The Third Sin

by Aline Templeton

  Upstairs there was nothing to detain her. Eleanor’s bedroom was immaculately tidy, almost impersonal; one of the spare rooms, presumably intended for her friend, had fresh towels laid out on a chair and a bunch of spring flowers in a bowl on the dressing table.

  It looked as if what evidence there might be here would have to come from the forensic investigations in the kitchen and she could only hope that something useful would emerge.

  There was nowhere to park when DS Macdonald and DC Campbell arrived at Ballinbreck House. A dozen cars were parked outside, half-on, half-off the verges so that the road was obstructed and the entrance to the drive was blocked by a delivery van from an off-licence.

  ‘We should get Traffic to come along and sort this lot out,’ Macdonald muttered, driving past to find a more appropriate stopping place. ‘We’ll be halfway to Balcary before we can stop at this rate.’

  ‘Walk’ll do us good,’ Campbell said and earned himself an exasperated glance.

  ‘Some of us get our exercise running,’ Macdonald said pointedly, ‘and it shows.’ Campbell’s love affair with Scotch pies was starting to take its toll. ‘Oh, here we are. This’ll do.’

  When they reached the house, it was heaving like an anthill. The weather, clearly, wasn’t reliable enough at this time of year to have tables laid outside but there were people erecting a motley selection of small garden tents and gazebos on the lawn in front of the house and a couple of half-oil-drum barbecues were standing ready on the gravel.

  Weaving their way through the helpers coming and going, Macdonald and Campbell went up to the front door. It was open and since there seemed little point in ringing the bell they went straight in. One of the helpers stopped and looked at them enquiringly.

  ‘We’re looking for Mrs Lindsay or her son,’ Macdonald said.

  ‘Kitchen – Philippa’s there. No idea about Randall.’ The helper bustled on.

  They could hear a clear, commanding voice as they reached the passage that led to the kitchen. ‘I’m afraid you can’t have the fridge for white wine, Peter. We’ll need it for the sausages and burgers. You’ll have to get ice from somewhere and find a tin bath …’

  Macdonald and Campbell had no hesitation in identifying the woman they were looking for. She was tall, as assured looking as her voice had sounded, and when they came into the busy kitchen she was facing in their direction. ‘Yes?’ she said sharply. ‘What do you want?’

  They produced warrant cards. ‘Mrs Lindsay? DS Macdonald and DC Campbell,’ Macdonald said. ‘Just wanting a word, if you don’t mind.’

  Philippa’s carefully shaped eyebrows shot up. ‘A word? Just now? Oh, I don’t believe it! This is absolutely surreal. I spoke to someone yesterday and I’ve nothing to add to what I told them then. My good man, we have more than a hundred people coming here tonight. I’m afraid I don’t have the time to spare.’

  It was a positive pleasure to say, ‘Sorry, Mrs Stewart. I must insist.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘When did this become a police state? Am I to expect that if I refuse, you will arrest me on some trumped-up charge?’

  ‘Obstruction, you mean?’ Macdonald said, unmoved. ‘Well, we could, madam, but I’m hoping we won’t have to. Is there somewhere quieter?’

  Philippa gasped, as if she were at a loss for words. Activity had stopped round about as the helpers exchanged glances and after a moment she collected herself. Ignoring them, she turned to one of the women.

  ‘Fiona, I’m going to have to sort out whatever ridiculous thing it is that these men want – probably something to do with health and safety. Can you be an angel and take over here? I’ll get rid of them as quickly as I can.’

  She said, ‘Come this way,’ with a look that was, Macdonald thought, the kind you would direct at something brought in on the sole of your shoe. He grinned inwardly. Getting someone thoroughly irritated was an excellent way of putting them off balance.

  Philippa led them upstairs to what seemed to be some sort of snug, a small room with not much in it beyond a couple of sofas, a coffee table and a large flat-screen TV. From the glimpses Macdonald had seen of the rather grand rooms on the ground floor, you’d need somewhere like this if you ever wanted to loosen your tie.

