Knox turned to Fulton and said, ‘Recognise the car, Bill?’
Fulton’s jaw dropped in amazement. ‘The bloody ice-queen.’
‘Ice-queen?’ Mason queried.
‘Bill’s pet name for Alice Murch,’ Knox said, then to Hathaway, ‘Now rewind the tape again, Mark. I want to focus between 10.20pm to just before eleven.’
Hathaway rewound the tape and they watched the images spool backwards. When the counter read 10.27pm, Knox told Hathaway to stop. ‘There,’ he said. He indicated the screen, which showed O’Brian accessing the path. ‘Now, Mark, forward the tape slowly through the next few minutes.’
Hathaway did so, and at 10.29pm Alice Murch came into view. She wore a dark trouser suit similar to the one she’d been wearing a day earlier, and a white West Highland terrier followed at her heels on a lead. ‘I thought so,’ Knox said, ‘she’s shadowing O’Brian.’
‘That floral chiffon scarf around her neck,’ Mason said, ‘looks like silk, boss. Wasn’t a silk thread found on Katy’s blouse?’
Knox nodded.
Fulton said, ‘Fits Alex Turley’s ring theory, too. She’s bound to have been wearing one.’
‘We want to see her exit the hill, though, just to be sure,’ Knox said.
Hathaway said, ‘I’m positive when I checked this on Friday, I saw the last person leave shortly before eleven.’ He fast-forwarded again, slowing the tape when the counter read 10.50pm, then began scrolling through the images frame-by-frame.
At 10.57pm Alice Murch reappeared and began walking back along Royal Terrace towards her car, her West Highland terrier following, struggling to keep up.
‘Three minutes to eleven,’ Knox said.
‘What time did Turley say O’Brian was murdered?’ Fulton asked.
‘11pm, give or take fifteen minutes.’
‘Which would fit with what we’re seeing, boss.’
‘Look, the scarf she was wearing in the earlier frame isn’t around her neck in this one,’ Mason said suddenly, pointing to the screen. She traced her finger down the left side of Murch’s jacket. ‘It’s here, sticking out of her pocket.’
Knox nodded, then looked at his watch. ‘Okay, we’ve seen enough.’ He turned to Fulton. ‘Bill, I think it’s time you and I paid Morrison Tower another visit.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘Any chance Alice Murch might be at home, boss?’ Fulton said as Knox steered his Passat into Morrison Street a short while later. ‘Considering her husband was released this morning?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve a hunch it’ll be business as usual for both of them. If I’m mistaken, though, we’ll radio uniform to meet us at Colinton and drive over and arrest her there.’
As Knox drove into Morrison Tower’s driveway moments afterwards, Jimmy the doorman exited the building and, recognising the detectives, indicated the space where Knox had parked the previous day, then went back inside.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ he said when Knox and Fulton came into the hallway. He jerked a finger towards the unmanned reception desk. ‘Lorraine’s presently on her mid-morning break.’ Then, looking at Knox, added, ‘If you’re here to see Mr Murch, though, I’m afraid you’ve just missed him. I think he’s taking a client to look over a property.’
‘Actually, we’re here to see Mrs Murch,’ Knox said. ‘She’s in the same office?’
‘No, sir,’ Jimmy said. ‘She uses the one next door, number 129b.’
‘She’s there now?’ Knox queried.
‘As far as I’m aware, sir, yes.’ He nodded to a phone behind the desk. ‘You want me to call and make sure?’
‘No thanks,’ Knox said. ‘We’d prefer to arrive unannounced.’
* * *
‘Back again, Inspector?’ Alice Murch said when she opened her office door some minutes later. ‘I thought you’d eliminated my husband from your inquiries?’
‘We have, Mrs Murch,’ Knox said. ‘It’s you we’ve come to see.’
‘Really?’ she replied, caustically. ‘Well, I suppose you better come in.’
Knox and Fulton entered her office, which was slightly smaller than her husband’s but had a similar layout. Three filing cabinets and a laser printer occupied the wall to the left, between which a door connected both offices. Her desk was also less ostentatious, standing at right-angles to a large picture window which, like her husband’s, afforded a clear view of the southern aspects of Edinburgh Castle. Knox noted that the scarf she’d worn in the video was hanging next to her jacket on a coat-hook behind the door.
