At this point McNab checked his mobile, but there still hadn’t been a response to this morning’s apology for his noshow last night. It seemed a murder wasn’t a good enough excuse.
53
Dr Walker glanced up as a suited Rhona entered, acknowledging her arrival with a welcoming nod and a pair of smiling blue eyes.
The SOCOs had finished the initial taping and photographing of the body, and Dr Walker was now examining and recording his thoughts on the wounds they’d located.
Rhona had never met Alec McLaughlin, though she’d seen his photograph at the strategy meeting and heard all about the man from both Magnus and McNab.
Magnus’s psychological reading of the deceased had been close to a recognized psychopath with a strong narcissistic streak, who was likely to re-offend in his chosen sphere, the sexual abuse of children. Because of this, he hadn’t been safe in prison. It seemed he hadn’t been safe as a free man either.
Lying on his back, the two major wounds were clearly visible. Dr Walker identified and measured the wounds and began to describe how he thought they’d come about.
For Rhona, the main reason for coming here was to have her own reading of how McLaughlin had died either verified or disputed, via a forensic pathologist’s interpretation of the wounds and how and when they’d occurred.
‘The fatal neck wound was done swiftly and without any tentative early cuts,’ Dr Walker was saying. ‘By someone who knew what they were doing. I would therefore conclude that death was caused by the severing of the carotid artery causing him to bleed out.
‘The attack on the penis may have come before. Perhaps even during the sexual act,’ he recorded. ‘As there were no injuries in the area of the anus, it’s not possible to establish whether the sex was consensual or not, but it did occur.
‘There is also no bruising on the arms or upper body to suggest the victim was physically forced to his knees and then onto all fours. If a knife was used to threaten him, then that may have been sufficient encouragement. Again, he may have conceded to undressing and getting into this position by choice.
‘McLaughlin, as noted earlier, was not a fit man. Once down on all fours, getting up again wouldn’t have been an easy movement. The likelihood was that he collapsed forward on death, and was found in that position.’
‘So,’ Richie said as they disrobed and stuffed their suits into the waiting basket, ‘did that help point the finger at anyone in particular?’
‘Someone who can wield a knife and who perhaps had a desire for revenge,’ Rhona said.
‘Was he a suspect in the Mary McIntyre case?’
‘Everyone who lived on that street in 1975 is a suspect. McLaughlin submitted to a DNA swab and it didn’t find a match on anything we took from Mary’s remains or the grave,’ Rhona told him.
‘Though he may have known something that he wasn’t willing to share with the police?’ Richie said.
‘That was always a possibility,’ Rhona agreed.
‘I saw that he was giving interviews to the press about the Street of Evil he was forced to live on as a child.’
‘He had, according to Magnus, a fine conceit of himself,’ Rhona confirmed.
‘So where does that leave you with the Mary McIntyre case?’
‘We continue with our examination and tests from the body, clothes and the locus, and hope we find a way to identify Mary’s killer.’
‘Which will take a lot longer than an autopsy.’
‘A lot longer. Not that I’m disputing the skill involved in forensic pathology,’ Rhona said with a smile.
‘I’m sorry the forensic dinner didn’t go so well,’ Richie said, changing the subject.
‘No matter. I caught up with my son, Liam, albeit briefly,’ Rhona told him. ‘Fortunately, he feels the same way about Edward as I do.’
Richie looked pleased by that. ‘So do you maybe want to try for a second meal without such a table companion?’ he offered.
Rhona now realized that this was what the conversation had been leading up to. Richie was a nice guy, obviously available, and keen to get together. She should, of course, be straight with him, and tell him she was in a relationship.
Which wasn’t strictly true, she admonished herself.
Instead she said, ‘DS Clark got engaged last night to her partner, Paula. She’s having a drinks party tonight to celebrate. Chrissy and I are going. Would you like to come along, meet a few more of Police Scotland and the forensic service?’
Richie looked pleased by the invitation. ‘I would,’ he nodded.
