Broken Ground (Karen Pirie Book 5)

by Val McDermid

  ‘How did he react?’ Laidlaw again.

  ‘He didn’t really say anything. I offered the deal I’d come up with and he laughed at me. He said he’d never be convicted and told me to fuck off. I said he would be, and after that happened, he’d never be allowed to see his children alone again.’

  If ever a line was calculated to push an angry man’s buttons, that was it. Not that Karen had any brief for arseholes like Logan Henderson. But if Willow had done what Karen suspected, that line had probably never been delivered. That whole conversation had probably never taken place.

  ‘You didn’t think that might be a bit reckless?’ Jimmy asked, mild as a spring day.

  A sudden flash of anger from Willow. ‘What is this? Blame the victim time? I was defending the interests of my children. Logan needs to understand who comes first in this family.’

  ‘And how did he react to your words?’

  She leaned back in her seat, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked like a woman revisiting the worst memory of her life. ‘He went mad.’

  36

  2018 – Edinburgh

  Here we go. Karen squared her shoulders and shoved her hands in her pockets. Showtime. ‘What does that mean, exactly?’ Jimmy asked. ‘“He went mad”?’

  ‘He started screaming that I wasn’t going to come between him and his kids. He kept shouting that. Then he said he’d see me in hell first. And it was like a switch had flicked inside him. It was like looking at a stranger, not the man I’ve been married to for eleven years. We keep the knife block at the end of the breakfast bar. I don’t even remember how it happened, but the next thing was he had the carving knife in his hand and he was coming at me.’ Her voice was rising in hysteria.

  Again the interviewers waited. Then Laidlaw said, ‘About how far away was he from you and Dandy?’

  Willow shook her head. ‘I’m rubbish at measurements. Maybe half a dozen steps away?’

  ‘What happened next?’ Laidlaw could put a toddler to sleep with that voice, Karen thought.

  Willow screwed her eyes shut and gave a little sob. ‘I can’t bear it.’

  Jardine raised a hand, palm out towards Jimmy. ‘I think my client needs a break.’

  Willow’s eyes snapped open and she grabbed his arm. ‘No. I need to get this out of the way. I don’t want to have to go through all this again.’

  Aye, right, Karen thought, reaching for the Scottish double positive that signified a negative. More than anything that had gone before, this convinced her she was watching a performance. This is a rehearsal.

  ‘If you’re sure?’ Jardine said, all expensive concern for the little woman.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘So, tell us, Willow. Logan is coming at you with a knife. What happened next?’

  A shuddering sigh. ‘Dandy threw herself in front of me. She shouted something like, “Don’t be so stupid, Logan,” but he kept coming. And then Dandy was on the floor and the knife was covered in blood and there was blood everywhere and Dandy was making these whimpering, groaning noises. Like an animal in pain.’ She stared at Jimmy, her face stricken. ‘I’m terrified to go to sleep again in case that’s what I hear in my dreams.’

  It was a moment of high drama and everyone gave it space. Then Laidlaw took up the baton again. They’d got a good routine going, Karen grudgingly admitted to herself. ‘How did you react to Logan attacking Dandy?’

  ‘I wanted to hold her, to help her. But he was screaming again. Saying he was going to kill me. I wasn’t thinking. I was just reacting. I backed away, round the other side of the breakfast bar and grabbed for a knife out of the block. Logan lunged at me but I ducked and then I stabbed him. Again and again. I wasn’t trying to kill him. I wasn’t thinking anything. All I wanted was for it all to stop.’ Now she was crying properly, big hiccupping gulps. Nose running, eyes streaming. It had taken her a while to get there but having reached her climax she was giving it her all.

  Laidlaw took a packet of tissues from her pocket and offered one to Willow. She blew her nose loudly and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. There are bits that are really clear, but most of what happened is just a horrible blur of shouting and blood.’

  ‘I think Mrs Henderson has covered the salient points of what happened last night,’ Jardine interjected. ‘What she needs now is to be reunited with her children. We will of course make ourselves available for interview when you’ve had a chance to develop the evidence further.’

