‘Well, if that’s all…’
‘That’s just for starters. He was a thrawn bugger, my George. Say black and he’d tell you white. I could never win an argument.’
‘You fought, then?’
‘Some of the time. Goes with the territory.’
‘Being married to a policeman?’
‘Being married, full stop. If it’s not about money, it’s about the kids. And if it’s not the kids, it’s…’ She frowned. ‘Why do you ask?’
There was an awkward silence, then: ‘I’m so unhappy.’
Maggie reached out to take her hand. ‘I guessed as much. I’m really sorry, Ros. You’ve enough on your plate – juggling the job and the wee one – without trouble at home.’
‘I keep telling myself we’re going through a phase, the sort of thing that happens in every marriage, especially when…’ Ros pulled away. She brushed a tear from one eye. ‘There’s a small child in the mix. But I’ve been kidding myself. It’s more than that: something deep-seated, something I’m not able to fix for myself. Nic tries to dominate every aspect of my life, Maggie. Everything’s alright so long as he gets his own way. But the least quibble…’ Her voice faltered. ‘I used to be so self-confident.’ She composed herself. ‘Positive. Optimistic. Now I spend my entire life dancing around him, trying to anticipate his mood.’ Her eyes met Maggie’s in mute appeal. ‘Feels like I’m slowly losing my identity.’
‘Oh, Ros, I’m sure…’
‘Don’t tell me it will come right,’ she protested. ‘Because it won’t. Now I’ve sat down and thought about it, I can see all the ways I’ve been trying to compensate: getting separate supermarket receipts, claiming I’ve mislaid them. Hiding things – in the wardrobe, under the bed. It’s insane, Maggie. Even the way I cover my mouth with my hand, sometimes, when I’m speaking. I never used to do that.’ She laughed, bitterly. ‘It was my poor mother who picked it up.’
‘Counselling?’ Maggie queried. ‘Did you manage to broach that with Nic?’
‘I did.’ Scornful face. ‘Not that it got me anywhere. He won’t take me seriously. Can’t see that there is a problem. Correction. If there’s a problem, it’s entirely of my making. He even,’ her voice rose in protest, ‘suggested I see a mental health specialist.’
‘Oh, Ros.’ Maggie didn’t know what to say. She was saved when the door opened and one of the older teachers entered the room.
‘You two on free period?’ she demanded.
Maggie felt a wash of colour rise in her neck. Why she had to have a guilt trip over sitting down for fifteen minutes she didn’t know.
‘Just catching up.’ She offered a conciliatory smile. Classroom assistants’ non-contact time was an ongoing bone of contention. She sneaked a glance at Ros. The young woman’s face was buried in a tissue. Maggie leaned in towards her. ‘We’ll continue our conversation another time,’ she whispered.
Ros nodded, mute.
Reluctantly, Maggie rose to her feet. ‘Duty calls.’ She looked back at Ros as she made for the door. But Ros was staring, blank-faced, at the floor.
A Major Flaw
Brian knocked on the door of Chisolm’s office before sticking his head round. ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’
Chisolm indicated a chair. ‘Give me an update on Struthers, will you, Burnett?’
Brian sat down. ‘Examination of Gordon Struthers’ laptop hasn’t thrown up anything salient to our investigation.’
‘Hmm.’ Chisolm’s face darkened.
Shit! Brian’s mind raced. He’d better make this good. ‘Mind you,’ he added, ‘we’ve been working on a very narrow window. The solicitor wasn’t at all happy, and we don’t want to push our luck with Struthers, not with a guy like that. To make matters worse, the techies are snowed. They haven’t been able to go into it in any depth.’
Chisolm’s face darkened further.
‘There is just one thing, sir,’ Brian said, trying to mollify his superior officer.
‘And that is?’
‘There are a number of emails pertaining to Struthers’ partnership.’
‘In respect of?’
‘Equity.’
Chisolm glowered. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘As you’re no doubt aware, sir,’ Brian said, grabbing his chance to shine. ‘In common with other professional firms – solicitors, architects, whoever – equity is divided proportionately between the various partners.’
