Madness Lies

by Helen Forbes

  Carla smiled. ‘How could this not be the best news you’ve ever had?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to go back. Not without knowing. I better call the airport.’

  There was a seat on the flight.

  *

  There were birds singing in the trees outside Langass Lodge as soft colours bathed the island. Beyond the trees, Eabhal, the highest hill on North Uist, rose from the rugged landscape, its craggy contours sharp against the evening sun.

  The food was good, the conversation easy. Carla seemed relaxed. When Ronald left them to go and speak to someone, Joe put his hand on hers. She didn’t pull away. He was about to ask, when an elderly woman approached them. She’d been at school with Carla’s grandmother. Carla’s eyes were bright as she listened. Then Ronald came back, and it was time to go.

  At the house, they had tea, then Ronald went to check the beasts. Joe took a deep breath, and the phone rang. It was Carla’s mother.

  He stepped out into the warm night and watched as three oystercatchers hurried past, their shrill sound filling the night. Along the horizon, the sky was streaked with stripes of red and purple and blue. A good day tomorrow, no doubt. And he’d be gone. Through the kitchen window he saw Carla’s serious face. Was she telling her mother what he’d done?

  A movement caught his eye. An owl gliding past on broad, golden wings, its flight seductive. It turned its head and looked at Joe, its chiselled features almost human. Perhaps it had a secret for him. Perhaps it knew. He laughed at himself. Probably just as well he was going back to real life. But the night wasn’t done with him. Half way down the field, he saw Ronald speaking to someone. The gate was open, and he felt as if the sunset and the sea were drawing him down the track towards them. As Joe got closer, Ronald looked up and smiled. His companion turned. He had bushy dark hair and a beard. He muttered something and took off.

  ‘That’s Will,’ Ronald said, as the man made his shuffling way down the croft towards the shore. ‘Stays in that caravan. A bit of a poor soul, really. He took Carla in earlier, when she felt unwell. She said they had a good chat, but this is only the second time I’ve ever spoken to him. The first time, he just said his name.’ Ronald paused, then he smiled. ‘You know, he might not have been telling me his name at all. He could have been about to ask me any number of things that began with ‘Will’, like will anyone mind if I stay in that caravan? I must ask him next time I see him. I don’t know what takes these people here, but we attract our fair share of eccentrics.’

  Joe looked around. ‘It’s certainly very beautiful. I wish I could stay longer.’

  Ronald nodded. ‘You’ll just have to come back when you’ve solved your crimes.’

  As soon as Joe and Ronald went into the house, Carla said she was going to bed. ‘I’m sorry, Joe; I’m shattered. We’ll talk in the morning?’

  Joe nodded. He’d be up at the crack of dawn waiting for her.

  ***

  Chapter 47

  Lucy made herself a cup of tea and sat down to check her emails. There was one from her mum attaching two photos from Lanzarote. Her father at Fire Mountain, eating chicken cooked over a hole in the ground using natural volcanic heat. Her mother on a sun lounger at the hotel pool. They were having a lovely time, she said. There were many more photos, but they were taking too long to upload. Lucy would just have to look forward to her father’s usual endless slide-show when they got back. Anything doing at home? If only you knew, Mother.

  There was an email from her friend, Millie, asking if she’d met anyone interesting in Inverness. She wanted to tell her friend about Drew, and today’s developments, but maybe she needed to get it straight in her own head first.

  They’d been discussing the Permanence Order case in the afternoon, when her phone had beeped in her bag. She should have had it on silent. She’d ignored it.

  ‘Go on,’ Drew had said. ‘It might be Joe.’

  It was. ‘That’s a relief. He’s in Uist with his girlfriend. I thought I was going to have to get the bus through to Nairn to see if he was still alive. A box set and a large glass of wine is called for.’

  Drew smiled and put his pen down. ‘You’ve had a rough few days.’

  ‘Not as rough as Joe.

  ‘Still, it hasn’t been easy for you. Do you fancy going out for a meal tonight?’

