Human Face

by Aline Templeton

  ‘Why did she get posted up here? She behaves as if it’s some sort of exile.’

  ‘No idea. They never told me and she’s close as a clam about it. Maybe after this she’ll be glad enough for a wee bit of peace and quiet.’

  ‘Given the field day the media will probably have with all this, that may well be right,’ Strang said gloomily.

  When they arrived back at the police office in Balnasheil and had to run the gauntlet of shouted questions from people with fuzzy microphones, Strang realised that he’d have to assure his family he was all right before they got panicked by the headlines. If he phoned his mother, though, there was always the risk that his father would answer and he simply didn’t feel strong enough to confess that the first time he had headed an investigation it had all gone hideously wrong.

  Finella. He’d phone his sister. Her brothers always made use of her to break the news when there was something their father wouldn’t like. She’d had her problems with him too but she somehow managed not to let that affect their relationship. She’d inherited her mother’s imperturbability and finessed it to an almost catatonic calm, so he could rely on her not to overreact.

  When he got back to his desk he called her number from the landline. ‘Fin?’ he said. ‘It’s Kelso.’

  ‘Ah. Thought it might be. You’ve survived, then?’

  He grinned. ‘Seem to have.’

  ‘Any bits dropped off?’

  ‘Not so far. Hey, can you—?’

  ‘Phone the wrinklies? Just because Dad will go ape? What a coward you are!’

  ‘I resent that. Catch you jumping into the sea in a Force 8.’

  ‘That’s what Dad would call “unnecessary heroics”. In his book you only appear in the papers when you’re born, married, get a gong or die.’ Then her voice sobered. ‘Did you find the woman that was missing?’

  ‘No,’ he said heavily. ‘I think there’s going to be a bit of a fuss.’

  ‘Right,’ Finella said. ‘Well, hang in there, kid. You know where to find me when you get back.’ She hesitated, then added with a lightness that belied the seriousness of her concern, ‘Apart from that, Mrs Lincoln …?’

  His throat constricted. ‘Oh – you know.’

  ‘Thankfully, I don’t know but I can imagine. Tons of love.’

  Strang rang off, blew his nose and then turned back to his desk. He’d better start marshalling something of a defence before he saw JB. She’d be carrying a lot of the blame for this disaster.

  It was fortunate that exhaustion and a slight fever kept Livvy Murray dozing most of the morning, since every time she surfaced another wave of misery, humiliation and guilt swept over her. She’d all but murdered Vicky Macdonald and it was only luck that meant Kelso Strang hadn’t drowned trying to save her. Far from being so impressive that she’d have to be returned to civilisation, she was going to be drummed out. It was just a question of whether they’d sack her before or after the excruciating torture of an inquiry.

  She would have said she couldn’t feel any worse but she realised she was wrong when she woke from a troubled dream to see Detective Chief Superintendent Borthwick coming in. Could she hope this was just another nightmare?

  No. The superintendent was clearly all too real. As Livvy struggled to sit up, she smiled, taking a seat by the side of the bed.

  ‘Don’t move. I’m not going to ask you how you are since you’d only feel obliged to sound upbeat. I expect you’re feeling as awful as you look.’

  It surprised a tiny laugh out of her. Then she said, ‘Oh, ma’am, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what to say …’

  She was interrupted. ‘Sorry? You’re a heroine.’

  ‘I’m – what?’

  ‘A suspect was bent on a lethally dangerous course of action and you put your life on the line to try to save her from what unfortunately turned out to be a fatal decision. In what followed, DI Strang mounted a life-saving operation which at least managed to rescue you, though sadly not Mrs Macdonald. Heroism on every side – a wonderful tribute to our modern police force.’

  ‘But – but’ – Livvy spluttered – ‘it wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Oh?’ Borthwick had very expressive eyebrows. ‘Wasn’t it?’

  ‘Can I tell you what happened?’

  She desperately wanted to confess, to share the burden of guilt, and it was a relief when Borthwick, with a wry smile, reluctantly agreed that she could. She told her everything, right up until the moment when everything went black.

