by Helen Fields
‘That’s not fair. I didn’t plan this and you know it, and I sure as hell didn’t target you. You’re here willingly, remember? It’s not like I dragged you through the front door.’
‘Of course not. You’re Luc Callanach. You don’t have to drag women anywhere. They throw themselves at you like mindless bloody dolls. Well, apologies for being so predictable and pathetic.’
She barged past him and strode into the bedroom, gathering clothes as she went before marching into the lounge to get dressed.
‘Don’t leave. We have to sort this out, Ava, not least because we still have to work together and we’re in the middle of an investigation.’
‘I’m professional enough to be able to work with you without being overcome by my feelings and turning to jelly every time you walk into a room, so I’ll be fine.’
‘What about me? Do you really not care at all how I feel?’ he asked, arms folded, still naked, leaning against the doorframe as she dragged on her boots.
‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,’ she said. ‘Those other items need to be returned to the women you took them from. Do you want me to do that, or are you going to sort out your own crap?’
‘I’ll do it first thing in the morning,’ he said. ‘Listen, you can’t drive. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed. Tomorrow, we can try to put this right …’
‘Tomorrow, I’ll have my head straight and I’ll be at my desk trying to solve five different murders. I suggest you do the same.’ She switched on her mobile. ‘I’m calling a cab. Thanks for the legal advice. I can wait for it just fine outside.’
Snatching up her slate from the floor, she shoved it in her coat pocket and made for the door.
‘Ava,’ Callanach said quietly. ‘This can’t be over. I made a mistake. A huge mistake that looks weird, I know, but really it’s just reflective of the crisis I was going through when I arrived in Scotland. I’m hoping you’ll see it for what it really is when you’re less angry.’
‘You don’t get it, do you? Trust is everything to me and of all the people who should get that, it’s you. We weren’t just colleagues. I thought we were friends. We had each other’s backs. Natasha might have known me longer than anyone else, but you … I let you see every vulnerable part of myself. I held nothing back from you, Luc. Nothing. And I find you’re keeping secrets like this …
‘You think this just looks superficially weird? I’m a fucking expert in weird. I deal with it every day at work. I looked it in the eyes when I was held captive. You know what I don’t need? I don’t need even more goddamn weird in my personal life when I’m in the bedroom of a man who I thought was my rock, when I’m looking for condoms – condoms, of all frigging things! – in the bathroom cabinet of the man I thought that maybe I was in love with!’
She turned, ripped the door opened and slammed it closed behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
12 March
Callanach rose early and boxed the objects Ava had discovered in his bathroom cabinet. He left the paperweight at Elaine Buxton’s parents’ house, where she’d returned to live after her kidnapping ordeal had left her law career in tatters and her confidence destroyed. The globe keyring was small enough to slip through the Reverend Jayne Magee’s letter box in an envelope. She’d managed to return to work a few weeks after Luc had found Elaine, Ava and her locked in a secret basement.
Other women had died. The memories – and the thought of what would have happened if he hadn’t got there when he did – still left him feeling nauseous. Slipping a note into each box, he’d white-lied about the evidence store finding a few items that had slipped the net after the investigation. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do.
It was still only 8 a.m. He would have to make his way into the station sooner or later, but right then later seemed like the preferable option. Lance rang as he was sitting in his car, sipping espresso and contemplating the fact that at least his day couldn’t get any worse.
‘Just catching up,’ was Lance’s opener. ‘How’re you doing?’
‘I screwed up,’ Callanach said.
‘Everyone screws up. Anything specific?’
Callanach sighed. ‘Yes, but nothing that I want to talk about now.’
‘I could cook you dinner tonight, 7 p.m. at mine? I know it’s fashionable to eat later but at my age, eating late in the evening is about as comfortable as having sex when your mother-in-law’s visiting.’
‘I don’t think so, Lance. I’m not in the mood to socialise. Was there anything else?’