  Jimmy nodded. ‘Of course. This is only the beginning of a long process. And we’re all hoping Mr Henderson makes enough of a recovery to be interviewed soon.’ He pushed his chair back and stood. ‘Can I have a private word with you, Mr Jardine?’ The lawyer nodded, gathering his papers and rising. ‘If you wouldn’t mind waiting here, Mrs Henderson? DS Laidlaw will arrange a car to take you home.’

  He ushered Jardine out of the room. Laidlaw made a note of where Willow wanted to go then turned off the recording equipment. Karen was on the move as soon as Laidlaw reached the door. They nodded to each other, then Karen walked into the interview room.

  Willow half-turned and couldn’t quite manage her reaction. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at Karen. ‘What are you doing here? I want my lawyer back.’

  Karen sat down in the chair Jimmy had vacated. ‘Not going to happen, Willow. This is strictly off the record. This conversation never happened.’

  ‘This is nothing to do with you.’

  Karen chuckled. ‘You think? I’m a witness here. I can testify to what I overheard and what my response to it was. What I said to you both, and what I said to Dandy after you flounced off. Which I suspect Dandy relayed right back to you. Which made you realise you needed to get rid of her as well as Logan.’

  Willow said nothing but her jaw shifted, giving her an air of defiance.

  Time for a little white lie in the interests of justice. Karen forced a note of sympathy into her voice. ‘I don’t think you’re a cold-blooded killer, in spite of what it looks like, Willow. I think you were driven to despair. You could probably get away with diminished responsibility if you come clean now.’

  ‘How dare you?’ Willow had found her anger. ‘I’ve just watched my best friend being murdered. I had to save my life by stabbing the father of my children. And you’re acting like I did all this?’

  ‘If Logan lives, it’s going to be your word against his. And even if I’m not called as a witness, I can still tell my story to the media.’

  ‘You can’t do that. You’re a police officer.’ There was a note of triumph in her voice.

  ‘I wasn’t on duty at the time. I was merely a concerned member of the public. You’re not the only one who can twist the truth, Willow.’

  ‘You’re out of order. You couldn’t be more wrong. I’m the victim here. What sort of monster do you take me for?’ She leaned forward, her hands fists on the tabletop. ‘Let me tell you, if anybody’s going to the media, it’ll be me. Harassed by a police officer the morning after my best friend was knifed to death in my own kitchen by my deranged husband? How do you think that will play? I’ll be paying tribute to Dandy. The best friend a woman could ever have. The woman who gave her life to save her friend. I mean, really, who will they love? Me and my kids, or you?’ Her lip curled. ‘I can see the coverage now. I bet they’ve got some great pictures of you on file.’

  Karen shook her head. ‘You can bluster all you like, Willow. But I’ve been doing this long enough to know that, one way or another, the truth has a habit of rising to the surface. If you’ve done what I believe you’ve done, there’ll be evidence somewhere. You’d be amazed at what forensic science can unpick these days. Or maybe it’ll be something as prosaic as Dandy confiding what I said to her to someone else. Her husband. Or her real best friend, who obviously wasn’t you. Because murder isn’t what you do to your best friend.’

  ‘Get out,’ she hissed. ‘You know nothing, You’re full of shit.’

  Karen stood up. ‘Sure, I’ll go. But
this isn’t over, Willow. Somebody else knows what you did. You think you’ve outsmarted us? Think again, lady. You’ve got a very small window of opportunity here to tell the truth. Otherwise, this is not going to end well for you.’

  37

  2018 – Edinburgh

  Willow hadn’t been the only one giving a performance in that interview room, Karen thought as she walked down the Pleasance towards the Cowgate. Her parting shot had been empty bluster. They’d be bloody lucky to find forensic evidence that would definitively contradict the story they’d been fed on the record.

