Dark of Night

by Oliver Davies

  Ferguson nodded emphatically, staring at the furiously coiled avenging angel by my side. Circumstances couldn’t have favoured us more. I’d thought, getting up that morning, that we’d be bloody lucky to get anything out of the man.

  “Let’s start again, shall we?” I suggested brightly, my cousin’s cue to start the recording going again as he stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket. “Mr Ferguson, did you hire Mr Boyd and Mr Peters to do a job for you?”

  “Aye, I did.” The thought of a year in a secret government facility, being kept alive against his will, restrained and possibly denied all pain relief, was too much for him to cope with. It couldn’t possibly happen, at least I was almost certain it couldn’t, but he didn’t know that.

  “What was the task?”

  “To gain access to the Kerr estate and discover where Archie had buried those gold sovereigns sixteen years ago.”

  “What made you think they were there?” He glowered discontentedly.

  “Archie wouldn’t tell me where they were. He said they were cursed and could lie hidden for a hundred years or more for all he cared. There was something not quite right with him, ever since that job. I’ve always thought someone spiked his coke with angel dust or something, before he set off that day, to hurt me; to get at me.” Another little grimace there. “So it was my fault, in a way. They always go after the families, the kind of people I have dealings with, and Archie was the closest thing to family I had.”

  “But something made you think the coins were there, at the Kerr estate?” Ferguson nodded.

  “Towards the end, Archie got delirious sometimes. That last visit, in October, he didn’t even know me.” That had been upsetting. I could see that in his face and hear it in his voice. “But he was ranting about the curse and the Ogilvies and his boy Billy. I knew that the Kerr estate used to be the Ogilvie estate, and I knew Archie was familiar with the place. He used to poach there sometimes as a nipper.” He sniffed, “Archie was a lousy poacher, always getting caught.” He’d been a pretty lousy thief too, judging by his record.

  “So, Peters and Boyd? What did they do wrong?” He scowled.

  “That last time they were there, I knew they’d done something. The Kerr girl, Jessica, she wouldn’t have them near the place again. It didn’t make any sense, the way she turned on them so sudden like. So I had Mike persuade them to own up. They’d both taken quite a fancy to the girl and got a bit carried away with the idea as they were traipsing about, just the three of them. They were trying to get her to show them one of the empty cottages, ‘to warm up a bit’ when that gamekeeper passed by and she waved him over. She’d definitely twigged what their game was by then, even though they hadn’t laid a hand on her. They tried to make it all seem like an innocent misunderstanding, but that didn’t wash. She knew what they’d been after. As if a classy piece like that would look twice at a pair like those two! Then they made it even worse by making a dumb, veiled threat about how awful it would be if something happened to her uncle, before the gamekeeper reached them. Stupid fucking pricks! They hadn’t actually done anything, so she couldn’t really make a fuss about it, could she? Must have been feeling like a right fool too, for putting herself in that position with a couple of strange men.”

  So that was it, that was the niggle that had been bothering me.

  Dammit! Jessica Kerr should have told us about that, whatever they’d threatened. She’d played it awfully cool though, I had to give her that. Nothing in those messages to suggest anything other than that she’d decided they’d been wasting her time.

  “I couldn’t have them running loose after that.” Ferguson explained reasonably, “If she’d seen them anywhere around again, she might have decided to set the police on them after all. Besides, they’d really fucked up my plans.” He seemed relieved to be getting it all off his chest, now that he’d got started.

  “What about Billy, Archie’s boy?” Shay asked him, seething like liquid nitrogen. Ferguson shrugged.

  “Life goes on, doesn’t it? Archie was dead by then, so he couldn’t be hurt by anything anymore. He’d let it slip, that last time I visited, that Billy had something that would get me off his back if I ever went looking for him. The lad was pretty easy to find too. He’d trained as a mechanic, see, I knew that. We bribed their postman to let one of the lads check the postmarks on the mail, then scouted the garages around Kirkcaldy. Like I said, it was easy. The silly lad had even taken his mam’s maiden name.” He sighed. “Anyway, that photo confirmed that Archie had buried the coins on the Kerr estate, by one of the old boundary stones. It should have been simple after that. I got Peters and Boyd on board, and they came up with their little scheme. All they had to do was make a pretence of searching by the tower, then come up with another clue, leading to the boundary stones. Once they’d found the right one, they could tell the Kerrs it had all been a wild goose chase, and we could have gone and dug the stash up one night. Dead simple, and I knew I didn’t need to rush it too much. I’d consulted a specialist by then, had all the tests done… under a false name of course.”

