Lamb to the Slaughter

by Aline Templeton

  ‘And then at the meal at night they’d all these knives and forks, and I didn’t know what to use, and it was awful. I told him I was leaving the next morning and we’d this huge row – him standing up for them and saying they liked me, as if I couldn’t tell they totally despised me—’ She broke off. ‘Sorry. It doesn’t matter now, anyway. It’s finished.’

  ‘Shame,’ MacNee said unemotionally. ‘But maybe you wouldn’t have adjusted, even if they did. Anyway, no more nonsense with Wilson. Big Marge knows, of course, but she’s pretending she doesn’t.’

  ‘Thank God for that!’ It was a heartfelt exclamation. ‘I was terrified. But Tam – I can’t go around with him professionally.’

  ‘No, she’s thought of that. He’s going to be stuck at a desk for the next bit. That’ll teach him!’

  He got the faintest of faint smiles. Then she said hesitantly, ‘There’s something else, Tam. Maybe I shouldn’t say it, because I could be wrong—’

  ‘Say it anyway,’ MacNee urged. ‘If you’re wrong, I’ll forgive you.’

  ‘It’s not you that would have to forgive. But anyway – you know the story about the sniper in the paper, after we heard about Pete Spencer being in the clear?’

  ‘I heard everyone went crazy about it.’

  ‘There was a real witch hunt, yes. The thing is, I was with Will when the news about Spencer came. We were all exclaiming, and suddenly he goes, “So it really could be a sniper then, right?” And basically we all agreed it was looking more likely.

  ‘Then about five minutes later, he suddenly said he had to get off home. The thing was,’ she paused again, looking acutely uncomfortable, ‘we’d – we’d been going to go back to my place, just for a bit. And he hadn’t had a phone call, or anything, though he said he did when I asked him about it today.

  ‘So he left, and then I rang a girlfriend and said I’d go round there instead. But when I went past his house, he wasn’t there. So I – I just began to wonder if he’d been taking the time to contact somebody – you know, with that story appearing this morning.’

  MacNee was intrigued. ‘So you think he’s our grass?’

  ‘He even talked about what the papers paid, once – then laughed about it and said of course you’d be crazy to do it. But Tam, I don’t see how we can prove it. The paper will never give away a source.’

  ‘I’ll have a think about it. Leave it with me, anyway.’ He smiled at her doleful face. ‘And cheer up, hen! You never died a winter yet!’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kerr demanded, but he only winked and left her to her task.

  Ossian Forbes-Graham stood in his studio, looking out across the courtyard. There was no sign of Ellie. She hadn’t been in her shop since he told her about Colonel Carmichael’s death and he’d only seen her occasionally at a window of the flat, like a fairytale princess locked in a tower. He’d always run out into the courtyard when she appeared, but she had consistently ignored his pleas to let him rescue her.

  But now she had chosen her protector prince, and it was Black, not him. How could she choose a man like that?

  He looked round the studio at the pictures he had created. Once, he had been proud of them. Once, they had value. Now, what were they worth? What was he worth? Nothing.

  Slowly, deliberately, he fetched a Stanley knife from his tool drawer. Slowly, deliberately, he scored the canvases across and across, then down and down. He threw the knife on the floor and then, with another look at the blank windows of Ellie’s flat, he sat down and put his head in his hands.

  Fleming appeared in the CID room looking harassed. ‘OK, Tam, we can get away now,’ she said, then, as they walked down the corridor together, wiped imaginary sweat from her brow.

  ‘Donald’s in a state about the press conference this evening. He wanted me to find something new for him to say, but there isn’t anything. And I can’t see that there’s likely to be anything more to report tomorrow.’

  ‘Unless something else happens,’ MacNee said thoughtlessly, and she shuddered.

  ‘Just – just don’t! Let’s get on with the routine. We have to believe that sooner or later some sort of rationale will emerge.’

  ‘Maybe it’s some sort of sick game, that’s all.’

  Fleming wasn’t prepared to acknowledge that. ‘Maybe our interview with Ellie Burnett will unlock the whole thing,’ she was saying as they went out into the reception area. A man standing by the desk turned his head as they appeared.

