‘I’ve not come across anyone I could believe capable of murdering my sister,’ she said.
‘Please believe me when I say that often the most evil people are those you would least suspect. I’m asking you to back off completely for your own safety. After all, if anything happens to you, who will obtain justice for your sister?’
She scowled at him.
‘That’s emotional blackmail.’
‘Yes, it is, but from the purest of motives. I simply want to keep you safe at such a delicate point in the investigation. Perhaps it would be better if you stayed in Dumfries rather than Kirkcudbright for now?’
‘I’ll move in with Mike Halliday. He’s 6 feet 4 inches of pure muscle. It’ll be like having my own personal bodyguard.’
‘How well do you know him?’
‘I know him well enough. He was a friend of Ailish’s. She used to hang out with him when she got sick of that lot up at the big house. I met him the first time I came over, after she went missing. He was as convinced as I was that something bad had happened to her and she hadn’t just run off. We’ve remained in touch ever since. He’s been my eyes and ears over the years. He’s just as keen as me to find out her fate and I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes when he does.’
‘So you’re not a couple, then?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ she said, folding her arms.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. My interest is only confined to keeping you safe, Maureen.’
She softened.
‘I know that, really I do! But you don’t need to worry about me. I promise I’ll be careful.’
Lind’s phone rang.
‘Maureen’s with me, we’ll be right down.’
‘I take it PC Green explained that we’ll be in a room adjacent to the interview room, with a one-way mirror so that you can get a good look at the woman.’
They walked downstairs and into the designated room. Maureen moved to the window and stood stock still, frowning in concentration. She suddenly swayed on her heels. Then, just as Lind was stepping forward to check she was okay, she pushed past him and ran out of the room.
Wrong-footed, he pursued her. Instead of running down the corridor, as he expected, she wrenched open the door to the interview room. She rushed over to Fiona Murray and slapped her hard across the face, before a shocked Farrell and Moore managed to intervene.
‘How could you, Mam?’ Maureen screamed. ‘What were you thinking?’
Fiona Murray sat, as if carved from stone, with the imprint of Maureen’s hand etched across her cheek.
‘What on earth is going on?’ exploded Farrell.
‘That woman’s real name is Margaret Kerrigan. She’s Ailish’s mother. And she used to be mine, too,’ Maureen added bitterly. ‘Please, take me out of here. I can’t bear to be in the same room as her.’
Chapter Fifty-Six
Farrell and Moore settled back down in their chairs. Fiona Murray sipped slowly from a glass of water with shaking hands. The interview had been suspended when Maureen Kerrigan burst in, and Farrell switched the tape on again.
‘Interview resumed at 4.15 p.m. I must remind you that you’re still under caution and anything you say can be noted down and used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you deny that you’re the mother of both Maureen and Ailish Kerrigan?’ he asked.
The dough-faced woman before them looked conflicted as though, even now, she was still considering brazening it out.
DI Moore leaned forward and spoke softly.
‘I know it must have been a shock, Margaret, your daughter bursting in here like that.’
Suddenly, the fight seemed to go out of her.
‘It’s a long time since anyone called me that,’ she murmured.
‘So, for the record, your name is Margaret Kerrigan,’ said Farrell.
‘Yes. I was beside myself when she went missing. I knew straight away something bad must have happened to her. She was headstrong, but she was a kind girl. There’s no way she would have sent a text saying she was heading home and then never contacted us again.’
‘Why didn’t you mention anything about your intentions to your family?’ asked Farrell. ‘They must have been worried sick.’
She shrugged.
‘Looking back, I think I had a bit of a breakdown. I spoke to the local Garda, but they seemed to take the view that if Ailish had chosen to run off and live in sin with some fellow in Scotland, that was her lookout. Maureen contacted DCI Lind and he told her that given her age and no evidence of foul play, his hands were tied, although he did list her as officially missing at least.’
