murder. Now wipe that smug look off your face and get serious,
because there's only two people in the frame for it; you andAndrina.'
'Now wait a minute' Raymond exclaimed.
'I'm telling you son. Someone gave your mother the jab that killed
her, someone did the same for Uncle Anthony. Your girl's a nurse with
access to drugs. Where else would we look?'
'But you're ... That's crap!' The boy was rattled, at last, Stevie
Steele saw.
'Convince us. Ray,' he said quietly. 'Where were you when your
mum died. We know you weren't in Aberdeen.'
'I was with Andrina. I spent the night with her in Edinburgh.'
'So why didn't you tell us that right away?'
'Because my dad thinks I see too much other. I didn't want to start
another row.'
'And what about the night Mr Murray died? You saw him then,
didn't you?'
Ray Weston nodded. 'Andie and I went to see him in the evening.
He'd phoned her and asked us to come round.'
'So?'
'So we had a coffee with him, Andie fixed him a gin and tonic and
we left. With him alive!'
'When was this?'
'We were gone by about half past eight.'
'And afterwards?'
'I took her home.'
'And after that, what did you do? How do we know that you didn't
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go back on your own later and help the old man on his way.'
The boy shook his head. 'I can't tell you that.'
'You'd better, son.'
Ray's lips set into a tight line. 'No way.'
'Do you want to be charged with murder?'
'Now just a minute' the lawyer began.
'Shut up,' snapped Steele. 'Do you, Ray?'
'No.' The youth looked desperate. 'But I can't tell you. I was with
someone else.'
'Another girl?'
He nodded.
'You must give us her name.'
'You don't understand. I can't.'
'You've got no choice.'
'I have.' He pointed to the tape recorder, its red light on. 'I will not
say her name into that thing.'
Pringle shoved a notebook and pen across the table. 'Write it down
then,' he said, darkly, 'or you are locked up. Name and address.'
Raymond Weston sat in silence for over a minute, fidgeting, staring
at the table top and at the book. Eventually, at last, he pulled it
towards him, picked up the pen and scribbled two lines on the blank
page.
Pringle reached across and picked it up. As he read the words, his
thick black eyebrows came together.
'Oh shit,' he said, heavily, passing the note to Steele.
'Oh shit,' said the sergeant.
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'You took your time,' said Pringle as Mackie stepped into his office.
'I'd to stop to get the girl a lawyer.'
'Aye, I thought that might be it. What did she have to say for
herself in the end?'
'She said that when Gaynor died, she and the boy were spending
the night at her flat. But the flatmates were on nights, so there were no
witnesses to that. She says that they went to see her uncle early on last
Sunday evening and that afterwards Raymond took her home and
went back to Aberdeen.
'What about you?'
The burly Pringle's moustache drooped mournfully. 'The first part of
that agrees with his story. We've got that DNA trace, haven't we?'
Mackie nodded. 'Then we should take samples off the kids in that case,
just to see if either of them matches up. If they're lying about that--'
'I don't think the DNA will help us much even if it does turn out to
be a match for one of them. We couldn't actually prove when it was
left on the glass, and the kids could argue that they had been there on
another day. Anyway, Andrina seemed like a pretty straight girl to me.
I didn't think she was lying.'
'You'll better hope she was, chum. The boy's version of last Sunday
varies from hers. He says that after he left her, when the old man died, he was with another girl. Young Raymond's got something, or so it
seems; I just hope he turns out to be a lying wee bastard.'
'Why?'
'Because this is who he says he was with.' He handed the notebook
to Mackie.
The younger man ran a hand over his domed head as he looked at
the page.
'Oh shit. Who's going to break this news?'
'Toss you for it.'
'No, Clan,' he said, 'we'd better do it together; first thing Monday
morning. Meanwhile, I suggest that we take saliva swabs from these
two for the DNA comparison, then let them go ... to await
developments.'
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80
'What's wrong. Pops?' asked Alex as she stood in the doorway of the
Deputy Chief Constable's office. 'You've got me worried sick. Have
you got bad news for me? Has something happened to Sarah? Has she
miscarried? Or is it one of the boys?'
Skinner sat at his desk, gazing at his daughter, unsmiling. 'Sarah's
fine, and so are the kids. Grab yourself a coffee, sit down, and calm
down.'
'Calm down!' she exclaimed. 'I'm no sooner off the plane from my
holiday and through the door than you phone me and tell me to meet
you in the office - on a Saturday afternoon - and you won't tell me
why.' She looked tanned, but tired, as she filled a mug from the filter
machine on the side table.
'Early start?' he asked.
'Yes we'd to be at the airport for eight; that meant getting up at half
six.' She moved across to the group of low chairs in the corner of the
big room.
