‘I’m reminded of that song,’ he said. ‘The Night Has a Thousand Eyes.’
‘It’s not the eyes I’d worry about, if I were you,’ said Munro. ‘It’s the teeth.’
‘I’ll give you this, Mr Munro, you certainly know how to put a man at ease.’
‘I do my best.’
‘So, McIntyre. What really makes you think he’d come back here?’
‘He’s a relative down the way,’ said Munro. ‘A sister. They were separated as weans so I’ll be frank, this may come to nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘Well if that’s the case, have you any idea where he may have gone?’
‘Aye. The family home in Carlisle, which means you’ll have to liaise with the Cumbria Constabulary. Duncan will give you the address if it comes to that.’
Byrne flicked his head as Duncan appeared from the front of the hotel.
‘All clear,’ he said. ‘The place is empty.’
‘How did you get in?’ said Byrne. ‘Without a key?’
‘Trade secret. So, what’s next, chief?’
‘Barbara Muir,’ said Munro, ‘but we dinnae want to look like a heavy-handed mob come to repossess her car so, Mr Byrne, I suggest you keep your distance while Duncan and I have a wee chat.’
* * *
Unlike the suited city dwellers who thrived on the pressure of working to impossible deadlines, racing to pointless meetings, or gambling on the fortunes of a multi-national corporation, Barbara Muir, whose only concern was what to cook for her tea, enjoyed a comparatively stress-free existence.
Settled in front of the TV with a jigsaw on her lap, a tin of shortbread by her side, and a cottage pie in the oven, she raised her head at the sound of the bell and, with visitors to the house something of a rarity, hurried downstairs and opened the door.
‘Oh, James! This is a surprise! Are you okay?’
‘Aye, remarkably well,’ said Munro. ‘And yourself?’
‘I’m fine! I’m always fine! Wait just a wee moment and I’ll fetch the keys.’
‘Keys?’
‘Aye, for the shop. You’ll be wanting some milk, I imagine. Or is it teabags you’re after?’
‘No, no, I’ve not come for the shop,’ said Munro, ‘I’m here with a colleague. This is Detective Sergeant Reid.’
‘Sergeant? So you’re not a journalist after all–’
‘I never said I was.’
‘–you’re the police?’
‘Retired. Aye.’
‘Well, what on earth would you be wanting with me?’
‘It’s not you we’ve come to see,’ said Munro. ‘It’s Daniel.’
As the smile dropped and the laughter lines disappeared, Barbara Muir was left with a remarkably smooth if somewhat blank expression.
‘I take it he’s here?’ said Munro.
‘Aye. You’d best come in.’
McIntyre, resting in an armchair and looking much the worse for wear, glanced up as they entered the lounge, took a deep breath, and offered a resigned smile.
‘Where’s the two that came earlier?’ he said.
‘They’ve other fish to fry,’ said Munro. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m fair shattered,’ said McIntyre. ‘And I could do with my meds.’
‘Well, I’m not a doctor,’ said Munro, ‘but you’ve probably done yourself more harm than good leaving the hospital like that.’
‘Right enough. I don’t know why I did it. I should’ve stayed put.’
‘I dare say you panicked. We’re fight or flight by instinct and you were in no state to do the former.’
‘I’m in no state to do the latter either,’ said McIntyre. ‘I guess, as they say, the game’s a bogey.’
‘You give up too easily,’ said Duncan, trying to lighten the mood. ‘We’ve not even said why we’re here.’
McIntyre looked at Duncan and smiled.
‘Rebecca and Alan,’ he said. ‘Am I right?’
‘Spot on.’
‘There you go then.’
‘Would you like to talk about it?’
‘Here? Then do it all again at the station? No, no, once is enough. Let’s go. Barbara, I’m sorry, hen. I’m sure these fellas will tell you where I am.’
‘I will indeed,’ said Munro. ‘In fact, I’ll be back in the morning, if that’s okay with you?’
‘Aye, no bother. I’ll not be going anywhere.’