  ‘She must have hit me. I don’t know what with – the power went first.’

  ‘A cast-iron frying pan,’ Borthwick supplied. ‘They found it on the kitchen floor this morning.’

  ‘Oh. I suppose that would do it. But you see, ma’am, I’d put her under arrest. This was a death in police custody.’

  ‘What?’ Borthwick’s expression changed. ‘Oh. That’s – unfortunate, to say the least. You’d certainly need to admit that when you’re questioned. Makes everything much more problematic. But I suppose you’d better go on and tell me exactly what happened.’

  ‘When I came to in the dark I took a minute to find the door. Then I saw light underneath it and I think I heard the back door slam just then. Beatrice Lacey was sitting on the floor in the corridor – I think Vicky had assaulted her – but I just took her torch and ran after Vicky to arrest her and try to stop her—’

  ‘Wait a moment,’ Borthwick said. ‘You said you’d arrested her already.’

  ‘Yes, I had. At least I’d told her I was arresting her but I didn’t have time to repeat the caution, so—’

  Borthwick visibly relaxed. ‘And what happens, Constable, if the caution isn’t delivered?’

  ‘Well, the arrest fails. Oh! I see what you mean!’

  ‘You didn’t arrest her, Livvy. You only tried to arrest her, so she wasn’t in police custody, was she? She was fleeing arrest, and you did your best to stop her coming to harm.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that, but I suppose it is true. I know I was stupid, though. I should have—’

  ‘That’s your opinion. It’s just possible that it may also be DI Strang’s opinion, or even mine. You were an untrained officer who found herself unexpectedly in a difficult position and if you showed a lack of judgement, it’s not surprising. But you showed a lot of courage too.’

  Livvy sank back against her pillows, her eyes filling again with tears of weakness. ‘I was sure I was going to be kicked out of the force. And I’d wanted so much to make my mark so I could apply for a transfer somewhere—’

  ‘Like Edinburgh, say?’ Borthwick was looking quizzical.

  ‘Oh, I know I’ve probably blown it—’

  ‘Not necessarily. You’ve shown a bit of promise and I think with training you could have a future as a detective.’ She got up. ‘Just work on getting better at the moment. All right?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. And thanks – thanks very much.’

  Livvy lay back against her pillows, thinking. The super seemed inclined to give her another chance, but what would Kelso Strang say about that? From the way he spoke this morning he wasn’t as inclined to view it all in such a favourable light as she had – and now she considered it, the way Borthwick had presented it sounded like a line you’d spin to feed to the media, and the inquiry that would have to take place might see it very differently.

  Still, there was the hint of a light at the end of the long dark tunnel she was in at the moment – as long as it wasn’t that oncoming train.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  When DC Tennant appeared in his office, DI Strang found it hard to be civil. He gave up the attempt when the man said gleefully, ‘All’s well that ends well, eh?’

  ‘I’m gobsmacked that you can describe a woman’s death as a happy ending. And it’s no thanks to you that PC Murray wasn’t killed as well.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Kelso, I wasn’t talking about that. And I can tell you that if I’d allowed you to talk me into going
out in that last night, we’d all have drowned.’

  The fact that there was a considerable amount of truth in that didn’t improve Strang’s mood. ‘Anyway, what did you want?’

  ‘Nothing, really. I just came in to say how pleased I am not to be a leper, now that you’ve reluctantly had to drop the moronic notion that I was a suspect. Of course, I forgot – I’m English. That was probably enough to damn me.’

  ‘Don’t be utterly ridiculous!’ Strang snapped. ‘We don’t have a cover-up culture, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, and the Met does?’

  ‘Demonstrably.’ He knew he shouldn’t have said that, but he didn’t care.

  Tennant gave him a look of profound distaste. ‘There’s obviously no point in trying to do this on a friendly basis. Detective Inspector Strang, I am making a formal request to have Adam Carnegie’s files released to me to facilitate the arrest of Harry Drummond.’

