Care to Die

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Care to Die Page 26

by Tana Collins


  ‘Hunter must know we’re getting closer. Coutts would have told him about your visit to the pub. By the way, do you think it was such a good idea to give Hunter the heads-up we’re on to him?’

  ‘I’m starting to think nothing about that evening was a good idea.’

  Carruthers saw Fletcher glancing at him. She had a questioning look.

  ‘Let’s not go there, eh?’ he said, staring out at the wide-open green space and vast expanse of sky.

  ‘Oh my God. You didn’t.’

  He turned back to look at her. ‘Didn’t what?’

  ‘Take Jodie there on a date. You did, didn’t you? I take it it didn’t go well? Shit. What do they say? Never mix business with pleasure.’

  Keen to change the subject Carruthers asked, ‘How’s the locksmith? Seeing him again?’

  ‘No. Turns out he’s married.’

  ‘Shit, sorry, Andie.’

  ‘Just shows appearances can be deceptive. Anyway, I don’t want to brood about it. What’s done is done.’

  ‘They do say that people come in to your life for a reason. Either their purpose is to teach you something of value or you’re there to teach them something,’ said Carruthers.

  ‘What a load of bollocks. What could that shit of a locksmith have possibly taught me?’ she asked.

  Carruthers shrugged. ‘I don’t know. That you’re over Mark, perhaps? Ready to move on?’

  Fletcher sighed. ‘I already knew that. Talking of people not being what they seem … Malcolm Hunter. I think he must be emotionally very disturbed. Maybe even starting to unravel.’

  ‘I’d have to agree with you. But that makes him dangerous. I don’t know how he’s going to react when cornered.’

  ‘It’s very unusual for an abuse victim to turn killer though, isn’t it?’ said Fletcher. ‘Isn’t the anger usually internalised?’

  Carruthers looked across at her. ‘Self-harm, you mean?’

  ‘Well, look at everything the psychologist told us. The greatest surprise, if Hunter has been a child abuse victim, is how well, at least externally, he appears to have coped. He got married, had a family, held a job down.’

  ‘Hey, let’s not jump ahead of ourselves,’ said Carruthers. ‘We still haven’t found the murder weapon.’

  They arrived at Julie Coutts’ flat, found a parking space across the road and got out. Walking across the road, they weaved in between the slow-moving traffic.

  ‘Hope your hunch is right,’ said Fletcher sidestepping a skinny teen on a skateboard. ‘Otherwise this has been a wasted journey.’

  ‘Only one way to find out.’ As Carruthers pushed the doorbell he found he was holding his breath.

  They waited on the doorstep for what seemed like an eternity.

  ‘Shit. Doesn’t look like anybody’s in. Now what do we do?’ said Fletcher.

  Carruthers stepped up to the doorbell, put his finger on it and held it for ten seconds.

  Suddenly the front door was wrenched open. ‘What the fuck’s all the noise aboot?’ A dishevelled redhead stood there wearing nothing but a garish bathrobe, which had fallen open at the front, revealing her breasts. She grabbed the robe tighter around herself with one hand, keeping the other on the frame of the door. Carruthers dragged his eyes away from her cleavage.

  ‘Is Malcolm Hunter here?’ asked Fletcher.

  ‘Keep yer voice doon. My husbands’ been working nights. He’s asleep. She jabbed a finger at Carruthers and looked at Fletcher. ‘You’re not welcome here.’

  Carruthers peered over her shoulder to see a movement darting behind her in the dim hall.

  ‘He’s awake now. We’d like a few words with him.’

  ‘He’s no’ had a decent sleep. Come back later when he’s had a few more hours.’ She tried to shut the door, but Carruthers had got his foot in the way. The woman’s bathrobe started to unravel again and she let go the door to put it tight round her, doing the belt up as she went. Carruthers didn’t need a better opportunity. He slipped in past her.

  ‘Get out,’ she shrieked. ‘You cannae just come barging in to people’s homes.’

  ‘We can when we’re conducting a murder investigation,’ said Carruthers grimly as he darted in to the bedroom. As his eye adjusted he took in the dishevelled bed sheets, the used condom abandoned on the carpet and the pungent smell of sex and cigarettes. His eye travelled to the lit cigarette in the ashtray whose smoke was spiralling in to the air. He recognised the smell. He saw the packet of Camel on the bedside table. There was only one person he knew who smoked that brand.