‘Sorry,’ said Duncan, ‘but I’m obliged to do this by the book. I am Detective Sergeant Reid. Daniel McIntyre, I’m arresting you under Section 1 of the Criminal Justice Act on suspicion of the murders of Miss Rebecca Barlow and Mr Alan MacDuff. The reason for your arrest is that I suspect you have committed an offence and I believe that keeping you in custody is necessary and proportionate for the purposes of bringing you before a court or otherwise dealing with you in accordance with the law. Do you understand?’
‘Aye, all good,’ said McIntyre. ‘My coat’s in the hall.’
‘You are not obliged to say anything but anything you do say will be noted and may be used in evidence. You have the right to have a solicitor informed of your arrest and to have access to a solicitor. Okay?’
‘I’ll not bother,’ said McIntyre as he dragged himself from the chair. ‘As far as I’m concerned you can lock me up and throw away the key. I deserve it.’
Chapter 24
Lacking the patience of the enlightened and with it the proclivity to indulge in a spot of yoga, mindfulness, or meditation to bring some order to the muddle in her head, West – still grappling with the convoluted complexities of the chain linking Riley, Barlow, MacDuff, and McIntyre – distracted herself with thoughts of lying sprawled in front of an open fire with a Balvenie in her hand and the smell of a home-cooked pie wafting from the kitchen until her daydream was dashed by Dougal’s dire plea to call it a day.
‘No sweat,’ she said. ‘There’s no point in the two of us hanging around. You get going and I’ll wait for them to get back.’
‘I’d not normally ask,’ said Dougal, ‘but Kay’s bringing a fish supper and I’m not keen on cold chips.’
‘You’re too fussy,’ said West. ‘I’d have them hot, cold, and anywhere in between.’
‘I thought you two would have been long gone by now,’ said Duncan as he booted open the door.
‘How’d it go?’
‘Success, but we’re not done yet. McIntyre’s downstairs, he’s getting the once over from the doctor before I charge him.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said West. ‘I can’t let you do all the donkey work.’
‘It’ll not take him long,’ said Munro, ‘the poor fellow’s just about ready to throw in the towel.’
‘You mean he’s not putting up a fight? Not even going to defend himself?’
‘No, he is not. The man needs his medication and despite his protestations we’ve instructed the duty solicitor to attend, and if he does his job properly then he’ll be entering a plea of diminished responsibility so if he is found guilty it will be for culpable homicide and not murder.’
‘You sound like you’ve warmed to him,’ said West. ‘I must admit, he was quite the charmer when we saw him in the hospital.’
‘Och, he’s not a bad chap,’ said Munro, ‘he just cannae handle what goes on in his head.’
‘I know how that feels.’
‘You should take yourself off, miss,’ said Duncan. ‘You look shattered.’
‘I look like this every day.’
‘I rest my case.’
Conscious of the fact that his looming fatigue was down to a lack of sustenance rather than the intricacies of the inquiry, Munro, stifling a yawn, glanced around the office in search of a carrier bag emblazoned with a familiar logo.
‘Did you manage to get to the butcher?’ he said. ‘If Murdo and I dinnae eat something soon, you’ll have two more bodies to deal with.’
‘Don’t panic,’ said West, ‘I’ve got two of Scotland’s finest sitting in the car.’
‘Aye, no bother, chief. I’ll get this wrapped up and I’ll be on my way in no time. We can a get a report to the fiscal in the morning.’
* * *
In need of a hot bath, a good shave, and a decent night’s sleep, McIntyre, sipping coffee from a plastic cup, glanced at Duncan as he entered the room and scratched his beard.
‘I said I’d not bother with a solicitor. You’ve got this fella out for nothing.’
‘It’s for the best,’ said Duncan. ‘You’re under no obligation to take his advice and he’s not here to defend you. Right, the time is 19:22 and I am Detective Sergeant Reid. For the benefit of the tape, would you state your name please.’
‘Aye, it’s Dan. Daniel McIntyre.’
‘Also present is the duty solicitor, Mr John Mercer. Mr McIntyre, do you understand why you’re here?’
‘I do.’
‘Good, then let’s crack on, shall we?’
‘Aye, on you go,’ said McIntyre. ‘You ask and I’ll answer.’
‘Rebecca Barlow. You used to work together, is that right?’