‘Yes,’ Chisolm said acidly. ‘You don’t need to spell it out.’
‘When a partner retires, sir, the others have to buy him out.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Chisolm repeated. ‘But I don’t see…’
‘If you’ll humour me, sir,’ Brian interrupted. ‘Some months ago, Gordon Struthers’ partner was diagnosed with a terminal illness, precipitating his early departure. Said partner is currently in a hospice. His prognosis isn’t good. When he dies, Struthers will have to come up with a sizeable sum of money, and find it fast. That gives us our motive,’ he added, basking in his moment in the sun.
‘Oh, come on, Burnett. Struthers must be earning a bomb, he’s most likely paid off his mortgage, and there’s only so many meals a man can eat in one day.’
‘I’m not so sure, sir. Their income must have taken a knock when the wife gave up her job, and things have been tight in Aberdeen these past few years, even for the professionals.’
Chisolm shrugged. ‘You haven’t convinced me.’
Brian reddened. ‘Would it help if I told you there’s correspondence relating to loan applications?’
Chisolm frowned. ‘There could be a perfectly simple explanation.’
‘Yes, but what alerted me is they’ve escalated in urgency over the past few months, both in frequency and size. What’s more, this escalation dates back to Sheena Struthers’ retention of the…’ He broke off, conscious of perspiration pooling in his armpits and prickling his brow. ‘Detective agency.’
‘That’s all well and good,’ Chisolm retorted. ‘But let’s not lose sight of the fact the only reason we have this information is because Gordon Struthers has given it to us voluntarily.’
‘Agreed, sir.’
‘So.’ Chisolm fixed Brian with a steely look. ‘Bang goes your motive.’
‘Sir.’ Brian was so hot under the collar by this time he was ready to melt.
‘It’s back to the drugs, then. I understand Struthers denies all knowledge of any meds: what was found at the scene or any other substance.’
‘Correct. Says they’ve never been great pill-takers, neither him nor her, and that’s likely why the wife didn’t let on she was using sleeping pills.’
‘What about his movements on the morning of the incident?’
‘Receptionist confirms he was at his desk just before 8am. There’s nothing to back his statement up until then, sir, not if the wife was out of it, so he’d have had the opportunity at any time that day until the cleaner’s usual starting time at nine. Or,’ he hesitated, ‘even during the previous night.’
‘Rohypnol’s way stronger than Zopiclone,’ Chisolm pondered. ‘It can take effect in twenty minutes and the effects can last for hours, depending on the dosage. So those two drugs combined could have put Sheena Struthers in a coma.’ Chisolm frowned. ‘It’s unlikely, though.’
Brian scratched his head. ‘I suppose.’
‘Is there a chance Struthers could have ducked out of his office, nipped back out to Bieldside?’
‘It’s possible.’
Chisolm eyed him. ‘Did either you or Dunn put the question, Sergeant?
Christ, Brian thought, I’ve cocked it up again. ‘No, sir.’
Chisolm’s lips compressed. ‘Thought not. Make sure someone checks out any CCTV opportunities along the route.’
‘Sir.’
‘However,’ he continued, ‘that’
s not the only reason I asked for a meeting. There’s a major flaw in our hypothesis, and I wanted to bounce it off you.’
Brian waited.
‘What do you know about screening for so-called “date rape” drugs?’
‘Not that much, sir, other than they’re processed quickly by the body, so difficult to detect.’
‘Spot on, Burnett. If my memory serves me right, Rohypnol has a plasma half-life of eleven to twenty-five hours, so it and metabolites are likely to be found in urine for quite some time. GHB, on the other hand, has a blood half-life of only about twenty minutes, so it’s important to take a urine sample soonest. However, hospital samples are often taken, if at all, when only residual amounts remain in the body fluids, and it appears this was the case with Sheena Struthers. Added to which on admission…’ He reached for another file. ‘She’d become incontinent.’
‘I see where you’re going, sir.’
