by Tana Collins
‘You really don’t think it was Fraser? He had motive.’
‘But no opportunity,’ said Carruthers.
‘Could have paid someone to kill his old man. Wouldn’t be the first.’
‘Shit, who knows? This is becoming so complicated. I agree with Gayle though. I think we need to interview Lenny McBride again.’
‘Now?’ asked Fletcher.
Carruthers glanced at his watch. ‘Christ. I didn’t realise the time. It’s the back of nine. After we pay a visit to Mrs Anne Hunter. Get yourself home, Andie. We’ll do that first thing in the morning.’
His thoughts turned to Jodie. Here was an attractive, intelligent woman showing an interest in him. He liked her. Really liked her. Yet, something was holding him back. He couldn’t work out what it was. He sighed. Went through his ‘to do list’ in his head. Still hadn’t managed to speak to his brother. He picked up the phone, dialled Alan’s number. He picked up.
12
‘Grab the car keys. We’re going over to Cellardyke,’ said Carruthers the following morning. He was standing over Fletcher’s desk. He’d had a sleepless night. Knew it showed on his face. He’d seen the lines and shadows in the mirror that morning. His eyes felt gritty. Speaking to his brother had been even harder than expected. He’d heard the fear and anxiety in the faltering words, the breaking voice. The cocky man who’d never smoked, the fitness freak, the competitive runner who had in the past competed in the Highland games. What did his future hold now? Carruthers wondered. And why Alan? It hadn’t been a long call, but it hadn’t needed to be. Carruthers told his brother he would be there for him. And he meant it.
‘What right now, this minute?’ asked Fletcher, breaking into Carruthers’ thoughts. ‘You OK?’
‘Yes fine, and no time like the present.’ Carruthers threw Fletcher her coat and grabbed his mobile. If truth be told, he was feeling more than a little guilty. He wished he’d managed to find time to visit Alan. Not just ring him. He could try blaming it on work but knew that wasn’t the reason. After all, he’d still managed to find time for Jodie.
Over the last couple of days the weather had changed dramatically. The snow and ice had melted leaving conditions mild but wet and windy. The weather front was pushing in from the west. A bonus of living on the east coast was that it tended to be drier. If there was one thing Carruthers couldn’t stand it was the relentless rain that reminded him of Glasgow.
‘Boss, that’s Malcolm Hunter just leaving the house now,’ said Fletcher as she saw Hunter appearing at his front door. ‘I’ve got to hand it to him. He’s certainly managing to keep up the pretence.’ She watched him, as,briefcase in hand, he climbed into his car and drove off.
‘Bang on time.’ Carruthers opened his car door. ‘Right, let’s go. I want to speak to Anne and Jordan Hunter on their own. There’s a lot more to Malcolm Hunter than meets the eye. He’s lied to us. Lied to his family. Just wonder how many more secrets he’s keeping.’
‘Wait,’ said Fletcher. ‘How are we going to play this?’
‘What do you mean?’ said Carruthers, getting out of the car and slamming the door.
Fletcher hurriedly got out of the car too. ‘Are we going to tell her that her husband’s been made redundant?’
Carruthers could already feel the wet rain on his face. ‘I want to play it by ear.’ He waited for a car to go past before crossing the road, stepping back smartly as the dirty spray from the tyres smattered his black boots. Cursing he walked up to the house. Rang the bell and waited. The door was finally opened by a harried-looking Anne Hunter.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. ‘I’m in the middle of my exercises.’ She was wearing a pale pink lycra top and stretchy black gym trousers.
‘Do you mind if we come in?’ asked Carruthers. ‘We need to ask you and your son some further questions.’ A smell of garlic and spices wafted out of the front door. He wondered if it was the smells from last night’s meal. Carruthers thought he could also detect cumin and ginger. He sniffed appreciatively.
‘I know about the photographs that pervert was taking of Jordan, if that’s why you’re here. Malcolm told me.’
‘We’d like to speak to Jordan,’ said Carruthers.
‘He’s not here.’
‘Can we come in please, Mrs Hunter?’ asked Fletcher.