  “Why did you have your boys beat Billy like that?” I asked. Another shrug.

  “I wanted him scared enough to keep his mouth shut. I suppose seeing him made me angry too, looking so much like Archie used to. It didn’t seem right.”

  “And after you knocked him out?” Shay asked. Ferguson knew what he meant. He shook his head.

  “If he doesn’t know himself, then I guess you’d have to ask Jimmy. I suppose he could have gone back after he’d driven me home, but I doubt it. Me, I’ve never laid a hand on anyone who didn’t want me to. I’m not like that. And it was Archie’s boy too for Christ’s sake! I reckon Billy would know if Jimmy had had a go at him. He’s not usually what you’d call gentle with the boys he gets his hands on… but some people will do anything for drug money.”

  “Not Archie?” I asked, seriously doubting it by then. Ferguson almost laughed at the idea of it.

  “He liked to party, but Archie was never a junkie. Randy devil, though. They call them sex addicts, these days. I didn’t mind his girls, but I’d have killed any other man who touched him, and he knew it.” He frowned, “Time spent inside excepted, of course, although I can’t say I liked it. We never discussed what he got up to in prison, or how I passed those times either.” He shrugged. I cast a glance at Shay. His fingers were twitching a little, but he’d decided to appear calmer, as long as Ferguson kept talking.

  “So then you had the solicitors’ broken into, to get a set of plans,” I prompted. That got me a surprised look.

  “You have been busy, haven’t you, Inspector? I didn’t expect you to know about that. Aye, that’s when I saw my mistake. After I’d compared all the measurements in the deeds with the plans, I knew our stone had to be the one on the Ramsay farm.” I couldn’t help sidestepping the main issues there for a minute, because one thing didn’t make any sense.

  “Pete, why did you even go after the coins in the first place? You’re dying, you have no family, and the money wouldn’t be any use to you.” He just shrugged again.

  “Everything I own is going to cancer research. That’s a damned sight better than letting the government take it. I thought Archie might have liked to think his crime ended up saving some lives too. I even had a buyer all lined up, ready to make an anonymous donation.” I blinked. I hadn’t been expecting an answer like that. I knew that a lot of people did attempt to balance the scales at the end, when they knew they were living on borrowed time, but I’d never have pegged Pete Ferguson as one of those. He looked at Shay, “And I drew up a living will too, refusing all medical treatment except palliative care… in case I failed to finish it myself in time. I don’t suppose that would make any difference to your lot though?”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” Shay told him icily. “Not if we decide to remove you from police custody. I’ll make up my mind about that when you’re done answering our questions.” He didn’t even need to narrow his eyes.
“Of course, if Mike had succeeded in killing Conall, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.” Even I couldn’t doubt the sincerity of that assertion. Ferguson just froze. I squeezed my cousin’s arm.

  “Pause it.” He reached over and flicked the recorder off. “Go and walk it off, Shay. I wouldn’t mind a coffee if you don’t mind. Please?” He nodded. “Would you like a drink, Mr Ferguson?”

  “Water would be good, thank you.” Shay got up and flung himself out. He could edit that last bit out while he was out there. I took a deep breath. Ferguson eyed me a touch enviously.

  “He worships the ground you walk on, that one. Any fool can see that. You’re a lucky man Inspector.”

  “He’s a good and loyal friend,” I said, in a tone that did not invite further comment. But he’d mentioned something earlier that I wanted further clarification on. “You said you think someone drugged Archie, the day of his last job? To make him violent and cause him to hallucinate?”

