neatly dressed in a well-pressed shirt with a subdued check, well-fitted clean black jeans, black Docs. Dark blond hair cut short at the sides with a vestigial quiff at the front. He was in his early thirties but looked younger, his face unlined and placid. He and Giorsal had arrived ahead of Karen and somehow they’d snagged a table with a view out across the Forth. Giorsal had made the introductions, they’d ordered three servings of haddock and chips, then Ian had insisted on buying the first round in spite of Karen’s protests.
Giorsal followed her eyes and said, ‘He’s one of the good guys, I think. He’s very patient with the clients. Never loses his cool. But he’s dogged with it. He doesn’t give up on people and he stands up for them. He’s definitely a keeper, which is more than I can say for some of the bodies I inherited.’
‘I know what you mean. My lad Jason, he’s not the sharpest blade in the knife block. But his heart’s in the right place, and the things he can do, he does surprisingly well.’ Karen studied the beermat. ‘And he worked with me and Phil.’
‘I’d guess that helps. Having that connection.’
‘It does.’ Abruptly changing the subject, Karen said, ‘Thanks for that
suggestion about the Syrians, by the way. I spoke to Craig Grassie – the Edinburgh MP – at the weekend and he’s going to see whether he can help.’
‘I hope that works out.’ Before she could say more, Ian returned with three gin and tonics.
‘There we go,’ he said. ‘Our one proper drink of the evening since we’re all driving and we’re in the company of the law.’ He grinned and handed round the glasses. ‘So, Karen, Giorsal tells me you’re interested in Gabriel Abbott?’
‘You don’t beat about the bush,’ Karen said.
‘Life’s too short,’ he said, his blue eyes on hers. She wondered how much Giorsal had told him.
‘Officially, it’s his mother’s murder I’m interested in. Because nobody was ever charged, it’s still an open case and it comes into the remit of my unit. But I’ll be honest. I can’t help wondering whether we’ve rushed to judgement on Gabriel’s death. The more I find out about his family, the more of a tangle it becomes.’
Ian sipped his drink. ‘It’s funny you should say that. Gabriel was coming up to his thirtieth birthday. He told me a while back that he wanted to do something special. But he didn’t really have anyone to do anything special with.’ He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t like he was self-pitying. He liked his own company and he didn’t make friends easily. He understood that about himself. So anyway, he told me he’d been watching Who Do You Think You Are? on TV one night when it came to him. He was going to draw up his family tree. It would be his present to himself.’
‘So how did that go?’ Karen asked, giving nothing away.
‘He did pretty well on his mother’s side, because she was born in Edinburgh and our records up here are so much better than they are in England because of our system of parish records. He’d got back to the eighteenth century on her side. He was having less luck with his father’s side. He got stuck round about his great-grandparents. But the one thing he really wanted to get his hands on was his father’s death certificate. His mother told Gabriel that his father had died in Thailand a couple of years after his birth. So Gabriel got in touch with the authorities over there. He didn’t have the money to hire somebody locally to help him out, but he managed to get someone at the embassy to make some inquiries for him.’ His smile had a tinge of wistfulness. ‘He could be very charming, Gabriel.’
‘So what happened?’
‘They couldn’t find any trace of Tom Abbott having died in Thailand. Not in 1990. They checked a couple of years either side, but drew a blank. Gabriel was gutted. He’d built it up in his head as something that was really important. Something that would tell him something about the father he never knew. And he’d hit a dead end.’
Before he could say more, a waitress arrived with plates laden with large slabs of battered fish and a small mountain of chips. The aroma was wonderful; none of them was going to be distracted from the food. They’d motored through a sizeable amount of their dinner, accompanied by wordless murmurs of pleasure, before Ian picked up his tale again. ‘So, maybe three months ago, he had a visit from his mother’s former PA and her husband. She’d always stayed in touch with Gabriel. They were heading up to Gleneagles for a golfing weekend and they stopped off to see him. He told them what he’d been trying to do, and the woman said, no, he’d been totally barking up the wrong tree. It wasn’t Thailand, it was the Philippines where Tom had died. She could see how everybody got confused, because he’d been based in Thailand for a couple of years. But it was definitely the Philippines where he actually died.’
‘Gabriel must have been excited.’ Still she kept her face straight, eager to hear Ian’s version of what Felicity had already revealed.
‘No kidding. And he dropped lucky. I don’t know whether you know this, but Gabriel was a real South East Asia buff. History, politics, literature. If he hadn’t had his problems with his mental health, he could have taught at a university. He was like a different guy altogether when he got stuck in. Anyway, he’d built a really substantial network, and he had a good contact at the University of the Philippines. So Gabriel chivvied him into tracking down his dad’s death certificate.’ He loaded up his fork with more fish and shoved it in his mouth. Seeing Karen’s expression, he chewed faster.
‘Did he find it?’ she asked.
Ian nodded. He laid down his cutlery and washed down his food with a swig of his drink. ‘He certainly did. There was only one problem.’ He paused.