Anne Hunter stole a glance both left and right up the street then opened the door wider and stepped back. She had a look of resigned impatience on her face. She led them in to the living room.
Carruthers was already unbuttoning his coat but remained standing. ‘We want to ask you some questions about your husband. For example, how well you know him?’
Anne Hunter turned to the two police officers. ‘What sort of question’s that? I’ve been married to him for over twenty years.’ She shook her head. ‘Oh my God, you don’t think he killed Ruiridh Fraser, do you? That’s absurd.’
‘We don’t know what to think at the moment, Mrs Hunter,’ admitted Fletcher. ‘All we know is that two men are dead and not by their own hand.’
‘Malcolm told me those two men had been sharing photographs of Jordan.’ She shuddered and looked away. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t know what was going on. Right under my own nose. But I still don’t really understand why you’re here. Their deaths have nothing to do with us.’ She didn’t offer them a seat and they both continued to stand.
‘I can understand you being upset,’ said Fletcher. ‘But we feel your husband isn’t telling us the full story.’
‘You already have his alibi. He was at work.’
‘That’s just the problem, Mrs Hunter. He wasn’t. He was made redundant at the end of last year. We spoke to his company who confirmed it.’ As he said this, Carruthers looked over at Fletcher who nodded.
‘But I don’t understand. Are you now saying he doesn’t have an alibi?’
Carruthers chose his words with care. ‘He told us where he was on the two dates in question and we’re double-checking.’
‘Well, where was he if he wasn’t at work? I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he’d been made redundant. Where the hell has he been going every day if it isn’t to work?’
She walked over to the bay window and stared out sightlessly. Carruthers noticed the rain was continuing to fall. The sky was leaden and the darkness and gloom made the street appear narrower than it was. There was a whooshing noise as a silver car drove past through the wet streets.
He joined her at the window. ‘That’s a question you need to ask him, I’m afraid. The thing is, we’re wondering just how well you know your husband? To us he’s a bit of a mystery. We just need some background information.’
‘What sort of background information?’ she asked. Her voice was flat and carried no emotion.
‘Well, for example, what do you know of his parents? His childhood?’
‘Why on earth would you want to know about his childhood?’ She faced Carruthers after making an exasperated clicking of her tongue. The question seemed to bring her back to the room with them. The frown marks that Carruthers had noticed when she’d opened the front door suddenly seemed deeper. The crow’s feet around her eyes appeared more noticeable too. The dark shadows under her eyes told their own story.
‘Is everything alright?’ Carruthers asked.
‘No, of course it’s not alright,’ said Anne Hunter. ‘We’ve just found out we’ve been living next door to a paedophile who’s being taking photographs of my son. The man’s now been murdered. And to cap it all I’ve just found out my husband’s been made redundant, didn’t tell me and has lied to the police. God, I’ve just signed the consent form for my daughter to go on a school skiing trip. How can we afford it?’ She started wringing her hands.
Well, when you put it like that, thought Carruthers, who would be OK?
Fletcher walked across and joined them at the window. ‘Have you had a proper talk with Jordan?’ she asked. ‘He didn’t ever get,’ she hesitated before using the next word, ‘
touched by Fraser, did he?’
Anne Hunter shook her head but remained silent.
‘We’ll need to talk to him ourselves,’ Fletcher continued.
Anne Hunter ran her hands through her long blonde hair. ‘No, no. We both sat him down. Nothing like that, thank God. But I can’t believe I didn’t know about it. I mean, I knew Jordan was talking to Malcolm about something, but I didn’t ask. There’s always been a special bond between them. There usually is, isn’t there, between father and son?’
Carruthers thought it was usually between father and daughter, and mother and son but he kept silent.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘don’t beat yourself up. Let’s just be grateful Jordan didn’t get abused. Looks like Fraser’s heyday for being a serial abuser, if that’s what he was, was back in the seventies when he worked at Braidwood. He may still have had the inclination but he clearly no longer had the physical strength for anything else. And, of course, he no longer had the opportunity he’d had then.’
