‘You’ve been talking to Rae,’ she declared. ‘That’s right, she walked in on it.’
‘Who started it?’
‘Faye did, as usual. Faye could start a fight in an empty house. She’s a thoroughly unpleasant person, with big, cruel, clingy hooks.’
‘We’ve seen a video recording of you, Trudi,’ Mann ventured. ‘In it you say that you couldn’t trust Gino Butler. What was the reason for that?’
‘She was. Those hooks of hers, they were well and truly into Gino. Anything you told him went straight to her.’
‘So you didn’t tell him about Leo and Faye’s sister getting married?’
‘Absolutely not. It’s not that I cared about Faye, but I didn’t want to cause Leo any grief through her.’
‘You did, though, didn’t you?’ the DI murmured.
Her head bobbed in a small nod and the detectives saw her eyes mist. ‘I couldn’t help myself. I was in the ladies’, and when I came out of the stall she was there, laying on another trowel of make-up. She saw me in the mirror and she said, “Hello, Fatty.” The bitch always calls me that. Then she started off on a tirade about my effing boss, and the effing useless lawyer that he’d made her hire, and about Leo and what a C-word he was, and that by hook or by crook she was going to get her hands on half his money. She was more vicious than I’d ever heard her, until I just couldn’t take any more of it. I turned on her and I said she was too effing late, because Leo was getting married. That stopped her in her tracks, but only for a second; then she screamed at me, called me a lying C-word. I told her it was true, and that the money would be in the Bulloch family after all, but not her part of it.
‘I thought she was going to attack me. I think she would have, but that was when Rae came in and she turned on her and called her something terrible. Rae managed to ignore her completely and went into a stall, and Faye mouthed at me, “Sandra?” and I nodded, and then the artist woman came in, looking angry ’cos she must have heard what Faye called Rae. It dawned on me then what I’d done. I was going to beg Faye to say nothing, but she turned and marched out of there.’
‘Did you see her again, back at the function?’
‘No, not for at least an hour and a half. I thought she must have gone back to her bungalow to fester. I was terrified that she would confront Leo, but by the time she came back, he had left.’
Provan raised his eyebrows and looked at Mann. She stayed silent, as the implications of her confession dawned on Trudi Pollock, and a look of horror formed on her face.
Fifty-One
It was clear that Faye Bulloch had not been expecting callers. She wore no make-up, and her electric hair was in disorder, pulled back roughly in a ponytail. She was dressed in a grey sweatshirt and matching jogging bottoms; barefoot, she seemed diminished, a smaller, lesser version of the woman they had interviewed a few days before.
She glared at them. ‘You might have bloody called,’ she complained. ‘I was . . .’ She faltered as she caught sight of the uniformed woman constable and the tall young man in plain clothes who stood behind Mann and Provan.
‘What is this?’ she murmured.
‘Can we come in, Ms Bulloch?’ the DI asked. ‘It would be better.’
‘Okay,’ she said grudgingly, turning her back on them and walking into the house. At a sign from Provan, the junior officers stayed in the hall as the detectives followed her into the kitchen.
‘‘Well?’ she demanded, turning to face them with a show of defiance.
‘We’re here to arrest you, Ms Bulloch,’ Mann replied, ‘on suspicion of the murder of Leo Speight.’
She paled noticeably but held her ground. ‘Bollocks,’ she barked. ‘I was in the bungalow at the Blacksmith with my kids when Leo died. I’m calling my sister; she’ll sort you two out.’
‘Your sister’s on compassionate leave, Faye,’ Provan told her. ‘She’s just lost her fiancé, the man she was going away with. You knew that, didn’t you?’ he added, forestalling a retort as it was formed. ‘You found out on Friday evening.’
‘That’s right,’ Mann said. ‘Trudi Pollock threw it in your face when you provoked her once too often. You never saw that coming, did you? You never knew that Sandra and Leo were in a relationship. When you found out, we believe that you reacted instantly. You left the party, you left the Blacksmith, you drove down to Leo’s house and you laced a carton of almond-flavoured soya milk with poison; the stuff you must have known he drank every night, and through the day, wherever in the world he happened to be.’
