Penitent

by Pete Brassett

  McLeod unfolded the sheet of paper, glanced furtively at Dougal, then at Duncan, and pursed his lips.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It’s not Nevin.’

  West, her face a picture of disappointment and fear, froze for a moment and contemplated her prospects as a check-out girl, before exploding like a firecracker, sending Dougal diving for cover.

  ‘For crying out loud!’ she said as she thumped the desk. ‘What do you mean, it’s not Nevin?’

  ‘Exactly that, Charlie. It’s no-one called Nevin.’

  ‘Okay, okay. If it’s not him then it has to be a geezer called McPherson. Craig McPherson.’

  ‘No.’

  West glared at McLeod, held his gaze, then cracked a maniacal grin and cocked her head.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ she said calmly. ‘It’s a simple mix-up, right? McPherson’s been living under an assumed name and that’s the one you’ve got. It’s Rupert Lea.’

  ‘Three strikes,’ said McLeod. ‘Sorry.’

  West leapt from her seat, slammed the chair under the desk and stormed across the room sending a wastepaper basket to the wall courtesy of a well-aimed kick from her reinforced boot.

  ‘Well, who in God’s name is it?’ she said, yelling as she raised her arms. ‘Who?’

  McLeod, impressed by the fiery yet hitherto unseen side to her personality, sat back and smiled.

  ‘If it helps,’ he said softly, ‘it’s a fella by the name of Iain Fraser.’

  ‘Who? I’ve never heard of him! Who the hell is Iain Fraser? And why is he on the DB?’

  ‘Sorry, Charlie. I’m afraid I can’t help you there.’

  ‘I can,’ said Dougal as his fingers flew across the keyboard. ‘Fraser you say? If he’s on the database then he’s got form. Here we go. Iain Fraser. He lives in Cargenbridge, just outside Dumfries. He was done for assaulting a police officer and he got three months.’

  ‘And why the bleeding hell did he punch a copper?’

  ‘Celtic – Rangers match. Say no more.’

  ‘Get him picked up! Now!’

  * * *

  Dusting crumbs from his chest, Munro, perturbed by the racket emanating from the office, eased open the door and scowled at West.

  ‘I could hear just the one voice along the corridor,’ he said. ‘And that was yours, Charlie. What on earth is going on?’

  ‘We know who killed Nancy Wilson!’

  ‘Aye, we do indeed.’

  ‘And now we have the evidence to prove it.’

  ‘Excellent. That means we’ll not be troubling ourselves with a trip to the leisure centre then.’

  ‘There’s just one problem.’

  ‘Life wouldnae be the same without one. What is it?’

  ‘It’s not who we think it is. It’s not Nevin.’

  ‘Dear, dear. That is a shame,’ said Munro. ‘And judging by the looks on your faces, I’m guessing the perpetrator doesnae have red hair either?’

  ‘No! He bleeding well does not!’

  ‘So, it’s not McPherson.’

  ‘No!’ said West. ‘It’s some bloke called Iain Fraser! I’ve never heard of Iain Fraser! Where the hell did he come from?’

  Munro crossed his arms, stared pensively at the ceiling, and rubbed his chin.

  ‘Fraser,’ he said, almost whispering. ‘Now, where have I heard that name before?’

  ‘Oh here we go!’ said West. ‘The sage of Caledonia’s about to explain everything!’

  ‘Do you know what they say about sarcasm being the lowest form of wit, Charlie?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘I disagree entirely. I think it’s the funniest if not the cleverest form of humour there is. Iain Fraser. He’s the fellow who found Flora MacDonald halfway up the chimney.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ said West. ‘I mean, are you absolutely sure?’

  ‘One hundred percent, lassie. He’s the fellow who’s been tasked with renovating her cottage, that’s why the name’s so familiar.’

  With the atmosphere as still as a Remembrance Day service at Saint Margaret’s Cathedral, Duncan, completely unfazed by the turn of events, swung his feet onto the desk and broke the silence with a satisfying slurp of his tea.

