The Innocent and the Dead

by Robert McNeill

  ‘And what was her mood when you spoke to her on Friday evening?’ Mason asked.

  ‘Quite upbeat, I think,’ McHugh said. ‘She told me she was going out for the evening.’

  ‘Who with, did she say?’ Mason asked.

  ‘She never spoke about her relationships,’ McHugh said, shaking his head. ‘And I never asked.’

  ‘Really?’ Mason said. ‘But she was happy to take you into her confidence in other, more personal, areas?’

  McHugh smiled. ‘Perhaps in that respect I took the place of the priest she felt she was unable to trust.’ He paused for effect. ‘I listened and didn’t judge.’

  McHugh shifted in his chair, then added, ‘I know only the things Katherine was prepared to tell me, detective, and occasionally ask my advice on. In other areas, she could be quite taciturn, as she’d every right to be.’

  ‘So, you know nothing about who she was seeing, or when?’

  ‘No, sorry. I don’t.’

  Mason placed the notebook on her knee, then looked McHugh directly in the eye. ‘I hope you won’t be offended by the question, Pastor, but was your own relationship with Ms O’Brian ever intimate at any time?’

  McHugh shook his head. ‘I’m not offended, detective,’ he said. ‘No, it wasn’t. That’s not to say I didn’t find Katherine attractive, of course. Our friendship was, however, strictly platonic.’ He paused. ‘I’m celibate by choice… and have been for a good many years. Serving the Lord Jesus Christ is my sole raison d’être.’

  Mason nodded. ‘You understand we have to ask everyone who was close to Ms O’Brian,’ she said. ‘With this in mind, Pastor McHugh, could you tell me where you were at 11pm last night?’

  McHugh nodded. ‘I understand the reasons for your questions, detective. And I don’t mind answering them.’ His eyebrows arched. ‘At 11pm last night? I was at home, which my sister Rosalind and I share.’ He took a card from his pocket and handed it to Mason. ‘Our address and telephone number. I’m sure she’ll confirm if you to ask her.’

  * * *

  ‘Pretty much expecting us, wasn’t he?’ Hathaway said as he and Mason were driving by Meadowbank Sports Stadium a short while later. ‘Out of the door as soon as we arrived.’

  ‘He was able to give us a different perspective on O’Brian, though.’

  ‘All that guilt, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Think he was straight about his relationship with her?’

  Mason shook her head, ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘You never know with these so-called “men of the cloth,”’ Hathaway said. ‘Bill Fulton told me when he first joined the force a woman called Dora Noyce ran a brothel on the fringes of the New Town. She claimed one of her busiest periods was during the General Assembly.’

  Mason gave Hathaway a baffled look. ‘The General Assembly?’

  Hathaway turned to her and grinned. ‘You know, when all the ministers of the Church of Scotland are in session at the Mound.’

  Mason smiled and shook her head. ‘Tut, tut, Mark. You’ll have your aunt birling in her grave.’

  Chapter Seven

  Knox followed the coast road, skirting the Firth of Forth via Leith’s picturesque Shore and the harbour at Newhaven, then on past Granton Pier and Davidson’s Mains to Queensferry Road, finally turning onto Corstorphine Hill at Clermiston Road North.

  The steep gradient forced Knox to change down a gear and, as he did so, Fulton said, ‘Edinburgh and Rome have something in common, did you know that, boss?’

  Knox sensed he was in for another of his partner’s inevitable local knowledge lessons. ‘In that it has a fair number of pizza outlets, you mean?’

  Fulton gave him a sidelong glance and grinned. ‘Aye, probably.’ He shook his head. ‘No. I meant, like Rome, it’s built on seven hills. From the north, this end, you’ve got Corstorphine. Then, moving south, Craiglockhart, the Braids and Blackford. The other three are Arthur’s Seat, Calton and the Castle, all in the city centre.’

  Knox smiled, then gave his best Michael Caine impression: ‘And not many people know that.’

  Fulton laughed, then added, ‘All caused by volcanic activity eons ago. The basalt rock on Salisbury Crags and the rock the castle sits on are evidence of a massive upthrust which cut through the sedimentary layer before cooling.’

  ‘You’ve a tour guide job waiting when you retire, Bill.’ Knox said. ‘I can just picture you wandering up and down the Royal Mile, crocodiles of American and Japanese tourists in your wake.’

