They were just in time to see the two dark uniforms framed in the door’s glass panel.
V
Hillhead Student Village
Brian Burnett nosed the pool car into an empty parking space. Through a rain-spattered windscreen, he peered at the building in front of him. New Carnegie Court was a bland, four-storey block. The body at St Machar had been identified as student Lucy Simmons. The flat that Lucy shared with four other first-year students was located, he’d been advised by the Accommodation Office, on the second floor.
By his side sat DC Susan Strachan. She turned to her sergeant. ‘What d’you reckon?’
Brian didn’t know what the hell he was doing there. It was routine stuff, a job for the DCs. But he was still smarting from his run-in with Chisolm, and resources were spread so thin, all the foot soldiers were spoken for. His stomach rumbled. ‘I reckon I could kill for a macaroni pie.’
Head bent against the driving rain, they ducked out of the car and made a dash for the entrance, negotiated the security entry and made a beeline for the stairs.
A girl answered Brian’s knock.
‘DS Burnett and DC Strachan, Aberdeen Police.’ They showed their warrant cards. ‘We buzzed from downstairs.’
‘Oh…yes.’ She didn’t look too sure.
‘It’s about Lucy.’ Brian added. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions.’
The girl nodded. ‘You’d better come in.’
The two followed the girl down the hallway. She was tall and lissome: long legs in skinny jeans, Jack Wills printed sweatshirt, glossy hair swinging down her back. Yahs, Susan thought. You never used to get that many of them in Aberdeen. If they didn’t get into Oxbridge, the public school kids tended to head for Edinburgh or St Andrews. She supposed the pressure on university places was sending them further north.
The living room was open-plan to the kitchen. The girl indicated a contemporary scarlet sofa. Susan sat down. Brian followed. The furnishings in the other halls he’d visited were pretty basic: narrow single bed, kitchens equipped with fridges, Baby Bellings, microwaves, but not much else. Contrast that with New Carnegie Court, where the soft furnishings were brightly coloured, the kitchens contemporary in stainless steel and blond wood. But this latter came at a price, Brian knew, being at the top end of the range of accommodation on offer. They do all right for themselves, this lot, he thought.
He spoke first. ‘I understand there are five of you occupying this flat.’
‘Yes. Well, there were, but one of the guys dropped out after the first semester.’
‘And no one has taken his place?’
‘No, like, there was supposed to be someone coming. But no one’s appeared so far…’ The girl’s voice trailed off.
‘And you are?’ Brian fished out his notebook.
‘Melissa. Melissa Harding.’ She met Brian’s gaze, bright-eyed.
His thoughts turned to Lucy Simmons. As Senior Investigating Officer, he’d been present at the post-mortem. Knew that Lucy’s butchered body was lying now in a drawer in the Public Mortuary. She’d already lost her bloom of youth, her bright eyes become obscured by an opaque film. Hastily, he collected himself. ‘The others, are they here at the moment?’
Melissa shrugged. ‘No idea. I’ll go and look.’
It must have been five minutes before the girl reappeared.
‘There’s no answer from Sally’s room. I think she must be at lectures.’
‘Can you give me her full name?’
‘Sally Hay.’
He jotted this down. ‘And she’s studying what?’
‘Linguistics. Dom’s still in bed.’
‘Dom?’
‘Dominic. I’ve told him you’re here.’
‘Thanks. Now, can you tell me when you last saw Lucy?
‘Around 9.20 on Tuesday morning. I was sitting in my pyjamas at the breakfast bar, and she came into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. Then I went back to my room to get dressed, and by the time I came out again she’d gone.’
‘And you didn’t see Lucy again that day?’
‘No-o.’ The girl burst into tears.
Susan patted her on the shoulder. ‘Would you like me to fetch you something? Drink of water? Cup of tea?’
Melissa shook her head.
‘If you could fill me in on Lucy’s background,’ Brian again. ‘Does she have a boyfriend, for instance?’
‘Did. They split up last year.’
‘Know his name?’