  “I’m sure of it,” he affirmed. “Archie wouldn’t hurt a fly, not unless he was defending himself; he could get pretty vicious then, right enough. And he had a blank in his memory, a few hours he couldn’t recall at all except for nightmare flashes of his dad coming after him to beat him senseless, maybe even kill him this time. The poor professor lady would be my guess. He woke up near Inverness with no recollection of driving up here. Then he saw the blood on him and the bag with the haul and freaked out. Once he’d pulled himself together, he buried the coins then headed back to Glasgow. He didn’t come home, though. He went on a bit of a bender, trying to forget all about it. You know the rest.” I could see that he believed it, but had Archie told him the truth? I didn’t suppose I’d ever know for certain.

  Shay came back with my horrible HQ coffee and three bottles of water. Once he’d seated himself, I gave him a nod, and he turned the recorder back on. “Tell me about Gareth Ramsay.” I’d decided to open again with that, “Why did you hate him so much?” It was risky, but I thought it was probably true. I made myself drink some of the swill down. It was just as bad as I remembered, but at least it was strong enough to have some flavour, and it was hot.

  “I didn’t, not for all those years. I despised him, as a gutless, homophobic, self-serving prick. He’d never even tried to defend Archie, or help him, but I didn’t actually hate him… not before we broke into that solicitors’ office.” He must have been thirsty because he half-emptied his bottle after that.

  “You found something else there? Not just the deeds and plans?” He nodded.

  “There was more than one file for the Ramsay family. Archie’s parents’ wills were there too.” He took a deep breath, grimacing again. “The dad died first, leaving everything he owned to Gareth. But he only owned half the farm. The other half was their mam’s, and it turned out she loved both her boys, regardless; unconditionally, like a good mam should. Even when the old man was still alive, she’d added a codicil to her will, putting aside ten grand for Archie if he ever married. Later, when she knew she didn’t have long left herself, she thought better of it and had a new will made up, cancelling the earlier one and leaving Archie nearly everything she had. Her half of the farm and most of her savings too. Making sure both her boys ended up treated exactly equally.”

  He emptied his bottle. “They suppressed that will though, never had it registered. Gareth claimed she hadn’t been of sound mind at the time and the lawyers went along with their ‘respectable, upstanding client’ and declared it invalid… for a fee, of course. Archie never knew. He spent his whole adult life thinking his own mam didn’t love him, that she thought he was a disgusting little pervert. He didn’t even want to go to the funeral! Besides, Gareth had threatened to call the police on him if he ever went near the family again. Archie could have built himself a good life, kept himself out of trouble, with an inheritance like that. He’d never have seen the inside of a prison again. He could have made a real go of that little place he bought instead of leaving it to rot.” He stared at me angrily. “I know what you’re thinking, but you didn’t know him. He had his pride. I could give him little presents, sometimes, but he had to make his own money, to feel right about what we were to each other. Gareth stole his future, our future. How do you think I felt when I found that out?”

  Christ! I couldn’t muster any sympathy for Ferguson, not knowing his history, but Archie’s sorry tale was more saddening than I’d ever expected to find it to be. And he’d thought, all that time, that the only person in the world who cared about him was this piece of filth. What a role model to stumble across when he was a vulnerable teenager! It explained a great deal about how Archie had chosen to spend his life. “So, you decided to avenge Archie by killing his brother.” I didn’t ask, I stated it as a fact.

  “Aye, of course, I did. I went down there last Tuesday night with Mike and Jimmy. Gareth had already caught Daryl and Vince poking around, but they’d convinced him they were from the camp on the estate. He came down to send us packing when he saw our lights, just like I’d planned, and then Jimmy whacked him with the bat. He was only supposed to knock him out, but Gareth turned his head at the wrong moment. We were going to dig up the coins, then take Gareth off to Archie’s old place, where we could take our time with him. I was hoping I might even get him to confess. Maybe Archie’s share would even have gone to Billy eventually, when the lawyers finished arguing about it.”