  Fulton patted his stomach. ‘There’s a thought,’ he said, grinning. ‘Might help get some of the weight off.’

  * * *

  132 North Park was a semi-detached villa situated at the bottom of a cul-de-sac in Clermiston, a sprawling housing estate which lay between St John’s Road and Queensferry Road, the city’s western approaches to Edinburgh Airport and the Forth Road Bridge.

  Knox and Fulton left the car and were halfway along the path when the door opened suddenly. A haggard-looking woman in her early fifties came onto the doorstep and gave them a hostile stare. ‘You needn’t bother coming any further,’ she said. ‘We’re not interested. Your people have been around here twice this week already.’

  The detectives stopped, then Knox said, ‘Our people?’

  ‘Jehovah’s Witnesses,’ the woman said sternly. ‘Like I said, we’re not interested.’

  Knox said, ‘You’re Mrs Bright?’

  ‘Yes,’ the woman answered, looking surprised.

  Knox took out his warrant card and showed it to her. ‘You’re mistaken, Mrs Bright. We’re not Jehovah’s Witnesses. We’re police officers.’

  A concerned look came over her face. ‘Police?’ she said hesitantly. ‘What… what do you want?’

  ‘We’d like to speak to your son, Gary.’

  ‘Gary? What do you want to talk to him for?’

  Knox nodded to the door. ‘It would be better if we could speak inside, Mrs Bright. I take it he’s home?’

  She glanced nervously over her shoulder. ‘Yes… yes, he is.’

  Knox nodded. ‘Then it’s okay if we come in?’

  Mrs Bright opened the door. ‘Yes… yes. Okay.’

  Knox and Fulton followed her into the living room where a man in his late twenties lay slouched along a sofa with his back to the door. A television set in the corner was tuned to a channel showing horse racing. The volume was turned up, and a coffee table alongside the sofa was littered with beer bottles.

  ‘Gary,’ Mrs Bright said.

  Her son barely stirred. The detectives followed her further into the room and Knox saw Bright was holding an almost-empty beer bottle. He looked to be half asleep.

  ‘Gary!’ his mother said, pitching her voice an octave higher.

  Bright raised onto one elbow and turned his head. ‘What is it?’ he said.

  His mother nodded to Knox and Fulton. ‘These men are here to see you,’ she said. ‘They’re police officers.’

  Bright swung around and placed the bottle on the table, then rubbed his eyes and focussed on the detectives. ‘Polis? he said. ‘What the hell–’

  ‘Mind your tongue, Gary,’ Mrs Bright admonished. She took the remote from the table and muted the television, then turned to Knox and said, ‘He’s not long back. Starts work early so he’s a bit tired, aren’t you, dear?’

  Bright glared at his mother. ‘I’m not a bairn, Ma,’ he said. ‘I can speak for myself.’ He turned to Knox and said, ‘Why’d you want to speak to me?’

  ‘It’s in connection with Ms Elizabeth O’Brian,’ Knox replied. ‘Katy O’Brian. I think you know her?’

  ‘Aye, I do,’ Bright said. ‘What about it?’

  ‘She was found dead on Calton Hill early this morning,’ Knox said. ‘We believe she was murdered.’

  Mrs Bright’s hands flew to her face. ‘Oh, my God. I saw that on the news this morning.’ She glanced at her son and added, ‘I didn’t realise… was that the lassie you were seeing a
few months back?’

  Knox witnessed her flinch as her son shot her an angry look.

  She moved quickly towards the door. ‘Oh… okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and make some tea, shall I?’ She glanced at Knox and Fulton. ‘Would either of you gentlemen like a cup?’

  ‘Not for me, Mrs Bright, thanks,’ Knox said.

  Fulton smiled and shook his head. ‘Thank you, no.’

  She gave her son a hesitant glance. ‘Gary?’

  He glowered at her in response.

  ‘All right,’ she said, ‘I’ll leave you men in peace.’

  After she left the room, Bright said, ‘As my ma said, it’s been a while since I saw Katy.’ He lifted the beer from the table, took a swig, then added, ‘But I’m sorry to hear she’s dead, like.’

  Knox nodded. ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  Bright shrugged. ‘April, I think. I dunno what date.’