‘Isn’t there always? Raincheck on dinner then, but I still need to call in one of those many favours you owe me. A young Japanese man died under strange circumstances, only there’s not been much information released to the press yet, at least not by the police. The man’s widow, however, possibly less than sober, decided to make an impromptu statement during a lock-in at her local pub at about midnight last night. Her version of events is disturbing, to say the least. I was wondering if you could maybe shed some light on what she’s claiming?’
‘Oh hell.’ Callanach crumpled his empty cup and wondered if Ava had found out yet. She would be at her desk by now – 8 a.m. was late by her usual working standards. ‘What did Mrs Shozo say?’
‘From what I could gather, she was hoping to raise funds to cover the expenses she was incurring by being locked out of her flat which is still a crime scene and then she elaborated with a few almost unintelligible sentences about her husband being killed with a toaster. Most of what she said made little sense, but she managed to get her account details correct several times while she was speaking. She also referred any questions about how people could help, to someone she called her manager; although it looked to me as if his management style was at the personal rather than professional end of the spectrum.’
‘Would that be someone called Beef by any chance?’ Callanach asked.
‘So, you’re up to date with the case. Fortunately, in spite of the not terribly grief-stricken Mrs Shozo bombarding every media outlet with an invitation, very few of Edinburgh’s finest journalists bothered to attend at the pub last night, but there were at least four of us who were serious about getting the details and the rest will have picked up the story by now. So, why the radio silence from the police if this was a murder?’
‘It’s off the record, Lance. You’ll have to go through the media liaison officer if you want something you can print,’ Callanach said, starting the engine. It was freezing and the inside of the windows were misting over.
‘Just give me something I can follow up and pretend it was through my own genius deduction,’ Lance joked.
‘Shozo had no known enemies. No debts that we’re aware of. No criminal history or dubious acquaintances. In fact, he had a job offer and was about to leave the mainland for a while.’
‘That pretty much reflects what his widow said last night. So you could do with some help, right? Anyone who knew him, or who could give you a better idea about his last movements, how he might have attracted the attention of the wrong person.’
‘Yes, but you’ll have to be careful. Mrs Shozo is obviously more interested in talking to the press than she was in talking to us. If you can get hold of her again, see if she’ll give you a one-on-one interview – maybe you could use it to do a bigger feature. And as for the toaster, I’m not confirming anything.’
‘You’re not denying it,’ Lance commented.
‘I wouldn’t recommend that tactic given the day I’m having,’ Callanach cautioned him. ‘I’ll see you soon, okay?’
‘That’s what you always say. Stay well, Luc. Call if you need me.’
The station was buzzing when Callanach got there at 8.30 a.m. Ava had already issued a document redefining priorities to assess links between Fenella Hawksmith and Osaki Shozo. Tripp was overseeing witnesses on the Shozo case, including door-to-doors in the vicinity of the flat, and trying to trace the purchase of what had turned out to be a brand-ne
w toaster. Superintendent Overbeck had taken over managing public relations, an inevitable task since the merry widow Shozo, had decided to go on a fundraising bender, presumably to finance her new life with Beef. And Callanach had no idea what he was supposed to do. As much as Ava wouldn’t want to see him, at some point they were going to have to talk.
He knocked on her office door, waiting to be called in, recognising Sergeant Lively’s less than dulcet tones on the other side. It was DI Graham who opened it after a few seconds, moving his huge bulk out of the way to allow Callanach access. Ava stood the other side of her desk, gripping the wood with her fingertips, her teeth clenched so hard Callanach could see the veins standing out in her neck.
‘Should I come back later?’ Callanach asked.
Ava glared at him.
‘Actually, we just came to see the boss about that brake-cutting I told you about,’ Lively said, eyes shining, voice booming, completely missing the invisible daggers flying from Ava’s side of the room to Callanach’s. ‘Turns out the driver who’d hired the vehicle was in town for a memorial service. Here’s the interesting thing. He’d flown all the way from Spain to pay his respects to another recent victim of crime.’