‘And as if that weren’t disappointing enough, the clinical tests done at ARI for hospital admissions are limited. For more sensitive screening they’d need samples from forensics. We’re screwed on both counts. Struthers’ laptop. Is it still in our possession?’
‘Don’t know, sir. I’ll check.’
‘Mmm. Pity we didn’t have more time. If there has been another drug involved, one that we can’t now test for, someone may have ordered it online.’ Thoughtfully, he stroked his chin. ‘So how did you leave things, Burnett?’
‘Struthers wasn’t too happy, sir, neither him nor his fancy friend. He’s screaming harassment.’ Brian rolled his eyes. ‘The lawyer I mean. Insists his client is a kirk elder, a model of probity. Says he can’t be held responsible for his wife’s…’
‘Ah.’ Chisolm offered a wry grin. ‘We’re back to women’s troubles now, are we?’
Brian ducked. ‘Reckon so.’ That was one place he didn’t want to go.
Chisolm snorted. ‘In summary, we have a supposedly intelligent man pleading total ignorance both of his wife’s use of narcotics and of a significant injury to her arm. We have questionable email correspondence. But we still haven’t established criminal activity.’ He challenged Brian with a hard stare. ‘What I need you to ascertain is whether there’s anything else Gordon Struthers has neglected to tell us.’
Brian nodded. ‘Sir.’
‘As to the wife, there’s only one thing we can do.’
‘What’s that, sir?’
‘Sit on our hands until she’s fully responsive.’
VII
You Couldn’t Make It Up
‘Christ.’ Wilma’s eyes were out on stalks. ‘You couldn’t make it up.’
‘What?’ Maggie demanded.
‘Your pal Sheena Struthers horizontal up at ARI. And now yer wee man Brannigan’s gone and joined her.’
‘I know.’ Maggie made a face. ‘It’s unfortunate, to say the least.’
‘Unfortunate?’ Wilma echoed. ‘It’s a fuckin cock-up!’
Maggie blushed scarlet. ‘The way you’re talking, you make it sound like I put them there deliberately.’
‘Well…’ Coy look.
‘Wil-ma.’
‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m taking the piss.’
Maggie’s mouth turned down. ‘Well, don’t.’
‘Then there’s your pal, Ros.’ Wilma pressed on, undaunted. ‘All it’ll take is for that husband of hers to give her a duffing up, and the three of them will be able to throw a party.’
‘Pack it in,’ Maggie snapped. ‘I’m not in the mood.’ In her shock at hearing of Bobby Brannigan’s assault, she’d forgotten about Ros.
She was loth to admit there was more than a grain of truth behind Wilma’s banter. If Maggie had made a fist of Sheena Struthers’ case…if she hadn’t rattled Brannigan’s cage…possibly none of this would have happened.
‘Lighten up!’ Playfully, Wilma chucked Maggie under the chin. ‘All I’m saying is it’s getting like Emergency Ward 10 up there. I thought last year’s shenanigans in Seaton were hairy enough: thon student dead in the kirkyard, that head-banger in the high-rises. And them kids, the size of them, in the middle of it. But if Bobby pops his clogs, and your Struthers dame doesn’t make it, that’s another two fatalities to land at your door.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Some going!’
Maggie pursed her lips. ‘They’re not fatalities.’
‘Near as,’ Wilma joshed. ‘You’re some woman, Maggie Laird.’
Maggie sighed. ‘I wish. Truth is, though, you’re right. It is a total mess.’
‘You could say.’
‘Let’s face it, Wilma. Me with my casualties, you with your marital problems, together we’ve made a dog’s breakfast of this private detective business.’
Crestfallen look. ‘And we thought we were doing so well.’
What are we going to do now?’
‘Dunno.’
Maggie sighed. ‘Maybe my first instincts were right and I’m really not cut out for this sort of thing.’
‘That’s bollocks.’ Wilma elbowed her. ‘And you know it.’
‘I don’t agree.’
‘You still obsessing about that head-case, Sheena?’
Maggie stiffened. ‘That’s below the belt.’
