AVARICE: Gripping Scottish detective crime fiction (Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 2)

by Pete Brassett

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Doctors told us for many years, it is not possible for her to have child.’

  ‘Why was that?’ said West. ‘Was she infertile?’

  ‘No, lady, not her, me. The doctors are saying my, my sperms, they not swim so good. So, it was other man’s baby, yes? And that is why she left?’

  ‘No,’ said Munro, ‘it appears not. You see, during the course of our investigation, we have, purely by chance, found a match between your DNA and that of a young lady. You’ll be pleased to know there’s nothing wrong with your, er, sperms Mr. Kappelhoff. You have a daughter. Her name’s Lorna.’

  Kappelhoff glanced at West, then at Munro, his eyes misting over.

  ‘And you are sure?’ he said. ‘This is not some kind of joke to…’

  ‘100% sure,’ said West. ‘No doubt about it.’

  ‘I will kill that doctor.’

  ‘So, the question is, would you like to meet her?’

  ‘Would I…? Of course,’ said Kappelhoff, beaming, ‘of course I wish to meet her, I…’

  ‘Good, but hold on,’ said Munro, ‘don’t get too excited, not just yet. See, first of all, we have to ask her if she wants to meet you, if she does, then fine, but if she doesn’t, then, I’m afraid, we cannot introduce you; it’s something you’ll have to try and arrange for yourself, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, okay, I think so, but why would she not…’

  ‘It could be a bit of a shock for her, Mr. Kappelhoff,’ said West, ‘I mean, finding out that the man who raised you is not your father, it’s a lot to take in. You might have to give her some time to come to terms with the fact.’

  ‘Of course, okay.’

  ‘And there’s something else,’ said Munro, ‘which, I’m afraid, won’t make things any easier. You see, Lorna has been arrested and charged with fraud. We’re holding her in custody until we get a date with the Sheriff’s Court.’

  ‘Fraud?’ said Kappelhoff. ‘That is like stealing, yes?’

  ‘Yes. And it’s very serious. Chances are, she’ll be going to jail for a wee while.’

  ‘That is too bad,’ said Kappelhoff, despondently, ‘but, I will visit every day, and when she is released, we will…’

  ‘Good,’ said West, ‘in that case, we’ll give you a call just as soon as we’ve spoken with Lorna. Let you know what she says.’

  * * *

  The short hop back to Gourock along the deserted, coastal road filled West with an overwhelming urge to hit the lights and floor the accelerator.

  ‘This is a perfect stretch,’ she said, glancing at Munro, ‘there’s no-one around, just a short blast, what do you say?’

  ‘No,’ said Munro.

  ‘Just for a second.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ll ease off when we hit sixty.’

  ‘Charlie,’ said Munro, candidly, ‘unless we have just cause, or you can show me a piece of paper proving you’ve achieved Class 1 status behind the wheel, I’ll thank you to respect the speed limit. Okay?’

  ‘Spoilsport,’ said West. ‘Bet if I was a bloke, you’d … what’s up? You’ve got that look on your face.’

  Munro hesitated as he gathered his words.

  ‘Do you remember yesterday,’ he said, ‘Nick…’

  ‘You mean, majorly hungover?’

  ‘Aye. We saw him last night, on the Inverkip Road, outside a bar.’

  ‘Hair of the dog, I expect. Kill or cure.’

  ‘He was with a young, I mean, he was with a lady friend, canoodling outside.’

  ‘What of it?’ said West. ‘It’s not a crime to…’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Munro, ‘but something’s niggling me. I mean, why would he say he got blootered with someone who doesnae drink? Why not just say he was out with a friend and had one too many?’

  ‘Dunno. Maybe she’s married.’

  ‘Aye, there is that, of course, but…’

  ‘I can guess what’s coming,’ said West, ‘go on, what do you want?’

  ‘Well, if you’re agreeable, I’m not forcing you, mind, I’d like you to drop in the bar this evening, casual like, and ask for Nick by name, see if they know him.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I’m not really sure. We’ll play it by ear.’

  ‘You do know spying on a fellow police officer can lead to…’

  ‘Who said anything about spying? Just enquiring after a friend called…’

  ‘Yeah, right, like there’s bound to be another Nick…’

  ‘Do you know how many folk there are in Dumfries alone that go by the name of James Munro?’