  Strang smiled. ‘Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late. He was arrested this morning by our own fraud squad. They’re dealing direct with yours.’

  Tennant gaped at him. ‘And what about me?’

  ‘I daresay they thought it was simpler to cut out the middle man.’

  ‘But it was me that told you about the money laundering!’ he protested. ‘It was my case – and I’ve spent months on this, stuck up here!’

  ‘Then I expect your bosses will wonder what you can have been doing,’ Strang said with sweet satisfaction. ‘You didn’t find the files. We did. I can only hope that book you were supposedly working on is going to be a bestseller.’

  Tennant had turned crimson with rage. ‘This is outrageous! I—’

  Strang cut across him. ‘I’m sorry, DC Tennant, I’m afraid I’m very busy this morning. If you have a complaint I can only suggest you take it up with the appropriate authorities.’

  For a moment he wasn’t sure if the man was going to hit him. Then Tennant swore at him and walked out, slamming the door behind him so that it rocked in its frame.

  Strang grinned to himself. That hadn’t been professional, but it was certainly satisfying. Then the grin faded. It was likely to be downhill from here on in.

  The helicopter had put down at the hospital in Broadford where JB was going to see Livvy Murray before she was driven down here. He could hear from the noise outside that the media scrum was getting worse; JB had called a press conference for midday, and she must be worried about that. He still couldn’t think of a way to present this in a better light.

  She looked, however, remarkably cheerful when she came in. Having made the conventional enquiry about his health, adding with her usual bluntness that he looked pretty rough, she accepted his terse, ‘I’m fine,’ with a nod then took a seat and said, ‘So – just the finishing up to do?’

  He looked at her askance. ‘What are we going to tell them?’ he said bluntly.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that.’ She produced a sheet of paper and handed it to him.

  He read it, then said, ‘But – but we can’t say that!’

  ‘No? Why not?’

  ‘If Murray hadn’t gone after her—’

  ‘Ah – if! We’re in the realms of speculation here, aren’t we? We just have to deal with the facts. PC Murray attempted to arrest Mrs Macdonald perfectly properly when she discovered evidence of her guilt then acted very courageously in attempting to prevent her coming to harm, though sadly her attempt failed despite your bravery in trying to rescue both women. With, of course, the help of Mr Macdonald, who after reporting her confession to you did all he could to save his wife.’

  Strang looked revolted. ‘And Murray’s going to say that to the inquiry, is she? It could come badly unstuck—’

  ‘Why? Point to a word there that’s untrue.’

  Strang studied the statement again. ‘I suppose there isn’t. But if she hadn’t—’

  ‘Tsk! There you go again, Kelso. I shall get quite irritated in a moment. You’ll have to go out there with me, looking suitably modest and self-deprecating. The chief constable is very excited about this. We need all the good publicity that we can get.’

  Oh, if the CC was pleased, that was it, then. He felt a stirring of rebellion at the slickness of it all; he had somehow thought better of JB than that.

  She read his reaction. ‘Yes, I’m deplorably cynical, amn’t I? You feel we should say that a very junior officer took the bit between her teeth and caused a disaster – oh yes, and in a spirit of self-flagellation you would claim that somehow you should have seen to it that she didn’t. And throwing you both to the wolves would accomplish – what, exactly?’

  Strang muttered, ‘Nothing, I suppose,’ but inside a small spark of rebellion still flared.

  Borthwick looked at him with an ironic smile. ‘Ah – you want the luxury of a totally clear conscience. With your years of service, I’m amazed that you still have one. Anyway, the CC is keen to stand down this operation as quickly as possible. It’s been expensive but cost-effective as against keeping a full-scale department for something like this that hasn’t happened in ten years and won’t happen for another ten. We’ve done the heavy lifting; the lads here can take over the tidying up. Do a handover, then appear at the press conference. After that, you can get on your way back. Oh, and if they talk about a medal, do you think you could manage a simper?’ She laughed at his expression of disgust. ‘Could we settle for lowered eyes and a shrug, then?’