  She waved them to one of the sofas and sat down herself on the other one. ‘Now,’ she said icily, ‘perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell me what all this is about. I have to say I have found your attitude very surprising.’

  ‘I do apologise, madam. I hope this won’t take up too much of your time. Can you tell us where you were between the hours of twelve noon and four p.m. yesterday?’

  ‘Yesterday? I doubt if I can, really. As you can imagine, I was dashing about. There has been a great deal to organise, a good number of people to see. I’m not sure that I could give you chapter and verse.’

  ‘I’d be obliged if you could try.’

  ‘Oh, really! Very well then. I spent some time here with two of my helpers, then I went into the village to pick up a couple of things in the shop. I couldn’t tell you the exact time but perhaps the shopkeeper will remember. Then I spoke to one or two people in the street – I’m not sure how long that took. After that I know I came back to the house—’

  ‘This would be at what time?’

  ‘Good gracious, I don’t know. I don’t go about with a stopwatch. After that I drove to Kirkcudbright – I had to check on delivery times for the wine and glasses.’

  ‘Didn’t just phone them?’ Campbell said. ‘You being so busy.’

  She looked at him as if surprised he could speak. ‘No. I had one or two other things I wanted to do there as well.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Oh – personal shopping, if it’s any of your business. Look, what is all this about?’

  ‘Let’s work this out,’ Macdonald said. ‘You don’t know when you left for Kirkcudbright. When did you get back?’

  ‘Around four o’clock, I think. Shortly after that, perhaps.’

  ‘Can anyone vouch for that?’

  Philippa shrugged. ‘Most people had gone home but I think Fiona McCarthy was still around. She might recall the time.’

  ‘Thank you. That gives us a useful starting point. A uniformed officer will come round to take a formal statement and at that time you will be asked for names and contact details of the people who can confirm your account.’

  She gave him a level look. ‘You’re treating me as if I were guilty of something. I demand to know what it is.’

  ‘Do you know Mrs Eleanor Margrave?’

  ‘Yes, of course. She comes into our warehouse shop sometimes – she has very good taste.’

  ‘You’re friends?’

  ‘Not friends, no – just acquaintances, really. Has – has something happened to her?’

  Macdonald couldn’t make up his mind if that was an innocent question; she had asked it with just the degree of anxiety you might expect when someone had started putting two and two together, but it wouldn’t be hard to fake that.

  ‘I’m afraid her body was recovered from the Solway yesterday and we are treating her death as suspicious.’

  Philippa’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh no! How dreadful! You mean – not an accident or suicide?’

  Macdonald repeated that they were treating the death as suspicious. ‘Is there anyone you can think of who might have had reason to want to harm Mrs Margrave?’

  He was expecting the answer he got, that it was unimaginable that anyone would. He nodded. ‘Thank you. We won’t take up any more of your time, Mrs Lindsay. We also want to speak to your son.’

  She was on her feet before he had finished the second sentence and when he did, she gave a short laugh. ‘Good luck, that’s all I can say! I’ve been looking for him all morning – had a dozen things I wanted him to do, but he’s made himself scarce. When next I see him I’ll tell him you’re looking for him. And now if you’ll excuse me …’

  As they walked back to the car, Macdonald said, ‘What did you mak
e of that? Cool as an iceberg. I’ve no idea whether she was lying or not, but from her account of her movements she could have had the time, if she had a motive. Anyway, we’d better report back to Big Marge and see what she wants us to do about Randall.’

  DS MacNee and DC Hepburn had just arrived at Sea House when DI Fleming finished her inspection and was struggling out of the overalls and stripping off her plastic gloves to drop in a bin by the side of the path. She walked down to the gate to meet them.

  ‘How did you get on with Mrs James? Was she able to give you a coherent account?’

  For some reason that was funny. ‘You could say,’ MacNee said dryly.

  Hepburn nodded. ‘She’s what you’d call formidable. Ran some government department.’

  Fleming was interested. ‘A battleaxe?’

