The Ardmore Inheritance

by Rob Wyllie

  'So is there anything else in the file?' he asked. 'Anything else that suggested the investigating team had any doubts at the time?'

  'No sir, I don't think so sir,' Lexy said, frowning. 'I'll have another look sir of course, to see if I've missed anything.'

  'Aye do that,' he said distractedly. 'And what about his trial? Did they get anyone to speak on his behalf?'

  'Only his sister sir. She denied that there were any major problems in the marriage, and she had been a friend of his wife too.'

  'And what about the prosecution? Did they offer any other evidence of motive other than the emails?'

  She nodded. 'In fact they did sir. They called a Commodore Macallan, who was the commander of the base and its fleet at the time. He said that Lieutenant McKay had been a competent officer but that he had reported sick on two occasions with mental health issues. I don't think that could have been very helpful for the defence sir.'

  Macallan. The guy who had murdered his own son and then shot himself. Frank screwed up his face, trying to compute the chronology. That incident happened just six months ago, which was why Maggie and his brother were trying to sort out his will. But just because it happened more than three years after the McKay tragedy, that didn't stop him wondering if there was a connection. Lochmorehead and surroundings were hardly bigger than that giant superstore in his Isleworth manor, so what were the chances of two mysteries occurring in just the space of three or four years? He didn't do probability, so that would be another thing to ask wee Eleanor Campbell when he got back.

  Contrary to what he'd told Sergeant Jim Muir, he wasn't heading back south after his parental visit to Shettleston. Tomorrow, he was going to be meeting with the staff of Bainbridge Associates in that nice wee hotel on the edge of Loch More. And PC Lexy McDonald was going too.

  Chapter 12

  Back in his Battersea flat, it hadn't taken him long to figure out whose phone it was he'd nicked from Ardmore House. For wasn't he Geordie the polymath and frigging premier league cyber-genius? I mean, how hard could it be? A couple of false trails and then on the third one, bang, he'd cracked it. And what a windfall this was turning out to be. Those funeral pictures of the Macallan twins for a start, they were an absolute frigging gold mine. Elspeth pissed out of her tiny skull and Kirsty with her tongue down that guy's throat. No wonder the paper had been happy to pay thirty grand and no questions asked. The Audi had come to an unfortunate end, some teenage yobs cracking the code of the keyless ignition system and leaving it burnt out in Brixton after having their fun. At least, that was the story he'd made up for the insurance claim form. It was a shame in some ways, since he'd really loved that motor, but he knew the danger in hanging onto it after the Ardmore job. No matter how thorough the clean-up had been, there would still be all that forensic shit sloshing around. So it had been three hundred quid well spent, although the lads would probably have done it for nothing had he thought about it at the time, just for the fun of it. Nothing lost though, with the insurance pay-out already invested in a wicked Golf GTi hot-hatch with the twenty-one-inch alloys. a motor that was just as much fun to drive, but perhaps not quite as conspicuous. Smart move.

  There was just one thing that continued to intrude on his sunny mood, and that was his bloody conscience. Who would have thought he of all people would have been afflicted by it, but there it was, nagging away like toothache. Well, of course it had seemed a really sweet idea at the time, leaking Commodore Macallan's big secret to his daughters. The feeling of power and revenge after the shit Macallan had dealt out to all these men and women under his command. And now he was dead. No great loss to the world of course, but he, Geordie, was partially responsible, not that anyone could ever connect anything back to him. Good riddance, that's what anyone who knew Macallan would say, so why wouldn't his conscience just leave him alone?

  Well sod that, he'd just have to work through it, push these bothersome thoughts to the back of his mind. For now, he had to sit back and think through the next step in his plan. Now that he knew the ownership of that phone, and how much the owner wouldn't want the police to know they had been at Ardmore House on the night the Commodore had killed his son and shot himself, it was simply a matter of setting the price to be paid for his silence. Had he been an auctioneer, he would be starting the bids at a hundred grand minimum.