  Jimmy had been more sanguine about it. ‘It all depends on whether the husband pulls through. If he tells a story that fits the forensics better than hers, we’ll be in business. If he doesn’t? Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ Karen had opened her mouth to protest, but he cut across her. ‘The one thing I know for certain in this case is that it is not your fault. None of it.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘While we’re waiting on news from the Royal, I’ve sent Jacqui out to talk to Edward Muir.’

  ‘The grieving husband?’

  ‘Aye. And he is genuinely grieving. They’ve got two teenage kids boarding at Gordonstoun. One of the teachers is driving them back. So Jacqui’s got a wee window of having him to herself. See whether Dandy said anything about the Hendersons in the last few days. And if not, we want a list of her best buddies. The women she’d tell things to in the strictest confidence.’

  Karen managed a tired smile. ‘You know how that works, right? When you get told something in strictest confidence, you can only legally tell your other two best friends. As opposed to everybody in your Facebook friends.’

  ‘See when you say stuff like that? It makes me realise I am never going to understand women. Anyway, if she told anybody, I’d put my money on Jacqui finding it out. She’s very different from Phil, but she still gets results.’

  Karen had tried her best to look pleased but felt sure she’d failed. ‘That’s good. Because I’m going to have to disappear into the undergrowth on this one, Jimmy. The Dog Biscuit is dying to get something solid on me, and taking an active part in this investigation is exactly the kind of thing she’d love to beat me up with.’

  ‘I get that, Karen. But you can still make a valuable contribution from behind the scenes. Gonnae let me keep you up to speed, pick your brains when I need to?’

  They’d parted outside St Leonard’s with Karen reluctantly agreeing to lurk in the shadows of Jimmy’s case. She turned right on the Royal Mile, edging through the hapless knots of tourists who blocked its pavements all year round these days, fascinated by the endless parade of shops selling tartan knickknacks, shortbread in every conceivable shape and overpriced whisky. There were times when she thought people should have a walking licence. Like a driving licence only with stricter penalties for bad behaviour.

  She dodged a pair of Japanese teenagers oblivious to anything except the music on their earphones and cut down New Street. It was like time-shifting into a different city, one whose streets were available only to the natives. Her route took her round the back side of Waverley Station, under the dramatic Regent Place viaduct and up on to Leith Street, mere minutes from her office.

  Karen wasn’t surprised that Jason was the only person in the office. It was half past four, the cat was away and the wee sleekit McCartney had taken advantage of her absence for an early cut. She didn’t embarrass the Mint by asking where the sergeant was. She subsided into her chair with a heartfelt sigh. ‘What a day,’ she groaned.

  Jason, conversely, looked like a boy who’d found the last green triangle in the box of Quality Street. ‘Maybe it would improve if you took a wee look at your email?’

  ‘You think? That’d be a first.’ Karen woke up her laptop and brought up her emails. Memos, meetings she’d learn magic to avoid, a retirement do for someone she didn’t know and finally, a forwarded email from Jason. The subject line read, ‘Your question’. She opened it, noting that there was an attachment that looked like a photograph.

  Dear Constable Murray, she read.

  Nice to talk to you earlier. It brought back a lot of good memories. It made me think. We always talk about sorting out a proper get-together whenever two or three of us from the old days meet up for a drink but we’ve never managed to get ourselves organised. Hearing about Joey dying so young got me thinking we shouldn’t keep putting it off. You never know the day or the hour, right enough.

  Anyway. Like I said, I mind the American lassie though, if I caught her name, I’ve got no memory of it now. Too many dunts to the head in the wrestling bouts! I didn’t think I had any pictures of Joey’s van, but when I went back through my box of photos, see what I found!

  It’s not really a photo of the van as such, but you can see it pretty clearly in the background. It’s the one on the far right, black with the chrome trim. That’s me in the middle, with Joey on the right and Big Tam Campbell on the left.

  She didn’t read any further but clicked on the download. The fifteen seconds seemed to click down at a glacial pace and then the photograph filled the left-hand side of the screen. Three men in kilts and muscle vests stood grinning at the camera with their arms round each other like the front row of a rugby scrum. She could even see the distinctive buckle on Joey’s belt. Behind them, a line of half a dozen camper vans. The black one stood out from all its nondescript companions. ‘Nobody thought to mention it was black,’ she muttered. But that didn’t matter now.

