Cause & Effect (The Gemini Borders Trilogy Book 3)

by Toni Parks

  The bandolier, thought for several seconds before putting the following to Rawnie, “Are you prepared by our laws, to refute all accusations against Seth Macleod, and from henceforth to deny that any union or association took place between you both, no matter what fiction may appear from this moment onwards.”

  Rawnie, close to tears but withholding them through defiance, answered, “I admit that I have brought dishonour to my family and myself. I let money rule my head and revenge blacken my heart. The last few years have been very lonely for a gypsy girl in a gaje world. I was weak for taking up the offer, which I now regret and so apologise profusely to both Mr Macleod and his family; they have always shown me kindness, courtesy and respect, which I have not reciprocated in kind. I accept the kris Romani punishment and will comply with your judgment. Henceforth, I will not bear false witness against Mr Macleod nor call this vitsa my home.” With that she turned and headed out on the B6352 towards Kelso.

  Seth stood, bowed to both Queen Laelia and Balloch, even though he had been on friendly terms with them for over thirty years, and asked, “May I address the kris?”

  Balloch answered, “Yes Seth, as this kris Romani has taken place predominantly to clear your sullied name and, I might add, our own, it would be churlish not to let you speak.”

  “Thank you Balloch for that consideration and Queen Laelia for being so understanding. I have no malice towards your people, not even Rawnie. Years ago, when she and my daughter Sorcha, were caught thieving, I took Rawnie to work in the mill as punishment. She would have been the first to admit it was anything but that. She enjoyed the challenge and was gifted at the work. For that reason alone, I cannot see her banished, although as a gaje I accept that I have no say in these proceedings. But I honestly believe that given direction and relieved of boredom she could become a very valuable asset to your community. I wish to propose that we give her a trial in carpentry; now that my son Joe has qualified I will have time to devote to her learning of the craft for which she has already shown some talent. If you agree, then let her marime be suspended with a view to it being upheld or expunged, subject to her agreement and future actions. I can either pay her or pay the vitsa, for her time.”

  Balloch looked across at Queen Laelia, and more importantly at his son and wife, Rawnie’s parents. All three heads nodded agreement and his made four. Balloch reiterated to the kris what had been said by a gaje and confirmed that agreement to the offer had been given subject to Rawnie’s decision. For the second time today Jal went in search of her. Fortunately for both, she had not yet left the village, even though her only possessions and chattels were what she stood in and carried on her back.

  The kris disbanded and Seth strode home in far longer strides than when he had first come looking for Balloch’s help. He greeted Meredith with the first of many hugs and a broad beam that had not been seen for some days. His summary of events took the same time as for the kettle to boil, the tea to mash and the second cupfuls to be poured. The atmosphere was relaxed until, “Oh! What about Elspeth? We should have told her straightaway.”

  “I’ll tell her now, Mer. Hopefully, another ten minutes worrying won’t have killed her.” He grabbed the phone and punched in the number, Elspeth answered despondently.

  “Hi Dad. Sorry, that thing of ours, it’s not sorted yet. I need more time. I’ve got to think outside the box, as these marketing chaps say …” Her voice trailed off with a sob.

  “Sweetheart! That’s what I’m ringing about. But it’s good news. All good news. Are you able to talk on this line?”

  “Yes, I’m OK. Tell me more. Now.” And he did. Even including the part about offering Rawnie a job. Upon completion Elspeth’s sigh and exhalation said it all. To Seth it sounded like a steam train, poignant really as Elspeth did have to get back on the right track. “Dad, it wouldn’t have been my advice. I’d have told you to run a mile from her, but I know the man you are and now you know you’ve got all your friends’ backings. So good luck, go build some bridges, literally.”

  “Thank you, love. And thank you from the bottom of my heart for believing and helping. I pray that anything dubious that you have done to help me will never come back to haunt you. There is no God if it does.”