  They looked at each other. ‘Not quite – firm but fair, probably. In a scary sort of way,’ Hepburn said. ‘She’ll make a great witness.’

  ‘So – anything useful?’

  ‘Not directly,’ MacNee said. ‘She arrived, she saw the body in the water, she hailed a passing car and the driver called in to us. There was a wee bit of background – Julia was a spoilt child, Eleanor felt ashamed of what happened. But Mrs James came up with something that could be of interest.’ He relayed what she had said about Eleanor’s mermaid.

  Fleming too was intrigued. ‘That’s fascinating. Raises all sorts of interesting questions. I wonder if she made any record of it? There was a SOCO going through her papers so we should get those before too long.

  ‘Now, did you see Macdonald and Campbell? No? They may be a while, with both the Lindsays to interview. Tam, I want to have another go at Skye Falconer so you can come with me. Louise, I’d like you to go back to Kirkluce. Inspector Wallace has sent through some interviews with neighbours and I’d like you to check those out, and anything else that comes in. But go off at the end of your shift. You’ll be working tonight at the party and you ought to have a break.’

  ‘Wish me luck!’ Hepburn rolled her eyes, but took the car keys from MacNee.

  ‘I do wonder about the mermaid,’ Fleming said as she and MacNee set off along the road to Ballinbreck. ‘This could be highly significant.’

  ‘Aye – the night of the storm, and the shock and bruising. The sort of thing you might expect if she’d been in some sort of accident, maybe – like a car going off the road with a murdered man inside it.’

  ‘It’s just a pity the Dumfries lads didn’t manage to pinpoint where the car went in the river. It was a long shot, of course, all that time afterwards. That’s the house there, isn’t it?’ She drew in to park.

  It wasn’t Skye Falconer who opened the door. ‘Jen Wilson?’ Fleming asked.

  The woman’s face was sombre and she waved them in at once. ‘I thought probably someone would be round because of the Julia connection. What a terrible thing – poor Mrs Margrave.’

  ‘You’ve heard, then?’

  ‘I went to get some rolls for breakfast and it’s all over the town. Is it true?’

  Fleming repeated the usual mantra and Jen called through to the back of the house, ‘Skye, it’s the police,’ as she showed them into the sitting room at the front.

  ‘Perhaps we could talk to you first.’ When Skye appeared in the doorway, Fleming said firmly, ‘We’ll speak to you later on your own, Miss Falconer.’

  Skye was looking tired, with dark shadows under her eyes and she directed a look at her friend – helpless, appealing? – as if she hoped Jen would argue, but then withdrew.

  ‘I think this is probably quite straightforward,’ Fleming said as they sat down. ‘Can you tell us where you were yesterday between noon and four pm?’

  ‘At school, of course. It was probably after four when I left, so I suppose it was around quarter past, twenty past maybe, by the time I got home.’

  ‘I see. Do you have a car, Miss Wilson?’

  ‘Yes, but I always walk to school.’

  ‘The keys are kept – where?’

  ‘On a hook in the hall, by the door. Wait a minute – you don’t think Skye had anything to do with this? She wouldn’t—’

  ‘We don’t think anything at this stage, madam. We just ask questions. Was Miss Falconer here when you got back?’

  ‘Yes, she was. And she’d just made scones too,’ Jen said. ‘So I should think she’d have to have been here for some time, wouldn’t you?’

  Fleming made a non-committal noise. ‘Can you think of any reason why anyone would wish to harm Mrs Margrave?’

  ‘Of course not! I’m sure she never did anything to hurt anyone. And it was so sad for her, with Julia too. You just can’t believe that something like this could happen.’

  Jen Wilson’s eyes filled with tears. Now Fleming looked at her closely, she looked pale, as if she too had not slept well.

  ‘I think that’s all. Thank you for your cooperation. Could you please tell Miss Falconer we’d like to see her now?’

  Skye’s elfin face was set in mulish lines when she came in. She sat down opposite the officers and folded her arms in a classic defensive gesture.