  ‘Where is he? I know Hunter’s here.’ Fletcher had entered the bedroom followed by Julie Coutts who was raining blows down on her. Her bathrobe had unravelled itself completely and she seemed neither to notice or care.

  There was a sudden flash of movement as Malcolm Hunter, wearing nothing but a pair of blue jeans made a dash for the bathroom door. He slammed the door shut and Carruthers heard the bolt being dragged across.

  ‘Malcolm, come out. It’s futile. There’s nowhere to go. Don’t make this harder on yourself.’

  A few minutes passed then the door was prised open and Hunter made a streak for the front door.

  Carruthers leapt after him bringing him down in a rugby tackle. He pinned him to the ground.

  ‘Nice to know rugby’s good for something,’ said Fletcher, adjusting her blouse. Coutts stood next to her in silence, arms wrapped protectively around her chest, a sullen pout on her face.

  Carruthers turned to Malcolm Hunter. ‘Malcolm Hunter, we’re taking you in for questioning in relation to the murders of Ruiridh Fraser and Henry Noble.’

  19

  Carruthers left Malcolm Hunter awaiting his solicitor in one of the interview rooms with Fletcher to keep an eye on him. Meantime Carruthers had gone in search of Brown.

  He caught sight of Brown coming out of the gents’. ‘I want you to organise a stake-out of Braidwood.’ said Carruthers. ‘For tonight. Soon as it’s dark.’ He filled him in.

  ‘Do you no reckon this is a bit of a long shot?’ Brown said.

  ‘We don’t have enough to arrest McBride,’ said Carruthers. ‘Yes, we could pull him in for questioning but he’s been a cop for long enough. He’s not going to talk.’

  ‘There is another way,’ said Brown, smoothing over his balding head with his right hand. ‘Why no’ invite him in for questioning and have him “accidentally run in to” Malcolm Hunter? See if the two recognise each other.’ He paused. ‘It’s a thought.’

  Carruthers stroked his stubbly chin, hoping he didn’t look as tired as he felt. He was surprised at Brown’s initiative. He wasn’t usually known for his ideas. ‘Have to admit that isn’t something I’ve considered,’ he said.

  ‘It might be the first time they’ve come face to face in nearly forty years,’ said Brown.

  ‘Hunter was just a boy then. Would they even recognise each other?’

  ‘Who knows,’ said Brown. ‘The other scenario is that they’ve been in touch more recently. If McBride was part of the paedophile ring in the 1970s and still lives in the area, then maybe he’s been in contact with Fraser and Noble. Maybe he’s been involved in the blackmail.’

  Carruthers shook his head. ‘There’s no evidence McBride was still in touch with the two dead men or involved in blackmail. He lives in Glenrothes. It’s not that close.’

  Brown shrugged. ‘Up to you. Might be worth a punt though. Nothing like raw emotion to unlock a secret. That’s what I’d do, rather than waste valuable time staking out a wood nobody might visit.’

  ‘Well, look, I’m about to conduct the interview with Hunter,’ said Carruthers. ‘We’re just awaiting his solicitor. I’m going on a hunch. Let’s do it my way for now, and if this doesn’t work, we’ll try it your way. Get somebody ready for tonight, will you? As soon as it’s dark. We’ll need a rota and we need to be discreet. I’d also like someone to keep an eye on McBride.’ Brown turned to go. Carruthers caught his arm. ‘And if there’s any m
ovement at all I want to know about it. Especially if Lenny McBride turns up. If he had anything to do with Kelly’s murder, we need to catch him red-handed.’

  Carruthers opened the door to the interview room. ‘You’ll be wondering what you’re doing back at the cop shop,’ he said, taking a seat opposite a hastily dressed Malcolm Hunter. Carruthers sat back, stretching his arms behind his head, noticing that in his haste, Hunter had the buttons of his shirt done up wrong. ‘I’ll give you a clue. You’re not here because you’re shagging another bloke’s missus.’

  Carruthers nodded at Fletcher who produced copies of Hunter’s bank statements out of a buff file. The relevant withdrawals had been marked with a yellow highlighter pen.

  ‘Have you got a lighter?’ asked Hunter. He picked up his cigarettes.

  ‘Even if I had one, you couldn’t smoke in here,’ said Carruthers. ‘You know the rules, although I think you’ll probably need one when you know the new evidence we have against you.’