  “Thanks Dad. I think I’ll survive. I’ll have to put it behind me and hope that this Italian guy accepts his defeat with honour. We had an understanding and it sounds as if it’s just expired. So don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. I know how that hurts you.” With that he said his goodbyes and passed her over to chat with Meredith and no doubt shed a few tears in unison.

  *

  Eduardo felt like shedding a few tears too. He envisaged that Jessica would be suffering at Rampton, with having been moved from pillar to post in as many days. He’d had various conversations with Pernille and Pietro but neither was able to offer any new strategies. His only option now lay in her next court appearance, and for that he would need to contact Elspeth again for an update on the up and coming hearing and its likely outcome.

  “I nearly considered not answering, you know.” “No, I don’t know. What’s with the new attitude?” “Haven’t you heard? Rawnie Tait is no more. The threat

  has gone back home to her clan, for the present anyway. So your little game has come to an end.”

  “But we still have her testimony and the photographs.”

  “All pure fabrication. She will state that the letter she wrote was done under duress, and we’ll get professionals to study the photos and prove beyond doubt that they are fakes. And as a finale, Mr Italian, I will now make it my goal to ensure that this woman, whom I have been forced to bend the laws of justice for, will receive the maximum sentence that’s due, be that in prison or a mental institution. I can guarantee that you will not see her again as a free person in this lifetime.” With that she ended the call and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  Another door closed on his chances of springing the girl who had brought them all such happiness, and now Eduardo felt even more impotent as it dawned that he would not be able to reciprocate.

  Elspeth’s only worry was now keeping under wraps what had gone on before and boxing clever with the Sheriff who had previously questioned her reasoning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX DI Barbour was not offered the luxury of only having one worry. Top brass at Police Scotland were totally shocked at the spate of murders which had occurred in and around Aberdeen. Additional teams were recruited and transported into the hot spot and although this meant the DI’s workload reduced, she was not happy. It came as a slight to her authority and ability but the reality was so many unsolved crimes needed extra methodical investigation and then closure for the victims. To date, no one had been arrested for, let alone charged with, any of the recent atrocities.

  Ironically, the former Hunter-Bell ten-storey building still sported the original police tape from the ‘dunking man’ murder. But this was in the process of being replaced with what appeared to be continuous seven feet high polythene sheeting, erected to shield the concrete mass, detritus and severed limbs from the prying public’s eyes. Emergency services were working in teams, sifting through the concrete rubble, warped steel, brickwork and dust as they highlighted and numbered the positions of each and every piece of human anatomy. Pathologists followed behind methodically bagging and labelling each item in the hope that minor parts could be reunited with their torso and so aid the identification process. But first, a body count needed to be reached as no one had any idea how many people were in the building, or indeed why they were there in the first place. It was known that a seriously powerful explosion or number of explosions had taken place, thus causing the building to collapse in on itself. This led to the view of it being a professional job, but unfortunately not to the identity of those responsible. Considerable firepower and shattered mobiles had been retrieved from the carnage along with shreds of identity details, which forensics were in the process of piecing together.

  DCI McVay accompanied DI Barbour on t
heir walk around the perimeter of the crime scene. Generators and pathologist vehicles parked along each side, the former to feed the fifteen feet high arc lamps flooding the site and the latter, to take away the body parts being reverentially manhandled through the various dogleg exits that broke up the screening. These were being transported to a large hangar type cold store unit, close to the airfield where they would be laid out, and so would begin the slow process of reassembly.

  “It’s got to be linked to the other murders, don’t you think, Sir? I mean Hunter-Bell’s building; it’s too coincidental. First we had a murder here, ten storeys up, and now here we are again with this devastation. Just suppose it’s a trade-off. One gang does one thing and then the other reciprocates, so the first one starts again and so it goes on until you’ve no gangs left.”

  “Well, if you’re right, there is always that consolation. But apart from this Joey Donaldson we’ve still not managed to shed any light on other names, have we?”