  ‘I didn’t borrow Jen’s car yesterday afternoon, if that’s what you’re saying. I was here all day.’

  Fleming felt faintly annoyed that Jen had warned her of the question. ‘Can anyone vouch for that?’

  ‘No. There’s no one else here, when Jen’s at school.’

  ‘So you didn’t leave the house at all, or have any visitors?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you know Mrs Margrave?’

  ‘Not really. I don’t think any of us did. I’ve never spoken to her. I only saw her the night it happened – I don’t think she came to the inquest.’ She was studying her fingernails.

  ‘Sure about that?’ MacNee said sharply.

  She glared at him. ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘I just want to go back over what you said the last time we spoke,’ Fleming said. ‘You said you had been abroad. When did you come back to this country?’

  Skye was obviously flustered. ‘I – I don’t know what I said. I told you it was very vague – I was just drifting about. I didn’t come up to Scotland until ten days ago. Jen can tell you.’

  ‘Miss Wilson can confirm when you arrived here. I’m asking where you were before that?’

  ‘Like I said, I don’t know exactly. I spent a few days in England after I got back, just coming north.’

  ‘Anyone who can say where you were?’

  ‘No they can’t!’ she said wildly. ‘I was just picking up a lift or two, coming up here – all right? Slept rough a couple of times. I was a bit broke.’

  ‘So when do you estimate you crossed the Channel?’

  Skye pursed her lips. ‘I told you, dates don’t mean much when you’re travelling.’ Then she said, with an air of triumph, ‘I can tell you I was still in France on my birthday – April 22nd. A nice guy bought some cheap fizz.’

  ‘Don’t remember his name, I suppose?’ MacNee’s cynicism was obvious.

  ‘Dave,’ she said coldly.

  Fleming had no doubt at all that she was lying now – and Skye was getting better at it, too, with fewer of the body language giveaways. Practice makes perfect.

  She said, ‘I’m going to repeat two questions, Miss Falconer, and I cannot stress too much how important it is that your answers to them are accurate and truthful. I’m going to ask DS MacNee to make a note of them. Do you understand?’

  There was no flicker of response.

  Fleming waited for a second then went on, ‘Where were you yesterday afternoon?’

  ‘Here. All day.’

  ‘When did you arrive here in Ballinbreck?’

  ‘About ten days ago. You can ask me as many times as you like. The answer will still be the same.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Fleming got up. ‘For the moment, that’s all.’

  Skye walked to the door and called through the hall. ‘Jen! Could you come for a minute?’ then when the kitchen door op
ened said, ‘Can you just confirm to them that I arrived here ten days ago?’

  She’d outwitted them. Her back was turned; they couldn’t see Jen’s face, couldn’t judge the look that passed between them and they couldn’t stop her asking the leading question.

  There was a tiny pause, but only a tiny one. ‘Yes, of course,’ Jen said.

  When Skye turned back to face them, the sea-green eyes were wide and limpid. ‘All right?’

  Back in the car, MacNee said, ‘She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?’

  ‘Certainly is,’ Fleming said grimly. ‘She’s getting better, too. I don’t believe a word she says and we have to ask why the lies are necessary. We’d better check everything that’s checkable: ferry passenger lists, passport control – though given how porous our borders seem to be, not finding her name wouldn’t prove much.’

  ‘And the only wee vague kind of alibi she has is that she’d just made scones, says Wilson. How long does it take to make a scone?’

  ‘You’re asking me?’

  ‘Sorry, daft question. The Stewarts now?’

  ‘Yes. And let’s hope if they’re in the mood to tell lies that they’re not as good at it as she is.’

  Skye went through to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. ‘I need coffee after being given the third degree like that. Make one for you?’

  Jen followed her slowly. ‘Skye, why did you ask me to say you just came back here ten days ago?’

  ‘Because they came on like the Gestapo and as an innocent person, I don’t have to account for my every movement to the police. All right?’ She sounded very fierce.