‘Bruce Jenson.’ Pax Graham filled in the punch line.
Lively looked deflated.
Callanach glanced at Ava, who was keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Graham.
‘What was his name?’ Callanach asked.
‘Gilroy Western,’ Lively said, not to be outdone. ‘That car crash was no accident. Brakes cut clean through – not a particularly professional job, though. The amazing thing was that Western got as far as he did and that no one else died.’
Callanach took a deep breath to counteract the sense that there wasn’t quite enough oxygen in the room. Jenson and Western both dead. Both murdered, he self-corrected. His mother was in France and no more capable of cold-blooded murder than an innocent child. The thought occurred to him that perhaps there had been other rape victims, other employees’ wives. Odd that he’d never considered that possibility before, but now it seemed entirely plausible. How many parties must there have been at the factory in two decades of operating? Jenson and Western had worked together to subdue and assault his mother, after all. What were the chances they hadn’t planned such a scheme before or, having got away it, tried it again afterwards?
‘Did you know him?’ Pax Graham asked quickly.
No time to prepare and that was the way he’d intended it, Callanach thought.
‘I spoke to his widow in Spain. She says Western was Bruce Jenson’s old business partner,’ Graham persisted.
‘I knew his name, but I’d never met him myself,’ Callanach said.
Pax Graham was looking at Ava as Callanach responded. However oblivious Lively might have been to the atmosphere in the room, Graham was right on it, Callanach realised.
‘That’s not the best bit,’ Lively continued. ‘Every other case we’ve got running might be fucked up right now, but this time whoever cut those brakes also cut themselves. We’ve got the bastard’s blood. If they’re on the system, we’ll have them in custody within the week.’
Pax Graham wasn’t looking quite so jubilant.
‘But it’s a hire car, so any number of people might be looking under the bonnet on a regular basis. I’m guessing if we swabbed the whole engine we’d get several different DNA samples turning up. We still need to find someone with cause to want both of these men dead. The curious thing is that they’ve had no contact with one another for years. They’re not exactly close friends any more. So whatever links them is from some time in their mutual past.’
‘What’s the plan moving forward?’ Ava asked.
‘We’re going to interview Gilroy Western’s family over the telephone tomorrow and they’ve already given us permission to search his recent communications, both from his mobile and emails. Apparently, he didn’t use social media. There were no witnesses to the brakes being tampered with, which must have been overnight so not entirely unexpected. No CCTV cameras in the street as it’s residential, and it was raining. Most people out on neighbouring commercial streets had umbrellas or hoods up, so we won’t get an ID that way.’
‘Let me know when the DNA result comes in,’ Ava said. ‘Lively, as you’re up to speed on the Gilroy Western case, you can continue to work with DI Graham. I’m transferring Janet Monroe back to the Fenella Hawksmith and Osaki Shozo murders. Agreed?’
Lively and Graham nodded.
‘Unless there’s anything else, we should all be getting back to work,’ Ava added.
‘I need a minute,’ Callanach said.
‘Not a good time. I need to prepare a statement for the press,’ Ava said, sitting down and pulling a notepad out from a drawer.
‘It’s all right, ma’am, the Evil Overlord is covering that one for you,’ Lively grinned.
‘Fine. One minute,’ Ava said.
‘I’d appreciate it if you’d write an addendum statement, just to confirm you never met Gilroy Western,’ Graham said quietly as he passed Callanach. ‘Crossing the t’s given the link to Jenson.’
‘Absolutely,’ Callanach agreed, meeting Graham’s fierce gaze. He was more intelligent than his bulk suggested. The size of him provided almost perfect cover for his acuity. Graham was well aware there was more going on than he was being told. ‘I’ll do that for you this morning.’
Lively and Graham disappeared, talking tactics and forensics. Ava waited until the door was firmly shut.