  “No, Sir. We haven’t. But let’s presume one half is Hunter-Bell, so we need to ask ourselves who are the key people in that business? And the other half is …,” here she stopped questioningly. “We don’t know who it is, but I did see those little drone helicopter things dragging a cryptic message across the sky. They looked to be stationary for some time before heading towards the docks. So from where I was positioned that must mean they were over to the northwest of the city, and certainly not as far as the Royal Cornhill Hospital.”

  “Well, I’d test out your theory. You’ve nothing to lose now as we’ve all been upstaged with the influx of the Edinburgh and Glasgow teams anyway. Get two detectives on each hunch, see what they can dig up or worry out of the locals.”

  *

  Eduardo was left on his arse. His judicial ally had turned Judas, having danced to his puppet strings for the last time. He knew the information he required would be forthcoming from SpiyWeb but nevertheless he was not happy with Elspeth’s new vitriol of hatred towards Jessica. She was due back at the Sheriff’s court any day now for ‘a plea in bar of trial’ due to Jessica’s unstable mental health but that had been when Elspeth had been on side. He was unsure what her motive would be now.

  Having contacted, SpiyWeb, they inferred that it was to be a request to ‘commit the accused to further examination’, plain and simple. They even offered a date and time for the mauling.

  Jessica knew in her heart that the recently risen DI Barnham’s testimony was going to be paramount in her conviction. The speed at which she was called to trial; had evidence brought against her; was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment with life being life seemed like only a split second. The same amount of time it allegedly took people in serious danger to see a flash-back of their lives before they were extinguished. But this was the exact opposite; and there was no extinguishing mechanism, even in Scottish Law. A flash-forward portrayed how her life could be if Jessica’s worst nightmare came to fruition.

  The warden awakened her from it by introducing her to another one. The constant banging on the door not only served as her wake up call but it rescued her from what she foresaw as the inevitable. Her only bonus at being unceremoniously woken at 4.30 was that the water in the showers would be warm, which could also be said for the coffee that followed but not for the cold breakfast. At 5.15 on the dot she was signed out and began the 254 miles journey north to Edinburgh. Her court appearance was not until 14.00 but the guards were happier leaving early and placing her in the holding cells at the other end, as opposed to misjudging the volume of traffic and so being embarrassingly late. The journey itself was uneventful and Jessica relaxed as best she could and nodded off in fits and starts. The driver and guard were alert to any unusual incidents unfolding due to the report of the near miss on the prisoner’s journey down. Her kudos currency for anyone associated with her case was increasing daily and the guards assumed she had plenty of scope to boost her value yet, but not at their expense.

  Once, the court session commenced, Jessica faced the same Sheriff and Procurator Fiscal, as previous. Although now, this Elspeth Macleod was more buoyant and positive in her commentary with the Sheriff, and in her delivery of the facts. The corroborative evidence of the accused’s association with at least three of the victims and the handkerchief containing her DNA were still driving the case. But now the Procurator had about turned in her request to question Jessica’s mental health. She read from reports indicating that the accused had shown signs of: anxiety, panic attacks, depression and paranoia. But, she now argued, a person in her position, having fallen from her cultured perch would experience the majority of these anyway. Her examination concluded, the Sheriff looked at her slightly quizzically and confirmed that the Judge, once nominated for the case in the High Court of Justiciary would, no doubt, keep an open mind a little nearer the time as to whether, or not, the defendant would be sufficiently of sound mind to face her trial. The media jostled for prime positions at both exits of the court building in the hope of a glimpse of the serial killer but were disappointed. The frail looking and now waiflike Jessica was not to be displayed, having been ushered through a secluded goods entrance with no public access.