‘Spot on. A long time ago, mind, but yes, I gave her a job.’
‘Doing what exactly?’
‘Selling property. I used to own an estate agency.’
‘And she was good at the job?’
‘Aye, too good. She had a talent for it.’
‘And is that why she left to set up her own business?’
‘Correct,’ said McIntyre, ‘but not as a competitor. She had a knack of spotting potential in a property so she’d do them up and sell them on.’
‘And you helped her get started?’
‘I did. She was a lovely wee girl. She deserved to succeed so I helped her out, financially that is.’
‘But then things didn’t go so well for you, did they?’ said Duncan. ‘I understand your business went under.’
‘It sank without a trace,’ said McIntyre. ‘The market crashed and that was me humped.’
‘So you went after Miss Barlow to try and get your money back?’
‘Aye, only she didn’t have it. She’d paid back some but I was desperate, I needed the rest.’
‘And when she said she couldn’t pay you back, what did you do?’
McIntyre ruffled his hair and sighed.
‘I flipped,’ he said. ‘I lost my temper. I didn’t mean to but I’m not, what is it they say? I’m not right in the head.’
‘How long have you been on medication?’
‘A while,’ said McIntyre. ‘A long while.’
‘And without it, you have a tendency to lose your temper, is that right?’
‘Aye, but it’s not intentional. It just happens. I can’t control it. I can’t even see it coming.’
‘So when Miss Barlow said you’d have to whistle for your cash, you lost it?’
McIntyre paused, glanced across the table at Mercer, and declined his advice to keep quiet.
‘I did,’ he said. ‘I was raging.’
‘How did you kill her?’
‘I didn’t mean to. I was angry. I had her by the neck. I was squeezing. The next thing I know she falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes.’
‘And then?’
‘I got the fear,’ said McIntyre. ‘I left. I got as far as Dalbeattie and pulled over. I was panicking. I was thinking, what if somebody found her. What if somebody saw me leave.’
‘The village is deserted at the best of times,’ said Duncan. ‘Chances are no-one would have seen you.’
‘Maybe, but that’s not how your mind works, is it? Then I thought of Alan.’
‘Alan MacDuff?’
‘Aye. I knew he’d been working at the Commercial and I knew he’d be back. I knew he could drop me in it.’
‘I’m not across your reasoning,’ said Duncan. ‘Even if Mr MacDuff had gone back, how could he know you’d done it?’
‘Because I told him,’ said McIntyre. ‘Not that I was going to kill her, that was spur of the moment, but that I was going to see her.’
‘Why tell MacDuff? How was that any of his business?’
‘Because if she didn’t have the cash, I’d have to let him go. Kick him out of the flat. I had nowhere to stay and if that wasn’t bad enough, some nutter with a shotgun was on my heels.’
‘And I take it Mr MacDuff wasn’t exactly enamoured with your plans?’
‘He most certainly was not,’ said McIntyre. ‘He was fizzing.’
‘That’s gratitude for you. Did you not help him out, too?’
‘I did, aye.’
‘Quite the philanthropist, aren’t you?’
‘No. I just like to help folk if I can.’
‘So you left Dalbeattie and headed for MacDuff’s, is that right?’
‘No, not right away. I went to Rebecca’s place.’
‘Why?’
‘She had records,’ said McIntyre. ‘Folk like you would have seen I’d lent her money. Sooner or later you’d have tracked me down.’
‘So did you find what you were looking for?’
McIntyre nodded.
‘Aye. Bank statements. I burned them.’
‘I have to say, Mr McIntyre, for someone who was in a wee bit of a panic, you were thinking incredibly straight.’
‘I’m not stupid, Sergeant. I have a condition, that’s all.’
‘Sorry,’ said Duncan. ‘I didn’t mean to offend. So, you left Miss Barlow’s house and went to MacDuff’s, is that right?’
‘Aye.’
‘And what happened next?’
‘He refused to budge,’ said McIntyre. ‘I told him what had happened and he said the best thing I could do was hand myself in.’
‘I hate to say it,’ said Duncan, ‘but that was some sage advice.’