‘I think all sex abusers should be hanged,’ she said, staring out of the window again.
Carruthers didn’t know what to say but it wasn’t his place to express an opinion. He always saw himself as pretty liberal but there were moments when he felt the same way – usually when he heard of or had to deal with a terrible crime.
Anne Hunter let out a deep sigh, turning away from the window. ‘What did you want to know about Malcolm’s past?’ she asked finally indicating for them both to sit down. They sat on the couch.
‘You understand it’s just procedure to look in to someone’s past in cases such as these,’ said Fletcher.
Anne Hunter nodded and took a seat facing the two officers in a lime green arm chair.
‘Where your husband’s concerned, we don’t seem to know much about him,’ said Carruthers.
‘Look, Malcolm’s always been a closed book when it comes to his past. He said that before he met me his life hadn’t been particularly happy.’
‘Do you know what he meant by that?’
‘Not really. I just assumed he hadn’t enjoyed his childhood or school. He certainly wasn’t close to his parents. That much he said. He’s always kept his cards close to his chest. I wish he was a bit more open sometimes but he’s a great dad and a good husband. I’ve had to accept him for the way he is, just as he’s had to accept me, faults and all.’
Carruthers couldn’t imagine her having too many faults. She seemed too perfect. Was perfection a fault? He didn’t know. ‘You mentioned his schooling. Did he ever tell you where he went to school?’
‘It was in Fife but other than that I don’t actually know the name of it.’ She frowned as if trying to recall exactly what he had said.
‘Did you ever meet his parents?’
She shook her head. ‘No, they died before we met, and he had no siblings.’
‘Do you know where he grew up?’ asked Fletcher.
Anne Hunter once again shook her head. ‘Not the address, although he did tell me he grew up in Cupar.’
Well, that tallied with what Hunter told us, thought Carruthers. Perhaps for once he’d been telling the truth. Stretching out his long legs Carruthers said, ‘Do you have any photographs of him when he was a kid?’
‘I’ve only ever seen a couple. He said that his parents didn’t take many.’
‘Would you be able to show us one of him as a child?’
Anne nodded. ‘I don’t know why you want to see it, but yes.’ She got up and moved over to the bookshelf. ‘We keep the photo albums on the second ledge down.’ Carruthers wondered why she had chosen to tell them this. Perhaps she was nervous and uncomfortable talking in this way about her husband. She selected one and opened it. After flicking through, she showed them a black and white photograph of Malcolm Hunter when he was a boy. Carruthers took it from her and studied it. It showed a little boy about the age of eight wearing shorts and an Aertex T-shirt. He had an angelic baby face. But when Carruthers looked closer he could see that the T-shirt the boy was wearing was too large for him and his hair was unbrushed. His shorts were dirty, as was one of his knees. His feet were bare and grubby. He passed it on to Fletcher. It could mean nothing but still…
He thought back to his own childhood. Playing football in the street. Could still hear his mother’s angry words, when one day he had come in, football still under arm, trailing mud on to her newly washed kitchen floor that always smelled of lemon pine. He’d managed to rip his shorts and had got a smack for that. Being dirty and tearing your clothes were part and parcel of being a young boy. Nothing unusual in that. He remembered he’d worn Alan’s Rangers top that day. Sleeves almost over his hands and top so long it nearly covered his knees.
He swallowed the lump in his throat as he thought about those carefree days, pushing all thoughts of his sick brother out of his mind, promising himself he’d make it up to him. Looking at the photo Fletcher passed back to him he thought about kids up and down the country messing about, getting filthy. No, in itself the photo didn’t mean anything, but it was useful to have.
‘Can we keep this for now?’ he asked. ‘We’ll give it back in due course.’
Anne shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea why you would want to, but yes, as long as I get it back. He’s not in any trouble, is he? You did say he had an alibi for Fraser’s murder?’
‘Yes, he’s given us an alibi.’
‘Well, are you going to tell me what it is?’ asked Anne Hunter.