  SpiyWeb ’s confirmation of the Sheriff Court’s direction left Eduardo even more depressed. His promises to: Mama, Emma, Jessica and even himself to free her were disappearing with every day. His options were now limited and for the first time he felt the loneliness of being in a strange country without the comfort of his loved ones around him. And that was one disconsolation even SpiyWeb could not triumph over. He rang Emma to tell her the bad news and that he needed to return to Secondigliano due to work commitments, but in reality it was to see Pernille and recharge his batteries. She would read the present situation and make sense as to where it should go next. Something he was finding he could no longer do.

  Emma was already feeling somewhat depressed too. And, on hearing from Eduardo, more so. She could not get hold of Amy Price, Jessica’s solicitor, and her hormones were all over the place; hormones she never knew she had, and Barnham, the bastard, had not been in touch, either. ‘So, tell me, who wouldn’t be upset,’ she thought.

  Sticking to her regime of the right path, she steered clear of the usual suspects, although guiltily she had started eating Gummy Bears in a big way. Her supposition being that they would be a treat for the baby. After her two days of abstinence from men expired, apart from Jeremy Kyle, that is, Terry rang.

  “Oh, so you’re ringing me now, are you? Remembered you had a girlfriend, but didn’t know which port I was in?”

  “Emma, is that you? Have I got the right number?”

  “Of course you have, you crackpot.”

  “Sounds like you’re the crackpot. What are you going on about?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m going on about. Two days I’m going on about. I visit you in your pokey bed-sit, shake your tree a bit, well shake it a lot actually. And then I don’t hear from you for two days. That’s forty eight hours in my book.”

  “That’s forty eight hours in everybody’s book, actually. But …”

  “Yes, OK clever dick. But nothing. It’s all coming back now is it? Our Emma’s a good squeeze; she’s got herself knocked up and pointing the finger at a defenseless man minus a memory. Whatever that person’s called.”

  “Stop it. I just rang to see if you wanted to come up and go shopping in the city, for the baby, and you can get some maternity clothes if you like?”

  “I might. But where have you been?”

  “You know! I’ve been working. I was at the station, two days running. Came home both nights absolutely goosed. Had a bit of tea, watched a bit of telly and crashed out. But it helped.”

  “Helped what. Your memory or the fact that you want to go back into the force?”

  “My memory I suppose. It made me reach a decision. Well two actually. Do you want to hear them?”

  “Are they good?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Well s
ave them then. Rant over, I’m going to jump in the shower and I’ll be up there around one o’clock. Can’t miss out on a chance to go clothes shopping even if it is for a zero year old and an expanding woman.”

  She sent him a text from the bus and arranged to meet at Starbucks on The Royal Mile. Both arrived within two minutes of each other but with only Emma out of puff after the climb up Cockburn Street and gagging for a drink and something for the baby. Latte and toasted fruit bread soon put paid to that and Emma sat patiently waiting for Terry to begin.

  “Oh yes, I said two things, didn’t I? I should have given you a hint and then you could have reminded me. I know one, which is that I’m more than likely to retire from the force; I just needed that extra little push. The job they’ve offered me is really boring and that’s me, memory man saying that. And it looks like anyone involved on your sister’s case has been demoted. So my chances of advancement are about as good as winning the Lottery. Now, what’s the other one,” he questioned taking a gulp of his Americano. “Ah yes, the other one. I want to marry you. And give this baby a proper home and ..”

  “Woh. Rewind. You want to marry me?” replied Emma now fully focused.

  “Let me finish. I’ll propose properly later, promise. You’ll just have to remind me, that’s all. I want to marry you. And give this baby a proper home and either live round here or we all go away together, you, the baby and me. Happy families, what do you say? The bed-sit’s way too small, I mean the bed’s hardly big enough for us two, let alone another.”

  “Where do I start? Well, if we’re numbering them? One: don’t say it again, not in Starbucks. I want you to say it somewhere more romantic, at least the Castle or on Arthur’s Seat or somewhere.”

  “Arthur’s Seat? You can hardly get up Cockburn Street, so you’ve no chance there.”