  ‘Dozens, I expect.’

  ‘Well, there you go then.’

  * * *

  The mechanic, a stocky individual whose rear end was testing the build quality of his overalls to the limit, was buried beneath the bonnet of Munro’s car outside the station, cussing as he fiddled with a component. West parked alongside and killed the engine.

  ‘Hello there,’ said Munro, delighted at the prospect of having it fixed, ‘I understand the distributor failed, have you managed to sort it?’

  The mechanic grunted as he eased himself upright, turned to face Munro and scowled, his shaven head glistening with tiny beads of sweat.

  ‘Is this your vehicle?’ he said, accusingly, as he waved a screwdriver.

  ‘Aye, one hundred and twenty thousand miles, full service history and still going strong.’

  ‘Have you not considered buying something a little more … modern? Something that doesnae need a starting handle to get it going?’

  ‘Very droll,’ said Munro, ‘I’ll have you know this automobile has covered most of the British Isles, and in forty odd years, she’s never complained, not once. Unlike yourself.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said the mechanic, brusquely, ‘if you’re lucky, mind.’

  * * *

  Munro, drawn by the commotion from beyond the front door, dashed inside to find a stressed Constable Reid on the wrong side of the reception desk, doing his utmost to calm an extremely irate and somewhat volatile visitor.

  ‘I’ll not tell you again, sir,’ he said, ‘if you refuse to calm down, I shall be forced to…’

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ said Munro.

  ‘This gentleman, chief, he’s being a wee bit … obstreperous; keeps insisting on…’

  ‘Aye, that’s right!’ said Callum McKenzie. ‘I insist on seeing my daughter, she telephoned me last night, I’ve every right to…’

  West, intervening, leapt forward and stood so close that McKenzie could feel her breath on his face.

  ‘Oi!’ she yelled, through gritted teeth. ‘Back off, sit down and shut up, or I’ll do you for threatening behaviour, got it?’

  McKenzie, taken aback by the ferocity of her negotiating skills, duly complied.

  ‘Good,’ said Munro, ‘perhaps now we can enjoy an air of civility about the place, surround ourselves with some peace, love and understanding, okay?’

  West, grinning as she struggled to suppress her laughter, whipped round reception and headed for her desk.

  ‘It’s all a bit quiet here, Duncan,’ she said, ‘where’s Sergeant Campbell?’

  ‘Wheelie bin fire, miss, down by the bookies, he’ll not be long.’

  ‘And Inspector McGreevy?’ said Munro.

  ‘Stuck in traffic, chief.’

  ‘Traffic? His house is less than…’

  ‘Aye,’ said Constable Reid, ‘I know, figure he must be on a shout, you know?’

  McKenzie stood and took a few tentative steps towards Munro.

  ‘Inspector,’ he said, quietly, ‘sorry, look, I didnae mean to kick off like that, it’s just that Lorna said…’

  ‘All in good time, Mr. McKenzie,’ said Munro, ‘please sit and wait until you’re called, I have some urgent business to attend to first.’

  ‘Right, and I suppose it’s more important than…’

  ‘Aye, as matter of fact, Mr. McKenzie, it is. I hav
e to attend to a package that’s arrived all the way from the Indian sub-continent.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’

  Munro slung his jacket over the back of his chair and sat with a sigh.

  ‘Charlie,’ he said, ‘stick the kettle on, there’s a box of Darjeeling by the sink, I’m positively parched. Oh, and tell Duncan to take our visitor to the interview room, we’ll be along shortly.’

  * * *

  McKenzie, hands in pockets, paced the floor like a lifer in solitary, counting every step, toe to heel, wall to wall, muttering under his breath as his frustration grew.

  ‘At last,’ he said, as Munro entered the room, ‘I’ve been waiting for…’

  ‘Have a seat, Mr. McKenzie.’

  ‘I’d rather…’

  ‘Sit!’ said West.

  McKenzie promptly obeyed and sat like a chastised child, knees together, his hands folded in his lap.

  ‘So,’ he said, not daring to look at West, ‘when can I…?’

  ‘When we say so,’ said Munro, ‘first you need to understand why Lorna is here. Now, when you spoke to her last night, did she tell you why she was being held?’

  ‘No, not really, just said she’d been accused of theft. Has she robbed someone?’