‘We’ve got your car on CCTV,’ the DS added, ‘going there and coming back. Those average speed cameras on the Ayr road arenae just for show.’
‘That doesn’t prove I was at Leo’s,’ she protested. ‘As it happened, that fat wee bitch Trudi upset me so much that I needed a Librium to calm me down. I’d left them here, so I drove down to get them.’
‘That’s no’ bad off the top of your head,’ Provan acknowledged, ‘but . . . no use. When was the last time you were in Leo’s house?’
‘I don’t know. Eighteen months ago, two years.’
‘I thought you might say that, but it leaves us with a problem. Our chief SOCO – the head man, no’ just one of the troops – found a hair in the seal of Leo’s fridge. We expected that the DNA test would show it was Sandra’s, since she’d been there earlier on last week. It wasnae, though; the DNA he recovered wasnae a match for hers, but it was close. So close that the lab report said it had to have come from a female sibling. When we get you to Glasgow, we’re going to take a DNA swab from you, and we know, all of us, what it’ll show. Ah think you might need your Librium now, Faye.’
‘You can’t take me to Glasgow!’ she protested. ‘My kids are at school; I have to pick them up in half an hour.’
‘DC Gowans will do that; plain clothes, so none of the other parents will notice. PC Stone will stay here with them until longer-term care can be arranged.’
‘I’m not having Sandra!’ she shouted. ‘Not her!’
‘Do you want them taken by the social workers?’ Provan asked.
‘Not Sandra!’ she hissed.
‘Faye,’ Mann said quietly, ‘you may have to get used to that idea in the long term, but for now there’s an alternative. Rae Letts is still at the hotel; she’s staying for the funeral. We’ve spoken to her and she’s prepared to come down here and look after Leonard and Jolene, along with her wee one, until a more permanent arrangement can be made. Your children know her. Would you agree to that?’
Bulloch turned and gazed out of the window, looking at the grey waters of the Firth of Clyde as they broke on the beach under a cloudy sky. ‘Okay,’ she whispered, without looking at them. ‘She’ll do. Anyone but Sandra.’
‘Right,’ the DI declared. ‘Now you’ll be taken to Pitt Street to be questioned under caution. PC Stone will go with you while you pack some clothes. Also you might want to call Moss Lee before we leave.’
‘Him? Him that’s done bugger-all for me? No, I’ll call Gino. It’s time I found out how serious he is.’
Fifty-Two
‘Is it right?’ Gino Butler asked, his incredulity apparent. ‘You’ve arrested Faye for Leo’s murder? That’s what she said on the phone.’
‘Not quite,’ Provan corrected him. ‘She’s been detained on suspicion, to be precise.’
They faced each other across the entrance hall in the Pitt Street building; it was in its death throes as a police office. All of the parking bays outside were occupied by removal vehicles, and a steady stream of men flowed past them, carrying an assortment of furniture bound for shiny new surroundings in Dalmarnock.
‘Can I see her?’
‘Not right now,’ the DS replied. ‘She’s being processed. Have you retained a lawyer for her like she asked?’
‘Yes, a woman called Susannah Himes. She’s on her way here;
I said I’d meet her. I caught her as she was leaving the High Court. She gave me a message for you: on no account are you to question Faye further until she gets here.’
Provan had heard of Himes; most Scottish detectives had. She possessed a considerable record of successful defences and gloried in the nickname ‘the Barracuda’. ‘Fuckin’ lawyers,’ he grunted. ‘They think they make the rules. As it happens, we know prisoners’ rights as well as they do. We also know what a trial costs, so we’re under serious pressure not to fuck it up. The grounds for detention have been put to her, nothing else. Do you want to stick around, Mr Butler, until you can see her? We know you two are involved.’
‘I don’t think we are now, not if she killed Leo.’
‘Aye,’ Provan said cheerily. ‘I can imagine ye lookin’ a wee bit askance at the porridge every time ye had a row. But the way the evidence is lined up, porridge is just a thing Faye’ll be doing, for quite a long while.’
‘What about the kids?’ He looked even more anxious.
