Gallery Whispers

  to go. There's no reason why I can't spend my time off here.

  'Why don't we plan next year on that basis, and see how it goes?'

  226

  She wrapped herself around him once more. 'Why don't we just

  do that,' she murmured. 'You know, Wayne, you really are a lovely

  man.'

  227

  75

  Brian Mackie stared out of his bedroom window into the night; it was

  raining hard in Musselburgh too. He looked across at Sheila, still and

  asleep on her side, facing the opposite wall, then crept softly out of

  the room and downstairs to the hall.

  He picked up the telephone, dialled Clan Pringle's divisional office

  number and asked to be put through to the CID office. A sleepy voice

  answered. 'DC Regan.'

  'Hello,' he said, 'it's Detective Superintendent Mackie here. What

  the hell's happening with the Weston and Paterson stakeouts?'

  'Nothing, sir,' replied the detective constable, awake all of a sudden.

  'Mr Pringle phoned twenty minutes ago, and I checked then with both

  cars. The girl's in her flat, but the boy hasn't shown up yet at either

  place. I've checked with Grampian, Tayside and Fife; he hasn't been

  in a traffic accident, and he hasn't been lifted for anything. He seems

  to have vanished, sir.

  'Er, there's one of these rave events on at Ingliston all night tonight.

  Maybe he's gone in there.'

  'That's a possibility, I suppose,' Mackie conceded. 'We'll have

  officers there; get Control to raise one of them on the radio and have

  the car park checked. Oh aye, and have the Pandas in the city centre

  keep an eye out for his motor in the streets near to the nightclubs.

  Long shots, both, but better than sitting all night doing bugger all.'

  He hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen. Wide awake, he

  made himself a coffee and settled down to read, in front of the gas

  fire. Gradually the warmth got to him: the pages of his book became

  more and more fuzzy until. . .

  He sprang back to consciousness with the ringing of the phone,

  jumped out of his chair and dived into the hall. Sheila was there

  before him, at the foot of the stairs, picking up the receiver. He heard

  her answer.

  'Hello Clan. Yes he's here. He doesn't look too sure what time it is,

  but he's here. Hold on.'

  Brian checked his watch; it was eight twenty-three. He took the

  phone from his partner and grunted into the mouthpiece.

  228

  'The boy's turned up,' said Pringle, gruffly. 'He showed up in his

  motor at his dad's house ten minutes ago. The girl still hasn't stirred.

  I've told the uniforms to stay on station and let us know whenever

  either of them makes another move.'

  'The girl could be on duty today, Clan.'

  'Naw. I checked yesterday; the breast unit doesn't work at

  weekends.'

  'Let's wait and see then.'

  'Aye. I hear you phoned during the night.'

  'Mmm. Couldn't sleep.'

  The neither. It's a bastard, this job Brian, is it no'?'

  'Tell me about it. Speak to you later.'

  He had just stepped out of the shower when Pringle called back.

  Sheila, well-groomed even in her dressing gown, appeared in the

  doorway of the en suite bathroom. 'Clan says,' she announced, 'that,

  and I quote, "The wee bastard is on the move already, heading towards

  the girlfriend's flat in Saughton." '

  'He says he's told the watchers to do nothing other than follow

  them if they move on from there. Failing that, he says he'll meet you

  there at ten o'clock.'

  He made a face. 'Sorry. I really feel guilty about working on

  Saturdays.'

  'That's all right,' she said. 'You can do the ASDA run on your way

  home.'

  He smiled. Domesticity was still a new experience for Brian

  Mackie: he rather liked it.

  229

  76

  'They're still inside,' Clan Pringle growled as Mackie slid into the

  back of the Vectra, behind Stevie Steele, in the driver's seat. 'Watching Live and fuckin' Kickin' likely. Ah don't know: chasing kids on a

  Saturday morning!'

  The rain had eased but the day was still grey and damp. They were

  sitting in a street made up of blocks of three-storey flats, with flat

  roofs, and steel framed windows which and seen better days. Ray

  Weston's car sat outside the second block along.

  'Potential double murderers,' said the younger superintendent. 'And

  the girl's a bit more than a kid. I wonder where young master Raymond

  disappeared off to last night. Probably a disco right enough, if he

  didn't take the girlfriend.'

  'Let's go and lift them and find out. Have you got the warrant?'

  Mackie nodded, took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket, and

  handed it across. 'There you are. Remember now, this warrant relates

  to specific offences, so we've got to treat this as a drugs raid; at first.

  Maybe technically we should have called in the Drugs Squad, but it's

  okay. I've cleared that with the boss too.'

  'Stuff the Drugs Squad anyway,' Pringle muttered. 'Let's just get

  them.'

  'Fine. Which floor?'

  'Top, sir, on the left,' Steele replied.

  'Do we know how many people are in there?'

  'The watchers counted three women in last night: Andrina Paterson

  and her flatmates; also one male, unknown, a boyfriend probably. He

  and one of the women left together, just after nine-fifteen. So that leaves Paterson, Weston and one other girl.'