Alice Murch turned to face Knox then, her hands clasped in front of her. ‘So, Inspector, won’t you please explain the reason for your visit?’
‘Yes, Mrs Murch,’ Knox said. ‘I’m here to tell you that this morning we examined a videotape which clearly shows you following Elizabeth O’Brian onto Calton Hill at 10.29pm on Friday evening.’ He jerked a thumb towards the door. ‘The video shows you wearing that scarf around your neck. Yet, less than 30 minutes later, the tape has you walking back to Royal Terrace, by which time the scarf is in your pocket.’ Knox paused and added. ‘I believe you used it to strangle Ms O’Brian, and I’m arresting you for her murder.’
He nodded to Fulton, who took a pair of nitrile gloves and an evidence bag from his pocket and went to the coat hook. Knox waited until his partner had pulled on the gloves and placed the scarf in the bag, then continued, ‘A thread was found on Ms O’Brian’s body, and I’ve no doubt it will match the material of the scarf. Also, on her clothing was a specimen of DNA, which I’m sure will match your unique genetic fingerprint.’
Alice Murch unclasped her hands, gave Knox a resigned look, then waved in a gesture of acceptance. ‘I did follow O’Brian onto Calton Hill,’ she said, ‘but not with the intention of killing her. I followed her because I knew she was going to meet my husband.’ She looked at Knox directly. ‘May I explain how?’
Knox gave an affirmative nod. ‘Yes, carry on.’
‘Thank you. As I mentioned yesterday, I’ve known about my husband’s philandering for years.’ She waved her arm dismissively. ‘It was never affairs, though. He always used prostitutes – either call girls or tarts working in saunas.’
‘I don’t regard myself as a dispassionate person, Inspector, but not long after our marriage, I realised I was unable to fulfil my husband’s sexual appetites. Soon I stopped trying and shortly afterwards our marriage bed became barren, if you take my meaning.’ She offered a shrug. ‘I reasoned, however, as long as he paid for sex – and there was no emotional involvement with the women he saw – it was something I could live with.’
‘All that changed on Friday when Toby went for lunch.’ She nodded to the ceiling. ‘Morrison Tower has a roof restaurant, so he and I stagger our lunch breaks to ensure someone is always here to attend business. Toby breaks for lunch between 12.30pm and 1.15pm, myself from then until two.
‘Anyway, after he’d gone, I was sitting at my desk with the connecting door open and I heard his mobile beep twice. I realised he had forgotten to take it with him and went through and found it in his desk drawer. Curious, I checked and discovered a text message, which read:
TOBY – I’M PREGNANT. MUST SEE YOU URGENTLY TO DISCUSS YOU LEAVING YOUR WIFE. CAN’T MAKE A VOICE CALL AT THE MOMENT AS I’M AT WORK. CALL ME AFTER 8 WHEN I FINISH – KATY.
‘I was quite flabbergasted and spent the next fifteen minutes checking his messages. There were any number of texts confirming meetings over a period of months, all from the same woman. I looked at the Blackberry’s photo file and found dozens of images of her taken at properties we’d either acquired or were in the process of selling.
‘I made up my mind then I’d be there when the meeting took place. We finish at seven on a Friday, you see, and Toby goes to the Taj Mahal afterwards. I recalled him telling me he’d booked a place in a game starting at eight-thirty which was likely to last two hours.
‘So I decided to delete the message. I knew if he didn’t phone
her, she’d phone him. After 8pm he’d be at the club… in which case he’d have to wait until the game finished to meet her.’
‘Did he leave at seven?’ Knox asked.
‘Around then, yes. The Taj Mahal has a bar and restaurant, so he usually has a meal before gambling. Anyway, I drove home and had dinner, then phoned the Taj Mahal at 8.30pm to find out if his poker game had begun. The chap at reception confirmed it had and asked if I wanted to leave a message. I told him no.
‘I waited until Mrs Baranowski, my Polish cook and housekeeper, finished at 9.30pm, then took Charlie and drove into town, arriving just before ten.’
‘At Royal Terrace?’ Knox asked.
