Dead in the Water (37 page)

‘Surely this knocks that angle on the head? You’re not thinking this is connected, are you, Tam?’

MacNee obviously knew what she was talking about, even if Macdonald didn’t.

‘Och no,’ he said. ‘Just wanted an excuse to raise the other matter anyway and this looked a good one. If the interpreter arrives before I get back, Andy can start on these boys.’

There was limpid innocence in MacNee’s face. At that moment, someone came up to Big Marge with a query, so Macdonald didn’t hear her reaction, but he knew what he thought himself.

‘What new scam is this? There’s something we’re not being told, isn’t there? What don’t I know, Tam?’

‘Hardly know where to begin, laddie.’

‘Very funny. Why do you want to go and leave me to question the plum witnesses? It’s not like you.’

‘I’m all heart, giving you a chance to shine.’

‘Sure, sure. Come on, what’s going on?’

MacNee winked. ‘That’s for me to know and you to guess,’ he said, and strode cockily off, leaving Macdonald fuming, frustrated and none the wiser.

To describe MacNee’s reception at Miramar as unenthusiastic would be like saying it was a touch dusty in the Sahara desert. Gavin Hodge’s face turned purple with rage, and even Diane’s voice was shrill with anger.

‘I don’t know how you have the nerve to show your face here, after lying to me like that yesterday.’

MacNee was unmoved. ‘I’ve never been a shrinking violet. And your husband maybe didn’t admit to his relationship with Ailsa Grant, but everything he did say told me loud and clear.’

Diane stared at MacNee. Hodge’s mouth fell open.

‘Relationship,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t know what you mean. What relationship?’

Hodge blustered, ‘I don’t know what the hell this is about. There was no “relationship”. I didn’t choose to mention we’d seen Ailsa in Glasgow because it had no relevance to her death. As Diane told you, we hadn’t seen her for months before that but I know exactly what happens when you lot think you’re on to something – you warp the facts to fit the theory. That’s what you’re doing now.’

He turned to Diane. ‘Look, he’s playing games, trying to set us against each other. It’s all lies. You know how the police operate. And you know he lied to you before.’

That pressed the right button. ‘Yes. Yes, of course I do. Sergeant, you’re scum. Get out of here.’

MacNee ignored that. ‘Maybe you don’t know you’re closely linked to a knife crime? Again. Only this time it’s murder.’

Diane gave a little scream. ‘
Murder?
But who? Not – not Marcus—’

‘An employee of yours. Stefan Pavany.’

‘You can’t think this was anything to do with us!’ Diane was horrified. ‘We hardly knew the poor man – he was just our builder.’

‘These things can lead to disagreements. Did you fall out over payments, maybe? And we know you and Mr Lindsay had problems, didn’t you, Gavin?’

Hodge had gone very still. ‘What – what time did this happen?’

‘Last night. His body was found dumped in the car park at the pub in Ardhill this morning.’

Hodge cleared his throat. ‘Last night? We went out for a drink with friends.’

‘At—?’ MacNee prompted.

‘I’m not sure.’ He was prevaricating, but Diane, always ready to be helpful, offered, ‘Seven o’clock. We came home around half past eight.’

‘And then?’

Blithely she went on, ‘We had supper. Then remember, Gavin, someone came to the door while I was having a bath—’ She stopped short at the look on her husband’s face.

‘A visitor?’ MacNee enquired with polite interest. ‘Who was that?’

Hodge’s calculation was all but audible. Then he said, ‘Look, sergeant, I’ll be honest with you.’

‘Always the best policy,’ MacNee said piously.

‘Pavany came round last night to talk about the building work. I’d promised a bonus if they finished by next week but he’d had problems and wanted to renegotiate. Of course, I was having none of it, and frankly, it’s lucky it’s not my murder you’re investigating. I thought for a moment he’d go for me.’

This was unexpected, but MacNee seized on it. ‘Are you sure he didn’t? This is when to tell me – he attacked you, you grabbed his knife in self-defence, panicked and decided to dispose of the body—’

‘No, no, of course I didn’t!’ Hodge was certainly panicking now.

