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

by Pete Brassett

  West looked up at Munro and smiled.

  ‘And that,’ she said, ‘is what we call a motive.’

  ‘Aye, bag that too, would you Charlie? And we best let Miss Connolly know she’ll not be moving to Edinburgh any time soon.’

  ‘Right, are we off then?’

  ‘Aye. Now listen, once you’ve secured the car and called forensics, grab Iain and the two of you take yourselves off to The Oak Bar and invite Miss Connolly over for some tea and cake. I don’t care how you do it, illegal use of peroxide, suspicion of short measures, anything, just bring her in, okay? I’ll be with Nick.’

  Chapter 21

  Crawford, still in shock and wishing she’d brought a bottle of scotch to keep her company, sat alone in the side room, diligently watching the small, black and white monitor for any signs of movement. She perked up as Munro, accompanied by Constable Reid, entered from the right of the screen and sat opposite McGreevy.

  ‘For the purpose of the tape,’ he said, hitting the voice recorder, ‘I am Detective Inspector James Munro, also present in the room are Constable Duncan Reid and the accused, Inspector Nicholas McGreevy.’

  Crawford shivered at the unexpected pause as McGreevy and Munro glowered at each other like opponents in a chess match.

  ‘Do you understand why you’re here, Nick?’ said Munro.

  McGreevy, his face as hard as granite, said nothing.

  ‘Do you understand the charges against you?’

  McGreevy reached into his breast pocket and, without averting his gaze, produced a business card and pushed it with his index finger across the table.

  ‘My brief,’ he said, ‘I’ll say nothing till he’s here.’

  Munro, unwilling to entertain a delay of any kind, continued regardless.

  ‘As you wish,’ he said, standing up. ‘We’ll call him, soon enough. In the meantime, you’ll not mind if I think aloud? Ask myself a few rhetorical questions? No? Good. See, I was wondering about the rucksack in the boot of your car. It’s a wee, black thing. Did you know Lorna McKenzie has one just like it? Aye, quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? The unusual thing about it, though, is what was inside. Cigarettes. The kind Freida Kappelhoff brought back from Germany. I never knew you were a smoker, Nick.’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘I understand your friend, Maureen, enjoys a smoke,’ said Munro, as McGreevy flinched. ‘Oh, aye, we know about Maureen, Nick. She strikes me as the kind of lady who’ll not take kindly to finding out her partner was having a fling with a lassie half her age.’

  ‘No comment,’ said McGreevy as his forehead began to glisten with perspiration.

  ‘In fact, I dare say she’ll be furious when she discovers she’ll not be moving to Edinburgh now; but, the one thing I cannae quite explain, is why, when you already had the money, you had to kill Freida Kappelhoff, I mean, what could you possibly gain by…’

  ‘Now, hold on,’ said McGreevy, riled, ‘I’ve killed no-one, if you’re insinuating that I…’

  ‘Oh, dear, I appear to have hit a nerve. My, my, Nick, you know I never had you down as murderer, I always thought…’

  ‘Murderer? No, no, no, see, you’ve got this all wrong, I never…’

  ‘Then why did you meet Lorna that night? By the entrance to the glen?’

  ‘I … we …’

  ‘Save your breath, I know why. It’s all in Lorna’s statement. She brought you the hammer, the one she took from her Daddy’s house, just before Freida arrived, then you and she took a lovely wee, moonlit stroll through the glen, and that’s when you finished her off…’

  ‘I’ll not listen to this! I did not…’

  ‘So there’d be no way anyone could stop you from pilfering her money. Not even Lorna, which is why you were so keen to see her go down for the murder of her mother.’

  ‘That’s a blatant lie!’ said McGreevy furiously, as he rose to his feet, ‘I did not go to the glen, get it? I did not kill Kappelhoff. That wee bitch is setting me up, can you not see that?’

  ‘Then why did you meet her?’ yelled Munro.

  ‘To the give her the Goddamn paperwork from the bank! I told her we had to…’

  The room fell silent as McGreevy’s words tailed off and he slumped back down in his seat.

  ‘Thanks, Nick. That’s most … accommodating … of you. I’ll phone your lawyer, just now, let him know where you’ll be staying.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said McGreevy, fuming at his own stupidity. ‘He knows where I...’