‘I can understand you coming over here to ask a few questions,’ said DI Moore. ‘But what possessed you to assume a false identity and leave your existing family not knowing if you were alive or dead?’
‘I was crazed with grief and guilt too. I’d said the harshest things before she left. The last words she heard from me on this earth were “May you rot in Hell, you little whore”. I’d give anything to take that back.’
She paused and took a drink of water, her hands still shaking.
‘Anyway, when Maureen showed me the text I was overjoyed. It felt like I’d been given another chance. But she never arrived. The weeks dragged on. Then one night I was sitting in the kitchen. I’d reached my lowest ebb. I considered ending it all, God forgive me. The only thing that stopped me was the thought that I would never see my precious girl in the afterlife. I decided to investigate her death myself. It was all I had left to give her. I picked up my bag, put on my coat, slipped out the house and disappeared. As soon as I got off the ferry, I invented a new identity and jumped on a bus to Kirkcudbright. It didn’t take me long to obtain some bogus identity papers off the internet. Good cleaners are hard to find these days. I bided my time until there was an opening at Ivy House and in I went.’
‘The painting of Ailish in Kirkcudbright Art Gallery. I assume it is you that pays to keep it on the wall there?’
‘Yes, I hoped someone might see it and remember something. I like to visit it every so often.’
‘So far, so understandable,’ said Farrell. ‘But how did you get from there to being part of a forgery ring?’
Murray stiffened. Farrell held his breath. Then, her shoulders lowered, as her whole body seemed to exhale.
‘I don’t suppose it really matters what happens to me now. One of my daughters is dead and the other will never forgive me.’
‘You don’t know that,’ said DI Moore. ‘She may well come around, once she learns the reasons behind what you did. Helping us now will surely count in your favour?’
‘Maybe. My initial intention was to get into Ivy House and poke around, try and find out if anyone there was likely to be connected to Ailish’s disappearance.’
‘And?’
‘It was like Sodom and Gomorrah. The thought that my lovely girl had been caught up in the midst of it all near broke my heart. That Patrick Rafferty, turning her head and filling it with nonsense, then discarding her in favour of another model, like she was less than nothing. How I didn’t go for him with a meat cleaver, I do not know. Hugo Mortimer was the worst of the lot. He seemed to swing both ways. Nothing was off-limits sexually. How Penelope Spence could stand it, I really don’t know. He would do stuff right in front of her. Cruel bastard, he is. Oh, she would pretend to be just as depraved as he was. Always letching after Monro Stevenson, for example, but it was a huge act. He told me he called her on it one night. She completely froze. All she wanted was Hugo. No accounting for taste, I suppose.’
‘And Ailish?’ prompted Moore.
‘It seems that she left in a strop after catching Patrick with a new model. The more I dug around, the more convinced I became that whatever had happened to her must have occurred after she had left Ivy House.’
‘How did you get mixed up with the forging ring and who else at Ivy House is involved?’ asked Farrell.
&nb
sp; Murray looked like she was being pulled apart by some internal battle.
‘Things have changed now, Margaret,’ said DI Moore. ‘You must see that.’
‘I’ve been working for them in the last couple of years,’ she said. ‘Not on the art front. Can’t paint to save myself. I was more concerned with distribution, moving things around from A to B.’
‘Who else is implicated?’ asked Farrell. ‘You might as well give it up, Margaret. You have a daughter that still needs you. If you cooperate to the fullest extent possible, that will count for a lot with the Crown Office.’
‘I didn’t set out to become a criminal, you know,’ she shot back. ‘I was a good God-fearing woman before Ailish was taken from me. You don’t earn much cleaning. I’d rent to pay; things were getting desperate. Then Hugo asked me to do a few off-the-book jobs. Said there was good money in it for me, if I kept my mouth shut. It didn’t take me long to figure out what they were up to. Over time I earned their trust.’
‘So Hugo Mortimer is the forger?’ asked DI Moore.