  ‘Had you been seeing her for a while?’ Fulton asked.

  Bright shook his head. ‘Not that long.’

  ‘Did she stop seeing you?’ Knox said.

  Bright sat forward on the settee, placed the bottle back on the table, and gave Knox a hard stare. ‘Who told you that?’

  Knox ignored the question. ‘Did she?’

  Bright shrugged again. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her recently?’

  Bright gave Knox a measured look, then settled back on the sofa and nodded his head. ‘Aye, I have,’ he replied, ‘but only on the phone.’ He studied Knox for a moment, then said, ‘Okay… we had a row last time I saw her, right? She took the hump, buggered off. I phoned the next day to say I was sorry, but she hung up on me. I kept trying her mobile – but she wouldn’t answer when she saw who was calling. I tried phoning her at her work, but she’d not talk to me there either.’

  ‘What did you argue about?’

  Bright stared at the television, saying nothing. Knox was on the point of repeating the question when Bright finally broke the silence.

  ‘I drive a lorry for Malachy’s, the wholesale fruit merchants in Granton. The day before I met her, I’d just made a delivery to a shop in the Grassmarket. I got back in the cab, saw a big Mercedes pull up at the pedestrian lights across the road. The guy driving looks like a businessman, had a flashy suit on. There was a bird sitting in the passenger seat beside him… it was Katy,’ he said.

  ‘The motor then moved off, so she didn’t see me. When I saw her the next night, I was in two minds whether to bring it up or not. Kidded myself it might be innocent, like. Somebody who’d given her a lift, maybe. But the more I thought about it, the more it got to me. After a few drinks I decided to ask who the guy was, what she was doing in his car.’

  ‘You were jealous?’ Knox said.

  ‘Aye, a bit.’

  ‘So, you confronted her? What happened then?’

  ‘She went ballistic. Told me it was none of my fuckin’ business. Said I knew what she’d done for a living when I met her – that she’d been on the game and that. Told me I was being too bloody possessive. She’d a real temper on her, Katy. Totally pissed I’d brought it up.’

  ‘You hit her?’

  ‘Hit her?’ Bright said with a snort. ‘You’re fuckin’ joking, pal. She hit me. Banjoed my jaw, then buggered off.’

  ‘Where were you drinking?’ Fulton asked.

  ‘Doonan’s in Market Street,’ Bright said, then shook his head. ‘It was quite a punch – harder than I’ve been hit by some guys. Anyway, once I stopped seeing stars I ran after her. Too late. She’d already got in a taxi and disappeared.’

  ‘Where did you first meet her?’ Knox asked.

  ‘Benny’s Disco in Rose Street about six weeks earlier,’ Bright said. ‘I fancied her the minute I clapped eyes on her. I think she liked me, too – for a while, anyway. Told me on the first date she’d worked in a sauna, see? That she’d taken money for sex. Said if I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to go out with her again. I told her I was fine with it.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘That’s why she lost the plot in Doonan’s, I think.’

  Knox said, ‘You believe the man in the car was someone she’d known in her former life?’

  ‘Aye, I do. Some punter she’d met at the sauna, maybe. A guy who was still paying to shag her.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘The way she acted when I first mentioned seeing her with him. For a second or two it was as if’ – Bright paused, thinking – ‘as if she was ashamed, like. The next moment, she went mental. It was as if I’d called her a dirty slag.’

  ‘Did you think of her in that way after she ran out on you? Were you angry at her seeing another man?’

  Bright sat bolt upright and scowled at Knox. ‘Aw for Christ’s sake! You don’t think I’ve anything to do with her murder?’

  Knox ignored the question. ‘You told us earlier you’d spoken to her on the phone,’ he said. ‘When was this?’

  Bright still looked annoyed. ‘Come on, guys, I told you Katy’d said she’d been on the game and that. But I didn’t mind – honest. Okay, I was a bit jealous when I saw her with the guy, but that didn’t make any difference. I still wanted to go on seeing her. That’s why I kept phoning – to tell her I was sorry.’

  ‘You haven’t answered me. When did you speak to her?’

  Bright studied Knox for a long moment, then said, ‘I’d been calling once or twice a week since the row in Doonan’s. Like I say, every time I phoned her, she’d not take my call, kept cutting me off. Then, yesterday afternoon, she answered.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘Just after six, I think. I was going into town to meet some mates for a drink and I thought I’d give it another try. I was gobsmacked when I heard her voice.’