  ‘So, if it was this Fraser fella chasing the money,’ he said, ‘then it stands to reason the only way he could’ve known about it was either through Galbraith or…’

  ‘God, I’ve been so stupid!’ said West. ‘Jimbo! McPherson said there were three of them in the pub, remember? He said Nevin’s mate was called Iain!’

  ‘Aye, indeed he did,’ said Munro, ‘so you need to ask him if he cannae remember the fellow’s surname or at the very least give you a description. In fact, if you’ve a wee photo of this Fraser chap, that may be all you need to jog his memory. Either way, if I were you, I’d take myself off to Dumfries as soon as possible.’

  ‘Roger that,’ said Duncan. ‘I fancy a wee blast down the motorway.’

  ‘Give me a minute,’ said Dougal, ‘and I’ll print you off a photo.’

  ‘I’m going to have a quick word with Nevin about his relationship with Fraser,’ said West. ‘It seems to me the two of them were in this together.’

  ‘And I’ll take that as my cue to leave,’ said McLeod. ‘Best of luck, Charlie.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks Andy. I’ll give you a buzz once this is all done and dusted. Dougal, get yourself down to incoming please, and take Fraser to the interview room as soon as he arrives. Jimbo, you meet me there, I need someone to scare the pants off him.’

  Chapter 17

  ‘For the benefit of the tape, I’m DI West, also present is DS McCrae and James Munro. Would you state your name, please?’

  ‘Iain Fraser.’

  ‘Do you understand why you’re here, Mr Fraser?’

  Fraser reached into his pocket, pulled out a pouch of tobacco and, hands trembling, rolled a cigarette.

  ‘I do. Aye.’

  ‘And have you got a lawyer or would you like us to appoint a duty solicitor for you?’

  ‘No, you’re alright.’

  ‘Good,’ said West. ‘Then we’ll continue. Now, unlike anything you might have seen on the TV, I’m not going to run around in circles trying to trip you up or shout at you until your ears bleed. The bottom line is we have irrefutable evidence that you were responsible for the death of Miss Nancy Wilson, so is there anything you’d like to say?’

  Fraser glanced at Munro and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘The wife will be livid,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t know I’m here yet.’

  Returning Fraser’s expression with the subtlest of smiles, Munro, deeming the tactics of the Spanish Inquisition as completely unnecessary, left the desk and walked towards the rear of the room.

  ‘Would you like to call her?’ he said, as he came to a halt directly behind him. ‘Will she not be worried?’

  ‘Best not. I think I’ll wait.’

  ‘As you wish,’ said Munro. ‘Tell me, Mr Fraser, do you cut your hair yourself? You know, with one of those electric shaver-type things?’

  ‘No. Barber shop. Once a month.’

  ‘Well, I’d sue them if I were you. They’ve given you a couple of nasty wee nicks atop your head.’

  Fraser brushed his hair as if dusting off an imaginary spider.

  ‘Oh that,’ he said lamely.

  ‘Aye that,’ said Munro. ‘You see Mr Fraser, that’s the irrefutable evidence we’ve been talking about. We found your DNA beneath Miss Wilson’s fingernails.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I see?’ said West. ‘Is that it? No protest? No “you’ve got the wrong man?” No “I’m innocent?”’

  ‘What’s the point?’

  ‘So you admit it?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Fraser hanging his head. ‘In my defence though…’

  ‘You have no defence, not now.’

  ‘…I didn’t mean to do it. I thought she could swim.’

  ‘Did you indeed? Well, I’ve got news for you, she
was already dead when she hit the water.’

  ‘What? How so?’

  ‘Because you pummelled her so hard, she suffered a haematoma to the brain.’

  ‘Oh Jesus!’ said Fraser, his voice barely a whisper. ‘I thought she was… I thought she was still…’

  ‘You should’ve thought this through, shouldn’t you?’ said West. ‘I mean, I can’t see your wife and kids being too enamoured with what you’ve done, can you?’

  ‘No. They’ll not be happy. They’ll not be happy at all, but in all fairness, I was doing it for them.’

  ‘Oh please! Don’t give me that!’

  ‘No, that came out wrong,’ said Fraser, ‘but you know what I mean. I did it because we’re always struggling.’

  ‘Struggling? Why’s that? Have you got a big family?’

