‘Some people say that the definition of madness is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.’
‘It’s hardly over and over.’
‘Sitting back and hoping the Crown can't prove its case isn’t enough,’ I said. ‘It's a strategy that didn't work last time and it won't work this.’
Kirkslap cracked open another miniature. ‘Mr Crowe has done more in one day to discredit the Crown case than Staedtler did in the whole of the first trial.’ He poured his drink and raised his glass to me. ‘I’ve you to thank for that as much as anyone.’
‘There are a lot more days still to go,’ I said. ‘Lots more damaging evidence to come out. Crowe can only try to muddy the waters. It’s not going to be enough for the jury. They’ve already read the newspaper report that you were found guilty last time. The judge can direct them to put that out of their minds, but how exactly do they do that? Put yourself in their shoes. What would you need to hear before you could return a verdict of not guilty or not proven?’
Sulkily, Kirkslap put the glass to his lips.
‘Larry, you have to stand up in that witness box and tell the jury that you didn’t do it. You have to tell them exactly what happened on the night of first November, but first of all you have to tell me.’
Kirkslap's face was red, his forehead sweaty. ‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ he said, quietly. He held up his now empty glass. ‘This happened. Drink happened.’
‘And your visit to Candy McKeever’s the other night? Were you drunk then too?’
‘Blootered.’
‘And the trip to see Violet when you threatened to kill her?’
‘I can’t remember a thing about it.’
‘And the first of November two thousand and twelve?’
‘Did I text, Violet? I could have. Did I kill her? What do you want me to say? That I didn’t? I’m sure I didn’t. I know I wouldn’t have. Can I remember if I did...?’ Kirkslap put his head in his hands for a moment and then looked up at me, the whites of his eyes red and watery. ‘Are you sure you want to put me in the witness box?’
Carefully, he lined up the four remaining vodka miniatures on the desk beside us. When they were arranged in a neat row, he took the first and threw it at the nearby drinks cabinet. The miniature bounced off unscathed. The next three weren’t so fortunate; they smashed, one by one, spraying glass and vodka everywhere.
When he reached for my half full bottle I grabbed his arm. ‘Enough.’ I held his arm pinned to the desk until his livid face returned to its more natural ruddy hue. I stood and started to clear the glasses and empty bottles from the desk. As I did, I looked out of the window. Princes Street Gardens were only a short stroll away. ‘Get your jacket,’ I said. ‘We’re going for a breath of fresh air. You’re going to tell me everything.’ I took the plastic bottle of spring water and handed it to him. ‘And if you feel like lobbing a bottle about - use this.’
Chapter 47
Upon my return home that evening, I was met by my dad, bearer of glad tidings. Arthur Campbell’s wife had caught some kind of virulent tummy bug in the time-share pool. They'd had to cut the holiday short, Arthur had managed to spend a full day on the cottage roof and work was progressing apace.
‘So, what’s the schedule for my birthday party?’ he asked, washing a pile of dirty crockery at the kitchen sink. ‘Everything going according to plan?’
I’d spoken to Malky again on my way home from Edinburgh. He’d invited all the usual suspects, ordered balloons, bought drinks, arranged snacks and booked both members of the Red River Trio. All that was needed now was somewhere to put everything and everyone. That was down to me, Malky said, seeing how he'd done everything else. Once I’d secured a venue I was to tell him and he would ring round the guests at short notice; my dad’s pals were highly flexible where free drink was concerned.
‘So far so good,’ I said.
‘Malky get the West Port okay, did he? Who’s all going?’
‘Do you want this surprise party to retain the faintest tinge of the unexpected?’ I went over to the cooker and inspected a pot on the hob that contained a blob of congealed mince. ‘This my tea?’
‘It’ll be fine if you heat it up. There wasn’t enough tatties. Oh, and suet.’
‘What about it?’
‘You don’t have any. How am I supposed to make dumplings without suet? And Jill called,’ he said, as I replaced the lid and put a light under the pot. ‘I told her you were working late. She’s going out somewhere tonight. She’ll call again tomorrow. Something important. She didn’t say what.’