‘Before you speak, think very carefully,’ Ava said, fiddling with her watchstrap. ‘You said you knew nothing about Bruce Jenson’s murder, even though you were in attendance at the murder scene just before it took place. I know you have a vested interest in getting revenge on Western. So if this was nothing to do with you, why the hell are they both dead in this city, lying side by side in the sodding mortuary?’
‘I have no idea,’ Callanach replied, sitting down.
‘Stand up,’ Ava hissed. ‘We’re not going to be having a cosy, informal little chat.’
‘Ava …’
‘Detective Chief Inspector,’ she corrected him. ‘That’s what I am to you, and we’re going to address one another formally from now on.’
‘If that’s what you need,’ he said.
‘It is, but what I need more is to be sure, really fucking sure, that you didn’t take out a contract on the men who conspired to rape your mother.’
Callanach breathed in deeply and walked to the window, staring out into the spring drizzle dampening the grey street. Edinburgh had rarely looked so cold. Even the depths of winter had seen more welcoming days. Here he was, in a city he’d had no attachment to a couple of years earlier, a place that had held almost everything he’d wanted just twelve hours before, and now it was a ghost town.
‘I didn’t arrange to have either of those men killed. I didn’t suggest to anyone that it was what I wanted. I haven’t discussed the situation with anyone at all, save for my mother and you. I’m not involved in any crime at any level. Is that what you needed to hear, Detective Chief Inspector?’
‘Don’t sound so petulant. This has gone so far beyond anything I anticipated that you and I are both going to get fired if the real reason you were at Bruce Jenson’s nursing home gets out.’
‘And that’s the only reason you’re pissed off with me, right?’ Callanach asked.
‘It’s the only reason I want to think about right now, but as you raised it, what I found last night more than justifies my being concerned about your mental state.’
‘I’d try to convince you otherwise, only I know that look on your face, so I won’t waste my time,’ he said, walking to her door.
Ava stood. ‘You should know, I’m considering suspending you from duty until Pax Graham has a suspect in custody. I think it’d be better for everyone involved.’
‘You mean easier for you not to have me around.’
‘I mean better for MIT to be seen to have don
e the right thing if the shit hits the bloody propeller. Write up the additional statement DI Graham asked for, then make sure DS Tripp is completely up to date with all aspects of the Hawksmith–Shozo investigation.’
‘And how exactly are you going to justify that decision given that I continued working after Jenson’s death?’ he asked.
‘Quite easily, in fact. Jenson might have been a one-off, not connected with you at all. Now we have two victims, both linked to you, a pattern has been established that I can no longer ignore. You know it makes sense,’ she added more gently.
‘I know we make sense,’ Callanach said.
Ava looked at him, her face blank, her body completely still.
‘There is no we,’ she said. ‘Close the door on your way out.’
Rune Maclure walked in as Callanach was exiting, offering them both a solemn smile with a warm good morning.
‘That was quick, thanks for making contact,’ Ava said, motioning towards a chair and waiting for Callanach to shut the door before proceeding.
‘I’m amazed you could see me so soon. You must be rushed off your feet,’ Maclure said. ‘I won’t take up much of your time, but I read an online news blog this morning. I gather there’s been another death under suspicious circumstances.’
‘That sounds more vague than it really is, I’m afraid. It’s definitely a murder.’
‘And I gather the victim’s name is Osaki Shozo, a Japanese national who settled here after his marriage?’
‘That’s right,’ Ava confirmed.
‘Then you should know that Mr Shozo came to our offices a few days ago. I’d say he was suicidal, only not like I’ve seen with other people,’ he paused. ‘More as if he was weighing up his options. That sounds cold and calculating, which isn’t the impression I got of him at all. If anything, suicide was a cultural option he felt obliged to consider. I did my best to persuade him otherwise, I had hoped with some success.’
‘I can assure you, Mr Maclure, that whatever advice you gave had no bearing whatsoever on Mr Shozo’s death. Far from it, in fact.’