  Lucy had stopped trusting her judgement on men after Sebastian and Stephen MacLaren, so much so that she hadn’t gone out with anyone since last year. Not that she’d been swamped with opportunities, but there had been one or two. Millie said she was giving off seriously daunting vibes that were keeping any interested guys away. Clearly not daunting enough.

  Was Drew blushing? She was. ‘Eh…’

  ‘Sorry. I’ve put you on the spot. Forget I asked.’

  ‘No. I mean, yes; I’d like that.’

  ‘Good. I’ll pick you up. About seven? We could have just gone after work, but I’ve…I’ve got something I have to do first.’

  After work? That didn’t sound like a date. That was good. For the best. Aye right. Who was she trying to kid?

  When she’d opened the front door to Drew at seven, he’d looked a little awkward, and she’d wondered if he was regretting it already. She was. It was going to make her last few days at the law centre difficult. Still, not much she could do about it now.

  ‘You look lovely, Lucy.’ His eyes were distracted. He looked over his shoulder to his car. ‘Listen, this is difficult, but I’ve got my daughter with me. She insisted.’

  Maya was seven and full of attitude. Beautiful, and she knew it. She wanted to go to MacDonalds, but he insisted on the Mustard Seed. He could always take her home. Maya shook her head. No way. She’d come.

  She pretty much ignored Lucy until they’d finished their starters, while Drew tried his best to divide his attention between them. It wasn’t easy. The conversation kept coming back to Wookies and Darth Vader, light sabres and Stormtroopers.

  ‘How old do you think Chewbacca is?’ Maya asked Lucy.

  Lucy hesitated. Should she admit she’d never seen a Star Wars film? She reckoned her level of street cred with Maya had started with a minus figure, so she really didn’t want it going any lower. But which one was Chewbacca? ‘I reckon he must be pretty old.’

  ‘Two hundred years. Dad, is your car two hundred years old?’

  Drew laughed. ‘No. It’s twenty years old. It’s a classic.’

  ‘Mummy says it’s a clapped-out old banger. What does clapped-out mean?’

  ‘Your mother should know.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll ask her.’

  What was with the mother? Were they together? The ‘clapped-out’ comment suggested otherwise, but maybe it wasn’t meant to be as insulting as it sounded. Maybe he was very happily married, and always took his students out for a meal. Maybe she’d got entirely the wrong idea.

  Or maybe not. When Maya insisted she would go to the toilet on her own, Drew was profuse in his apologies. ‘This isn’t what I had hoped for. I’m so sorry.’

  Maybe he was both happily married and available. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?

  ‘Don’t apologise. She’s lovely. A bit young for Star Wars, though.’

  ‘That’s what her mother says. My irresponsibility knows no bounds, and if I even dream of letting her watch Harry Potter, well…there will be consequences.’

  But what kind of consequences? Banished to the spare room? Divorce? Lucy smiled. ‘That’s a shame. I can talk endless Harry Potter, but I’ve never seen Star Wars.’

  ‘Philistine. Oh, here she comes. I was about to ask if you were doing anything this weekend.’

  She’d been hopeful that he’d drop Maya off first, but he hadn’t. And now, she didn’t know what to think. Deciding not to answer Millie’s email tonight, she closed down her laptop, finished her tea, and made for bed.

  *

  Todd was weary. Tired to the bone. Head like mince. It was never clear these days. What was it that drugged up who
re, Nancy Connor, had said to him all those years ago in Manchester? There’s a time bomb inside your head, just like mine; looks like it’s about to explode.

  It had exploded all right, after he heard what she had to say. It had chased the malice from her eyes and the venom from her voice. There was only terror then, her blood-shot eyes wide, painted lips pleading. He couldn’t do this to her. Yes, he could. Skanky whore. In her fifties and still on the game. How she’d pleaded. Sometimes her voice woke him, as if she was lying beside him, whispering, then screeching, until he couldn’t get back to sleep, and only a cold shower would stop it.

  There was still no photo of him on the internet. He’d wondered if they’d find one at Chris’s place. He’d hummed Watching the Detectives, as he saw them turn the place upside down, dusting for prints and searching for evidence. They hadn’t found any of the cameras yet.