Rhona told him where and when.
‘I’ll see you there then,’ he said with a smile.
On her way back to the lab, Rhona considered the wisdom of the invitation, then decided it was kinder than turning him down flat. Plus Dr Walker needed to get to know as many of the police and forensics team as he might work with in the future.
Chrissy, when told, of course had a different take on things. One Rhona should have anticipated.
‘Poor Dr Walker’s got the hots for you, Dr MacLeod. You know that and yet, and yet, no mention of Sean?’ Chrissy shook her head in admonishment.
‘What was I supposed to say? That I’m taken? Which I’m not,’ Rhona added.
‘True.’ Chrissy contemplated this. ‘Maybe you could have said you didn’t want to be in a relationship right now?’
‘Who says I don’t?’ Rhona countered.
‘A steady relationship then,’ tried Chrissy, who wasn’t normally at a loss for words.
‘Dr Walker asks me out to a simple dinner and I turn him down by declaring I’m not ready for a steady relationship at the moment? I don’t think so.’
‘Okay, it’s a minefield, but he is dishy.’ Chrissy assumed a wide-eyed look. ‘Those blue eyes.’
‘Then he’s all yours to charm tonight,’ Rhona told her.
Chrissy, judging that the dating discussion was over for the moment, asked how the autopsy had gone.
‘Just the way we thought,’ Rhona told her. ‘Any developments here?’
‘Karen also wore the confirmation dress. The DNA results confirm this.’
Rhona nodded. She’d been expecting that. The girls were real pals. If Mary had a dress like that, Karen would likely have been allowed to try it on. It could be as simple as that, or it could mean something more. What that something was, she had no idea.
‘Also, McNab was looking for you. He’s headed back to Stirling.’
This was far more of a surprise. ‘Again? Why?’ Rhona said.
‘It appears they’ve finally located Karen Marshall.’
‘Did she come back to Rowan Cottage?’ That had always been Rhona’s hope.
‘No. It seems she was found by J. D. Smart and she’s currently at his house.’
Rhona could imagine McNab’s reaction to that. Much like her own, perhaps. Still, she was glad Karen had been found, and alive.
‘It seems she’s in a bad way mentally. She’s asked to see Marge, her friend, and Magnus,’ Chrissy said. ‘McNab’s just there to observe.’
‘Before he hears Karen’s story, he needs to be made aware of the soil evidence from Jen, placing Mary last alive near the girls’ den,’ Rhona said. ‘And the fact that both girls have worn that dress.’
54
The call from Rhona arrived just as McNab passed by the drive that led to Rowan Cottage. McNab listened to what she had to say regarding Karen having worn the confirmation dress, plus the startling news that the forensic evidence put the last location Mary had been alive and wearing the shoes at or near the girls’ den.
So Mary had gone there after the ceremony at the chapel.
‘I thought you’d want to know that before you speak to Karen,’ Rhona said. She followed that with a good luck, suggesting he might need it.
As he turned off the main road, McNab spotted Magnus’s vehicle already parked in front of the McCreadie villa. Easing his bike in behind, he removed his outer clothing and stored it wi
th the helmet in his panniers. He had no idea what Karen Johnston felt about the biking fraternity in general, or biker-clad policemen in particular, but decided not to take the chance that it might be negative.
The housekeeper was there before McNab even reached for the bell. This time Lucy’s expression was sombre rather than welcoming.
‘They’re in the conservatory. I’ve taken through a tray already, Detective Sergeant.’
McNab followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee to find Magnus and Marge seated on the large couch, with McCreadie poised above them in his high-backed chair.
‘Ah, Sergeant. We were hoping you were on your way.’
Magnus cast McNab a glance which he didn’t try to interpret. As for Marge, she appeared genuinely pleased to see him.
Once McNab had his coffee, McCreadie related his story.
‘I was taking my usual walk in the woods by the castle and I saw a woman’s figure ahead of me. There are multiple woodland paths criss-crossing one another on the Back Walk, some much steeper than others. They all eventually lead you to the Old Town Cemetery at the top.