  ‘Och, you’ll not be stopping here,’ said Munro, ‘with Miss McKenzie just along the corridor? No, no, I’ve arranged a nice room for you in Greenock. HMP Greenock. Rooms are a wee bit small but I understand the food is quite acceptable. We’ll be along to see you tomorrow.’

  * * *

  Crawford, looking drained, stood by the open doorway and waited for Munro.

  ‘That was sly,’ she said.

  ‘Needs must, Isobel. At least we have him now.’

  ‘He’s got quite a temper on him, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Munro, ‘so would I, if someone had just accused me of murder.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ said Crawford, addled by the ambiguity of his answer, ‘I thought…’

  ‘Theft by deception,’ said Munro. ‘He’s guilty of that, no doubt about it, but murder? I’m not so sure.’

  ‘But all the evidence … I mean, even you said, it all points to…’

  ‘Aye, it does, Isobel, it does, but where’s the proof? No, something’s not right here.’

  ‘Well, take a break, clear your head,’ said Crawford, ‘come on, let me buy you a drink, I could murder a bloody large…’

  ‘No, no. Sorry. I’ve someone to see just now. I’ll telephone you later.’

  * * *

  West, as jaded and as listless as a librarian at a book fair, smiled with relief as Munro finally appeared and joined them at the desk.

  ‘Miss Connolly,’ he said with a weary smile, ‘I hope I’ve not kept you long, it’s been quite a day so far. Quite a day, indeed.’

  ‘What do you want?’ said Connolly, venomously, ‘I’m not happy about this, you cannae keep me here, you know? I know my rights.’

  ‘Aye, I’m sure you do,’ said Munro, ‘and you’re right, of course, we cannae keep you here. We’re not charging you with anything, and you’ve not been arrested, so, you’re free to go, whenever you like.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re free to go. Whenever you like.’

  ‘Right. Good,’ said Connolly. ‘Maybe I’ll just finish my tea first.’

  ‘Okay, and while you do that, you’ll not mind if ask a question or two. About Nick.’

  Connolly glanced at West and back again.

  ‘Sergeant, here, says he’s in a wee spot of bother.’

  ‘Aye, unfortunately, that is the case,’ said Munro, with a sympathetic nod. ‘Can you tell me about the house?’

  ‘The house? My house?’

  ‘No, no. The one in Morningside.’

  ‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ said Connolly, ‘big as you like. Has something happened to it?’

  ‘No, but if you don’t mind me asking, I need to know how you and Nick were paying for it. Did you have a mortgage?’

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ said Connolly, slamming down her mug. ‘It’s a private matter. Between Nick and myself.’

  Munro sighed, stood up and slowly walked to the filing cabinet where he pulled a manila folder from the top drawer.

  ‘See this,’ he said, waving it casually, ‘this…’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Connolly uneasily, ‘I’m selling the bar. I’ve an offer on the table, and Nick’s putting up the rest.’

  ‘He’s selling his house?’ said West.

  ‘No, he’s keeping that. For work, he says. No, he’s an aunty on his mother’s side, not long passed on. She’s left him, well, a tidy sum; put it that way.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘
Aye, that’s how come we can pay cash.’

  ‘Okay Miss Connolly, look, thanks for coming by,’ said Munro, ‘I appreciate it, but, a word of advice, if you’ve not sold the bar yet, I’d take it off the market if I were you.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Sergeant West will fill you in. After that, you’re free to go.’

  * * *

  The office, save for the light filtering through the blinds from the street lamps outside, was in total darkness. Munro, his face cast in shadow, sat with his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his hands, staring blankly in to space.

  ‘Suits you,’ said West.

  ‘What does?’

  ‘The desk. You look quite…’

  ‘Oh, aye? Do I look a pen-pusher, Charlie?’

  ‘Well, you know your way around a filing cabinet,’ said West as Munro, frowning, turned to face her. ‘What was it? That folder you pulled? The one you were waving to scare the crap out of her?’

  Munro smiled.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said, ‘I just took the first one I could lay my hands on.’