  ‘No. Two teenage daughters. That’s it.’

  ‘And they’re a drain, are they?’

  ‘Same old story,’ said Fraser. ‘Clothes, phones, pocket money.’

  ‘No different to anyone else, is it?’

  ‘Maybe not, but other folk seem to have the money to pay for it.’

  ‘Does your wife not work?’

  ‘Part-time, but it’s not much.’

  ‘I am surprised,’ said West. ‘From what I hear, you’re a talented builder and I thought you lot charged an arm and a leg just for showing up, so is that not enough?’

  ‘Ordinarily, aye,’ said Fraser, ‘but there’s just not the work there used to be.’

  ‘So this seemed like the easy way out?’

  ‘It seemed like one way out. I just thought… I thought if I had some cash then I could treat the wife, take the weans on holiday, they’ve not even been abroad. Ever.’

  ‘And John Nevin had the answer to all your problems, right? How long have you known him?’

  ‘A few years.’

  ‘And how did you meet?’

  ‘Football.’

  ‘So you’re good mates?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Fraser. ‘More like drinking pals. A couple of pints before the match, and a couple more after.’

  ‘And has Nevin got you involved with anything like this before?’

  Fraser looked to the ground, his shoulders heaving as he sighed.

  ‘He’s helped me out a few times.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Just stuff. When I’ve been strapped for cash and I’ve needed some new gear.’

  ‘Tools you mean?’ said Munro. ‘Like a new drill perhaps? Or supplies, like sand and cement?’

  ‘Aye, that kind of thing. They’re not cheap when you’ve not got two pennies to rub together.’

  ‘And did it not cross your mind that the materials he was passing on to you were probably stolen?’

  ‘No questions asked,’ said Fraser, ‘you know how it works.’

  ‘Aye, I do,’ said Munro, ‘all too well but this is something altogether different, is it not?’

  ‘He said it would be easy. No hassle, in and out and we’d have a few quid in our pockets.’

  ‘A few quid?’ said Munro. ‘It’s not exactly Brink’s-Mat, I’ll give you that, but fifty thousand pounds a piece? That’s three or four years’ salary for some folk.’

  ‘Looks like you’ve got yourself in a bit of a pickle,’ said West, ‘but if it makes you feel any better, your mate John Nevin, and his mate Craig McPherson, are both banged up so you may as well give us your side of the story.’

  Fraser, who appeared to have aged dramatically in the space of ten minutes, tucked the cigarette behind his ear and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands.

  ‘We’d been to Stranraer,’ he said, ‘for the football. John had arranged to meet his pal in the pub on the way back. Just a wee bevvy because we were on the bike.’

  ‘And what pal is this?’

  ‘That Craig fella you just mentioned.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘John was on a right downer. I thought it was because we’d lost the match but, as soon as he’d got an ale down his neck, he started on about how broke he was and whinging about how he never got to see his kid because his ex wouldn’t allow it.’

  ‘So McPherson told him about the money?’

  ‘Not immediately, no,’ said Fraser. ‘The fella was hammered, I mean, he’s like one rung up the ladder from being a jakey. Anyways, eventually he came up with this story about a wee girl who had a hundred thousand quid stashed away in her house. To be honest, I thought he was on a wind-up. I never believed him. I thought he was joking just to shut John up.’

  ‘But he wasn’t?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Fraser. ‘But John believed him. You should’ve seen his face light up when he heard the girl’s name.’

  ‘And why was that?’

  ‘He couldn’t believe his luck. He said he knew her, that they’d been out together a couple of times. He said that this Craig fella was a numpty and that he’d never twig if we took the money for ourselves.’

  ‘Sounds like a nice mate to have,’ said West. ‘He’d have got on well with Caesar.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Never mind. So even though Nevin knew this girl, he wasn’t fussed about robbing her? About stealing off his ex-girlfriend?’

  ‘It didn’t seem to bother him, no.’

  ‘So you hatched a plan to relieve Miss Wilson of her money?’

  ‘Not me,’ said Fraser. ‘John. He planned it all. He said she was more likely to tell a stranger where the money was because it would sound odd coming from him. Besides, it was the only way I was going to get a cut.’

