Avarice

by Pete Brassett

  ‘I see,’ said Munro, intrigued by her reaction, ‘and did he and Freida see a lot of each other?’

  ‘More than was healthy, if you ask me, but I’ll say no more on the subject.’

  ‘Okay, fair enough.’

  ‘About the police,’ said West, sipping her tea, ‘were they here long?’

  ‘I’d say it was hardly worth them coming, dear.’

  ‘And why’s that?’ said Munro.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t like you see on the television, they didn’t spend hours turning the place upside down. No, they opened a few drawers, looked under the bed, checked the waste paper baskets, that sort of thing, and that was it.’

  ‘And there’s been no-one else?’ said West.

  ‘No, not since, but … but there was the night Freida went to meet her gentleman friend in Inverkip, the night she never came back.’

  ‘Someone came to see Freida?’

  ‘Not exactly, I’m not sure what…’

  ‘Did you meet them?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Munro, quietly, ‘and think carefully, Mrs. Fraser, try and remember everything.’

  ‘Well, like I said, it was the night Freida went to Inverkip. It was late.’

  ‘How late?’

  ‘Past midnight. Closer to 1am, I think. I was about to turn in when I heard a noise next door. Well, I assumed it was Freida, back from her night out, so I went to see. I thought perhaps I’d make us some cocoa, it was dreich out, I thought she’d appreciate that.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It wasn’t Freida, of course. Gave me quite a scare though; I mean, I thought it was a burglar.’

  ‘You thought?’ said Munro. ‘So, it wasn’t? It was someone you knew?’

  ‘No,’ said Mrs. Fraser, ‘I’d never seen her before.’

  ‘Her?’ said West.

  ‘That’s right, young lass, student type; you know, anorak, jeans and a rucksack – said she was her daughter.’

  ‘Daughter?’ said Munro. ‘And was she?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Mrs. Fraser, shaking her head. ‘Not once, in all the time I’ve known her, did Freida ever mention a daughter. A sister, yes, back home. But not a daughter.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I told her to leave; leave and be thankful I wasn’t calling the police. And she did, in a hurry.’

  ‘Could you describe her, Mrs. Fraser?’ said West.

  ‘I doubt it, dear. It was dark, she was wearing a hood.’

  Munro stood abruptly.

  ‘Mrs. Fraser,’ he said, smiling warmly, ‘your hospitality has been generous to a fault, but we have to go now. Before we do, I must ask you lock this door and not open it for anyone, is that clear?’

  ‘Aye, okay, Inspector. Will you be coming back then?’

  ‘Not us, Mrs. Fraser, some colleagues from forensics, we’ll have to give this place a good going over.’

  ‘Like they do on the television?’

  ‘Aye, like that.’

  * * *

  West struggled to keep up as Munro, uncharacteristically flustered, marched determinedly back to the car.

  ‘Okay, Charlie,’ he said, not pausing for breath, ‘why weren’t we told McGreevy was here?’

  ‘Dunno, maybe he’s not got round to telling you yet?’

  ‘No, no, listen, you need to call forensics now; get them up here as soon as possible. In the meantime, I want the room sealed off, got that?’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Then organise a warrant for McKenzie’s flat.’

  ‘You think it was her? In the flat?’ said West.

  ‘I’m not a betting man, Charlie, but I’d wager a fiver she owns an anorak and a rucksack.’

  ‘Shall we bring her in too?’

  ‘Not till we’ve searched the place,’ said Munro as he revved the engine and sped down the drive, ‘I need to have a wee chat with Constable Reid’s father first; he used to work here, he might be able to…’

  West lurched forward, saved by the seatbelt, as Munro slammed on the brakes and stared, momentarily, through the windscreen, before throwing the car into reverse and haring back towards the house.

  ‘What’s up?’ said West. ‘What have you…?

  ‘Come Charlie, quick,’ said Munro, leaping from the car.

  * * *

  ‘Back so soon, Inspector?’ said Mrs. Fraser. ‘Did you forget…’

  ‘No, no. We need to see Freida’s apartment again, won’t take long.’

  ‘Of course. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Oh, you’ve done enough Mrs. Fraser. If I’m right, then you are heaven sent.’

  ‘Whatever do you…?’