‘Best you ask him yourself. Thank you for the photograph.’ He stood up. Fletcher followed suit. ‘We’ll see ourselves out. Just one last thing,’ said Carruthers. ‘How would you describe Malcolm?’
‘Describe him?’
‘Yes, you know – quiet, talkative? Does he like to be on his own or does he have a wide circle of friends?’
‘More of a loner I’d say. He’s always been quiet. He can get moody but I know a lot of moody men. He suffers from sleep problems – always has, but then a lot of us do. And it’s not always easy with kids. There’s always something to worry about. But he’s also generous, funny and, like I said, a good husband and dad. Does that answer your question?’
Fletcher and Carruthers both stood up. ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Carruthers. ‘Does he take any medication for his insomnia?’
‘Yes, he’s been prescribed zopiclone.’
‘Who’s his GP?’ asked Carruthers.
‘Dr Bill Taylor at Anstruther Health Centre.
‘Thank you, Mrs Hunter. Like I said, we’ll see ourselves out.’ Carruthers hesitated. ‘Would you mind if I used your bathroom before we leave?’
Anne Hunter pushed a stray lock of blond hair that had fallen over her face. ‘Upstairs, first on the left.’
Carruthers left the two women standing in the living room, made his way up the stairs and opened the bathroom door. Shutting and locking it carefully behind him he took a look round the room. Noticing a small stainless steel bathroom cabinet above the sink, he opened it and had a nose around. Alongside an assortment of plasters, paracetamol and mouthwash he found the box of zopiclone. Taking the box out he read the label. They had indeed been prescribed to Malcolm Hunter.
He flushed the toilet and made his way downstairs. ‘Thank you, Mrs Hunter.’ Turning to Fletcher said, ‘Ready to make a move?’ She nodded. They left a very troubled-looking Anne Hunter standing on her own at her front door.
‘I wasn’t sure whether we were going to tell Anne Hunter about her husband’s redundancy,’ said Fletcher.
The rain had momentarily eased off and a watery sun was trying to appear from behind the clouds. It caught the pools of water in the road so that they glinted. There was a smell of damp in the air.
‘I wasn’t sure either, but it just seemed the right thing to do.’
‘I find it difficult to follow your lead if I don’t know where you’re going,’ admitted Fletcher.
‘You have to trust me, Andie. As a cop, you’ve great instincts but you need to trust more. We’re par
t of a team.’
‘I’m not sure we did the right thing telling Anne Hunter about her husband’s redundancy, that’s all.’
‘If Hunter is the murderer, we may’ve just forced his next move,’ said Carruthers.
‘But we’re already advancing the investigation. Isn’t it dangerous trying to force his next move?’
‘It’s a calculated risk. Anyway, we’re not advancing it fast enough. I don’t want Bingham breathing down my neck. I’ve got enough to think about.’
‘Is he breathing down your neck, Jim? Does he realise just how much legwork’s involved?’
Carruthers put his hands up. ‘He’s giving us more support staff but wants to see results. It’s my neck on the block if we don’t deliver.’
‘I just don’t like the fact you seem to have set the Hunters against each other, that’s all. They seem like a decent family.’
‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’
‘I felt sorry for Anne Hunter. She knows her husband’s been keeping secrets from her. And then there’s all that stuff with Jordan. She’s really beating herself up about not noticing anything was wrong. I just think the news about the redundancy should have come from him, not us.’
‘Look, this is a murder investigation. We can’t always play nice. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do in order to get results.’
‘And will we? Get results, I mean?’
Carruthers sidestepped a grey puddle of water and unlocked his car. He climbed in just as the rain started. As he sat in the driver’s seat he watched the rain making patterns on the glass as it smattered on the windscreen.
‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘Whatever it takes.’
Fletcher turned to him. She tucked an unruly lock of dark hair behind her ear. Looking at the beads of rain clinging to her face and her eyes as blue as cornflowers he felt a sudden rush of affection for her and thought she had never looked lovelier. He was so grateful she was OK.
‘Good. Well I hope for all our sakes you’re right because I reckon we’ll have some explaining to do when Hunter finds out what we’ve done.’