  She stopped dead. ‘Good gracious, Bill, what on earth are you doing here?’

  The desk officer said, ‘Oh, there you are, ma’am. I’ve just been buzzing your office,’ but she didn’t hear him. At the look on Bill’s face her heart had started to race.

  ‘What is it? Oh, Bill – the children...’

  ‘No, no, they’re fine.’ He came over to put his arms round her. ‘I’m sorry, love, I’m afraid it’s your father. He’s dead.’

  19

  Normally, DS MacNee would have walked the short distance from Galloway Constabulary HQ to the Craft Centre, but just at the moment walking along in the open street gave him an uneasy feeling, somewhere round the back of his neck, and he didn’t want to prove the sniper theory the hard way. He went to fetch his car.

  He wasn’t the only one feeling like that, obviously. The High Street, when he reached it, was unnaturally quiet. Such shoppers as were about were hurrying in and out of shops, and there were none of the usual groups of pensioners in casual conversation with friends. How quickly even a rubbish rumour in a gutter rag could destroy the cheery confidence of this couthy wee town! Bastards!

  He drove along, thinking now about Marjory Fleming, and her father. When Tam had joined the force, Angus Laird had been a sergeant: a rigid, old-fashioned policeman who wasn’t regarded with much affection by either his subordinates or his superiors. But no one had ever said he wasn’t dedicated to the job and straight as a die, and if his training of younger officers had been harsh, it had also been effective. His daughter was entirely different, in methods as in personality, but sometimes you could see the same steeliness of purpose, the same belief in justice and the rule of law.

  Tam and Marjory had never gone in for deeply personal conversations, but you couldn’t work with someone for as long as that without getting to know them pretty well. However much Marjory might believe she had rebelled against him, it was Angus Laird, and not her sweet-natured mother, who had undoubtedly been the major influence in her life. Tam suspected she might be taken aback by her own reaction to his death.

  Still, that was none of his business – any more than Tansy and Will Wilson were, but thinking about that brought a scowl to his face. Tansy hadn’t behaved well, certainly, but she hadn’t set out to be a home-breaker and, as Rabbie Burns knew all too well, ‘to step aside is human’. She’d just let herself be deceived, but there was no excuse for Wilson. In Tam’s book, if you’d been blessed with kids it was your job to give them the best possible chance in life, which didn’t mean walking out on them when it suited you. And Tam had no difficulty at all in believing that Wilson was the one who’d been leaking to the press. If he could see a chance to put the boot into the little bastard, he’d take it.

  In the meantime, he’d more pressing matters to think about. Bailey had agreed that he should stand in: Marjory wasn’t likely to take much time off, things being as they were, though they’d cancelled her evening briefing.

  When he reached the Craft Centre, it had a deserted air. Macdonald’s auntie’s coffee shop was closed, and with the chairs all piled up on the tables, looked as if it might well not open up again. There were no display lights on in the other units, but as Tam walked across towards Ellie Burnett’s shop, he thought he caught sight of a movement in Ossian Forbes-Graham’s studio, though he couldn’t be sure.

  There didn’t seem to be much sign of life in the flat above either and he wondered if Ellie Burnett might again prove elusive. But a minute later, in response to his knock,
the door opened and Johnny Black stood there. That was handy – two birds with one stone.

  ‘Sergeant MacNee!’ He greeted him politely but without enthusiasm.

  ‘Is Ms Burnett in? I was hoping for a chat with you both.’

  ‘You’d better come in then, I suppose.’

  As MacNee was following him up the steep staircase, he stopped and said in a lowered voice, ‘Look, can you try not to upset her? She’s been in pieces over this. She was fond of the Colonel, and then Barney too – well, you can imagine. It could just as easily have been Dylan, with someone going round taking pot shots at people. You’re not any nearer laying hands on him, I suppose?’

  That suggestion about Dylan again! MacNee filed it away as he handed out the standard line, ‘We’re pursuing several active lines of enquiry.’