  Karen grinned at Jason. ‘That’s terrific.’

  ‘Third guy I spoke to,’ he said. ‘Somebody else thought they might have it in the background, for what it’s worth. And look … ’ He turned his screen to face her. He’d blown up the section that showed the front of the van.

  It was blurred, but legible. ‘You got the registration number.’ For a moment, the frustrations of the day slipped away and Karen felt nothing but the pure delight of seeing a case take a leap forward. Finding out what had happened to the van might go nowhere, but equally it might be the break in the case. ‘Have you spoken to your helpful contact at DVLA?’

  Disappointment creased his face. ‘I thought I better wait till you’d seen it. In case … ’ Clearly there was no ‘in case’ that he could think of. Just a lingering lack of self-confidence.

  ‘Fair enough.’ She glanced at the clock on her computer. ‘Too late to get stuck into it tonight. Chances are your lassie will be away home anyway. First thing Monday morning, though – get straight on to it.’

  ‘You got it, boss. By the way, I checked out those emails between Alice Somerville and Hamish Mackenzie.’

  ‘And?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing suspicious. Same as when I asked around in the pub. He seems like a genuinely nice guy. Lives on his own but he’s not some weird loner. One of the old men in the pub said Hamish was always first to offer a helping hand when anybody needed it.’

  ‘Makes a nice change. We don’t get many of them in this line of work. Look, why don’t you take an early cut? You’ve already done enough overtime this week.’ Karen scoffed. ‘Listen to me. As if we even have overtime in this unit. But there’s not really anything else urgent right now. Go on, bugger off before I change my mind.’

  ‘OK.’ He closed his laptop and leaned back to hoick his jacket on without actually taking it off the chair. ‘See you Monday morning.’

  ‘Aye. Nice work, Jason.’

  He blushed. It wasn’t pretty. ‘I think I’m getting better at that talking to folk on the phone thing.’ Still abashed, he sidled out of the door leaving her to her thoughts. She was honest enough to find space in her head for the notion that Willow Henderson might just be telling the truth. Her cop instincts said otherwise, however. But how much of that was simply because Willow was the sort of woman she didn’t have a lot of time for? Was she letting her own prejudices skew the situation?

  ‘Give it up,’ she muttered under her breath. She’d meant it when s
he’d told Jimmy she was backing off, but she couldn’t help herself. Some cases had a way of insinuating themselves into the corners of her mind and dragging her in behind them.

  But this time her ruminations were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. She frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone and she wasn’t in the mood for any of the likely candidates. ‘Come in,’ she grumbled.

  She was astonished when Hamish Mackenzie stood framed in the doorway. ‘How did you get in here?’ It was an instinctive response. She really didn’t mean to sound quite so indignant. ‘How did you get past the front desk?’

  Taken aback, he stumbled over his words. ‘I just bumped into … I ran into DC Murray. In the street. Outside.’ He gave an anguished smile. ‘I told him I had a … something for you. And what should I do? And he walked back with me and brought me through.’ The last sentence in a rush.

  She stood up. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be brusque. You kind of freaked me out for a moment. Members of the public are not supposed to be back here.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Unless they’re under arrest. You caught me by surprise.’

  ‘I hoped it would be a nice surprise.’

  Now she had the chance to take him in, she had to admit to herself it was exactly that. His hair was tied back, glossy under the strip lights. He was dressed for town; slim-fit jeans rather than drainpipes over black trainers, a pale grey base layer under an unbuttoned Black Watch tartan shirt and a dark blue herringbone tweed jacket. And a brown leather satchel over one shoulder. She’d probably have looked twice at him if she’d seen him in the coffee shop, though possibly with a mental eye-roll. Chiding herself for being a teenager, she said, ‘I like advance warning of my surprises. In my line of work, they’re usually unpleasant.’ But she smiled, to soften it.