  Hunter, who’d already placed a cigarette between his lips with his left hand, let it droop as he said between clenched teeth, ‘What new evidence?’

  Carruthers took the cigarette out of Hunter’s mouth and placed it back in the packet. Carruthers leaned over the table and pressed the record button on the tape recorder. ‘For the purposes of the tape interview starts at 1900 hours. Present is myself, DI Jim Carruthers, DS Andrea Fletcher, Malcolm Hunter and Malcolm Hunter’s solicitor, Toby Snedden.’

  Carruthers paused before speaking again. ‘I never noticed you were a left-hander before, Malcolm. Fraser and Noble were both stabbed to death by a left-hander. The similarities in their deaths indicate it was done by the same person.’

  Hunter shrugged. ‘So? It’s no secret I’m left-handed but then I’m not the only one.’

  ‘We also know you’ve been in care, at Braidwood.’ Carruthers knew this was a stab in the dark but it was a punt worth taking. Hunter remained silent. ‘You’re a very secretive man, Malcolm. Even your wife didn’t know.’ Carruthers leant forward eyeballing him. ‘I don’t like overly secretive people, Malcolm. Especially in my line of work.’

  Hunter broke eye-contact first, looking away from Carruthers to Fletcher and then finally back to Carruthers again. ‘You haven’t got anything on me. Why would you have? I didn’t kill them.’

  ‘You were at Braidwood the same time Fraser and Noble worked there, which proves you will have known them,’ said Carruthers.

  Hunter shrugged. ‘What if I did? So did scores of others.’

  ‘Let’s stop pissing about, Malcolm,’ said Carruthers. ‘We’ve found the evidence. Whilst you were getting your end away with the voluptuous Mrs Coutts, the police were searching your property. In fact, they’re still there.’

  Malcolm Hunter turned pale, a twitch appearing at the side of his face.

  ‘What evidence?’

  Carruthers looked him in the eye. ‘The two victims were killed by a knife with a serrated edge by a blow from a left-handed man. We’re currently searching your property for that knife. We’ve also found bloodstains on the remnants of a cloth you were trying to burn. Not well enough, though.’ Carruthers didn’t yet know they were definitely bloodstains until he had the results back from forensics, but Hunter didn’t need to know that.

  Hunter’s solicitor finally spoke. He was a thin, morose man with a dome of a bald head. He adjusted his glasses. ‘Look, you haven’t got anything on my client, otherwise you’d have arrested him. Well? Are you going to arrest him?’

  ‘Yes, are you going to arrest me?’ said Hunter.

  ‘All in good time, Malcolm. The remnants of cloth we found in the ashes of the fire are with forensics as we speak. Considering we can keep you here for twelve hours with the possibility of an extension, well, I don’t imagine you’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.’

  Malcolm glanced at his solicitor. ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ the solicitor advised.

  ‘Like I said,’ continued Carruthers, ‘I reckon it’s just a matter of time now before we find the knife.’

  After a moment’s hesitation Hunter said, ‘OK, let’s say I did it. Why would I kill them now, over thirty-five years later? Especially as Fraser was living next door to me. I could have had a pop at him any time.’

  ‘I must admit, that did puzzle us for a while,’ said Carruthers. ‘What we do know is that there’s strong evidence of a serious paedophile ring operating around the time you were in that care home. I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk about being in care, especially if you were abused.’

  A momentary flicker passed Hunter’s eyes and Carruthers watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed with difficulty. Hunter shifted uneasily in his chair, his eyes settling on the forlorn cigarette packet.

  Carruthers noticed there was a slight tremor in Hunter’s hands. He was rattled. But the big question was – would he talk?

  ‘You were abused in that care home, weren’t you?’ urged Carruthers. ‘By a person or people you thought you could trust.’ Whilst he was talking, Carruthers’ eyes never left Hunter’s face. Fletcher was silent, busy making notes, as was the solicitor. Malcolm Hunter too remained silent.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he eventually said.

  Carruthers noticed that the shakes were getting worse.

  ‘Who else were you abused by, Malcolm? Apart from Ruiridh Fraser and Henry Noble?’

  Malcolm Hunter shook his head, which remained bowed.

  ‘Superintendent Marshall? Lenny McBride? He’s still alive by the way, Lenny McBride, and not living a million miles away from you.’ Carruthers paused before continuing. ‘What about Tommy Kelly?’