  Reluctantly, he laughed too. ‘Lowered eyes aren’t a problem. Couldn’t look anyone in the face, posing as a hero of spin.’

  ‘I’ll settle for that.’ She got up. ‘I’ll be in Edinburgh this afternoon. Report after you get back.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Thanks, ma’am.’

  ‘Excellent. I’ll leave you to get on with that. I’m going across to Balnasheil Lodge to oversee what’s happening there – thank goodness the sea’s gone down. It’s a lovely day now.’

  Beatrice Lacey was feeling sorry for herself this morning. She had sneezed four times and she had the prickle at the back of her throat that presaged a cold – no wonder, after getting so thoroughly chilled last night.

  She was angry, too. Her ‘nice’ inspector – huh! – had seemed totally uninterested in the failure of his constable to help her at the time, and he hadn’t even sent someone else to look into it. She’d had to scrabble to get herself up off the floor and this morning her bad arm was definitely worse as a result. Then, having lost her torch, she’d had to grope her way back up to her bedroom and she’d bumped her head painfully on the post at the foot of the stairs. With no heating she’d been freezing cold even once she’d got to bed, and then been wakened in the early hours by the lights coming back on.

  At least she’d been able to make herself toast and a comforting hot chocolate for breakfast and now she was on her way down to find out what was happening. If they were going to arrest her because of the sleeping pills, she couldn’t stop them, but she was going to make her complaint anyway to a higher authority.

  She could hear voices downstairs and as she passed the first floor she saw the door to Harry’s room standing open. That was unusual; she’d never known him do that before. Could he have been allowed to go, just as she was hoping to do? Or – her heart leapt – could he possibly have been arrested?

  There was a group of people standing in the hall, two policemen in uniform along with a woman, who wasn’t. They turned their heads as Beatrice reached the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Who is in charge here?’ she demanded.

  After a brief hesitation, the woman came towards her. ‘I’m Detective Chief Superintendent Borthwick. Are you Beatrice Lacey?’

  ‘Yes, I am. And you are exactly the person I want to see. I wish to make a serious complaint. I was treated quite disgracefully last night. I’m looking to you to deal with it.’

  ‘Of course,’ the superintendent said soothingly. ‘Sergeant Buchanan will talk to you and get the full details. But for the moment, we have some questions that we need to ask
you. Are you aware that Mr Drummond has been arrested?’

  ‘No! Really?’ Suddenly Beatrice’s day had started to improve. ‘I knew he had killed poor Adam – I just knew it! And for him to try to pin the blame on me—’

  ‘No, Miss Lacey, not for murder. He has been arrested for alleged fraud. We will be wanting you to answer some questions about the finances of the Human Face charity.’

  Her face fell. ‘But – but I don’t know anything about that! Harry did all the finance stuff. I just kept the books and there was nothing wrong with them – nothing.’

  ‘No, I’m sure,’ the superintendent said. ‘But perhaps you would be willing to help us with our enquiries by making a formal statement at Broadford Police Station?’

  Beatrice felt sick. ‘I – I suppose so. But I’m not very well, you know.’ Then another hideous thought struck her. ‘You’re not going to charge me with murder when I get there, because of the sleeping pills?’

  The superintendent gave a wry smile. ‘No, we won’t be charging you with murder,’ she said.

  That, at least, was a relief. Then, ‘Oh! Could I get some things together and go and stay somewhere – Broadford or Portree, maybe? You won’t make me stay here?’

  ‘No, Miss Lacey, there’s no reason why you should.’

  That was something, at least. And as Beatrice climbed the stairs she heard the woman say, ‘Can’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to stay here either – ghastly place, at the best of times.’

  It hadn’t been fair, had it? She’d only wanted to do the best for those poor kiddies and as a result all this had happened to her. She hadn’t known the things that were going on – well, not really – and yet she’d had to suffer. Now the police were going to ask her all sorts of difficult questions and she’d have to keep her wits about her to make sure that they understood she was blameless and it was all nothing to do with her. Sooner or later, as the saying went, one must pay for every good deed.