  Chapter 13

  It had been Asvina's idea that they should fly up to Glasgow, declaring that her firm's fee for executing the provisions of the will had plenty of fat in it, more than an enough to cover the trivial cost of a couple of return flights on a budget airline. Maggie was quiet for most of the journey, immersed in silent contemplation of all things Macallan. As far as the Commodore's will was concerned, the meeting with Kirsty Macallan had pretty much knocked the final nail in the coffin with respect to getting the three parties in the affair to agree to a settlement. Alison Macallan had said no, Elspeth Macallan had said no, and now Rory Overton, Kirsty's husband, who had evidently taken it upon himself to be her spokesperson, had said no too. It was greed and stupidity in equal measure, and there was every chance that it would result in an outcome than none of them wanted. But the issue was, what the hell to do about it?

  On that subject, she'd had a telephone call with Asvina the previous day to seek her friend's advice, but the best she could suggest was that they tried to get all three parties to go to binding arbitration. It seemed like a bit of a long shot, but she decided it wouldn't do any harm to run it past Jimmy and see what he made of it.

  He was in the outside seat, his long legs extended into the aisle as he enjoyed a gentle snooze. From time to time, a couple of the female flight attendants had sidled by to take a look at him, giggling and exchanging lustful glances. In other words, just a normal day in the life of Captain James Stewart, formerly of the army bomb disposal squad. She gave him a not-so-gentle nudge in the ribs, causing him to wake with a start and then look quickly all around him as if trying to remember exactly where he was.

  'You were snoring,' she lied, 'with your mouth wide open. Not a good look if you don't mind me saying.'

  'What? Oh sorry Maggie, it was a bit of an early start this morning.' He stretched his arms above his head and gave a yawn.

  She laughed. 'Is that what you used to say when you were in the army? Sorry sir, it's a bit early for me, do you mind if I have a wee lie-in?'

  'Aye, I wish,' he said sardonically. 'I was an officer don't forget. It was me that had to get all the other buggers up.'

  'You poor thing. But now you've had your refreshing snooze, is it ok if we get on to business?'

  'Sure, of course,' he said, giving her a wary look. 'Just as long as you haven't changed your mind about who's going to meet with my father-in-law.'

  'Nope, I'll do that, we've already agreed.'

  Maggie smiled to herself. That was going to be a bit of an adventure, meeting with Dr Flora Stewart's father just a week or so after she had consulted with his daughter in the disguise of Mrs Magdalene Brooks, trainee hill-walker. That being the meeting that Jimmy knew absolutely nothing about, which only added to the complication.

  'I'm so grateful boss,' he said, the relief in his voice obvious. 'The old man and me are not exactly best of mates given the circumstances. It would be a wee bit awkward, put it that way.'

  She smiled, then remembered what she was calling her Emma project. 'No, I completely understand that. But you know, I thought you wanted to try and get back with Flora? Are you planning to see her when we're up in Lochmorehead?' It was a question she'd been meaning to ask him for the last few days, but somehow the right moment had failed to arise.

  'I don't know. I might. It depends.' On what it depended, he either didn't want to share with her or didn't himself know. She suspected the latter.

  'You might just bump into her,' Maggie said, smiling. 'It's a small place after all.'

  'That's what I'm worried about,' he said, a look of concern spreading across his face. 'I've no idea what I'd say to her
.'

  She shrugged. 'Why not try hello Flora? Just start from there and see where it leads.'

  He laughed. 'Yeah, you're probably right. But I'm planning to only go out at night and in full camouflage gear so I can't be spotted. But come on, enough about me. What's the plan when we're up there?'

  She noted the change of subject and decided she wouldn't push it any further for now.

  'Well, three things I think. So first off is a final attempt to see if we can broker a backstop agreement. I've been having a think about it and I've drawn up a proposal that gets Alison the gate-house and a small annual allowance, gives Kirsty and her caveman husband two-thirds of the house and the grounds, and Elspeth the unmarried twin gets a third of the house and the grounds but gets two-thirds of the cash and other assets.'