‘Edward something-or-other.’
Brian nodded. ‘Do you happen to know where he is now, this Edward?’
‘Up at Oxford. Somerville, I think.’
‘And when would Lucy have seen him last? Any idea?’
The girl twisted her hands. ‘Dunno.’
‘Anything else you can think of?’
‘Like?’
‘Like what Lucy could have been doing in St Machar kirkyard? How would she normally get from halls to her lectures, for example?’
Melissa put head to one side. ‘Catch the bus if it was bad weather. Mostly she’d walk through the park.’
‘Just to recap,’ Brian resumed, ‘you said Sally had left the flat before you got up.’
Melissa pulled a face. ‘She’s a bundle of fun.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Brian probed.
‘Sally’s a real swot. Spends all her days in the library. Evenings too.’
‘So she’s not likely to have seen Lucy Simmons at all that day?’
Melissa shook her head. ‘No.’
‘What about Dominic?’
‘What about him?’
‘You’ve told me Dominic didn’t come out of his room that morning.’
Melissa sighed. ‘Dom spends half his life in bed. He sits at the computer all night. Wakes me up sometimes, making coffee at four or five in the morning. Then he doesn’t want to get up for lectures…’ She broke off. ‘Doesn’t want to get up for anything, really. And there’s another thing. Dom’s always creeping about.’
‘I thought you said he spent the whole time in bed.’
‘I mean, like, when he isn’t in bed, he just sort of creeps up on you. You’ll turn round and he’ll be, like, standing there.’
‘And you find that annoying.’
‘Not annoying so much as weird.’
‘So,’ Susan summarised. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Melissa. You and Lucy were friends, but you didn’t get on with the other two.’
The girl shrugged. ‘It’s not that we didn’t get on. Just…well, like, we didn’t have anything in common with them.’
‘But you didn’t fall out?’
‘Fall out? No. Not except…’
‘Except?’
Melissa pulled a face. ‘The usual sort of things – nicking our stuff from the fridge, leaving dirty dishes lying around. It can be a real pain, you know.’
Susan thought of all those dirty bastards at Queen Street. She could identify with that.
‘You said Lucy didn’t have a boyfriend,’ Brian again.
‘That’s right. After she broke up with Edward, she didn’t want to commit to anything.’
‘Could there have been anyone else?’ he continued. ‘Anyone Lucy had a particular attachment to?’
‘I don’t think so,’ the girl wrinkled her brow. ‘Not unless you count Guy.’
‘And he’d be?’
‘Lucy’s Art History tutor. She had a bit of a pash for him. Oh,’ colour flooded Melissa’s face, ‘I shouldn’t have said.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Brian’s tone was reassuring, ‘we’ll use our discretion. Can you give me a surname?’
‘No. Sorry.’
‘Never mind. We’ll check it out.’
Melissa glanced at her watch. ‘Will th
at be all? I’ve got a lecture in an hour and I’ll need time to get ready.’
‘Just a couple more things,’ he looked up from his notebook. ‘Did your pal take a drink?’
‘Take a drink?’ Melissa puzzled.
‘Did Lucy regularly imbibe alcohol?’
‘Alcohol? No. Hardly at all.’
‘What about drugs?’
‘No.’
‘Not even the odd E?’ he prompted. ‘When she was partying?’
‘Lucy wasn’t a party girl.’
He nodded. ‘Leave me a mobile number in case I have to get back to you.’
The girl rattled off the number.
‘Oh, and one last thing. Would Lucy have left her mobile here?’
‘No.’ Melissa eyed Brian as if he were mad.
‘She’d have carried it with her?’
‘Always.’
‘Can you give me her number?’
Melissa thumbed through her contacts and flashed her phone at him.
‘Thanks.’ He scribbled a note. Flipped his notebook shut. ‘That’s all I wanted to know.’
Susan tapped on Dominic’s door. There was no response. She knocked again.
‘Wha-at?’ Thick voice.
‘Are you decent?’
There was silence, then, ‘Just about.’