  Munro went straight to the bedroom and pointed to the mattress.

  ‘Charlie,’ he said, ‘take that end. Now lift, high as you can.’

  West, speechless, stared at the large, manila envelope lying on the box-spring.

  ‘Don’t just stand there, lassie,’ said Munro, impatiently, ‘pick it up.’

  West snatched the envelope and tipped the contents onto the bed. A wad of papers, all bearing the Raiffeisen logo, and two bank cards.

  ‘You’re a bloody genius,’ she said, exasperated, ‘how did you know?’

  Munro walked to window and took up his customary stance, hands clasped behind his back, as he pondered the implications.

  ‘I suppose this means Lorna McKenzie was telling the truth after all,’ said West ruefully, ‘that’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it? Still, I suppose…’

  Munro turned and looked at West, stony faced.

  ‘It’s not embarrassing at all, Charlie,’ he said, his voice menacingly low, ‘see, the lassie Mrs. Fraser disturbed, the intruder …’

  ‘Lorna McKenzie.’

  ‘… possibly, probably, Lorna McKenzie, she wasnae here to rob the place.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said West. ‘Why else…’

  Munro pointed to the envelope in her hand.

  ‘She was here to put something back.’

  Chapter 12

  ‘On your own, Miss?’ said Constable Reid, as West approached the desk. ‘Where’s the Chief?’

  ‘On his way to see your Dad, Duncan, something about gardening tips. Now, I need this sent to the lab for a profile,’ she said, handing him the toothbrush, ‘and tell them it’s urgent, like yesterday urgent.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘Oh, and forensics are on their way to Freida’s place, Dunmore House, chase them too please. Iain, how’s it going?’

  Sergeant Campbell, mortified, glanced up at West and smiled nervously as he self-consciously toyed with a desk stapler.

  ‘You could have told me he was with you,’ he said in a loud whisper, ‘I thought you were on your own.’

  ‘Don’t worry, bashful!’ said West.

  ‘But I do, Charlie. He’s going to be watching me like a hawk now, in case I upset his D.S.’

  ‘And will you?’

  ‘What? No, no, of course not,’ said Campbell, ‘all I’m saying is, Christ, it’s like having a father-in-law when you’re not even married.’

  ‘I know! Great, isn’t it? So, have you booked this highfalutin, fancy restaurant yet?’

  ‘No, not yet. I’ll do it later.’

  ‘Probably quite pricey isn’t it?’ said West.

  ‘Aye, but it’s quality food, Charlie, I mean, you don’t get pearls for the price of paste. It’ll be nice, you know…’

  ‘Romantic?’

  ‘No, not ... well, Christ you’re as bad him.’

  ‘Tell you what, save your money, I’ve a better idea.’

  ‘What’s that then?’

  ‘Pub,’ said West, smiling, ‘few pints and a fish supper, we can eat at yours.’

  ‘Really?’ said Campbell, pleasantly surprised. ‘You’re up for that?’

  ‘Well, we could get a kebab instead, if you want.’

  ‘No, no, that’s great Charlie. Perfect
.’

  * * *

  Having never housed a car, the garage – a cold, brick-built affair with wooden, double doors – served as both a potting shed and a workshop, was packed to overflowing with sacks of compost, plant pots, an assortment of tools and gardening equipment, and enough timber to build a ranch. Donald Reid, dressed in a pair of filthy, oil-stained jeans and a thick, roll-neck jumper, was perched on an upturned fruit crate, cleaning the carburettor he’d removed from a lawnmower. Munro tapped the open door.

  ‘Mr. Reid?’ he said. ‘Duncan said I’d find you here.’

  Reid looked up and removed the cigarette dangling from his lips.

  ‘Duncan?’

  ‘Aye. James Munro. I’m working with your son, temporarily.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Reid, suspiciously. ‘And what is it you do, exactly, Mr. Munro?’

  ‘James, please. I’m a detective. Detective Inspector actually.’

  Reid stubbed out the cigarette and turned his attention to the carburettor.

  ‘Is there trouble afoot, Inspector?’ he said. ‘Have you come to interrogate me?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Munro, laughing politely, ‘I’m not here on official business, it’s just that Duncan tells me you’re somewhat gifted when it comes to things of a horticultural nature.’