  ‘Aye, she has,’ said Munro, ‘Freida.’

  ‘Freida?’ said McKenzie, genuinely surprised. ‘But … but how? I mean…?’

  ‘All that correspondence from the bank she said she was forwarding? She wasn’t. She used the information to gain access to Freida’s accounts. She’s been charged with fraud and deception and, before you get your hopes up, there is absolutely every chance she will be going to jail.’

  ‘But I don’t … her own mother?’ said McKenzie. ‘Dear God, what on earth was she … why? I mean, she had a good job, she didn’t have to…’

  ‘No, she didn’t,’ said West, ‘she didn’t have a job at all. She didn’t work at the Co-Op and she certainly wasn’t Assistant Manager.’

  ‘Are you joking me?’ said McKenzie. ‘She told me she…’

  ‘What she said, and what she did, are two different things. She’s been staying in a squalid little flat in Paisley, claiming welfare and living off Freida’s money.’

  ‘I don’t believe it, I just don’t … wait till I see her, I’ll give her a piece of my mind, no daughter of mine is going to…’

  ‘Mr. McKenzie,’ said Munro, sternly, ‘there’s something else you need to know.’

  Munro paused momentarily.

  ‘Charlie,’ he said, ‘would you pop along and see Lorna now. Fill her in about everything first…’

  ‘You mean…?’

  ‘Aye, then ask if she still wants to see her father.’

  Munro waited until West had left the room before continuing.

  ‘See here, Callum,’ said Munro, lowering his voice, ‘this is a wee bit awkward for the both of us, so, all I can say is, brace yourself for a bit of a revelation.’

  ‘A revelation?’ said McKenzie. ‘What kind of revelation?’

  ‘During the course of our investigation, we’ve cross-matched DNA samples taken from everyone we’ve interviewed who may, or may not, have been involved in Freida’s death.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘It’s thrown up some bad news. For you.’

  McKenzie took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

  ‘What kind of bad news?’ he said, quietly.

  ‘Lorna, is not your daughter.’

  McKenzie sat, stony-faced, staring at Munro, until, unexpectedly, he broke a smile and began to laugh, nervously.

  ‘That is ridiculous,’ he said, ‘that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever…’

  ‘Freida was already pregnant when you moved in together,’ said Munro, ‘she was carrying her husband’s child.’

  West returned, glanced at Munro from behind the door and nodded.

  ‘Okay Charlie, bring her in.’

  Lorna took the chair next to Munro, sat quietly and stared at her father, her face devoid of expression. McKenzie smiled back, tight-lipped and shook his head.

  ‘Lorna,’ he said softly, before erupting in a furious rage, ‘what the hell are you playing at lassie?’ he yelled. ‘Lying about the job? Lying about…!’

  ‘Mr. McKenzie!’ said West, ‘you’ll conduct yourself in a civilised manner or not at all! Do I make myself clear?’

  McKenzie slumped back in his seat red-faced as Lorna looked on, dispassionately.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, trying to compose himself, ‘Lorna, hen, tell me, what’s all this about the job?’

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘And the theft? I mean, your own mother? Why did…’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘If you needed money, why didn’t you just ask? I’d have done something, anything…’

  Lorna stared blankly into his eyes and huffed with indifference.

  ‘So, that’s it?’ said McKenzie, ‘that’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?’

  ‘I’m ashamed,’ she said.

  ‘Aye, so you should be. It’s a terrible thing you’ve…’

  ‘I’m ashamed of you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not fit to be a father.’

  ‘How dare you!’ said McKenzie. ‘Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?’

  ‘See, I know what you did, Daddy. I know why you stopped being a teacher…’

  ‘What? That’s not true, that was just a … just a … misunderstanding, nothing was proved.’

  ‘And when you couldn’t find any more schoolgirls, you turned to me, spying on me naked, getting your perverted kicks…’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Aye, too right I am. I’ve never been more bloody serious in my entire life. You want to know why I lied about the job? Why I robbed Mammy’s bank? So’s I’d never have to see you again. Never have to share a house with you again. Never have to breathe the same air as you again. You’re a filthy, twisted pervert, and you know what? I’m glad you’re not my father. I’m sick of the sight of you.’

  McKenzie, dejected, rose slowly to his feet and shuffled towards the door.