'No, don't sit there,' said Skinner. He pointed to a chair which
faced his across the desk. She shrugged, and did as he said.
'Did you have a good holiday?' he asked. Alex looked at him.
There was an edge to the question, something behind it. She sensed a
bomb waiting to explode.
'Yes,' she replied, looking him straight in the eye, 'we did. Now what
the hell is this? Why are you sitting there like a smoking volcano?'
There was something about his daughter's anger which made him
back off slightly. 'Sorry,' he said. 'I promised myself I'd keep my
cool. It's just that I've been sitting on this for the best part of a week.
I thought about dealing with it right away. I thought about hauling you
back from Marbella, in fact.'
She glared at him, astonished, but still on the front foot. 'And why
would you have done that? What right would you have had?'
'In the circumstances I'd have had every right. My reasons for not
doing it were personal, not professional.'
'Ah, I'm your daughter so I got to finish my holiday. This mystery
gets deeper and deeper.'
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'Actually,' said Skinner, 'I wasn't thinking about you at all. I was
sparing someone else's feelings.' He leaned forward, elbows on the
desk, and engaged her aggressive stare with one of his own. 'I don't
like it when my daughter's name is given to me as an alibi witness by
someone who's under suspicion in a double murder investigation. I
find it really, bloody, embarrassing - as did the officers involved, especially when the man in charge of the inquiry, their direct line<
br />
commander, is her fiance.
'Like I said, I've been sitting on this for a week, waiting for you to
get back from Marbella, so we could have this conversation. I'm
actually way out of order here, you know. By rights it's Clan Pringle
and Brian Mackie who should be interviewing you, in a smelly wee
room at St Leonard's, or Torphichen Place. But I'm bending the rules
again, just for you. So please, love, do one thing for me before we go
any further: get off your high horse.'
But her anger had vanished already, to be replaced by a look of
concern. 'Okay, Pops, I'm sorry. Now tell me what this is about.'
Skinner picked up his mug from its coaster, held it up to his mouth
in both hands, and sighed. He took a sip then, deliberately, put it back
down. 'Last week,' he said, 'Clan and Brian were on a joint investigation
into the deaths of two people, in very similar circumstances. We
were treating it as murder.
'They identified two suspects, one male, one female; there was a
very strong circumstantial case against them. Their defence in the
first case was pretty poor; they said they were together at the time,
miles away from the scene. That was all; no independent witness to
corroborate their story.
'But when it came to the second death, the boy produced an alibi.
He said that around midnight, when it happened, he was in bed with
someone other than his girlfriend . . . with you, as it happens. The
lad's name's Raymond Weston. Let's see, it was the Sunday before
you went to Marbella.
'So? Is that true?'
Suddenly, Alex could feel her heart hammering, her pulse racing.
She gasped, then took a deep breath, to steady herself, then another,
and a third. He was gazing at her across the desk, not angrily now, for
he had his answer. The detective, the man she had never looked in the
eye before, was gone. Her anxious father sat in his place.
'Yes,' she sighed. 'It's true.'
'Okay,' said Bob. 'The boy's off the hook. There was a DNA sample
left at the other scene anyway. It didn't match either of them.'
It was his turn to sigh. 'What is this, Alex, with this lad?' he
asked, wearily. 'I know you and Andy were having a bad time, but I
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thought you were still committed to each other.'
'We still are; I still am. It's just that he was being so, so ... stifling
at the time. He was choking me emotionally, and part of me was so
angry, and Ray was there, an attractive, interesting boy who fancied
himself, and me. There were no ties with him, it was all under my
control and so I said to myself, "Girl, you're only young once. Don't
let anyone rob you of that," and I had a fling with him. It's over now:
the night before I left for Marbella I told him that his time was up.'
She paused, and frowned. 'I didn't know about the girlfriend, though.'
'Serves you right then, kid. He went straight to her, more or less,
after he left you last Saturday morning.'
'Hah!' Her quick laugh took him by surprise, and strangely,
lightened him. 'So we were using each other really. Fair enough. I've
got no complaints about that.' She looked at him. 'Pops, when you
were my age, didn't you ever feel like that? Didn't you ever fancy
being with someone else? Didn't you feel oppressed?'
'Alexis, when I was your age, or a bit older maybe, I was the
oppressor for most of the time. However, since we're shaking out the
skeletons here, just after my twenty-first, I had a short but intense
fling with an emerging young actress. I won't tell you her name, but
she's quite a star now. It ended as easily as it began, no recriminations,
no regrets on either side, except...' He paused and grinned, scratching
his chin.