  Jimmy shook his head. 'Sorry boss, but I think there's two-thirds of bugger-all chance that any of them will accept that. You must know that, given you've met two-thirds of them yourself.' He gave a quiet chuckle at his own joke.

  'That's why it's called a backstop. I don't expect any of them to accept it now, but it's an insurance policy if the lawsuits start flying around and lawyers’ fees threaten to devour the assets. Gives them something they can dust down if it all starts getting out of hand. They can then put it in front of the court and say they'll accept binding arbitration.'

  'I love it when you do all that dirty legal talk,' Jimmy laughed, 'but it's not an if as far as the lawsuits are concerned, it's a when, surely?'

  'Exactly. So I think we should start with Alison the ex-wife first, because she seems the most rational of the three of them, although that's not saying much.'

  Two flight attendants were struggling down the aisle with the drinks and snacks trolley.

  'Teas, coffees, snacks anyone? Contactless payment only please.' A heavily made up attendant of matronly appearance placed a hand on Jimmy's shoulder as they drew up alongside them. 'Can I get you anything sir? Tea, Coffee? Anything else?' Maggie laughed as a comic vision of what anything else might comprise of came to mind.

  'Coffee for me please,' she said quickly. 'Same for you Jimmy?'

  'Tea please.' The attendant smiled and leaned across to fold down their back-of-seat tables before setting down their drinks. 'Careful, they're hot,' she warned, although in Maggie's experience that rarely turned out to be true, and so it proved on this occasion. She made a face as she took the first sip.

  'It's wet at least,' Jimmy said, returning the grimace. 'So, yes that's the first thing, this backstop agreement as you call it. And I assume we need that to be put in front of the twins too?'

  'Exactly. I thought you could do that, particularly in the light of Elspeth taking a shine to you. Have you done anything about that by the way? Because something gives me the feeling you might be trying to put it off.'

  He shrugged. 'Not exactly, but I can't say I'm very enthusiastic but I can see how it might help with the case.'

  'Good boy,' Maggie said, laughing. 'Take one for the team. So the second thing we need to do up there is I think the most critical task of the whole investigation so far.'

  'Which is why I'm really glad you're doing it,' he said, giving her a thumbs-up.

  'It's a pleasure. Dr McLeod's been the Macallan's family doctor for more than thirty years, so if anyone knows anything about which of the twins was the first-born, then it'll be him.'

  She said it confidently, but deep down she couldn't help harbouring doubts. Because surely if that was actually the case, one or other of the twins would have already called him in as a witness. But at the very least Dr McLeod would almost certainly know something about the events surrounding their birth, even a birth which had happened thousands of miles away and was far from routine. Maybe he would remember something, maybe he wouldn't, but they had to start somewhere. And of course he might have some titbit of information that might at least give them a clue where else to look. She hoped so, otherwise they were dead in the water. Which, when she thought about it was an apt phrase, given their impending proximity to beautiful Loch More..

  ◆◆◆

  It had been a bit of a no-brainer to allocate the driving duties to PC Lexy McDonald, the first leg an easy twenty-five miles or so down to Helensburgh, the second the thirty-five-mile onward trip to Loch More. First of all, it would mean he could have a few beers at that dinner date he'd planned with Maggie Bainbridge and his brother, and secondly, he'd been left with no choice anyway because the civilian jobsworth who ran the police garage on Helen Street was adamant that pool cars could only be signed out to serving Police Scotland officers, due to some crap to do with insurance or something like it. They'd been allocated a big Volvo SUV for the day, one of the ones that were built to special order for the police forces of Europe and beyond, kitted out with four-wheel-drive and a high-performance turbo-charged petrol engine. Which suited him fine, until Lexy revealed to him that she'd only passed her driving test three weeks earlier, and that when she drove her dad's car, it was normally with the probationer plates still on. Frank, not exactly relishing the prospect of her piloting this beast up the twisty roads of Loch Lomondside and beyond, asked if they had anything smaller, to be answered with a curt, 'It's all we've got pal. Take it or leave it. And make sure it's back for twenty-three-hundred-hours sharp, it's going out again in the morning.'