  They were crawling all over the apartment at Castlefield and the house at Evanton too. With no picture yet circulated, he’d be safe enough going to a hotel for now. But that would mean mixing with ordinary dull little people. Having to be nice to them, to smile, to pretend to give a fuck. He was all out of fucks to give.

  He’d made too many mistakes. No proper planning. Making it all up as he went along. He should just go. He could have another car and a passport within an hour. By tomorrow afternoon, he could be on a beach somewhere. Far away from Chris and all the shit that had come with him.

  But he hadn’t done all he’d vowed to do. He hadn’t finished. One more day. That was all he needed.

  ***

  Chapter 48

  Joe didn’t see the crack of dawn, but he saw every hour before that, aware that Carla was sleeping, or not, in the room directly below him. It was eight when he woke. He had to be away before nine.

  Carla was in the kitchen. She apologised. ‘I slept in. I didn’t think I’d need an alarm, but I didn’t sleep well. I was just going to shout you when I heard you in the shower.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep either. What are we like? I really don’t want to go. We need to talk.’

  Carla nodded. ‘Not much time for it now, but – ’

  Joe could have cried as the back door opened and Ronald came in. He looked taken aback. ‘Joe, you’re here? I thought I’d missed you. What have you done with the yellow submarine?’

  It seemed that car thieves in North Uist weren’t that fussy after all.

  Ronald drove to the airport, a little too fast for Joe’s stomach. ‘It’ll not be a thief, as such,’ he said. ‘Someone will just have borrowed it.’

  Joe smiled. ‘Oh, that’s all right then. And there’s absolutely no problem with some toe rag sneaking into your house in the night and taking the keys off the kitchen table?’

  ‘When you put it like that…I wonder why they didn’t just take my car. The keys were in the ignition. Maybe it’s time I started locking the car and the house. It might help if I could find the house key.’

  ‘What do you do if you go away?’

  ‘I leave the door open, and nothing has ever been disturbed. It’s a different world here.’

  Joe nodded. ‘It’s the same in Harris. And we all know nothing bad ever happens there.’

  From the back of the car, Carla put her hand on his shoulder. It was only for a moment, but it felt so good.

  The car hire man didn’t look too put out. Neither did the cop Joe had arranged to meet at the airport. ‘It didn’t go on any of the ferries this morning,’ she said. ‘I’ve checked with Lochmaddy, Lochboisdale and Berneray. And we’ll monitor the next crossings. Someone will have borrowed it. It’ll show up.’

  Borrowed it? What were they like? ‘I presume you’ll be speaking to the neighbours, taking prints from Ronald MacKenzie’s front door handle, from the kitchen. You might even want to take prints from the car, if it ‘shows up’?’

  She nodded and smiled. ‘You just leave it with us. We’ll do all that’s necessary. Now, I’ll just get a few more details.’

  She paled a little when she heard he was a detective. She looked at her notebook again. ‘Galbraith? Detective Sergeant Joe Galbraith? From Inverness? Really?’

  He nodded. ‘Really.’ Had she heard about his role in Jackson’s death or was it last year’s stabbing in Harris? Probably both.

  ‘Thank you, Sir.’ The pallor was replaced by a pink flush. ‘We’ll do everything we can. Everything. I promise. Now, have I forgotten anything?’

  The flight had been called, and Ronald had said goodbye. It was just Joe and Carla. Joe took her hands. ‘Please, please, keep in touch.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll let you know about the car, if we get any news. We’ll talk properly, soon. Take care, Joe.’

  He felt warmth in his chest, as he always did, when she used his name. To hug or not to hug?

  ‘You better go.’

  Their eyes met and he pulled her close, breathing in her smell. ‘I love you, Carla. And I’m so sorry.’

  She pulled away, and he saw tears in her eyes. Was that a good sign?

  The sun was shining on the windows of the airport lounge. As the plane began to taxi, he thought he could see her standing watching, but maybe it was just a tall plant.