‘The woman was climbing, but slowly, and kept stopping to draw breath. I was much the same. She reached the top before me and I assume went into the cemetery. I took a rest on one of the benches. From there I caught several glimpses of her, threading her way through the gravestones. She was obviously heading for a particular grave.
‘That’s when I realized who it might be. I’d decided to go and check if I was right, when she suddenly came rushing down the slope towards me. I was fearful she might fall, so I stepped out in front of her. That’s when I saw it was Karen Johnston.’
He glanced at McNab as though for permission to go on. McNab remained silent, so he did.
‘She seemed confused and was rambling, but she appeared to recognize me from our encounter earlier on King’s Knot with Lucy’s dog. I suggested I walk her home, since she didn’t look well.
‘It takes a much shorter time to walk down that brae than up, although I feared she wouldn’t make it much further than the foot of the hill.’
McNab interrupted him at that point, his tone verging on the sarcastic. ‘So you steered her towards your house instead of her own?’
McCreadie ignored the insinuation and nodded. ‘Luckily Lucy was here and took charge of Karen. She advised I call my doctor because she thought that a nasty cut on Karen’s arm had turned septic. Dr Wills came and dressed the wound, gave her an antibiotic injection and some painkillers, after which she thankfully slept.’
‘When did all this happen?’ McNab asked.
‘Yesterday evening.’
‘And you only let us know now?’
McCreadie had obviously been waiting for the accusation and was ready for it.
‘Karen begged me not to tell anyone she was here. She appeared very frightened and made me promise. This morning she was more lucid and I got her to agree to meet with Marge and Professor Pirie. She is not aware that I invited you here, Detective Sergeant.’
Being an ex-cop, McCreadie was all too aware that keeping Karen Johnston’s whereabouts from the police could be a punishable offence, but he hadn’t hesitated to do it anyway. The look he fastened on McNab read as: You would have done the same, would you not?
‘I’m assuming Karen Johnston isn’t a suspect in this enquiry, but a witness?’ McCreadie said to emphasize his point.
That was a step too far for McNab. ‘You can’t assume that about anyone in this case.’
A shocked Marge looked as though she might intervene at this point, but wisely didn’t. As for Magnus, he knew what McNab had just stated was in fact the truth. Children did kill other children. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident.
With that possibility on the table, McNab said, ‘I need to hear everything Karen has to say. And I need to be the one to ask the questions.’
There was silence as McCreadie considered this.
‘What if Professor Pirie and Marge go in first?’ he eventually offered. ‘See how things are with Karen. Then we bring you in, Detective Sergeant?’
‘Before this happens,’ McNab said, ‘I’d like to see the diary.’
‘You can ask Karen for it,’ McCreadie said. ‘She’s got it next to the bed.’
McNab suspected McCreadie had already seen the famous diary, and probably photographed its contents too. After all, he’d had all night to do so.
McCreadie now led them all upstairs. The upper landing proved to be a rectangular balcony with a number of doors leading off. McCreadie chose one and, knocking quietly, said, ‘Karen, Professor Pirie and Marge are here to see you. Is it okay to come in?’
She must have answered in the affirmative, because McCreadie ushered them inside, then indicated that McNab should wait by the open door. ‘You’ll hear everything that’s said from here, Sergeant.’
McNab caught Marge’s voice first. She was greeting her friend warmly, and although he couldn’t see their interchange, he guessed they were hugging. Magnus came next and their exchange was equally positive.
Then he heard Magnus speak.
‘We have my colleague DS McNab with us, who’s keen to talk to you, if you feel up to it. He’s been very concerned for your welfare and has spent many hours, probably without sleep, looking for you. May we let him come in?’
It was a good try on the Prof’s part. McNab had to give him that.
There was a long and silent pause, in which McNab found himself holding his breath. He had every right to walk in, regardless of Karen’s response, but he didn’t want their meeting to begin like that.