What could Jill want to tell me that was important? The tall figure of Josh, standing on the side of a snowy Alp, flitted through my mind. ‘Did you get a number for her?’ He hadn’t. ‘Try and remember to ask her if she phones again when I’m out, will you? Or tell her my mobile number, so she can call me on that.’
He put the last soapy dish on the draining board. ‘How’s the case going?’
‘So much for your jealous wife theory,’ I said.
My dad dried his hands on a towel and chucked it onto the back of a chair. ‘What jealous wife theory was that then?’
‘From that TV show the other night.’
‘That wasn’t my theory.’
‘Well, whosever it was, it was rubbish. Turns out the least likely candidate for murdering Violet Hepburn was Mrs Kirkslap. Wait a minute, how many spuds did you have? I was sure there was quite a lot left, I bought a big bag a couple of days ago.’
‘There would have been plenty, but you had a visitor and she stayed for her tea.’
‘Stayed for my tea, you mean. Who was it?’
‘Your wee assistant, Janey.’
‘Joanna?’
‘Nice girl. There’s definitely not anything funny going on there between you two is—’
‘No, Dad. There’s not.’
He held his hands up, head height, palms facing me. ‘Okay, okay, I didn’t think there was. I told Jill that when she phoned.’
‘You what?’
‘I was only trying to help.’ There was a knock at the door. ‘That’ll be Janey. She nipped along to Cabrelli’s to get us some ice-cream for pudding. I should have told her to get you some.’
After a very small plate of mince and no ice-cream to follow, I raised the subject of Kirkslap’s trial when a news report came on TV, with a video clip showing the accused leaving court. They were still using the one from the earlier trial: Andy Imray proudly by Kirkslap’s side, trying to look all serious and lawyer-like, when he’d probably wanted to give a big cheesy grin to the camera.
As I soon discovered, the reason Joanna had come to see me wasn’t just to eat my evening meal. She’d had a phone call from Cameron Crowe before she’d left the office. He knew about Mike being called as a witness, but not about Kirkslap’s recent arrest for an alleged breach of the peace at Candy’s house. We’d forgotten to tell him.
‘He didn’t know until I mentioned it, and now he’s sure Fiona will find a way to bring it to the attention of the jury,’ Joanna said. ‘He was also going his dinger about Kirkslap. He says he can’t keep shovelling smoke and needs the client to give him an actual line of defence to put forward.’ Joanna licked the last of the ice-cream off her spoon and placed it in her empty bowl. ‘I’ve to tell you, to tell Kirkslap, that his memory better start improving fast. Crowe wants an hour by hour, minute by minute account of the evening of first November.’
‘That’s not happening,’ I told her. ‘I had a meeting with Kirkslap tonight. He’s a very heavy drinker, and, like most nights, he was rubberoid the night Violet went missing. He went hunting with Mike in the afternoon and stayed in alone that evening, he says. Just him, a movie and Mr Smirnoff. He never saw another living soul from about seven o’clock until eight the next morning, when he was picked up and whisked off to a business meeting in Edinburgh.’
‘That's more or less what he's said all along,’ Joanna pointed out.
‘So how does any of that rule out the jealous wife theory,’ my dad said.
‘Do you want the long or the short version,’ I asked.
He opted for the short.
‘She’s not jealous.’
Joanna asked for the longer version.
‘During our chat today, Kirkslap told me that he takes the blame for what happened between him and his wife.’
‘What did happen?’ Joanna asked.
‘He made a lot of money and suddenly found himself irresistible to certain women. Violet was the first gold-digger. His wife found out, told him to leave. He’s pretty sure she’s found somebody else now and the bottom line is that she doesn’t want him around. The way he tries to protect her from the mess he’s got himself into, I’m not entirely convinced that the feeling is mutual; however, they've made their bed.’
‘She could still be jealous,’ my dad grumped.
‘Then she’d have to spread that jealousy around a lot of women, not just Violet Hepburn,’ I said.
‘Why don’t they divorce?’ Joanna asked.