‘It was dated 1984,’ Karen said. ‘Two years before Gabriel was born. And six years before Caroline Abbott told everybody Tom was dead.’
Giorsal’s face was a picture of disappointment. ‘You knew?’
‘I only found out yesterday, by chance. It’s good to have it confirmed. But that must have really messed with Gabriel’s head.’
‘It did. This was just a couple of weeks ago, by the way, which maybe supports the idea of suicide. Anyway, Gabriel phoned me when he got the email with the scanned copy of the death certificate. He was – gibbering, I’d have to say. That’s the only word for it. I told him to calm down, make a cup of tea and phone his brother, see if Will could cast any light on it. He’s quite a lot older than Gabriel, so I thought he might remember things better from back then.’
Karen resumed eating, cutting her chips into very small pieces, a frown of concentration on her face. For someone who struggled to stay on an even keel, the discovery must have been a devastating piece of news. It was hard to imagine how it would have felt. ‘Did Gabriel tell you what Will said?’
‘I’ll be honest, I was curious. We’re always dealing with crises in this business. Mopping up after the wheels have come off people’s lives. But mostly, they’re predictable disasters. Domestic violence, child abuse, dementia getting a grip on somebody’s day-to-day.’ He gave an embarrassed little shrug. ‘So I went round to his cottage on my way home.’
‘Anybody would have done the same,’ Karen said.
‘I would have,’ Giorsal agreed.
Ian pulled a face. ‘He was much calmer than he’d been on the phone. He’d got hold of Will and told him what he’d found out. Will was shocked, obviously. But he figured it out in a matter of moments, according to Gabriel. According to Will, Caroline was always practical. Knowing Tom as she did, she’d have realised that, if she wanted another child, she might not be able to rely on him being around. So she could have got him to have his sperm frozen so she could choose when she wanted to get pregnant. And Gabriel thought it made sense. Caroline liked to be in control of things. That was how she was so good at business, he said. And if she was going to get pregnant, she’d want to do it at a time when it suited her, not when it suited Tom.’
Ian shrugged. ‘Gabriel said his parents had a pretty semi-detached relationship, so I suppose it kind of makes sense. Anyway, Will was adamant that Caroline would have found a way round Tom’s absences. Gabriel wasn’t so sure, though. He wanted them both to have DNA tests, him and Will. Just to confirm what his big brother believed.’
Karen drew her breath in sharply. ‘Sometimes you’re better off not knowing,’ she said. ‘Why do I have this feeling that Will didn’t fancy that idea?’
‘I don’t know. But I do know that you’re right. Will was totally against the idea. He said there was no need. That he knew in his bones that Gabriel was his brother. Gabriel was really touched by that. He said he thought Will was desperate not to risk weakening the bond between them.’ Ian looked dubious.
‘You don’t look convinced.’
‘I wasn’t. I thought Gabriel was getting stuck in magical thinking. Trying to make himself a close family that didn’t really exist. But it wasn’t the time to call him on it. I could tell there was something else going on. Something he was reluctant to tell me.’
‘Something to do with Will?’
Ian sighed. ‘I told myself I needed to know what was going on so I could take the best care of Gabriel. I’m sorry, Giorsal. I’m not p
roud of myself. I told Gabriel I knew he was holding out on me and it would make him feel better if he didn’t keep things hidden. And he admitted that before he’d spoken to Will, he’d already sent samples off to one of those companies that advertise DNA analysis online.’
‘He didn’t hang about,’ Giorsal said.
‘Where did he get Will’s DNA from?’ Karen said, focused on the crucial detail as ever.
‘That’s what I wondered too. It turns out that the last time Will visited he ended up staying overnight. Gabriel gave him one of those crappy toothbrushes you get in hotels, and he never got round to throwing it out.’ Ian gave a sad little laugh. ‘If you’d seen Gabriel’s cottage, you would know there was nothing unusual about that. He’d give squirrels a run for their money when it came to hoarding.’
‘So what was the outcome?’ Karen asked. Her food was forgotten now. Ian’s story was even more captivating than her favourite dinner.
He swallowed the mouthful of chips he’d managed to shovel in between sentences. ‘Don’t know. It hadn’t come back by the time he died.’
‘Which is surely an argument against suicide?’ Giorsal leaned forward, as fascinated as Karen by what Ian had revealed. ‘I mean, he really wanted to know. Surely he wouldn’t have killed himself before he got the answer?’
‘Unless he did get the answer and it wasn’t the one he wanted,’ Karen pointed out.
Ian shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. He’d have been incredibly agitated if that had been the case. I think he would have called me. But even if he hadn’t, I can’t believe he’d have stuck to his usual routine. At the very least, he would have buttonholed the barman or one of the other regulars. He was a spiller, was Gabriel. When things bubbled up, he let them out.’
‘Do you think he told Will he was getting the DNA test done?’ Giorsal asked.
That, Karen thought, might be the most significant question of the night. Almost as significant as the other one in the back of her mind. Did Frank Sinclair know Gabriel was trying to find out the truth about himself? She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a key to Gabriel’s cottage?’