  He sighed. “Gareth died too quick and easy by far, but I could see he was done for after Jimmy hit him. Some of his skull had been caved in. So I finished him off myself, and we got the hell out of there. Jimmy can be useful, but he’s not very bright, and his self-control is almost non-existent. He didn’t understand why we hadn’t stopped to find and dig up the coins while we were there. We had a metal detector with us, and it wouldn’t have taken long. I was explaining about the amount of evidence we’d probably have left at the scene if we tried that when he lost his rag and threw the bloody bat into the brambles. Like I said, he’s not too bright.” Shay was listening intently, playing with his unopened water bottle, waiting. Ferguson stared him in the eye.

  “I was finished with it all after that. I told the boys that if they could still get the coins out somehow, they could have them. I wasn’t going near them, after that fucking mess. None of them knew I was dying, but they got it. If they still wanted to risk it, that was their concern, but I hadn’t done so well for myself by playing such long odds.” He sniffed. “I’d done Archie a better service than I’d ever hoped to and it seemed to me that would have to be enough. I went back to our rented house and started putting the last bits of my affairs in order. I picked early Saturday morning to do it, because it was the anniversary of the first night we ever got together. I’d never felt so good in my life before as I did waking up that day.” He looked at Shay, “Everything else that happened after Gareth died was none of my doing. I had no hand in it. Like I said, Jimmy’s not too bright, and Mike wasn’t much smarter. Are we done?”

  “Yes. We’re done.” Shay pushed his chair back and stood. “He’s all yours, Conall. I have no further interest in what happens to him, once he’s signed a statement confirming everything he told us.” He turned off the recorder then reached into his pocket, took out my unopened tub of painkillers and tore off the seal strip. He put two of them onto the table, by his full water bottle.

  “For the cancer research donation,” he said and walked out. I watched Ferguson swallow them down before following him. One of McKinnon’s people slipped in and closed the door behind me as I emerged. Yeah, we’d need a constant suicide watch on that one. He wasn’t slipping away that easily.

  “We’ll get the signed confession typed up for him to sign,” McKinnon told us when he and Caitlin came out of the next room to join us. “Sergeant Murray, would you mind seeing to that? DS Johnson will sort you out with a desk.”

  “Of course, Sir,” she replied smartly. “Great job, Conall. Mr Keane.” A nod to my cousin. Warily, I followed the suspiciousl
y cheerful McKinnon to the lift, wondering what the hell he was going to spring on us. Shay, catching my uneasiness, slowed his steps deliberately and lent me his arm.

  “How much has he figured out?” he asked, a whisper in my ear.

  “No idea.” I replied, “But I think we’re about to find out.”

  “After you boys.” Upstairs, McKinnon held his door open, ushering us into his office before closing it behind him. “Take a seat, both of you.” There were four chairs set out ready today, and one of them was already occupied. “You know Chief Superintendent Anderson of course Conall?”

  “I do,” I said, eyeing Bernard Anderson, head of the Highlands & Islands Police Division warily as I gingerly seated myself. “Good morning Sir.” I assumed he’d been watching a feed of that interview from up here. He flashed a reassuring smile at me.

  “Goodness, your faces. You look like a couple of naughty schoolboys, called into the Head’s office. Rather odd, James, don’t you think, after such a splendid triumph?” Anderson was a slender, balding fifty-three. He did look rather like one of my old headmasters, actually.

  “They’re an unusual pair, Sir.” McKinnon sat down and tapped at a thick folder on his desk. “Very interesting reading, all this.” Shay’s face went perfectly blank, and I did my best to emulate the look. Anderson smiled some more.

  “I had an interesting chat with the Chief Constable after James called me on Saturday.” He told us, “Then he had an interesting chat with the Minister who shook a few branches until that file dropped onto his desk.” He leaned back, studying us. “Rather an unusual little niche, you’ve carved out for yourself Mr Keane, quite remarkable really. Wouldn’t you agree, James?”

  “Aye, remarkable is one good word for it. I especially enjoyed the bit where they tried to sequester him, and forty-eight hours later, the countdown clock warning started up on their systems. Turned you loose again pretty fast after that, didn’t they, lad?” I shot my cousin a startled look. What? When had that happened? Not even the slightest twitch.