After a brief interval, the door opened a fraction.
She peered through the crack. ‘Dominic, is it?’
The lad nodded.
Dominic Elwen was small, five foot four or so. Short legs encased in straight-legged jeans. Bare feet. A crumpled Nirvana T-shirt that could have been a collector’s item. Sallow skin. Black hair brushed back off a high forehead. Dark eyes under brows that met in an untidy straggle over a wide, flat nose. The eyes blinked at Susan now.
‘DC Strachan. I have some questions for you.’
Dominic stared, uncomprehending.
‘In connection with Lucy Simmons.’
‘Oh…right.’ He rubbed sleep from his eyes and opened the door another fraction.
Susan caught a glimpse of a mouthful of bad teeth, smelled the sour reek of sweat. Behind Dominic, she could make out walls plastered with graphic posters, a computer desk piled high with papers, an unmade bed strewn with dirty clothes.
‘When you’re ready. I’ll be in the lounge.’
Doesn’t Matter
‘Have you seen this, folks?’ In the staffroom of Seaton School, someone waved the local paper. ‘They’ve named that girl we were talking about the other day.’
‘The one at St Machar?’
‘Yes. Listen up. I’ll read it out to you.’
The body of a young woman discovered on Tuesday evening in the grounds of St Machar Cathedral has now been formally identified as Lucy Simmons.
A student at Aberdeen University, Lucy, 17, was in her first year of a History of Art degree and shared a mixed flat in New Carnegie Court at Hillhead Student Village. Friends were said to be devastated by her death and are receiving counselling from the university.
Seventeen. The blood drained from Maggie’s face. The same age as Colin.
‘What’s up, Maggie? Is it someone you know?’
‘N-no…’ she stuttered. ‘It’s upsetting, that’s all, when something like that happens so close to home.’
‘Too true. All the same, let me read you the next bit.’
Lucy’s parents, Virginia and Michael Simmons, an executive in the financial sector, have flown to Aberdeen from their home in Surrey, but are unavailable for comment at this time. However, we understand Lucy to be their only child.
‘Poor souls,’ there was a buzz of excited comments. ‘Can you imagine what they’ll be going through?’
‘I know. They look such decent people, too.’
‘Is there a picture? Let’s see.’
Maggie sat, stunned, whilst the newspaper was passed round.
‘What a lovely girl.’
‘Can you imagine if it was one of yours?’
‘Doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘An only child as well. Don’t know how you’d survive.’
‘Who’d ever think there’d be a murder right on your doorstep?’
‘I know. Seaton’s one thing, but St Machar? And in the graveyard too.’
‘Terrifying.’
‘Wonder if the police have got anyone for it?’
‘Not yet.’ The words were out before Maggie could stop herself. She’d got a fright that day, when the uniforms had come knocking at her door. No matter it had been related to another matter altogether: an opportunist thief who’d been targeting the area. Nonetheless, she’d got straight on the phone to Brian.
All eyes turned to her.
‘Are you still in touch with folk, then?’ another of the teachers cut in. They all knew chapter and verse on George.
She fudged. ‘One or two.’
‘Come on, then. If you know something, you’ve got to let us in on it.’
Despite the shock, Maggie experienced a sudden flush of self-importance that was not altogether unwelcome, she was ashamed to admit. She’d always felt out of place in the staffroom. Pupil Support Assistants, she imagined, fell somewhere on the pecking order between the school secretary and the cleaners. And she knew full well the older teachers on the staff saw Learning Support as getting in the way of their teaching programmes. Hadn’t she caught them moaning only recently?
‘Well?’
‘From what I’ve gathered, the girl had sustained a head injury.’
‘There!’ Triumphant voice. ‘Told you it was murder.’
‘She might have had an accident,’ Maggie ventured.
‘What sort of accident?’
‘Not an accident as much as…she may have fallen over.’ Maggie had made a hole and was digging herself further in.
‘Fallen?’ Somebody hooted. ‘You don’t fall over at seventeen.’