  'Right,' said Mackie. 'Clan, it's your patch. Lead on, sir.'

  Pringle nodded, with a grim smile, and stepped out of the car into

  the soft drizzle. As the other two detectives followed, he waved to a

  car behind. Two uniformed officers emerged, donning their caps.

  The burly superintendent strode briskly along the street, his

  colleagues in his wake, and turned into Andrina Paterson's block.

  Saving his breath this time, he climbed steadily to the top floor,

  230

  finding a door with a paper pinned to it, bearing three names,

  'Paterson, Gallagher, Smith'.

  He nodded a signal to the others, and knocked, firmly.

  After only a short wait, the door was opened by a woman in her

  early twenties, wearing a long T-shirt which reached down to her

  knees. Her impatient frown turned to one of alarm as she saw Pringle's

  grim expression, and the paper which he brandished in her face.

  'I have a warrant to search these premises for controlled substances,'

  he barked. 'Stand aside please.' The girl had no option but to obey as

  he barged past her.

  'Ray Weston. Where is he?' asked Mackie, evenly. She pointed to a

  door at the end of the hall. Pringle stepped up to it thrust it open.

  The naked couple on the bed leapt apart. Ray Weston started at the

  intruder, white-faced and open-mouthed with surprise. Andrina

  Paterson clutched the cover to her chest, and screamed at Pringle.

  'What the bloody hell is this? Who the bloody hell are you?'

  Brian Mackie put a hand on his colleague's shoulder and stepped

  past him. 'Ray,' he began, 'we've met before on a couple of occasions.

  I'm sorry for the embarrassment,
Miss Paterson, but we can't give

  advance warning of this sort of visit.

  'Mr Weston, I have information that you have been in possession

  of and dealing in prohibited and controlled substances. The Sheriff

  has given us a warrant to search this flat, and your father's house.

  We'll do all that if we have to, but personally, I'd rather not. So tell me

  if you're holding anything right now, and spare everyone the bother.'

  The pale-faced boy stared at him for a while, then pointed to a

  black leather jacket which was slung over a chair beside the window.

  It was the only garment in the room which was hung up. The rest,

  jeans, a nurse's tunic, shoes, socks, male and female underwear, were

  spread on the floor. 'There,' he whispered.

  Mackie stepped across and picked it up. He felt his way into the

  right-hand pocket, and produced a tin of tobacco, a packet of cigarette

  papers, a lighter, and a roughly wrapped package, laying each in turn

  on the window-sill. Then he reached into the left-hand pocket and

  produced a small white, round, plastic bottle. He shook it, and heard

  it rattle.

  'What are these?' he asked.

  'Diazepam,' Ray Weston replied.

  'For which you do not have a prescription, I take it.' The boy shook

  his head.

  'And in the package?'

  'Marijuana.'

  Andrina Paterson was no longer looking at the detectives. She was

  231

  staring instead at her boyfriend, with fury in her eyes. 'You stupid'

  she began.

  'Later, lass, later,' said Pringle. He took a dressing gown from a

  hook behind the door and tossed it to her. 'Away somewhere else and

  get yourself dressed. We need you to come with us. You, son, you get

  your kit on right here.'

  'What about me?' The woman in the T-shirt was standing in the

  doorway. As Andrina Paterson slipped into the dressing gown and

  opened a dressing table drawer, the policemen turned.

  Mackie held up the package and the pill bottle. 'Did you supply

  him with these?'

  She drew in an indignant breath. 'I'd have chucked him out of that

  window if I'd known he had those.'

  'Before this morning's over,' Pringle growled, with an ominous

  glance back at the bed, 'the boy might wish you had.'

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  77

  'I'm glad you could come in to sit in on this, Karen; I need a woman

  for this interrogation. Normally it would have been DCI Rose,

  but'

  'That's all right sir. I was sitting on my hands today anyway. Wayne's

  taking Dennis for a drive up to Perthshire.'

  'What?' said Mackie. 'On a miserable day like this?'

  'He'd promised; whatever the weather was like, he said. Dennis has

  to get himself worked up for trips like that. I just hope his wheelchair

  doesn't rust.

  'Where is the Paterson girl?' Neville asked.

  'In the bathroom. We whipped the pair of them out of there pretty

  sharpish, so I said that since we were waiting for you, she could go

  and freshen up.'

  As he spoke, the door opened, and Andrina Paterson came into the

  room, a uniformed woman constable behind her. Karen eyed her

  appraisingly; she was a short girl, with a trim waist, neatly built but

  with strong, well-muscled arms, a trait that she had noticed before in

  nurses.

  'Join us, please,' said Mackie, standing and showing her to a chair

  across the table from where he and the sergeant were seated. 'I repeat

  my offer to you. You can have a solicitor if you wish. I'll delay this

  interview for that purpose.'

  Staff Nurse Paterson shook her head. 'No, like I said before, let me

  hear what this is about, then I'll decide. I haven't got the money to

  splash out on lawyers.'

  'If that's how you want it. We can stop the interview at any time if

  you wish.' He reached across and switched on the black box tape

  recorder, identifying himself and Neville formally, stating the time,

  place and subject of the interrogation.