It was Diane who stepped in. ‘Don’t be bloody silly,’ she said coldly. ‘I had my bath and then he never left the house. So bugger off, with your nasty allegations.’

MacNee found he believed her. But even so, it had given him another card to play.

‘The thing is, sir, there’ll be DNA evidence after the autopsy, so if you were to agree to having a swab taken, that could put you in the clear.’

‘You’d better do it then, Gav. Get him off your back,’ Diane urged, but Hodge was suddenly looking at MacNee with narrowed eyes.

‘I’ve got an alibi. Why should you want—?’ he began, then stopped. He gave a short laugh. ‘Oh, I see. Forget it, sergeant. And now, I’m shutting the door.’

MacNee returned to Ardhill in a very bad temper.

Sylvia Lascelles was feeling her age this morning. She’d been tired enough, God knows, when she’d gone to bed, but she’d slept badly and wakened in the grey, depressing light of early dawn. Her lips were blue and the bags under the famous violet-grey eyes could, she thought bitterly as she looked in the mirror, hold Joan Collins’s wardrobe for a fortnight in Las Vegas.

But it wasn’t very funny, really. Or actually, not funny at all. She had a performance to do today and she’d heard Barrie arriving, so she’d better see what could be done before she had to face the world. She laid out every cosmetic in her extensive armoury and set to work with the
Touche Éclat
, then took particular trouble with her hair, twisting the thinning grey rope into its upswept coil before loosening it to form soft waves around her face.

The stress was getting too much for her. She’d always believed spirit could overcome age and infirmity, but it was only true if you didn’t push your luck. They were to film her big scene this morning, when she was to confront her attacker, and she was just afraid she wouldn’t get through it.

She must, though! Finished with her
maquillage
, if not satisfied, she picked up the moonstone ring from the dressing table and forced it over the swollen knuckle of the ring finger on her left hand, then looked at it. Laddie’s ring – her talisman. She must be brave. Not let the side down. On with the motley.

As she propelled herself across the hall, she was grateful that the drawing-room door was open – so humiliating, to have to struggle with the handle, or knock. Barrie spotted her and trotted over, his face tragic.

Marcus was standing by the fireplace looking sombre.

‘Such awful news, darling!’

Her heart began to race. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I don’t know how to tell you. They’re pulling the plug. And this was to be our showcase episode – the return of the legendary Sylvia Lascelles!’

Relief washed over her. Sylvia looked up at him with her luminous smile. ‘How sad – and sad for all of you, after working so hard. But I’ve been a pro for long enough, heaven knows – that’s just show business, isn’t it?’

Barrie picked up her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘I don’t know what to say. Marcus, she’s amazing, this lady. Takes a blow like this with so much understanding, such grace—’

‘Why?’ Her tone was a little sharper than she had meant it to be, but she couldn’t stand gushing.

Marcus said, ‘They’ve found a body. No, nothing to do with us – some brawl in the pub, probably. But the producer decided enough was enough.’

‘A body? Oh, Marcus, how terrible. Do they know who it was?’

‘A Polish labourer.’ His voice was soothing. ‘Like I said, some quarrel—’

‘But he was stabbed, Marcus, stabbed – that’s the thing!’ Barrie, oblivious to Marcus’s warning look, was revelling in sensation. ‘You have to think—’

‘Stabbed!’ Sylvia put a hand to her throat. ‘Marcus, that could have been you!’

Exasperated, Marcus said, ‘Thank you, Barrie! That really wasn’t helpful. Sylvia, it only means they’ll pull out all the stops and get hold of this maniac.’

‘But what if they don’t?’ she cried. ‘What if—’

Barrie, abashed, tried to soothe her. ‘He’s right, Sylvia. Anyway, you can get straight back home to London now and be safe and sound.’

He got a withering glance. ‘And leave Marcus here alone? I’m not afraid for myself – I’m too old to be afraid. But somehow, he’s got across someone, and though I can’t quite see myself leaping into action to protect him, I’m not going until he’s safe in Glasgow.’

Marcus came across to kiss her cheek. ‘Darling, you can’t take much more of this. I don’t mind you going back to London. I’ll be leaving tomorrow or the next day.’