  Reid perked up, smiled broadly and held out his hand.

  ‘You’ll be wanting some advice then?’ he said.

  ‘Only if you have the time, if I’m not disturbing you.’

  ‘Pull up a… something. Make yourself comfortable, if you can.’

  ‘Much obliged,’ said Munro, opting to lean, instead, against the workbench.

  ‘So, how can I help?’

  ‘It’s my garden, down in Carsethorn. I’ve tried my best, but I cannae get anything to grow, nothing that lives for more than a few months, that is.’

  ‘Is it west facing?’ said Reid, frowning as he pictured the location in his mind’s eye.

  ‘Aye, it is.’

  ‘Exposed, no doubt.’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘So, plenty of sun.’

  Munro laughed.

  ‘Aye. On a good day.’

  ‘What are you after?’ said Reid. ‘Trees? That’ll give you shade and act as a windbreak, take a wee while to establish though.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Munro, ‘I was thinking, low maintenance, shrubbery mainly, and some colour. Jean always did like colour.’

  ‘Jean?’

  ‘My wife. Late wife.’

  Reid sighed and nodded understandingly.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘if Jean liked colour, Inspector, then that’s what she’ll get. Problem with your garden, see, is the soil; gley and peaty. Your options are limited but it’s not impossible. I’d plant Rhododendrons and Camellia, that’ll take care of the shrubs, then, for a blaze of colour, California Poppies, Geraniums, Cornflower, and some Stocks and Red Hot Pokers for a bit of height. It wouldnae do any harm to add some herbs too, get a nice wee scent in the garden, you know, easy stuff: Lavender, Thyme, Rosemary. Oh, and don’t forget the Heather, it’s hardy, and the bees’ll thank you for it.’

  ‘All that,’ said Munro, impressed, ‘just off the top of your head? You’ve a talent there, Mr. Reid, aye, a talent alright. I’ll have to write that down. They must miss you up at Dunmore. Sorry, Duncan told me you used to work there, that’s how I…’

  ‘Aye, I did. It was great too, Inspector; best job I ever had. Not only did I get to tend the gardens but I built stuff too. The treehouse, for example, that’s still there.’

  ‘So, forgive me for asking, but if the job was that great, what on earth possessed you to leave?’

  Reid glanced at Munro and hesitated before answering.

  ‘The laird, he didn’t… he didn’t like the way I … fraternised with other members of staff.’

  ‘Och, that is a shame,’ said Munro, ‘it being such a short drive away too.’

  ‘Drive? I dinnae drive, Inspector, on account of my dyslexia, cannae read the signs.’

  ‘I see. Tell me, do you stay in touch with anyone there? You must have forged a good friendship or two over the years.’

  ‘Oh aye, Mrs. Fraser, naturally, and Freida, of course. Cigarette?’ said Reid, offering the pack.

  ‘I don’t, thanks. Unusual, that’s not a brand I’ve seen before.’

  ‘German,’ said Reid. ‘Freida brings them for me, when she visits her sister.’

  ‘That’s very generous of her.’

  ‘She’s a generous lady. Heart of gold.’

  ‘Look, I know it sounds like I’m going off on a tangent here,’ said Munro, ‘but you may able to help me with something else. Are you familiar with Daff Glen, Mr. Reid?’

  ‘Daff Glen? What dog walker isn’t?’

  ‘You’ve a doggie?’

  ‘Molly. Fox Terrier. But we don’t go this time of year, it’s too wet, too boggy, she gets herself in a right… hold on, that’s where they found a body, right? In the burn?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Munro, plainly surprised, ‘that’s right, but how did… did Duncan…?’

  ‘No, he never tells me anything,’ said Reid, ‘says it’s something to do with the Official Secrets Act. No, it was the fella down the way there. He’s a Lab called Buster. Said there was a lassie floating in the water not long ago.’

  Munro rubbed his chin and sighed.

  ‘There was indeed, Mr. Reid. Look, there’s no easy way of saying this, so you’ll excuse me, I’m sure, if I sound blunt, but the body we pulled from the burn, it was… it was Freida Kappelhoff.’

  Reid froze and regarded Munro with a look of consternation.

  ‘What?’ he said quietly, visibly distressed.