‘Don’t worry about them, arrangements have been made. These youngsters are going to be rich, Gino. If Faye goes away, and that’s looking very likely, they’re no’ going to wind up in a dormitory in a children’s home.’
‘Bloody right they’re not. I won’t let that happen to Leo’s kids.’
‘Good for you.’ Provan paused. ‘Look, are you stayin’ or not? Do ye want to see her?’
Butler sighed. ‘No. I don’t think that’s wise, knowing what she’s charged with. I doubt if I could look her in the eye. I will hang around for a word with the lawyer when she arrives, on my own account. Like you said, the Passport Office want to interview me about Gene Alderney. I think I’m in the clear, but you can’t be too careful. I’ve also got to see that book woman again. She’s persistent, if nothing else; she’s offered me a deal now.’
‘Are you going to take it?’
‘No. Leo wouldn’t have done it, so neither can I. It wouldn’t be right.’
The DS left him in reception and trotted up the stairs to the CID office. ‘Bulloch’s DNA sample’s on its way to Gartcosh,’ DC Gowans called out as he crossed the floor on his way to Mann’s little room. When he stepped inside, he saw that she had a phone held to her ear. He paused, but she beckoned him to come in.
‘At the moment, she says no,’ he heard her say, ‘and she’s adamant about that. But as this progresses, what she wants isn’t going to count for too much. It’ll be for a sheriff to decide what happens to them, and if you’re there and willing, it’ll be hard to look past you. Sure. I’ll let you know.’ She hung up.
‘Sandra,’ she said. ‘I called her and broke the news. She wasn’t a hundred per cent surprised, but she was raging. When she calmed down, a bit, she thought about the children. She wants them, permanently. It would be good for her. Like she says, her life’s been ripped out from under her. She’s lost her man, and in all probability her career; she’ll need something to occupy her.’
‘Forgive me if I don’t shed a tear for her,’ Provan growled. ‘She’s about to inherit Christ knows how many million. Is Faye ready for interview?’ he asked. ‘Her lawyer’ll be here soon. You’ll hate this; Butler’s hired Himes to defend her.’
‘The Barracuda? Ouch! It’s just as well our case is watertight.’ She reached out and touched wood, just as her desk phone rang once again.
‘Detective Inspector Mann?’ There was something in Arthur Dorward’s opening gambit that made her think of the preliminary chimes of Big Ben. She held her breath and waited for the hour to strike. Unconsciously she grasped the desktop.
‘Big plans for tonight?’ he asked; still the bells tolled in her head.
‘Evening in with my boy. Why?’
‘You might need to do a bit of delegation. The lab results on Leo Speight have just come flooding in. He was poisoned, that’s for sure, by something with the same end result as cyanide. What’s less certain – sorry, not certain at all – is how.’
Lottie buried her face in her spare hand. ‘Bu-gger,’ she sighed. She switched the phone on to speaker mode, so that Provan could hear.
‘Eloquently put,’ the chief SOCO continued, his voice echoing. ‘There was no trace of any poison in the carton by his side, none at all. Nor was there any in his stomach contents. They were tested over and over again; that’s the main reason why the whole process has taken so long. I’ve just reported these findings to the fiscal. He’s going to order a second autopsy, with another pathologist joining Graeme Bell, whether he likes it or not. Alongside Graeme, the top slicer in Scotland is Sarah Grace, from Edinburgh University, the wife of shh, you know who. She’s on maternity leave just now, but the fiscal’s sure she’ll be up for the challenge. My part in this is over; I’ve had enough. We’ve been at the scene twice; there’s nothing left there for us to find. It’s over to you, gang.’
The line faded to a buzz from the speaker, which died as Mann replaced her phone.
‘What the f . . .’ she sighed. ‘Dan, we’re stuffed. We’ve got that woman down there in detention, thinking she was a stick-on cert for the murder. Now we’re back to page one; we’re going to have to let her go.’
‘No we don’t,’ he countered.
‘Himes will demand it.’