She nodded. ‘But when I got there, Charlie was in need of a pee. So I took him to the gardens opposite. Fifteen minutes later, I was about to cross the street again when a Vauxhall Corsa pulled up. I recognised the driver immediately – it was O’Brian. I remained where I was until she exited the car.’
‘Then began following her?’ Knox said.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘O’Brian continued to the top of the path, then made her way to the National Monument, where she waited. Keeping her in sight, I walked around the City Observatory building and stopped at a grove of trees just beyond the Nelson Monument.
‘It wasn’t long before Toby appeared, and for a moment I was afraid Charlie would draw attention to us. But he didn’t. Like me, he just stood silent and watched.’
‘Did you hear Ms O’Brian tell your husband she was pregnant?’ Knox asked.
‘I did. I also heard her tell him to leave me.’ She snorted derisively. ‘He wouldn’t have acquiesced of course. Toby knows on which side his bread is buttered. He likes to think he’s the driving force behind AN Properties, but knows in his heart that isn’t the case. My late father’s capital got the business going and, although it’s not the done thing to blow your own trumpet, it’s been my own efforts that have seen it succeed.
‘Anyway, Toby began his flannelling, which made her angry. She slapped his face and stormed off. I waited a moment until he started back for the club, then crossed in front of the Nelson Monument to catch her up.
‘Like I said, I didn’t intend killing her. I only wanted to warn her to bugger off and leave my husband alone. When I caught up with her, though, things quickly got out of control.’
‘Where did you catch up with her?’ Knox said.
‘At the south side of the observatory, near the Dugald Stewart Monument. I think she intended cutting across from there to join the path leading to Royal Terrace. I called out and she stopped, then turned and said, “Who are you?”
‘I said I was Toby’s wife and told her I’d overheard their conversation, then added, “You’re a bloody stupid little cow if you think Toby intends leaving me.”
‘“He’ll have to,” she replied. “The child is his.”
‘“Really?” I replied. “How can you be sure given the number of men you’ve fucked?”
‘She gave me a cold hard stare and said, “Toby’s the only man I’ve had sex with in more than two years. The child is his. I’ll force a paternity test to prove it if necessary.”
‘I sneered at her and said, “Then what? You think he’ll turn around and do the decent thing – divorce me to marry you? Give up a life of luxury to live in some squalid little flat with a former prostitute? For fuck’s sake, woman, get real.”
‘“Toby has money,” she said. “He owns a property business.”
‘“I’ve got some news for you, madam,” I replied. “Toby owns fuck all. The business is in my name. He’s simply the manager.”
‘She thought on this for a moment, then said, “That doesn’t matter. The child must have a father. We’ll manage somehow.”
‘“I don’t think you understand,” I said. “There’s no danger of Toby leaving me for you. He’s too much of a sybarite. If you think otherwise, you’re deluding yourself.” I gave her a pointed look and added, “Oh, perhaps I should explain – a sybarite is someone who prefers to live a life of luxury.”
‘I saw the blood rush to her face then and she said, “Don’t fucking patronise me, you bitch. I’ve already explained. The child must have a father.”
‘“Well, it won’t be Toby,” I said. “Why don’t you try suckering someone else? Or perhaps it might be better to get rid of it. Why not have an abortion?”
‘She lost it completely then, throwing a punch which caught my left shoulder. I retaliated by giving her face a hard slap. All of a sudden, she became like a wildcat; kicking and punching and spitting a stream of invective. I think she had every intention of killing me at that point.
‘Two further punches caught my stomach and arm, then she grabbed my scarf and began tugging at my neck. I managed to turn around and the scarf unravelled, then I moved in behind her, pulling the scarf around her neck as I did so. She began hammering her elbows into me, and kicking my legs with her heels.
‘I realised the only way to stop this was to pull her off her feet, which I did. Now my own blood was up; I tightened the scarf around her neck as hard as I could, then dragged her back into the bushes. She continued to struggle, but the more she did so, the more I tightened the scarf.
‘I don’t know how long this went on for – it felt like ages but must have been less than a minute. After a little while, she went limp, and I realised she was dead. I continued dragging her into the bushes, stopping just before the path. I waited another minute, then turned her body around.’