‘It’s complicated. When Larry and Marjorie married, her old man, Baronet Addison, was suspicious and there was a pre-nup. I don’t even know if those sort of agreements are competent under Scots law, but it stipulated that if they divorced, Kirkslap was to get nothing from Marjorie.’
‘Does she have anything?’
‘She owns the Addison estate which covers a fairly large chunk of West Lothian. There’s the big house, some woodland and a few farms that pay rent. She lives there with an uncle. Her brother emigrated years ago. He took his inheritance early and in cash. When her father died, Marjorie was left the estate.’
‘Kirkslap’s a multi-millionaire,’ my dad said. ‘What’s he wanting with a big old house and some countryside?’
‘Like I say, it’s complicated. A couple of years ago, in happier times, when it looked like P45 Apps Ltd would really start to take off, the company had cash-flow problems. Those were eased when Kirkslap persuaded Marjorie to mortgage the house. The money was paid straight from her account into P45’s. The company has the capital, the bank has the security.’
‘But wouldn’t she get half of Kirkslap’s share in the company if they divorced?’ Joanna asked.
‘Kirkslap says his wife has taken advice on that, several times. Some say she’d get half his shares, others that the pre-nuptial agreement works both ways. It would make for an interesting and highly expensive Court of Session action, which neither party would like to lose.’
‘So it really is an open marriage?’ Joanna said.
‘Looks like it. Marjorie has absolutely no motive for killing Violet. She would have been better killing Kirkslap. That’s proper revenge and she would probably inherit his share in the company.’
Joanna sighed. ‘Let’s face it. Kirkslap is as guilty as hell. He might as well plead.’
I wasn’t having such defeatist talk. Time for a morale booster. ‘Maybe you’ll change your mind about that when I tell you that following my discussion with Kirkslap tonight, he’s agreed to pay a whopping win-bonus for a result.’
My dad grunted. ‘Might be easier just to pick six numbers for next week’s lottery.’
‘Your dad’s right, Robbie,’ Joanna said.
‘Not necessarily. Violet’s body has not actually been found. It’s not even certain that she’s dead.’
‘Come off, it Robbie.’
‘Come off what? We’re trying to create doubts here. With a jury, anything is possible. Kirkslap was only convicted on a majority last time.’
‘Probably fourteen to one,’ my dad said.
‘And don’t forget there’s additional evidence this time - the threat Kirkslap made against Violet before she went missing.’ Joanna didn’t have to remind me.
I wasn’t put off. ‘When there’s no body and the case is purely circumstantial, there’s always a chance. A lot of the damaging evidence could be there by coincidence. Coincidences do happen.’
‘Trust me,’ my dad said. ‘When there’s a rich guy involved, there are no coincidences.’ He pulled himself out of the sofa, collected the dirty dishes and took them through to the kitchen. When he returned he had three whisky glasses.
‘What are those for?’ I asked. ‘You drank the last of my whisky the other day.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t kid a kidder. I saw that bag you were trying to hide from me when you came home.’
The man was an expert at finding things that weren’t lost. After Malky’s call, and with no obvious birthday venue available, I’d lashed out on a bottle of Springbank 18 year-old as a fall-back. Sorry, Dad, there’s no surprise party but, Ta-ra, a bottle of expensive whisky.
‘That’s not for just now,’ I said, failing to stop him from going into the hall where I had tried to conceal the carrier bag behind my briefcase. ‘I mean it Dad.’
Too late. His hand was in the bag and the boxed whisky was out.
‘Springbank? Now you’re talk… What’s this? The eighteen year-old?’ His moustache turned down at the edges. He might never have made detective, but Sergeant Alex Munro had worked this puzzle out.
‘Joanna,’ I said, in an effort to limit collateral damage. ‘Let me get your coat.’
Chapter 48
Day three of HMA –v- Kirkslap. Joanna had been dispatched to Livingston Sheriff Court and a trial, while I swanned around up at the Lawnmarket. We’d agreed to alternate roles, but I really wanted to be there that Wednesday morning because Fiona Faye, in an attempt to regain any lost ground from the day before, was about to spring Mike Summers on the jury.