  Black opened the door to the living-room kitchen. It was quite small and sparsely furnished, with kitchen units down one side and a table in the middle. Ellie was sitting in a rocking-chair in the farther corner of the room, slowly moving back and forth, and he went over to her and took her hand.

  ‘It’s the police, sweetheart. This is Sergeant MacNee. They’re trying to find out who’s done these terrible things.’

  The last time MacNee had seen her, she was singing in the pub, so lovely and with that heart-catching air of vulnerability about her. Now, her smoky, grey-blue eyes seemed too large for her face and the shadows below them were almost black. With her slight frame, she looked like a frightened child. No wonder the man was so protective! He kind of felt that way himself.

  Black perched on the edge of the table while MacNee sat down on a corner seating unit opposite. He said gently, ‘Ms Burnett – Ellie – I know this is difficult for you, but I’m needing to ask you some questions. They’re just routine. We’re trying to get a picture of where everyone was at the time the crimes took place, and what they might have noticed. Can you help us?’

  She licked dry lips. ‘I’ll try.’ Her low-pitched voice was faint and reedy.

  ‘Last Saturday afternoon – what did you do?’

  Ellie looked towards Black, as if for support. ‘I went to the meeting.’

  ‘The meeting about the superstore? What time would that have been?’

  She looked vague. ‘I don’t know. It started at half-past six, so I suppose I went a little before that.’

  ‘And earlier – what were you doing?’

  ‘I – I don’t really remember. I was here, I expect. Or maybe I went out shopping.’

  ‘You’d have been here, in the shop,’ Black prompted.

  ‘What time does it shut, then?’ MacNee found himself getting impatient. It wasn’t that long since Saturday – even if the woman was upset, surely she must have some idea of her movements.

  ‘Five – five o’clock, or so.’

  ‘So between five and, say, six-fifteen, you were either here or along the High Street?’ Ellie nodded. ‘Did you notice anything that now, knowing about Colonel Carmichael’s death, seems suspicious?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing. I’d probably just have been going along to the shops. I wouldn’t have noticed.’

  It would have been too much to hope that she had. He moved on. ‘Now – Monday night. Where were you when Barney Kyle was shot?’

  She shrank back as if he had struck her and the chair began to rock faster. ‘I was here. Where else would I be?’

  ‘Alone, while Dylan was out?’

  Black had begun shifting uneasily. Now he said, ‘I phoned you, remember? And I even know what time it was, because I’d been watching a league game and I rang when it finished – just around half-past nine.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said expressionlessly.

  It would be simple enough to check that out from phone records, if the need arose, but he couldn’t get his mind round the frail-looking woman in front of him managing to handle a shotgun, let alone aim it accurately. Black, on the other hand – that could as easily be setting up an alibi for him as for her, and MacNee rather thought the boss’s money was on him. But that could wait till he’d finished questioning Ellie.

  ‘You knew both the Colonel and Barney. Do you have any idea why the two of them should have been killed? Any link between them? You must have wondered.’

  The rocking became even more agitated. ‘I – I try not to. I can’t bear to think about it.’

  ‘If it had been your son instead—’

  ‘No! No! I can’t, I can’t!’ She jumped up and ran across the room.

  Black went after her but she turned. ‘Leave me!’ she said fiercely and went through the door leading to the bedrooms.

  He came back and sat down again. The chair was still swaying, as if the ghost of her presence lingered, and the two men stared at it for a moment in silence. Then Black said, ‘Sorry. She’s in a total state – can’t deal with what’s happened at all.’

  ‘I can see that. What has she said to you about it?’

  ‘She won’t discuss it. I’m worried sick about her. I think I’ve persuaded her that she and Dylan ought to move in with me. I’ll have to open up the business tomorrow, but I don’t want to leave her alone here. The neighbours are – difficult.’

  ‘Mrs Kyle?’

  ‘Oh, poor Romy! No, that’s awkward, but she’s not a problem. But Ossian – well, you saw yourself how he was behaving the other day. He’s all but stalking her and Ellie’s not strong enough to deal with that at the moment.

  ‘He’s over there now, you know, watching the place, and if she was on her own I wouldn’t trust him not to break in, or something. And to be honest with you, I think he could be dangerous.’