‘Yes, although he brought in Monro Stevenson on some of the jobs, like the Hornel painting. Said the boy was a unique talent. He was a bit jealous of him. When he found out that the boy had been shortlisted for that major art prize as well, he was like a bear with a sore head all week.’
‘Were you friendly with Monro Stevenson?’ asked Farrell.
‘Yes, I suppose you could say that. I didn’t meet him, until after he’d had his breakdown and left Ivy House. I sensed that he’d simply lost his way for a while, like Ailish. He liked to talk about her, though he never knew I was her mother. He was a good lad at heart. I couldn’t believe it when I walked in that morning and saw him like that …’
Her face contorted, and Farrell produced a clean handkerchief and passed it to her.
‘My, you’re old school,’ Murray said. ‘Used to be one of the hallmarks of a gentleman, that.’
‘It still is,’ said DI Moore, trying to lighten the mood, while Murray blew her nose and composed herself.
‘How did you come to clean for Monro as well?’ asked Farrell.
‘Monro had advertised in the local paper, so I applied.’
‘Margaret, did Mortimer ask you to spy on Monro? Report back any rumblings of discontent?’ asked Moore.
Tears spilled as she nodded, her expression one of abject misery and regret.
‘For the tape, please,’ said DI Moore.
‘Yes, God rest his soul. That snake asked me to spy for him.’
‘Did Monro know?’ asked Farrell.
‘No, he thought he could trust me.’
‘Had Monro seemed particularly troubled of late?’
‘He’d been a bit off for a few weeks. I think he felt trapped by what he’d got himself mixed up in. Being shortlisted gave him hope. He was the happiest I’d ever seen him, even talking about moving somewhere else, making a fresh start.’
‘Was there anyone else at Ivy House involved in the forgery ring?’ asked Moore.
‘No, only Hugo Mortimer. No one else knew, not even Penelope. Hugo might have been the forger, but he certainly wasn’t running the show.’
‘Who was then?’ asked Moore.
‘All I know is that he was local. Even Hugo was afraid of him.’
‘Think, Margaret,’ urged DI Moore. ‘There’s more riding on this than you know. Another young life could be in jeopardy, if we don’t figure this out in time.’
Farrell coughed a warning to prevent her saying anymore on the subject.
‘Do you know if the ringleader was an artist himself?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t a clue. I don’t think he forged the paintings, from what I gathered, but he was certainly the brains behind the operation. I think that he’s dangerous as well.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Anyone who can scare Hugo Mortimer to that extent has to be pretty hard.’
‘What about Paul Moretti?’ asked Moore.
‘Bit of a weirdo. I bumped into him once, when I was leaving Ivy House. I almost tripped over him coming out of the gate. I apologized, but he completely blanked me and slunk off. Quite creepy, the way he was skulking about up there at that time of night. The only things beyond the house are the graveyard and the woods.’
‘Is Moretti friendly with anyone local, as far as you’re aware? He’s a person of interest and we’re keen to speak to him,’ said Moore.
‘Keeps himself to himself. Even has his groceries delivered. Proper hermit. I don’t know a single person who has ever seen his face.’
‘You know that you were caught on camera removing a package from the safe at Broughton House?’ said Farrell.
‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘The camera is usually switched off. I forgot to check it.’
‘On whose instruction did you do that?’
‘Hugo Mortimer’s, though I gather the order came from the boss.’
‘Were you told what was in the package?’ asked Moore.
‘I knew it was a painting and that it would be labelled in a certain way.’
‘That painting was stolen from a big house in the area and was being stored at Broughton House temporarily, while the National Trust negotiated with an intermediary for its safe return,’ said Farrell.
‘I assume that you substituted a forgery in its place?’ said Moore.
‘Yes, Hugo didn’t sleep for weeks getting it done.’
‘Was Hugo Mortimer or his boss involved in the original heist?’
‘Hugo Mortimer wasn’t as far as I’m aware. I have no idea about his boss.’
‘That must have netted you a nice little bonus,’ Farrell said.