  ‘Where were you at the time?’

  ‘On a number 1 bus, heading into town.’

  ‘What did you say to her?’

  ‘That I was sorry for hurting her feelings. Asked if she’d give me another chance, like.’

  ‘I see. How did she respond?’

  ‘She told me she accepted my apology. But said she thought it better we didn’t see each other again. Made me promise to stop phoning her.’

  ‘How did you feel about that?’

  Bright shook his head. ‘Gutted.’

  ‘Uh-huh. Did you agree? Accept it was over between you?’

  ‘Aye. I wasn’t ecstatic about it, mind. But at least she finally gave me the chance to say I was sorry. Nothing I could do but move on.’ He gave a resigned shrug. ‘Hadn’t seen her for months anyway.’

  Knox said, ‘Did she say where she was when you spoke to her?’

  ‘No. And I didn’t ask.’

  ‘You say you went into town for a drink with your mates. Where did you meet them?’

  ‘Mathers, in the High Street. We always drink there.’

  ‘You were at Mathers all night?’

  ‘I left at half past eight, got back here an hour or so later. I was in my bed by half ten. I’ve an early start. Got to be at West Shore Road for six in the morning.’

  ‘So, you were home at half past ten?’

  ‘Aye, I was. Ask my ma if you don’t believe me.’

  Knox nodded. ‘Okay, Gary. Thanks for your cooperation. Oh, one more thing before we go – I take it you’re single?’

  ‘I am now.’

  ‘You were married?’

  ‘Aye, when I was twenty-four. Divorced a year later. The cow was having it off with another guy.’ He snorted again. ‘Now, she was a slag.’

  ‘Did you wear a wedding ring?’

  ‘At the time, aye.’

  ‘Do you still have it?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Ever wear it now?’

  ‘Naw – why the hell would I?’

  Knox shook his head. ‘It’s not important.’ He nodded to Fulton. ‘Okay, we’ll be on our way.’ Then, turning back to Bright, he added, ‘You’ll be here if we need to speak to you again?’ />
  ‘I’m not planning to bugger off anywhere, if that’s what you mean.’

  * * *

  ‘You know, boss, I’m wondering if we shouldn’t wear these IDs detectives stick into their top jacket pocket on US cop shows,’ Fulton said when they were back in the car.

  Knox glanced at his partner. ‘Like a wee folding wallet, you mean? One end goes inside the pocket and the other slips over the front and displays the badge?’

  Fulton turned to Knox and nodded. ‘Aye, that’s the kind.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘’Cause I’m fed up being taken for tanning cabinet maintenance men and bloody Jehovah’s Witnesses.’ He shook his head. ‘Happened twice today already.’

  Knox laughed. ‘Aye, wouldn’t like it to become a habit.’

  Fulton nodded and said, ‘What do you reckon to our boy, then?’

  Knox started the Passat and moved off. ‘Another one with a temper, wasn’t he? Almost lost the plot when I asked him how he reacted to her seeing someone else–’

  ‘– You think that would’ve been the Murch guy, boss?’

  ‘Aye, most likely.’ Knox shook his head, then continued, ‘Bright? I’d say he’s the type who’d consider he had enough motive, given the circumstances: her walloping his jaw in Doonan’s, leaving him high and dry. How angry does that make him? And from then up to the last minute, he stalks her by phone. When he finally gets through, she draws a line in the sand. Doesn’t want to see him again, doesn’t want him to call her again. Is he really able to accept that as gracefully as he maintains?’

  ‘His alibi, though? He would’ve been in his kip when O’Brian was killed.’

  Knox nodded. ‘Aye, so it would seem. And I’m sure if we asked his mother, she would back him up. Not sure how reliable that would be, though. Bright appeared to intimidate her.’

  ‘That look he gave her when she mentioned he’d been seeing O’Brian?’

  ‘Aye. Took her leave in a hell of a hurry afterward.’

  ‘Think she’d be prepared to lie?’

  Knox shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t be the first honest-looking woman who’s prepared to perjure herself for the sake of her son, Bill.’

  Fulton nodded in agreement. ‘Where’s that leave us, boss?’