‘Himes can demand all she likes. Faye’s been detained for questioning, but we don’t have to do that tonight. Nor will we. Himes can have as long as she likes wi’ her client, she can sleep wi’ her for all I care, but we’re not going to talk to her until the morning. Right now, Gowans and I are going back down tae Ayr. Arthur might think the seam’s exhausted, and he might be right, but I’m going to see if I can hack something else out of it.’
‘I’m coming too,’ she said.
‘No you’re not. You’re going to pick up Jakey from Vanessa and spend the evening the way you’ve just told Dorward. You’ve got a hearing next week and you’re not giving those fuckers any more ammunition. Besides,’ he added, ‘if I have to be an actin’ DI, I might as well earn the extra money.’
Fifty-Three
‘Where do we start, Sarge?’ DC Willie Gowans asked eagerly, standing in the doorway of the house in Kirkhill Road.
Provan enjoyed working with younger subordinates; he had observed over a lengthy career that CID officers who were still at detective constable rank in the first year or two of their thirties were on a downward curve. Age thirty-five, he believed, losses should be cut and the dross returned to uniformed service. Young Gowans was twenty-seven, and he would make the cut; of that his sergeant was sure.
‘We find Leo’s other stash of soya milk,’ he replied. ‘He was found in his living area next to the kitchen, wi’ a carton of his juice beside him.’ He paused. ‘Son,’ he murmured, ‘in my younger days when I was a footballer, I played in midfield and I was always yellin’ at my team-mates to take the easy option, to play the simple pass to the guy who was showin’ for it, no’ tae go for the Hollywood ball right across the park in the hope it might impress any Old Firm scouts that might be watching – no’ that any ever were. In this job, the opposite’s true. Always look at the obvious, because nine times out of ten that’s where the answer lies, but never exclude the long shot altogether. That big fella Skinner, the ex-chief you might have seen around lately; he played Hollywood balls all his career, and he got some crackin’ results wi’ them. Do you hear what I’m saying to you, Willie?’
‘I think so, Sarge; because you found the victim a few feet away from his fridge, you assumed that’s where the carton had come from.’
‘Spot on. No’ just me, mind; the SOCOs did as well. But what none of us knew then was that Leo had been sweating, that he’d been burning off some energy just before he died. Now we do, so let’s take a look in the gym.’
He led the way there, finding the key first time from the bunch that he carried. Inside, as he switched on the lights, it occurred to hi
m that the temperature was much lower than on his previous visit, thanks to his turning off the heating. My contribution to savin’ the planet, he mused, as a brief, unprompted vision of himself and Lottie in the steam room flashed across his mind.
‘When we were here last Saturday,’ he said, ‘we interviewed Gino Butler in a lounge area.’ He pointed to one of the doors at the back of the gym. ‘Over there, if I remember right,’ he murmured as he walked towards it.
The room was as he and Mann had left it; the TV remote still lay on the U-shaped couch, and in a corner of the room, beside a mineral-water fountain, was something he had seen and disregarded: a small drinks refrigerator. He stepped across and opened it.
‘Bingo,’ he laughed. It contained a dozen cans of soft drinks, and, as he counted, seven cartons of almond-flavoured soya milk. He took them out, one by one, and checked the ‘best before’ dates. ‘Identical,’ he said, showing one to Gowans. ‘I’m sure if we look at the one they’ve been testing, it’ll be from the same batch.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Right, lad, back to the house.’
They retraced their steps, Gowans struggling to match Provan’s unexpected pace. The DS unlocked the big front door and headed for the kitchen, where he swung open the huge American-style fridge. None of the contents had been touched; Gowans wondered how long it would be before they went off, and who would think to clear them, but his sergeant had eyes for only one thing: a single carton of soya milk that sat in a rack in the door.
‘Evidence bag, Willie,’ he snapped, digging a pair of sterile gloves from a pack in his pocket and putting them on.
‘Step one,’ he muttered as he secured the carton. ‘Like it or not, some lab rat’ll be working overtime tonight.’ He had not been impressed by Dorward’s explanation of the time taken to process the Speight autopsy samples.
‘What’s step two, Sarge?’ Gowans asked.
A Brush With Death Page 33