  ‘I’m afraid, it appears she may have…’

  ‘No. Not Freida, surely not… Freida? What, what happened?’

  ‘We’re looking into it,’ said Munro, ‘it’s too early to…’

  ‘What would she be doing in the glen? She’d never…’

  ‘You’re saying it’s out of character?’ said Munro.

  ‘Aye, too right it is,’ said Reid. ‘Freida panicked if she got so much as a speck of dirt on her shoes, she’d never go walking a place like that.’

  ‘Not even as a short-cut perhaps? If she was going…’

  ‘Absolutely not. Hold on,’ said Reid, drawing heavily on his cigarette, ‘this was no accident, was it? I mean, you’re a detective. Why else would a detective be…?’

  ‘No,’ said Munro, sighing, ‘we don’t think it was an accident, Mr. Reid.’

  ‘You’re saying she was… now, who would want to do that to Freida? That would be like trying to kill Mother Teresa. The woman’s not a bad bone in her body. Christ. Do you know who…?’

  ‘No. Not yet, but we’re working on it, trust me, we’re doing everything we can. I’ll make sure Duncan keeps you informed. Are you okay?’

  ‘No. No, I’m not Inspector. I’m devastated.’

  ‘Understandably,’ said Munro. ‘Mrs. Fraser was inconsolable herself. Do you think you might see her? As you know each other, like?’

  Reid wiped his hands vigorously on a rag and turned to go.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Is something the matter, Mr. Reid?’

  ‘Och no, she’s alright, it’s just … she’s a wee bit clingy, that’s all.’

  ‘Clingy?’

  ‘Aye. Needy. Look, we had a thing, a while back, she and me, before I was married, and she’s never got over it.’

  ‘I see. A case of unrequited love.’

  ‘Unrequited love? Pest more like.’

  * * *

  Munro pulled up outside the station, lowered the window and watched as McGreevy, wearing a pained expression, dawdled up the street, a brown, takeaway cup in each hand.

  ‘Duncan’s coffee not to your liking anymore, Nick?’ he said, smirking.

  McGreevy winced.

  ‘I’m afraid, talented as he is, James, Constab
le Reid’s skills do not extend to double espressos, and neither do our facilities.’

  ‘Must’ve been a heavy night. I hope she was worth it.’

  ‘I should be so lucky,’ said McGreevy, diffidently, ‘I foolishly agreed to a wee bevvy with MacDougal at the marina – details about the regatta.’

  ‘And one pint led to another.’

  ‘No James, one pint led to seven, and I cannae remember the last time I did that. Anyway, how’s progress? I’ve had the Fiscal on the phone asking for you.’

  ‘That’s very … sociable … of her. We’re getting there.’

  ‘Okay, just keep an eye on the clock, we’ve not much time left.’

  ‘Don’t you worry now, I’ve set the alarm. Do me a wee a favour when you step inside, tell Charlie to get her arse in gear, we’ve someone to see.’

  * * *

  ‘Have you seen the state of him?’ said West as she jumped in the car. ‘Looks like he’s been on a right bender.’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it,’ said Munro, ‘apparently he had a few drinks with the chap who runs the yacht club last night. Mr. MacDougal.’

  ‘Apparently?’

  Munro glanced knowingly at West.

  ‘Mr. MacDougal,’ he said, ‘is a member of the Temperance Society.’

  ‘Ah, someone’s been a naughty boy then. I wonder who she is?’

  ‘Charlie, I’m disappointed, that’s awfully cynical of you.’

  ‘Only saying what you’re thinking.’

  ‘You and I have too much in common.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. So, how was Duncan’s dad?’

  Munro, saying nothing, stared pensively through the windscreen.

  ‘What’s up?’ she said. ‘What’s rankling you?’

  ‘Something Isobel mentioned over dinner,’ said Munro, perturbed.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘There was a chap who used to work at Dunmore, years ago. He was fired for having an affair with the lady of the house.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘And at least one other member of staff.’

  ‘Sly old fox,’ said West, grinning.

  ‘It was the gardener. Duncan’s father, to be precise.’

  ‘What? You are kidding?’ said West, exasperated. ‘Does Duncan…?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, and I’m not about to tell him either.’

  ‘Duncan’s dad putting it about, who’d have… hold on, do you think Freida may have been the other…?’