  As they cruised along the dual-carriageway that bordered the north shore of the Clyde estuary, she'd compensated for her nervousness by limiting their speed to about thirty-eight miles an hour. From time to time Frank glanced in the door mirror, cracking a smile as he caught a glimpse of the queue of nervous motorist that had tucked themselves in behind the patrol car, uncertain as to whether they should overtake or not. For a moment he thought about asking her to get a move on, but then had second thoughts, centred mainly around his personal safety.

  'So who is it we're going to see again?' Frank asked.

  She turned her head to answer him, just as a white van decided on an abrupt manoeuvre into their lane.

  'Woah watch out!' he shouted, his heart suddenly crashing as a dose of emergency adrenalin kicked in.

  'Sorry sir,' she said, flustered. 'Didn't see him.'

  'Aye, I gathered that Lexy. So maybe just keep your eyes on the road ahead for a while?'

  He wondered whether he should order her to go for the full siren and flashing lights treatment. And least then everybody would get out of their way.

  She gave a sheepish grin. 'Yes sir. Sorry sir. But I'm getting used to the big car now sir I think.'

  'Thank god for that,' he laughed. 'So getting back to my original question.'

  'Yes sir. The woman we're seeing is Lieutenant McKay's older sister, a Mrs Jess Sinclair. She lives in Helensburgh with her two kids and her husband.'

  'And where is she coming from as regards to the case? Then and now I mean.'

  'I don't know sir. I looked through the file obviously, but I didn't see her being called as a character witness or anything. But I found a couple of media interviews she did at the time, where she said she couldn't believe her brother could do anything like that. Nothing else sir, not that I could find anyway. And nothing recently. But I guess she must be in shock with her brother dying the way he did. Taking his own life I mean.'

  'Aye, it will have been a shock to her right enough. We'll just have to be very careful, you know, try and be sensitive to her feelings and all that. But obviously we still need to find out everything she knows. So when we're in there, let me lead, but feel free to jump in if you think of anything, ok?'

  'Yes sir.' He could hear the excitement in her voice, and then he remembered this was probably the first proper interview she'd been on.

  The Sinclair's house was an ex-council semi-detached villa located high above the town, what the local estate agents would describe as a charming seven-apartment in a desirable location, although as far as he could remember, he'd never seen a property's location advertised as being undesirable. The sat-nav had led them straight t
o the door, and already he was imagining the neighbouring curtains beginning to twitch as the garish police car drew up outside. A short concrete-slabbed path led to the front door, a door which was badly in need of a repaint. They wrapped on the faded brass knocker and waited. It took nearly a minute before slowly and uncertainly, the door opened inward.

  Jess Sinclair looked around forty, rather overweight with greying unkempt hair that she had secured in a ponytail with a multicoloured elastic tie. She wore a shapeless bottle-green sweatshirt and dark leggings, adding to a general careworn appearance. But then that was hardly a surprise given what she had been through in the last few weeks.

  'Mrs Sinclair? I'm Detective Inspector Stewart and this is PC McDonald.'

  'It was me you spoke to yesterday,' Lexy said, giving a concerned smile. 'Can we come in please?'

  'Of course,' she said listlessly. 'Come through.'

  She led them through a scruffy hallway into her living-room, gesturing for them to take a seat on a worn velour settee. As he was about to sit down, Frank noticed it was generously covered with silvery dog hair. Bloody perfect that was, given he was wearing his best navy suit, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. Seemingly reading his mind she said,

  'Sorry it's Dolly our Jack Russell. I should've hoovered it up for you coming. But I've let things go a bit I'm afraid.'

  'No, don't worry about that,' Frank said. 'You'll have had other things on your mind, I know that.'