  ‘You crafty sod! You’re one of a kind, you know that?’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ said Munro. ‘How was she? Miss Connolly?’

  ‘Furious, to say the least. Wouldn’t like to be in his shoes, put it that way. So, come on, you haven’t said, how’d it go? With Nick? Have we got him?’

  Munro glanced at West, took a deep breath and heaved a sigh.

  ‘He didn’t do it, did he?’ said West. ‘Oh, my God, you don’t think it was him?’

  Munro simply shook his head.

  ‘Shit. But who else is there? There’s no-one else in the frame, it has to be…’

  ‘Sit down,’ said Munro, ‘I’ve been thinking,’

  West pulled up a chair and sat by the side of the desk.

  ‘Okay, we know Lorna took the hammer, right? And we know she and Nick met by the path to the glen, he’s admitted as much himself, but see, here, Nick’s not a Neanderthal, he wouldnae bash someone on the head with a hammer, he’s too clever for that. I think he went home after he’d handed her the stuff from the bank. I dinnae think it was Nick who went a walk with Freida. I think…’

  ‘Lorna?’ exclaimed West. ‘You think it was Lorna? Oh, no, come on, her own mother? It’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? All that just for a few quid?’

  ‘We need to check, Charlie, because unless you’ve a better idea, I cannae think of anyone else who might have done it. Go fetch her coat and the FLS.’

  Munro cleared the desk, pulled the blinds and snapped on a pair of gloves.

  ‘So,’ said West, as she laid out the anorak, ‘what are we looking for, exactly?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure, but if I’m right, something that belongs to Freida.’

  Munro slowly guided the FLS over the hood and around the collar.

  ‘Why do I get the feeling we should’ve done this ages ago?’ said West.

  ‘We’re not infallible, Charlie, besides, we had no reason to. Och, there’s nothing. Turn it round, let’s check the sleeves, right arm, around the cuff.’

  ‘There!’ said West, excitedly, ‘go back. It’s not much, but…’

  ‘Could be spatter,’ said Munro.

  ‘If it is, will we have enough? Evidence, I mean, to get a conviction?’

  ‘Oh, aye. We’ve enough, alright. Wounding with intent, at the very least.’

  West switched on the lights and leaned against the wall.

  ‘So, if that does turn out to be Freida’s blood,’ she said, ‘I mean, well, it proves Nick’s in the clear, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Only as far as the assault’s concerned. He’ll still do time for theft.’

  ‘But what about the poisoning?’

  ‘Aye. The poisoning,’ said Munro, as he stuffed the coat into a large, paper bag, ‘now that’s more his style.’

  ‘Are you saying…?’ said West.

  ‘Aye, Charlie, that’s exactly what I’m saying. He’s our man.’

  ‘Okay, let’s run through this,’ said West, probingly. ‘Why? Why would he poison Freida?’

  ‘To shut her up. Cover his tracks. Look, if she discovered 250 grand had gone missing from her account and reported it to the bank, they’d say where it went.’

  ‘Alright then. But how? When?’

  ‘Well,’ said Munro as he perched on the edge of the desk and folded his arms, ‘we know he didn’t meet Lorna till after ten the night before Freida died.’

  ‘Yes, but do we?’ said West. ‘I mean, if she’s lied about giving Nick the hammer, then she could be lying about that, too.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Munro, ‘she’s no reason to cover for him, quite the opposite, in fact, and according to the Duty Roster, Nick left here around six, so that would’ve given him a window of four hours, or thereabouts.’

  ‘Yes,’ said West, ‘but where the hell would he have met her? You can’t exactly pour someone a glass of anti-freeze while you’re sitting in the pub, and Freida didn’t go out that night, she was with Mrs. Fraser, remember? They had their little, soirée, she wouldn’t have had time to meet him…’

  ‘Unless,’ said Munro, ‘he went to her.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘Nick. He could easily have gone to Dunmore and hung around for an hour or two before Fraser showed up, and still had time to get to Paisley by ten.’

  ‘Yeah, suppose so,’ said West, yawning, ‘sorry, my brain’s fried, ‘so what do we…’

  ‘I need you to do one more thing before you fall asleep and miss out on the largest vodka and tonic you’ve ever seen.’