She must have nodded, because he heard no words spoken before McCreadie came to usher him inside.
The room was spacious with a big bay window overlooking the green layers of King’s Knot. In the bed a diminutive woman lay propped against the pillows. McNab thought Karen Marshall looked as though a puff of air might blow her away.
Up to now, he’d only viewed the photograph from the recovery cafe where Karen had made a point of disappearing into the background.
He felt an overwhelming sense of relief that Karen Marshall was still alive.
Stepping forward, he offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile. ‘We’ve been very worried about you, Karen. I’m glad to see you’re safe.’
A pair of bright, perhaps still feverish eyes stared out at him from a white face.
‘May I talk with you alone?’ McNab tried.
She observed him intently for a moment before saying, ‘I’d like that.’
McNab didn’t look round to see McCreadie’s reaction to this, just focused on Karen as he heard the others file out of the room. As soon as he judged they were alone, McNab drew up a chair and sat beside Karen.
‘What do you want to know, Detective Sergeant?’ she said in a weary, haunted voice.
‘Everything,’ McNab said. ‘Tell me everything.’
55
McCreadie was right. Karen Johnston – who he would always think of as Karen Marshall – appeared barely well enough to be interviewed.
Noting her wan face, and the heavily bandaged left wrist, McNab wondered whether this should indeed be postponed. Knowing he hadn’t even considered her mental state, McNab suggested they could delay their talk until she felt better.
‘I’ve waited long enough. I told myself I couldn’t remember, but maybe the truth was I wouldn’t remember. Or it was easier to forget.’ She lifted her downcast eyes and observed McNab. ‘The women at the cafe know all about covering up the bad things that have happened to you. They know it just eats away at you. Hollows you out.’
She halted there and gave him an apologetic smile. ‘When you found Mary’s body, I knew it was time for this to happen. You see, up to that point I’d always hoped that Mary had run away, and that she would come back one day.’
McNab brought out his phone. ‘Can I record our conversation, rather than write it down? That way I can listen again later?’ he requested.
&nbs
p; ‘Go ahead,’ she said.
McNab set it up, pressed record, then nodded at Karen to continue.
‘Mary was my pal.’ She smiled, as though remembering the happy times. ‘We were the same age, but she was much braver than me. That belt her dad had? She wasn’t scared of him or his belt.’
Karen gave a little laugh, then her face darkened. ‘But she was afraid of God. Religion did that to you in those days. Priests and ministers told children they were full of sin. I didn’t even know what that meant. Turns out it was mostly about sex, something I also didn’t know much about.’ She looked at McNab. ‘Mary knew more about it all than me.’ She shook her head. ‘But I found out soon enough.’
McNab waited for Karen to continue.
‘We were at the den when Mary told me that she couldn’t be confirmed because God wouldn’t forgive her. I didn’t ask what he wouldn’t forgive her for. I didn’t say don’t be silly, Mary. All I could think about was the dress. Did that mean she wasn’t going to wear the dress?’ Karen gave a hollow laugh. ‘I wanted a dress like that. I was a Protestant, so I would never have one. All the white net, and a veil, just like a bride. So when Mary asked me, I said yes.’ She looked to McNab, willing him to understand what she meant.
And he did.
‘She asked you to go instead of her? You were the one confirmed that day?’
‘Yes.’
It all came out in a rush now.
‘We arranged to meet at the den, where Mary changed back into the school clothes she’d brought from home. I put on the dress and veil and went to the chapel. When I got back, Mary wasn’t there waiting like we arranged. I thought she was probably hiding in case someone spotted her and realized she hadn’t gone to the ceremony. I changed back into my own clothes and left the dress, the veil and shoes in the plastic bag as she’d asked.’
She halted there, her face stricken with remorse.
‘It was my fault she died. If I’d said no that day, she wouldn’t have been there. He wouldn’t have got her. She would have been safe.’
The Innocent Dead - Rhona MacLeod Series 15 (2020) Page 26