‘Wasn’t meant.’
‘Still, it’s true: there are two gravely ill patients up at ARI and both on my account.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Wilma began.
‘Hear me out.’ Maggie stopped her going further. ‘Nobody can point the finger where Brannigan’s concerned. That man’s a bad lot. He could have been attacked for any number of reasons. But Sheena Struthers is another matter entirely. Her present circumstances are almost certainly down to my incompetence.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up.’ Wilma stepped in. ‘It could have happened to anyone.’
Maggie rounded on her. ‘Wouldn’t have happened to you.’
‘No,’ Wilma conceded.
‘More than that, you warned me off, Wilma. More than once, if I recall.’
‘Aye.’ She nodded, grim-faced. ‘But that was then. Now it’s a whole new ball game.’
‘One I’m determined to tackle.’
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Wilma volunteered.
‘You will not.’ Defiant look. ‘You’ve done your bit. Now it’s my turn. I’ve had no joy getting information out of Queen Street or Brian, so the only thing left is go up to the infirmary and find out for myself.’
‘But,’ Wilma protested, ‘you can’t just bloody swan in.’
Maggie’s hackles rose. ‘You did.’
‘That’s different. I’m a member of staff.’
‘Not on ITU.’
‘No, but still wearing the uniform.’
‘I’ll say I’m Sheena’s sister.’
‘Word’s going around,’ Wilma insisted, ‘it’s only the husband allowed to visit.’
‘Sheena Struthers’ room isn’t under lock and key, is it?’ Petulant voice.
‘No, but she’ll still be under close observation.’
‘Well,’ Maggie said stubbornly, ‘I’ll think of something.’
‘There’s been a detective at the bedside and all.’ Wilma’s face was filled with concern. ‘I’m telling you, there’s no way you’ll get near.’
Maggie set her jaw. ‘Just you watch me!’
‘I’m not doubting you,’ Wilma huffed. ‘It’s only…I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself. Far less,’ she pulled a scary face, ‘get yourself arrested.’
‘And I’m telling you, there’s nothing like a determined woman. I need to get in there, Wilma Harcus. And get in there I will.’
‘Well…’ Hands on hips, Wilma squared up to her. ‘It’s your funeral!’
Whatever
Ros half turned from the sink. ‘I want to take a break.’
‘From teaching, do you mean?’ Nic looked up from his tablet.
‘From Aberdeen.’ Her hands gripped the worktop. ‘From us.’
‘But why?’ Baffled look.
‘You know why.’
‘I don’t.’
She threw up her hands. ‘Oh, come on, Nic, don’t give me that. If you’re to be believed, I haven’t done anything right for I don’t know how long. Not the house, not the job, not even our child.’
‘You’ve been working too hard.’
‘It’s not work,’ she retorted. ‘Work’s fine. In fact, if you must know, Seaton School is the only place I feel valued.’
‘By that new friend of yours, I suppose,’ he sneered.
‘It’s not that at all,’ she snapped back. ‘School is one of the very few places I can be myself.’
‘Oh, don’t be like that.’
‘There you go again. Making it sound like I’m the one that’s out of line and you’re the voice of sweet reason.’
‘Come on, sweetheart.’ He rose, crossed to her side, draped an arm around her shoulders. ‘We’re both tired.’
‘Agreed. But it’s more than just tiredness, Nic. We’ve been here before. Way too often. It’s time we did something about it. And if you won’t…’ She disengaged. ‘I will.’
‘If it’s the house,’ he countered. ‘I know it’s not ideal, but renting this place from the University is going to give us a head start in bumping up our mortgage deposit, and…’
She cut him short. ‘It’s not the house.’
‘Though now prices have dropped, we can probably afford to buy straightaway. We could have a look together online tonight,’ he rushed on. ‘See if there’s anything in our price bracket. Pick up some particulars at the solicitors’ property centre on Saturday morning.’
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Her voice rose. ‘I said…it’s not the house.’
‘There, there.’ He patted her on the arm. ‘No need to get worked up.’
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