  'Miss Paterson, I want to ask you a few questions about the death

  of your boyfriend's mother, Mrs Gaynor Weston.'

  The nurse stared at him, in apparent astonishment. 'But what about

  Ray's drugs?'

  'They've got nothing to do with you, as we both know. Anyway,

  233

  that's a relatively minor matter. Now: Gay Weston. You recall the

  circumstances of her death?'

  'Yes. She killed herself. She had cancer and decided to opt out.'

  'So you approve of that?' asked Mackie quietly.

  Andrina frowned. 'I approve of people having the right. A lot of

  nurses do. At the end of the day, it's often the drugs rather than the

  tumour that take people out anyway.'

  'When did you learn that Mrs Weston had cancer?'

  'Ray told me.'

  'Before she died?'

  The girl thought for a few seconds. 'No. Afterwards; he definitely

  told me afterwards.'

  'Did he say anything about the circumstances?'

  'He told me that his dad had discovered it. He told me that she had

  taken an overdose.'

  'Did he say how?'

  'By injection.'

  Mackie frowned. 'Didn't it strike you as unusual for someone to

  kill themselfwith a syringe?'

  'Why should it? People kill themselves with syringes often enough

  in this city. Druggies and such.'

  'Don't be flip with me Andrina, this is too serious. Come on, now.

  You're a bright person, I can see that. Haven't you worked this out

  yet?'

  She looked at him, silently.

  'Okay,' he said. 'I'll spell it out for you. I'm looking at a situation

  where I have two apparent suicides. I've got Ray's mother, and I've

  got your Uncle Tony. A big coincidence, for sure. You've been having

  a bad run of luck in the relative stakes of late.' Andrina Paterson's eyes

  narrowed and her mouth tightened. The superintendent continued, regardless.

  'This is where you really get unlucky though. Our pathologist has

  determined that neither Gay Weston or your uncle were alone when

  they died. They both had help; and that help came from the person

  who injected them both, someone who was skilful to professional

  standards with a hypodermic.

  'I hear you're damn good with a needle, Andrina.'

  The girl gulped; her hands began to tremble, but only very slightly.

  'I think I'd better have a solicitor now, don't you?'

  'I think that would be a good idea,' said Mackie, switching off the

  tape.

  234

  78

  'I'll bet you wish you were next door, Raymond,' barked Clan Pringle,

  looking round the drab, windowless room. 'Next door with your nice

  girlfriend and that nice Mr Mackie.'

  He glared across the table at the boy. 'Well you're no',' he snapped.

  'You're in here with me, and you're not getting out until you tell me

  what I want to know.'

  'That remains to be seen, superintendent,' said the solicitor. The

  man was frowning. More than a bit pissed off to be hauled away from

  the golf club, even on a wet day, the policeman surmised.

  'Listen, Mr Lesser,' he rumbled. 'You've got a right to be here,
but

  don't you think that you're running this interview. Don't you think

  that for one fucking minute. We're in charge here, Sergeant Steele and

  I.' He glanced to his left.

  'Now, let's cut out all the crap. Ray, son. Where did you get the

  grass?'

  The tall youth lifted his eyes from the table. 'You don't need to

  admit anything,' the solicitor whispered, but his client waved him

  away with a long slim hand.

  'From a guy I was at school with. I bought it from him.'

  'Are you going to tell us his name.'

  'No. He's a friend.'

  Pringle shrugged. 'Fair enough; you posh school lads stick together.

  Where did you get the pills?'

  Raymond Weston looked back at him across the table. There was

  something about the lad, Pringle admitted to himself. A sort of wild, rangy presence, not physically threatening to a grown man perhaps,

  but he could understand how he was able to dominate his roommate

  Beano, and to attract a tasty wee girl like that Andrina, even though she was a few years older than him.

  'I took them from my dad's study.'

  'Did you sell them?'

  'Not exactly. I swapped them for beer.'

  The superintendent nodded. 'Right. You can regard this as an

  official caution. Don't do it again, understood, or you'll be banged up

  235

  in Aberdeen, rather than studying there. You'd hate that, son; inside a

  week your arsehole would feel as if it had been cored like an apple.'

  The solicitor stared at him across the table, not knowing whether to

  be relieved, astonished, or to be flattered that his mere presence had

  made the formidable detective crumble. 'Well, if that's it.' He began

  to stand. 'Come on Raymond. I'll take you home.'

  'Sit down, man,' Pringle growled. 'Don't you know when the decks

  are being cleared. I'm going on to the real business now. Can you

  guess what that might be?'

  The tall youth leaned back in his chair. 'I could try,' he said. 'I'm

  bright enough to know that you don't send two superintendents out on

  a Saturday over a wee bit of smoke and a couple of junior aspirins. I'd

  say this has something to do with my mum and Andrina's uncle.'

  'Why would you say that?'

  'Because I can't think of anything else.'

  'As it happens, you're right. We've got evidence that both of them

  were helped to kill themselves. Wrap that any way you like, it means