  ‘I’ll take you out,’ said Munro, ‘follow me.’

  ‘Can I go back to my cell now Sergeant?’ said Lorna, smiling with relief, ‘and would you do me a wee favour? Would you tell Mr. Kappelhoff I’d be delighted to meet him?’

  * * *

  Munro stood on the steps outside the station and couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for McKenzie as he watched him amble, dejected, along the street; his scuffed, yellow coat, flapping in the breeze.

  ‘What’s up with him?’ said Sergeant Campbell, appearing by his side.

  ‘Och, he’s just had some bad news, that’s all. How about you, Iain? Good day, so far?’

  ‘No chief,’ said Campbell, ‘mind numbingly dull. Just back from reprimanding a bunch of neds conducting a scientific experiment.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Using a wheelie bin as a combustion chamber and a bottle of petroleum as the accelerant. Had to run them back to their parents.’

  ‘You’re not charging them with anything?’ said Munro. ‘Criminal damage?’

  ‘No chief, it’s not worth it,’ said Campbell, ‘too much paperwork, besides they’ll probably get a good hiding off the big fella when he finds out.’

  ‘Never did me any harm,’ said Munro, ‘I must say, Iain, I’m not keen on all this politically correct rubbish being bandied about these days, if you ask me, it’s gone too far.’

  ‘I’m with you on that, chief,’ said Campbell. ‘Listen, I don’t suppose…’

  ‘Interview room. Give her a moment to get young Lorna back in her cell.’

  ‘Right, thanks.’

  ‘Incidentally Iain, have you seen Nick about the place today?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And no-one’s called him?’

  ‘Aye, Duncan, a couple of times, but he’s not picking up.’

  ‘Do yo
u think he’s alright?’ said Munro. ‘Should we not nip round and…’

  ‘Och, he’ll be fine, chief, why not give him a call yourself, if it makes you feel better.’

  ‘I will that, Iain. I will that.’

  Munro’s eyes flickered with a glint of optimistic delight as he noticed his car standing locked and unattended. He muttered under his breath, apologising to nobody in particular for berating the mechanic, slipped nimbly behind the wheel, placed the key in the ignition, leant back, closed his eyes, and gave it a twist.

  ‘Bugger,’ he said, pulling the phone from his pocket and dialling McGreevy.

  ‘James, you okay?’

  ‘Nick,’ said Munro, ‘I’m surprised you’ve answered, young Duncan’s been trying to reach you all day. Are you not answering your calls?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said McGreevy, ‘been a bit tied up…’

  ‘The lads were getting a wee bit anxious, that’s all, not knowing…’

  ‘Och, for crying out loud,’ said McGreevy, ‘I told Constable Shaw last night, he was on lates. Change to the duty roster, I left it with him.’

  ‘Okay, well, no harm done. As long you’re safe.’

  ‘It’s all good, James, just a few unexpected chores to deal with on the domestic front, you understand?’

  ‘Aye, okay, I’ll tell the lads, put their minds at rest. Oh, and Nick, give my best to Mr. MacDonald, won’t you?’

  Chapter 16

  There was little about The Oak Bar that looked inviting. A converted stable-block set back from the main road, its blackened windows, faded signs and neglected flower troughs filled with wilting plants did little to suggest a warm welcome and convivial atmosphere awaited those who dared to pass through its portals. Munro, lamenting the loss of his unobtrusive Peugeot, sped by, killed the lights, and parked the patrol car on the grass verge, fifty yards down the road.

  ‘Now, don’t go overboard, Charlie,’ he said, ‘we don’t want to raise any eyebrows, understand?’

  ‘Feel like I should be wearing a wire,’ said West, jokingly, ‘leave it to me.’

  * * *

  The frosty reception she’d half expected, did not materialise. There were no withering looks, no icy stares and no demands to leave, in fact, not a single soul took a blind bit of notice as she sauntered up to the bar. Two men perched on stools were sipping whisky, looking for winners in the racing pages of the Daily Record, whilst a young couple, engrossed in their phones, sat silently opposite each other at a corner table, looking, to all intents and purposes, like strangers in a waiting room. The sound of lilting fiddles wafted from the speakers on the wall as the barman, clean cut in an open-necked shirt, greeted her with a warm smile and a roguish glint in his eye.