  ‘So, what happened?’

  ‘He told me to get myself down to the leisure centre and to wait out of sight until he came to fetch me. That way, I’d know the cameras had been turned off.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘He came to the door about nine o’clock and called me over. He gave me a pair of gloves to wear so I wouldn’t leave my fingerprints all over the place.’

  ‘And were they motorcycle gloves?’ said West. ‘Black, leather motorcycle gloves?’

  ‘Aye. They’re the ones he uses all the time.’

  ‘So you went inside?’

  ‘Aye. John said I was to wait ten minutes while he softened her up and then I was to head over to the office.’

  ‘And when you got there?’

  ‘They were chatting away like old pals,’ said Fraser. ‘Having a wee giggle. John had a camera with him and he was taking a few photos.’

  Munro leaned back in his seat, folded his arms and fixed Fraser with a steely gaze.

  ‘Did she not get a wee fright?’ he said. ‘I mean, a total stranger walking into her office after hours, you must have scared her half to death.’

  ‘I did, aye,’ said Fraser, ‘but John introduced me. He told her he was giving me a lift home on the bike and then she relaxed. She even offered me a drink, a diet Coke.’

  ‘And how long did you stay?’ said West. ‘I mean before you started laying into her?’

  ‘Not long,’ said Fraser. ‘John was laying on the charm and I lost my bottle. I got impatient. I just blurted it out. I asked her where the money was and she started to panic.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘The thing is, she thought I was talking about the money from the centre, like a cashbox or something, because she kept saying they didn’t keep cash in the building, that all the members had passes. She even offered me her purse and that, I’m ashamed to say, is when I lost my temper. I started throwing things about the place.’

  ‘And your pal Nevin,’ said Munro. ‘Did he not try to intervene? Did he not try to calm the situation?’

  ‘He did,’ said Fraser, ‘as best he could. To tell the truth, I think I put the fear of God up him as well. He kept apologising to the girl and trying to push me out the door saying we should leave it.’

  ‘But you couldnae?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And Nevin?’

  ‘One minute he was there, the next he was
gone.’

  ‘So he left you to it?’ said West. ‘He scarpered and left you alone with Miss Wilson? He left you to carry on beating the living daylights out of her?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Fraser. ‘God’s truth, I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know what came over me.’

  Likening his submissive behaviour to that of a petrified schoolboy worried that his parents might discover he’d been caught red-handed shoplifting half a dozen Mars Bars from the local supermarket, Munro leaned forward and stared inquisitively at Fraser.

  ‘Not that I’m defending your actions,’ he said, ‘but the human psyche has different ways of reacting to any given situation. Tell me straight, Mr Fraser, apart from one charge of assault, have you ever been accused of acting violently before?’

  ‘No. Never.’

  ‘Are you given to over-reacting in otherwise normal situations, like spilling your tea, perhaps? Or being caught in a traffic jam?’

  Fraser chewed his bottom lip as he pondered the question.

  ‘I never used to be,’ he said, ‘but recently…’

  ‘How recently?’

  ‘The last year or so, I suppose. I’ve a tendency to fly off the handle for no given reason.’

  ‘And the onset of this behaviour, would this coincide with the onset of your financial woes?’

  ‘Maybe. Aye. Probably.’

  ‘Then I fear your actions might be stress related,’ said Munro. ‘I think you should have a psychiatric assessment.’

  West, befuddled by Munro’s new found role as counsel for the defence, cast him a sideways glance and cleared her throat.

  ‘Let’s not get side-tracked, eh?’ she said. ‘So, Mr Fraser, you were throwing a hissy fit in front of Miss Wilson, what happened next?’

  ‘I dragged her from the office to…’

  ‘Hold up! You did what? You dragged her? Forcibly? How?’

  ‘By the collar.’

  ‘And she didn’t struggle?’

  ‘Oh she struggled alright,’ said Fraser. ‘If she could’ve landed a punch, I swear she could have put me down.’

  ‘And no doubt that riled you even more?’

  ‘I flipped,’ said Fraser with a shameful nod. ‘I never realised how hard I hit her. Honest, I thought I was giving her a wee tap.’