‘Aye. I get that. With hindsight that’s exactly what I should have done.’
‘But you didn’t, instead you killed him, too.’
McIntyre drained his cup and nodded.
‘Only this time it was intentional?’
‘I had no choice,’ said McIntyre, ‘he knew what I’d done. What more can I say?’
‘I think you’ve said it all,’ said Duncan. ‘Back to Miss Barlow for a minute, did you tell anyone else what you’d done, apart from Mr MacDuff? Any other pals, your sister, maybe?’
‘No. No-one.’
‘Okay, listen. We’ll get you something to eat then you can rest. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed until the morning then we’ll go over the charge sheet together, is that okay?’
‘Aye. Smashing.’
‘Mr Mercer, is there anything you’d like to add?’
‘Aye, I’d like to get a dossier together for the fiscal, can you give me twenty-four hours?’
‘Aye, no bother,’ said Duncan. ‘What is it you’re after?’
‘I want to get your full medical history, Mr McIntyre, you’re clearly not responsible for what you’ve done. It seems to me that without your medication your ability to control your actions was severely diminished, that will go in your favour.’
‘I’m not fussed either way,’ said McIntyre, ‘I mean, it’ll not bring them back, will it?’
‘No. I’m afraid not.’
‘Right, one last point,’ said Duncan. ‘I need you to satisfy my curiosity. After the incident with Mr MacDuff, you just left him lying on the floor, is that correct?’
‘Aye. In the kitchen, that’s right.’
‘Good. Then why did you go to so much trouble with Rebecca Barlow?’
‘I’m not with you.’
‘Why did you attempt to disguise the body?’
‘Sorry, I’m still not with you.’
Duncan pushed back his chair, looked at McIntyre and frowned.
‘See here, Mr McIntyre, when Rebecca Barlow was found she was tied to a stake in the gardens of the Commercial Hotel. She was wearing a waterproof coat and a hat that didn’t belong to
her.’
McIntyre glared at Duncan with a look of utter bewilderment on his face.
‘No, no, that’s not right,’ he said, ‘I did no such thing. When I left the hotel Rebecca was lying on the floor by the back door.’
Chapter 25
Of the many tell-tale signs a devoted parent, guardian, or spouse might use to identify a loved one’s malaise, for West, though neither married nor maternally inclined, it was the way Munro toyed with his supper like an eight-year-old faced with a plateful of cabbage.
‘What’s up, Jimbo? You’ve got that look, and you’ve not touched your wine.’
‘I’ve a niggle, Charlie. Something’s not quite right.’
‘What is it?’
‘McIntyre. He was at his sister’s house.’
‘Yeah, I know. Sometimes, I have to say, your instinct creeps me out. So what’s the big deal?’
‘They were separated at an early age.’
‘So?’
‘So how did they find each other?’
‘Gawd knows,’ said West, ‘but there’s probably hundreds of ways, like that ancestry website, or the adoption register.’
‘No disrespect to Miss Muir,’ said Munro, ‘but I dinnae think she has the wherewithal to tackle something like that.’
‘You’re slacking, Jimbo, don’t forget she opened that bank account then pilfered all the money from her stepmother.’
‘No offence,’ said Munro as the phone rang, ‘but there’s a world of difference between entering a string of digits on an application form and searching for a needle in a haystack.’
‘Hold on,’ said West, ‘it’s Duncan. You alright, mate?’
‘Aye, all good, miss. I’ve just got to fill out a charge sheet then that’s me away. I’ll run through it with McIntyre in the morning.’
‘Good man,’ said West, ‘have a lie-in tomorrow, you’ve earned it.’
‘No chance,’ said Duncan, ‘I’ve yet to file the report for the fiscal and I have to wait for the solicitor to get back to us, he’s getting McIntyre’s medical history together.’
‘You’re heading for an early grave, you are. Anything else?’
‘Aye, one for the chief, is he there?’
‘Yup, but you’ll have to shout.’
‘Is there a problem?’ said Munro. ‘It sounds to me as if you have everything under control.’
PENURY: A bizarre death tests Scotland’s finest (Detective Inspector Munro murder mysteries Book 12) Page 20