‘I’d rather be here. Anyway,’ she smiled at him, ‘it may be the last time, you know, and in spite of everything it’s felt good to be so near darling Laddie again. As long as you’re around, I can feel I haven’t quite lost him.’ Her eyes misted over.

Barrie murmured, ‘So romantic! I feel quite tearful myself.’

Sylvia was grateful to Marcus for saying bracingly, ‘Well, Barrie, if there’s nothing else, you probably have a dozen things to do.’

Snarling wouldn’t really have suited her gracious image.

‘One of them thinks he could recognize the knife. The other’s not sure.’

MacNee had got back in time to question the two Poles, to Macdonald’s annoyance, then returned to Kirkluce to brief his boss.

Fleming was looking rough, suffering, he guessed, from divided loyalties. Her son must be on her mind, and she’d had all the demanding formalities to deal with – informing the DCC and the Fiscal’s office, putting out a press statement, starting her log of actions taken – and that was just for a start.

He went on, ‘Both said there’d been quite a stramash. Franzik erupted and went for Pavany with a knife. They’d to grab him, then Pavany took it off him – put it in his pocket or maybe down on the table. Then Pavany threw him out.’

‘Dangerous young man,’ Fleming said. ‘A temper and a powerful motive. What was the row about?’

‘Pavany was cheating him over his wages – both lads agreed on that. Didn’t like the man, but said Franzik was mucking him about as well.’

‘Good solid stuff, if we can lay hands on him. They’ve got fingerprints off the knife – smudged, but quite clear. No doubt they’ll get Franzik’s prints by elimination if nothing else – off a toothbrush or something.

‘I’ve got the autopsy later, then I’ll come back, sift what’s come in and set up for tomorrow. Briefing at eight-thirty – I’m calling everyone in. We’re seriously stretched and Dumfries won’t be able to help. Don’t think we can press-gang Ewan, though – statutory paternity leave’s tricky. Pity – he’s got a real talent for cutting straight to the point. Anyway—’ Fleming looked meaningly at her cluttered desk.

‘Another thing,’ MacNee said. ‘My wee chat with the Hodges – that was quite interesting. Pavany turned up there last night wanting to discuss payment for the building work and it ended up being a bit of a barney. But Diane gave Hodge a solid alibi, so—’ MacNee shrugged. ‘I told him we knew about him and Ailsa—’

Fleming cut him short. ‘Let’s leave that meantime. Once this is over, I’ll pick up the Grant case again, but we’re stretched right now. Put in your reports ASAP, anyway.’

He tried again. ‘Suppose I see if I can try to trace any stuff about Lindsay’s speeding charge? Just quietly—’

‘Tam, we have a murder to deal with. Suppose we concentrate on that?’

‘Fine, fine.’

He left, disappointed. But she hadn’t actually forbidden him to phone one of his pals in Glasgow. The Fiscal would be all over them like a rash with the new case and having something they could use to get her off their backs could be very handy – very handy indeed.

18

The incident room was full by 8.30 on Sunday morning with uniforms as well as CID. Some were enjoying the buzz, looking at the diagrams and photos stuck to the whiteboard; some, like Tansy Kerr, were disgruntled.

‘I could still be asleep,’ Kerr grumbled to Andy Macdonald. ‘Dragged out of bed yesterday too. You can get sick of this bloody job.’

Macdonald eyed her thoughtfully. Tansy had been subdued since her ill-judged affair last year with a fellow-officer. She’d ditched her ferocious hair colours for more muted shades, but her enthusiasm seemed muted too. He was going to say something when Kerr exclaimed, ‘Oh, look – our very own new dad! Didn’t think they could pull you in off paternity leave, Ewan!’

‘Didn’t,’ DC Campbell said with his usual brevity. ‘Wanted to come.’

Macdonald and Kerr exchanged knowing looks. ‘Baby a bit much, is she?’ he asked.

‘Baby’s OK. It’s the wife and her mother. I don’t have the Gaelic and all they do is blether away. Sounds like breaking glass with their teeth. The only time they speak English is when they’re telling me what to do. Better here.’

Before they could coax him into further loquacity, Big Marge appeared and the briefing began.