‘When we found Ms O’Brian, her underwear had been pulled to her ankles,’ Knox said. ‘Why’d you feel you had to do that?’
Alice Murch shook her head. ‘You must realise I was still exceptionally angry, Inspector. I felt she was a slut who’d made the most of what was between her legs. I think I wanted to express that.’
Knox noticed she was wearing two rings on the third finger of her left hand – a gold wedding ring and another inset with a large faceted emerald. He nodded to her ring finger and said, ‘You were wearing those rings on Friday evening?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘The police pathologist found indentation marks on Ms O’Brian’s neck.’
She cast her eyes downwards. ‘Oh… I see.’
‘Another thing, Mrs Murch. We didn’t find Ms O’Brian’s mobile phone. I take it you dumped it?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. I threw it in a rubbish bin at Tollcross, on my way home.’
‘Right, Mrs Murch,’ Knox said, ‘we’ll take you down to Gayfield Police Station where you’ll be re-interviewed and formally charged. You can call your solicitor from there if you want.’
‘Very well, Inspector,’ she said, shrugging. ‘As I’ve explained, I only reacted to the circumstances: extreme provocation, self-defence, perhaps even crime passionnel. I expect the judgement to reflect that.’
Knox nodded. ‘That’ll be up to the courts to decide, Mrs Murch.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘You think she’d have admitted yesterday that she’d done it,’ Hathaway was saying. ‘Instead of letting her man suffer a night in jail.’
It was 4.45pm, and he was seated in the Major Incident Team office at Gayfield Square Police Station together with Knox, Fulton and Mason. The detectives were discussing Alice Murch, who’d been re-interviewed that afternoon and charged with the murder of Katherine O’Brian, before being remanded in custody.
‘Maybe she wanted him to suffer a little,’ Mason said. ‘Considering what she’d put up with.’
‘Still very much the ice-queen, though,’ Fulton said. ‘Brassing it out like she did. Her brief says she intends to plead extenuating circumstances.’ He turned to Knox. ‘Think the court’ll go for a lesser charge, boss?’
‘Manslaughter’s the most likely,’ Knox said.
‘Not crime passionnel?’ Mason said. ‘There’s a precedent for it.’
Knox acknowledged this with a nod. ‘That case in England back in 2012, you mean? When the Lord Chief Justice quashed the convi
ction of a man who killed his wife?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t recall where such a ruling’s been made in Scotland, Yvonne. But you never know.’
DCI Warburton entered the room at that moment, a broad smile on his face. ‘Congratulations, everyone, on a job well done,’ he said. Then, turning to Knox, he lowered his voice and added, ‘You don’t know how relieved I am to get the bloody media off my back. By the way, Jack, the Chief Constable asked me to convey his thanks on a quick resolution.’
‘It was a team effort, sir.’
Warburton nodded. ‘I know, Jack, I know. Speaking of the media, I’ll need to go. I’ve an interview with that Lyon woman from Lowland Independent Television in half an hour.’ He turned and walked back to the door, then paused and said, ‘Oh, Jack–’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘I forgot to mention, that business with David McIntyre – the man who assaulted you with a knife early on Saturday?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Thought you’d like to know the Procurator Fiscal threw it out. The charge has been dismissed.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Knox said. ‘That’s good to know.’
When Warburton left the room, Knox said, ‘I feel a celebratory drink is in order.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s just after five, I think it’s time we called it a day. I’m off to the Windsor. Anyone join me?’
Hathaway pulled a face. ‘Sorry, boss. The wife’s attending a pre-natal class. I promised I’d pick her up. Another time?’
‘Of course, Mark. Yvonne?’
‘Have to be another time for me, too, boss,’ Mason said. ‘I’m meeting a friend.’
‘Okay. Bill?’
‘Sure, boss. You know I don’t need asking twice.’
* * *
Lowland Independent Television’s News Tonight programme was just starting when Knox and Fulton entered the Windsor Buffet and approached the bar. As Knox ordered their drinks, reporter Jackie Lyon began interviewing DCI Warburton at Gayfield Square Police Station’s media room.
‘Aha,’ Fulton said, eyeing the television screen. ‘This should be interesting.’
The Innocent and the Dead Page 8