  *

  It almost felt as if he’d never been away. If it wasn’t for the funny looks from his colleagues, Joe would almost think it had all been a dream. His first task was to speak to a man who had turned up at the station. A man who had just returned from a holiday in Australia and couldn’t get into his own home.

  Joe studied the man opposite. Intelligent. Well-dressed. Rich. And seriously pissed off. ‘Mr Allingham.’ Joe nodded at him. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Galbraith. This is Detective Constable Roberts. I understand you’ve been to your apartment.’

  ‘I have been to my apartment, as I’ve already told several of your colleagues.’ His eyes were cold and grey. A scar ran from his eye to his chin, and it was twitching. ‘Not one of them saw fit to enlighten me as to the reason I cannot access my apartment.’

  Joe took a long drink from a bottle of water. When he was done, he screwed the top back on and put the bottle on the table. He stared. Saw Allingham’s scar going mental, his rage threatening to erupt. If Joe didn’t have so much to do, he’d draw this out for longer, but time was short. ‘Todd Curtis.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Joe pushed the bottle aside and leaned towards him. ‘Todd Curtis. He is the reason you can’t access your apartment.’

  He looked a little less cocky now. ‘I…I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

  ‘How long have you been away, Mr Allingham?’

  ‘Two months.’

  ‘And were you aware Todd Curtis was staying in your apartment?’

  The rage was gone, but there was still a lot going on behind those eyes. Caution, cunning, perhaps a hint of fear. At last, he nodded. ‘I understood he might occasionally stay there while I was away.’

  ‘Is that a regular occurrence?’

  He shrugged. ‘I have a spare room. Todd comes and goes. He’s a bit of a nomad.’

  ‘He drives a black Lexus – is that correct?’

  Allingham nodded. His eyes avoided Joe’s. ‘The Lexus is mine. I allowed him to drive it while I was away.’

  ‘Really? You must be close friends.’

  He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t describe us as close.’

  ‘Are you work colleagues?’

  ‘No.’

  Partners in crime, undoubtedly. No proof, yet. Joe pushed a picture of Katya Birze across the table. ‘Do you know this woman?’

  That scar. What a giveaway. Allingham rested his elbow on the table, his hand covering the scar. ‘I’ve met her.’

  ‘Professionally?’

  His pupils contracted with anger. ‘Absolutely not. I believe she’s an acquaintance of Todd’s.’

  ‘A dead acquaintance of Todd’s. As is this girl.’

  Allingham stared at the picture of Danielle Smith.

  ‘And this man.’r />
  A picture of Gordon Sutherland.

  He shook his head. ‘I have never seen either of these people before.’

  ‘What about these people?’

  Allingham looked at the pictures of Ryan MacRae and Christopher Brent. He shook his head.

  Joe gathered up the pictures. ‘Mr Allingham. Todd Curtis is wanted in connection with three murders, possibly more. At least one of the victims has been in your apartment, and the belongings of two victims were found there. We also found a significant quantity of cash. We would like to take a full statement from you. You are, of course, entitled to have a solicitor present, but it would be helpful if you would tell me now when you last heard from Todd Curtis.’

  He sat back, his hand still on his face. He looked smaller, far less sure of himself. ‘It was before I left for Australia. I haven’t heard from him since.’

  ‘Do you know where he might be?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Do you have a phone number for him?’

  He took his phone out and gave Joe a number. ‘That may no longer be in use. He…he changes his number from time to time.’

  ‘And why would he do that?’

  Allingham shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Do you wish to have a solicitor present?’

  He nodded, then he made a call to a solicitor in Glasgow. Joe knew of him; he represented the seriously rich and the seriously guilty. Allingham’s voice was sharp and his tone imperious. He didn’t care if the solicitor was busy. He wanted him to set off for Inverness now.

  ***

  Chapter 49

  DI Black was pleased. ‘Good work. I’ll take his interview, with you or Tina Lewis?’

  ‘Don’t mind, Sir,’ Joe said. ‘I’ve got some questions for Ryan MacRae. Little and Large might think they’re hotshots, but they’ve missed a heap of stuff.’