‘I know what I’ve done is wrong,’ she muttered. ‘But I figured it’s a victimless crime. I don’t go around hurting people. The copies are so good, odds are no one would even know they’re not looking at the real deal. Where’s the harm? A picture’s a picture, right?’
‘You’re either being completely naive or utterly disingenuous,’ said DI Moore. ‘Genuine works of art matter. Each piece is unique.’
‘Well, I’ve never been one of those arty farty types,’ she snapped. ‘If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then it’s a bloody duck as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Did it ever occur to you that Monro Stevenson may have been murdered by either Hugo Mortimer or the person he works for?’ asked Moore.
‘No. Not for one minute. You don’t think Ailish’s death could be anything to do with that lot, after all? And there’s me working for them all that time … Holy Mother of God, please no …’
‘Ailish’s murder was almost certainly not linked directly to the forgery ring. It appears likely that she was murdered by an artist, but that’s all we are at liberty to say right now,’ said Farrell.
Farrell glanced at Moore and she nodded.
‘Margaret, we’re going to take a short break now. Someone will be in to offer you some refreshments. Interview suspended,’ said DI Moore as they both stood up and left.
Lind was waiting for them outside and motioned them both into another room so that Fiona Murray couldn’t overhear.
‘I reckon we’ve got a leak,’ he said. ‘Someone has blabbed about the circumstances of Poppy Black’s death to Sophie Richardson.’
‘That’s all we need,’ said Moore. ‘But how do you know?’
‘Maureen Kerrigan heard her mouthing off to the barman in The Smuggler’s. He in turn passed the information along to some hard case from Glasgow.’
‘Leave it with me,’ said Farrell. ‘I have an idea.’
Back in his office he picked up the phone. Time to make a deal with the devil.
‘Moira … About that exclusive … there’s something I need you to do for me.’
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The mood in the briefing room was tense. Fiona Murray’s account of events had blown open the forgery ring. All they needed was the identity of the ringleader. Monro Stevenson’s involvement seemed beyond d
oubt now and it was likely that it had got him killed. The Super slipped in and took a seat at the back just as Lind held his hand up for silence.
‘As you’ve all no doubt heard, we have Fiona Murray in custody, aka Margaret Kerrigan, and the mother of Ailish Kerrigan. She’s confirmed that Hugo Mortimer is the principal forger. He was assisted at times by Monro Stevenson who forged the recovered Hornel painting.’
‘Are we bringing Hugo Mortimer in for questioning then, sir?’ asked DS Byers.
‘No. We want to have a crack at discovering the top man first. Murray doesn’t know the identity of the ringleader, but he’s meant to be a nasty piece of work. He might even be implicated in the murder of Monro Stevenson.’
‘What about the murder of Ailish Kerrigan?’ asked Stirling. ‘Any possible link there?’
‘None as far as we’re aware. The mother seems fairly certain that Ailish wasn’t murdered by any present or past occupants of Ivy House. I doubt she’d let them off the hook or have got embroiled with them to the extent that she has, if she had any lingering doubts.’
‘Is there nothing else we can do to track down Paul Moretti, sir?’ asked Mhairi.
‘I was wondering about that,’ said Farrell. ‘Murray mentioned almost tripping over him when she was coming out of Ivy House. Given that his medical condition is clearly bogus, I believe the reason his disguise is so elaborate is because he’s already well known both to us and to others. Is it possible he’s one of the residents of Ivy House?’
Everyone fell silent as they considered this.
‘I’m meeting Patrick Rafferty there, tonight. He’s cooking me dinner,’ said Mhairi. ‘I can hopefully get a proper look at them all.’
‘Watch out for things like their walk, scent, build, mannerisms. Have your actual encounter with Moretti to the forefront of your mind as you think about all these different facets. If anything strikes you then DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT, act on it or betray any sign that you are on to them,’ said Lind.
‘I’ll take a run down there tonight, make sure I’m on hand, just in case,’ said Farrell.
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