  ‘I’m awake, go on, you’ve got me.’

  ‘Go bat your eyelashes at Doctor Feelgood,’ said Munro, thrusting the paper bag into her arms, ‘we need a match on this tonight. No need to wait, he can call you when he’s got the result. Iain can run you over.’

  ‘Okay, and in the meantime, you are…?’

  ‘Away to see to Mrs. Fraser. I’ll meet you at the hotel. In the bar.’

  * * *

  Munro zipped his jacket against the chill, evening breeze; crunched his way up the gravel drive; checked his watch and, though slightly embarrassed at the late hour, rang the bell and waited. The door was promptly answered by a prim Mrs. Fraser, beaming as though she’d been expecting him.

  ‘Inspector,’ she said, standing aside, ‘how nice to see you, come in, come in, there’s a snell wind about tonight.’

  Munro stepped inside, struck at once by the stifling heat.

  ‘Very kind, Mrs. Fraser,’ he said. ‘Look, apologies for calling so late, I hope I’m not disturbing your supper or…’

  ‘No, no, I’m just up to a wee bit of tidying, that’s all. Can I get you a…?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ said Munro, ‘I’ll not keep you long. I just need to ask you a couple of very brief questions, if that’s alright?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Fraser, ‘fire away.’

  ‘Last week, the night before Freida … the night you and Freida had your wee … get together…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I realise this may sound odd, but I don’t suppose you know if Mr. McGreevy dropped by? Inspector McGreevy?’

  ‘Och, you mean Nick? Why, yes, he did. You look surprised, you needn’t be, they go back years, we all do, you know that.’

  ‘Aye, right enough, must’ve slipped my … did he stop? Was he here long?’

  ‘About an hour, I’d say,’ said Fraser, ‘he took his leave when I arrived.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Aye, I think he wanted to linger but I must’ve scared him off.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Well, he’d brought some wine for Freida and it wasn’t her birthday, so…’

  ‘I see,’ said Munro, ‘and did you not think it unusual, him just popping round like that?’

  ‘No, no, Inspector, he and Donald, you know, young Duncan’s father, they do it all the time, I think th
ey both still held a torch for her, even after all these years.’

  ‘Okay, well in that case, I’ve just one last question then, the wine. Would you happen to … och, no, it’s too much to ask.’

  ‘Try me, Inspector, I’m not bad in the head, not yet.’

  Munro laughed gently.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘the wine,’

  ‘Riesling.’

  ‘Screw top or cork?’

  ‘Screw.’

  ‘Open, or…’

  ‘Open.’

  ‘And…’

  ‘A little acidic, I thought.’

  ‘You drank it?’ said Munro, surprised.

  ‘Oh, aye,’ said Mrs. Fraser, ‘well, just a wee sip, actually. It wasn’t what I’d call, palatable, and I’m not keen on white anyway, I prefer my Tempranillo. Freida didn’t seem to mind though.’

  ‘She drank it? All?’

  ‘Pretty much, then the Pinot.’

  ‘Pinot?’

  ‘Yes, I brought a bottle of red for me, and the Pinot for Freida.’

  ‘I see, okay, and what about the bins?’ said Munro. ‘I imagine they’d have been emptied by now?’

  ‘Och, if it’s the bottles you’re after, Inspector, we didn’t have a chance to throw them out, those friends of yours, the forensic chappies, they took them away.’

  * * *

  The bar, though annoyingly busy, proved a welcome distraction for Munro, offering, as it did, an opportunity to forget about work. Instead, he chose to castigate the owner for the deafening music, the clientele for their raucous behaviour, and the restaurant for threatening to stop serving food because this kitchen was about to close, a problem he resolved with a wave of his badge. His lip curled in disgust as the barman set down a large scotch and a vodka and tonic, and slid a half empty bowl of dry-roasted peanuts towards him. West, like a terrier on a scent, snaked her way through the crowd and claimed her prize.

  ‘That,’ she said with a satisfied gasp, ‘is going down far too easily.’

  Munro gestured to the barman for another.

  ‘So,’ he said, as West grabbed a fistful of nuts, ‘och, lassie, not those, please.’

  ‘Why, what’s up?’