'Afterwards the guilt got to me, and I confessed all to your mother;
she and I were engaged at the time. She forgave me; there were a
couple of tears but she forgave me, just like that, after I'd promised
not to do it again. She didn't write about that in her diary though: it
must have been too big a blow to her ego, I guess, to be committed to
paper.
'Aye, she was some ticket, your mother. And now I look at you, and
I see history, struggling to repeat itself.'
'Don't bring Mum into this. Pops.'
'Of course I will,' he exclaimed. 'She's what this is about, isn't
she?'
'You hardly knew her! As you found out fairly recently, to your
cost.'
Bob shook his head, and laughed, softly. 'Alexis, my lovely
daughter, I knew your mother from when we were kids until the day
she died. You knew her for four years, and for most of that time you
were too wee to wipe your own bum. You can't even remember her,
girl, so don't presume to lecture me about her.'
'But you didn't know all of her. You didn't know what was in the
diaries.'
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'No,' he admitted, 'but I'm not stupid, and I wasn't blind. I knew
what a devious and manipulative little bitch she could be. I worked
out way back that Myra always got what Myra wanted ... even me, I
came under that description. But I didn't mind any of it, you see,
because I loved her and I wanted her to have everything she wanted.
'So if I had known about the tart in the diaries - and I still try to kid
myself sometimes, that at least some of those stories might have been
fantasies - maybe I would have put up with that too. Or maybe not.
Maybe I'd have broken her neck, literally. But no, your being there
would have stopped me from doing that.
'Alex, you may be imagining that you are your mother reincarnated;
you may even have enjoyed the notion during your escapade with this
boy. But you can take it from me, you are not Myra. I'm the linking
factor between you. I know, knew, you both, I love you both .. . Oh
yes, I still love her inside,' He tapped his chest, 'and I always will.
'I promise you, there are fundamental differences between you and
her. She was bright, for sure, but you're brilliant. She had limited
professional horizons, yours are boundless. But the most important
thing of all is this. Essentially, let's face it, she was bad. You? Through
and through, you're good. I'll show you proof: your reaction when I told you about young Weston's steady girlfriend. If you'd known about
her you'd have patted him on the head and sent him home. Am I
right?'
Reluctantly, she nodded. 'Yes,' he continued, at once, 'because
that's your morality. When we were engaged and on holiday, your
mother screwed my best pal, another woman's husband. Why? Because
she didn't have any morals, she didn't have any control inside her to
tell her what was right and what was wrong. When that's missing from
someone, there's no telling what they might do.
'I've spent my life dealing with people like that, Alex. The fact that
I loved your mother with all my heart, doesn't prevent me from
recognising now that she was of that sort. If she was alive now, and we
were man and wife, then that knowledge wouldn't prevent me from
loving her still. That's in me, though I keep it to mys
elf.'
He stood up, came round the desk and sat on its edge, taking his
daughter's hand. 'Now, as for you. .. you can play the bad girl as hard
as you like but you can't change what's at the heart of you: goodness.
That's how it is; pretending doesn't make you what you're not.'
He reached under her chin and drew her eyes back to his. 'Look,
kid, given my recent track record, I'm not the guy to lecture you on
how to run your sex life. I won't presume to advise you about you and
Andy either, about what you should do. I think I know well enough,
but you've got to work it out between you.
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'There is this though. You've put me in the most difficult professional
position I've ever encountered. Locked in my desk is an almost complete report by Mackie and Pringle on their investigation,
and you feature in it, as Ray Weston's alibi on the night of Anthony
Murray's murder. Now you've dropped in the last piece of the jigsaw.
'Andy's my Head ofCID. He's been preoccupied for the last week,
but he'll expect automatically to see that report, and he's entitled. He's
asked me about it a couple of times already, and I fobbed him off by
telling him it wasn't finished. Now that it is, there is no way I can
keep it from him, however much it might hurt him. If I even try, he'll
smell a rat.
'So,' he said, 'on Monday...'
Alex nodded. 'I know, I know. But you'll let me talk to him first,
Pops, won't you?'
'Sure; that would be best. Do it tonight or tomorrow though.'
'Yes. But when I do, there's something else that I know now I have
to tell him. It's something you should know too.'
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Andy looked at her across the kitchen. 'Let me sum up what you've
just told me,' he said. He was wearing glasses, rather than his tinted
contacts, but still she could see the hurt in his eyes.
'You've been having it off behind my back, with some kid who's
just about young enough to be my son. Now, through some sort of
Murphy's Law, that fact has become an important piece of evidence in
a criminal investigation, and three detectives under my command
know all about it.
'That's what you're saying, is it?'
Alex nodded, watching the ice cubes swirl round in her gin and
tonic. 'I'd say that was a fair summary of it. Andy, I'm sorry it had to
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