‘Not unless you’re tanked. You only have to look at the taxi ranks down Union Street every weekend.’
‘Never mind that,’ someone else chipped in. ‘My newspaper said there was a sexual assault.’
‘Ach,’ scornful voice, ‘there’s red tops for you. Nothing sells better than a dollop of salacious sex.’
‘Mebbe so, but it also said there was an object found at the…’
‘An object? What? Where?’
‘Paper didn’t say.’
‘See,’ one of the older women said with some relish.
Maggie snapped, ‘That’s enough.’
Conversation switched to the pupils.
‘How are the Famous Four doing?’ someone enquired.
‘Famous Four?’
‘Willie Meston and his gang.’
‘Didn’t know he had a gang,’ Maggie lied. ‘The only person I’ve seen with him on a regular basis is Ryan Brebner.’
‘Well,’ a voice chipped in, ‘he does now. Quite the wee posse – Willie, Ryan, Lewis and Kieran.’
‘Kieran Chalmers?’ she enquired guilelessly.
‘Yes. And you thinking that boy had prospects,’ one of the older teachers said with undisguised satisfaction. ‘Thick as thieves, they are. They’ve been out of here after school like the proverbial bat out of hell.’
‘That right?’
‘You’d better keep a close eye, if Kieran’s not to stray from the straight and narrow.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that.’ Maggie wasn’t going to let on the boys were only playing on a piece of waste ground.
‘You still not going to tell us about that lassie up St Machar?’ Cheeky voice.
She looked down at her watch. ‘Sorry,’ she fibbed, ‘got to go. I’m on playground duty.’
Maggie scanned the playground. Beyond a mesh fence, a scrum of small bo
ys kicked a ball about the Astroturf. Here and there on the tarmac, huddles of girls whispered behind their hands. In a far corner, a solitary figure stabbed his trainer with fierce concentration at a stone.
‘You all right over there?’ she called. Some of the staff balked at playground duty, but Maggie didn’t mind it. Got her out of class and into the fresh air.
The lad carried on, worrying the stone with the toe of his trainer. Tugging her collar close against the wind, she crossed the tarmac.
‘Is anything the matter, Kieran?’ she asked in a soft voice.
The boy wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘No.’
‘Why aren’t you playing with your pals, then?’ She threw a glance over her shoulder. The other kids seemed oblivious. She took in their short sleeves, bare arms and legs, marvelled at their resilience.
For a moment, the boy paused. ‘Just…’ He carried on where he’d left off.
‘Just what?’
No answer.
‘If something’s bothering you,’ she persisted, ‘don’t you think you should tell someone?’
The boy stopped kicking. Started again. ‘Dunno.’
For a few moments, Maggie speculated. Staff weren’t encouraged to get too close to the children any more. Maybe she should leave the boy alone. She turned away.
‘Miss?’
She swivelled on her heel.
‘It’s Lewis.’ Kieran kept his head down.
‘Lewis McHardy?’A furrow appeared between Maggie’s brows. She’d seen the boy only that morning.
‘Yes.’
‘What about Lewis?’ Her voice was filled with concern. ‘Is there something you need to tell me, Kieran?’ Over time, she’d gleaned a few choice facts about Lewis’s home life. Couldn’t begin to imagine what further crisis could have prompted Kieran to mention the boy.
‘I… I’m not sure.’
She caught the doubt in Kieran’s voice. ‘He’s not in trouble, is he?’ If she didn’t get to the nub of it right now, the bell would ring and the break be over.
‘Sort of.’
‘Serious trouble?’
Small silence, then, ‘Mebbe.’
From the tremor in his voice, Maggie reckoned that Kieran was close to tears. She felt a sudden ache in the pit of her stomach. After all the hard work she’d put in, if Lewis was in trouble, then maybe Kieran was too. She could see his chances of going on to higher education disappearing like soapy water down a sink. Serves me right, she thought, for trying to get one over on them in the staffroom. She resolved there and then to re-commence surveillance on the four boys. But first she’d better get to the bottom of what was troubling Kieran.
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