‘Court!’ Lawyers and those in the public benches rose to their feet as Lord Haldane was led onto the bench. The macer, black suit and gown, white shirt, white bow-tie, hooked the silver mace of office onto the wall below the Royal Coat of Arms and pulled back the big chair for the judge to sit down.
Cameron Crowe gave me a sideways glower. ‘This is all your fault, you know?’
As everyone sat again, I turned to take a look at Kirkslap sitting upright in the dock, looking unperturbed as ever, but pale by his standards. The man was a born salesman and he was about to start another day of selling his innocence to the jury.
Mace, Judge and jury duly ensconced, Mike Summers was brought to the witness box. He had brought his iPad with him and was made hand it over to the court officer before raising his right hand to take the oath. I wasn’t looking forward to this, and it turned out to be a lot worse than I’d expected.
‘Idiot,’ Crowe said, stalking past me and out of the court around eleven-thirty. The jury was led away for a coffee break, coinciding with the end of Fiona Faye’s examination-in-chief of Mike.
Kirkslap was let out of the dock and I met with him and Zack outside the court. His fellow director had sussed the judge’s habit of breaking for elevenses, left early and brought back coffees for us all. Kirkslap looked like a man who was needing his. How many more miniatures of Russian fire-water had bit the dust after I’d left him the previous evening?
‘Mike’s really done a job on us,’ Zack said, taking the lid off his tall cardboard cup.
‘Not his fault,’ Kirkslap said. ‘He can only answer the questions they put to him. I’m the one to blame.’ He looked at me. ‘Does this mean Mike can talk to us again; once he’s given his evidence?’
It was possible for a witness to be recalled after he’d testified, but I expected the judge would allow Mike to be excused, and then he could return to the defence fold.
Zack sipped his coffee, if that’s what it was. It was very creamy on top and smelled of caramel. ‘I don’t know if we want him back in the fold. You ask me, he answered some of those questions too well.’
‘At least, we never heard any evidence about the other night,’ I said. ‘About you going round to Candy’s house.’
‘Me and my temper again,’ Kirkslap said.
You and the drink, I thought, glancing around quickly, smiling as though Kirk
slap had told a joke, trying to see if anyone had overheard. ‘Do not mention your, you know what again.’
‘My what?’ Kirkslap asked.
Zack tried to help. ‘He means your temp—’
‘That’s right. Let’s not mention it again,’ I said, drowning him out. How had these two ever set up a multi-million pound business?
‘Why did you go round?’ I asked Kirkslap in a low voice, hoping he’d follow suit with his reply.
‘I got a call from Candy. She said she had some important information that would help me in my trial. I took a taxi all the way to her place and then she refused to let me in. Just left me on the doorstep, while she started accusing me of murdering Violet. She was doing as much shouting as I was. I don’t know who called the cops. It was nothing. Just a bit of an argument so far as I can remember.’
There was no mileage to be had in telling Kirkslap how stupid he'd been. ‘I’m just glad that they didn’t call her to back up Mike’s evidence,’ I said, taking a cautious sip of my ridiculously hot Americano. ‘With any luck Crowe will take the edge off his evidence. Hopefully, Mike will be happy to assist his cross-examination in any way he can. Play things down.’
Kirkslap wasn’t listening. ‘What do you mean about Candy backing up Mike’s evidence?’
‘About the time you went round to see Violet, with Mike. You know the…’ I mouthed the word, threat.
‘Candy was there? I know I was drunk, but why would Candy have been at Violet’s? They hardly knew each other.’
I took Kirkslap by the arm and led him aside. The landing outside Court 3 was fairly busy with spectators from the public gallery milling around. Many eyes on the man of the moment. ‘You bought her a diamond necklace. Told her to be discreet.’
Kirkslap looked at me as though I were mad. ‘It’s possible I might have bought her some bling, but, if I did, it had nothing to do with Violet or being discreet.’
‘I spoke to Candy. That’s what she told me.’
A bar officer poked her head out of the door to the court. When she eventually spied us in the far corner, she came over and told us the court would resume in five minutes.
Killer Contract (Best Defence series Book 4) Page 21