  Tansy Kerr had said that too. MacNee got up and went to the window which overlooked the courtyard. He could just make out a figure sitting in the unlit studio in a chair facing towards them. ‘Mmm. So when is the move to take place? Is her son all right with it?’

  ‘I’d like it to be tonight, but probably tomorrow. Oh, Dylan’s fine. Keen, actually – well, living above a motorbike workshop’s every teenage boy’s dream. And in fact, he’s dead worried about Ellie – doesn’t know what to do.’

  ‘I can imagine that.’ MacNee sat down again, and when he spoke his voice had a harder edge. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, there’s a few things I wanted to ask you too—’

  Black gave a crooked half-smile. ‘Oddly enough, I was expecting that. Before you ask, Saturday – I’m not quite sure what time you’re looking at, but I’d some kids round at the flat in the afternoon watching Sky Sport. I guess it was maybe eight, eight-thirty they left, and after that I’m afraid you’d have to take my word for it that I was there on my own till they came back for a beer – half-ten, maybe? Couldn’t be sure.’

  ‘You get on well with them?’

  ‘We’ve the same interests – bikes and football – and you can have a bit of a laugh. I suppose you’d put me down as a sad middle-aged biker, trying to recapture my youth. And I don’t have mates around here yet – one or two blokes I meet down the pub, but that’s all.’

  ‘So why did you move here? You’d a good business in ­Glasgow, mates there, presumably. Seems a lot to give up.’

  Black grimaced. ‘You might think so. But it’s not such a great job, raking through other people’s dirty linen.’ He paused, frowning. ‘You – er – know why I came here at first? It’s just...’

  ‘Mr Salaman doesn’t like his business being discussed,’ MacNee supplied, and Black’s face cleared.

  ‘You’ve come across him? Scary kind of guy. It always seems a good idea to do what he wants, sharpish.

  ‘But one of the things I like about the bike job, apart from the fact that I’ve been daft about bikes all my life, is that I don’t have to take instructions from people about what I’m to do today. Oh, there’s an owner, of course, with half-a-dozen businesses like this, but his big idea is to make profits without being bothered by details, which suits me fine. Stumbling across it was a lucky break.’

  ‘As was finding E
llie?’

  ‘Ellie? Oh yes.’ His eyes went to the door she had left by, as if he could see her by staring at it.

  The man had it bad, there was no doubt about it. Well, Tam couldn’t blame him for that. ‘Anyway,’ he said, getting back to business, ‘what did Salaman employ you to do for him?’

  ‘Wasn’t difficult – and more interesting than sitting outside rundown flats with a notebook and a camera. He wanted to trace an army officer who’d been in the right place at the right time. He could give me the name of the regiment and a couple of other minor details and after a couple of false starts Carmichael’s name emerged. Didn’t take long – and he pays well.’

  ‘Did you break the news to Carmichael yourself?’

  ‘God, no! Not my place. Job for the lawyers, I’d guess. Then Mr Salaman asked me to stay on a retainer, just do the odd thing for him. With ALCO in the picture, he wanted to keep up with what was going on.’

  He did, did he? Now, that was interesting. ‘And “the odd thing” you did for him?’

  ‘Wasn’t that much. He wanted to know about his grandfather, what sort of man he was, before he contacted him. Then after they’d met, he wanted a lot of local information, about the property, that sort of thing. Once ALCO came into it, he got me to report back about the situation. I arranged accommodation for him when he came, just for a look, discreetly. I was able to show him round without him having to ask and have it getting back to his grandfather that he was poking around.’

  MacNee’s gaze sharpened and unconsciously he moved forward to the edge of his seat, catching for the first time the scent of a trail. ‘Now, why would he be wanting to do all that?’

  ‘You’d better ask him. I didn’t.’ Black looked entirely relaxed.

  Mr Cool, that one. But MacNee had a trump card, and it was time to play it. He gave his menacing smile. ‘You see, Johnny, we’re interested in this “job” you were talking about having done for him, at the Forbes-Grahams’ party. Salaman seemed pretty angry about having it mentioned.’