  Hunter snapped his head up. All colour draining from his face. In a fleeting moment he appeared to have aged ten years. Carruthers watched his chest rise and fall with great rapidity and hoped he wasn’t about to have a heart attack right there in front of him.

  ‘You knew him, didn’t you Malcolm? Tommy Kelly. There’s no use denying it. We’ve got a witness who’s willing to testify that you hung round together. An ex-policeman, actually.’

  Hunter remained silent, staring at the cigarette packet, his thin lips looking no more than slashes in his face.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything, Malcolm,’ cautioned his solicitor.

  Hunter was silent.

  Carruthers continued to press. ‘He went missing, this boy, didn’t he?’ There was no answer from Hunter.

  For the first time Fletcher spoke. ‘We think he was killed, Malcolm. There was a cover-up. Unsurprising, given the amount of sexual abuse that was alleged to have been going on. He was murdered, wasn’t he? And his body dumped at Braidwood. It’s still lying there even now, undisturbed in the woods after all these years. The only surprise is, he wasn’t murdered by a paedophile or care worker. But by another boy. And that boy was you. We’re just not sure why you killed Angus Dawson.’

  Malcolm Hunter looked confused. ‘Who?’ he asked.

  ‘This is outrageous,’ said the solicitor, taking his glasses off and vigorously cleaning them on a handkerchief he brought out of his breast pocket. ‘I won’t have you making unsubstantiated accusations about my client in this way.’

  Hunter tore his eyes away from the cigarette packet, eyeing Carruthers as if the police officer were the lion in the arena and he the gladiator. ‘OK, so I knew him. I got bullied by him but it doesn’t mean I killed him. I don’t know what happened to him. One day I got up and just didn’t see him again.’

  Carruthers recognised the first small victory. This was the first time Malcolm Hunter had admitted to being a resident of Braidwood, of knowing Tommy Kelly and of being bullied by him. It was a start.

  He hurried on sensing an opening. ‘You must have been really worried when you found out the land had been sold to property developers who wanted to build two hundred and fifty new homes on protected green space. You wouldn’t want the bulldozers digging up the remains of Tommy Kelly,
would you?’

  Hunter didn’t respond.

  ‘You said Kelly just disappeared,’ said Fletcher. ‘No questions were asked of his disappearance, were they? His parents were encouraged to have no further contact with him. And let’s face it, the running of the home was at best shambolic, at worst criminal. Braidwood, like many other homes at the time were staffed by untrained, low-paid male staff. A veritable breeding ground for paedophiles, if you think about it. But it let you commit the perfect murder, didn’t it? Nobody was going to want police looking into the disappearance of one of the boys. Might mean the abuse was uncovered. Of course, even that was sewn up too, wasn’t it? Superintendent Marshall was part of the ring.’

  ‘You only had one problem,’ said Carruthers.

  Malcolm Hunter looked in to his face. ‘What was that?’

  ‘How to dispose of the body. For that you needed help. After all, you were just a kid. And that’s when you got into bed with the devil, to coin a phrase. You turned to Ruiridh Fraser.’

  Hunter turned to his solicitor. ‘All of this is untrue,’ he said.

  ‘It took me a long time to work out all the details,’ said Carruthers. ‘Only you know what really happened the day Kelly died but this is what I think happened. Likely self-defence. After all, he was sexually abusing you, wasn’t he?’

  ‘No, that’s not true,’ said Hunter. He wiped his hands on his trousers.

  ‘He was older and bigger than you and, like I said, you needed help burying the body,’ continued Carruthers. ‘Fraser or Noble stumbled across you. They helped you dig a grave. It was to be your little secret. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you. Being in debt to a paedophile. Let’s face it, you were never going to get off paying that debt, were you? What did Fraser want from you? Did you become his errand boy? Picking out other boys for him?’

  ‘No, that never happened.’

  ‘Anyway, fast forward thirty odd years you’ve built yourself a family, finally left all that behind you. But it never leaves you, does it? The past? All those nightmares. No wonder you’re on pills for insomnia. Then you find yourself living next to Fraser. That was the other thing we couldn’t work out. Was that planned? Or just coincidence? Did you deliberately move next door to him? Because if it was deliberate that can only mean one thing. You planned to murder him and your every move was calculated. But horror! He takes an interest in your teenage son, Jordan. I bet that wasn’t planned.’

 

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