The Reborn (30 page)

‘May I see my husband?’ Her voice was low, and he detected a tremble.

‘After we’ve had our chat.’

She clasped her hands together on her lap and waited for him to explain why she was there.

‘We have some news on the paternity of Kira’s baby.’

She looked surprised. ‘I don’t understand. How can you tell?’

‘The umbilical cord was left behind. It can be used to test for paternity.’

‘Oh.’

There was no easy way to say this, so he made it as plain as possible. ‘I’m afraid your husband is the baby’s father. The DNA test is conclusive, there can be no doubt.’

He observed her expression as she processed the information. Puzzlement gave way to shock, then disgust. The colour drained from her face, leaving it chalk-white. She swayed as though she would topple. Janice had wisely sat next to her and, realising what was about to happen, put her arm round the woman to steady her.

Bill waited as his DS helped Mrs Brandon to put her head between her knees to encourage the blood to flow back into her brain.

He felt bad, but her reaction to the news of what he thought of as incest was so immediate and so powerful that it told him what he wanted to know. Mrs Reese-Brandon had had no idea that her husband was sleeping with her daughter.

Eventually a small amount of colour found its way back into her cheeks. She raised her head and looked at him.

‘I’m sorry, I . . .’

‘
I’m
sorry to be the one to tell you.’

Shock had rendered her almost incoherent. Bill watched as she struggled to make sense of what he had just told her.

‘How could he have hurt her? She was his little princess. He was so kind to her. When we married, she was only twelve. It’s difficult for a man to take on a child that isn’t his. But he did, without complaint.’ She looked at Bill, struggling to comprehend. ‘That’s why Ronald’s here, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he say?’

Bill told her the truth, knowing it would come as a further shock. ‘That they loved one another. That they planned to live together when she went to university. That’s when they planned to tell you.’

Her mouth sagged. She emitted a shrill little laugh.

Bill went on doggedly. ‘The night Kira died, you said your husband and you were together at home?’

She gathered herself, as though making a decision. ‘Ronald was there until I went to bed at ten thirty. I heard him go out after that. I thought he was seeing someone else and I didn’t want to face up to that, so I said he was at home.’

‘You’re sure he left the house?’

‘I heard the car reverse down the drive. He didn’t turn on the engine, but I heard the wheels on the gravel.’ She met Bill’s gaze, her eyes full of tears. ‘You don’t think he killed Kira? He isn’t capable of that.’

From Bill’s experience, men were capable of anything and everything, but he decided to throw Maria one crumb of comfort.

‘We have nothing to place your husband at the scene of crime.’ He refrained from adding, “yet”. ‘I’d like you to give a statement to DS Clark. Just write down what you’ve told me about the night Kira died.’

‘I loved my daughter,’ she said quietly. ‘I would have loved her child too, whatever its parentage.’

He believed her. Maria Reese-Brandon had a bigger heart than he had.

‘The Reborn you ordered for Kira. How did you get in touch with Coulter?’

‘There was an article about him in the paper. I wrote to the State Hospital.’

‘And how did you pay for the doll?’

‘I sent a cheque made payable to the hospital. They extract the cost of the materials and the rest goes to the NSPCC.’

‘Did you continue your correspondence with Coulter after that?’

She looked confused by the suggestion. ‘No. Why would I?’

‘Did you tell Coulter anything about Kira in your letter?’

She shook her head.

‘And remind me, when was the last time you saw the doll?’

‘A couple of months ago. I was tidying the wardrobe and took a look inside the box. I knew I should get rid of it, but it looked too like a real baby. I couldn’t simply throw it out.’

‘Who among Kira’s friends might have had access to the doll?’

She thought for a minute. ‘All of the girls were at the house at some time or other, even Sandie. And I’m sure David would have been there too. Kira tended to go her own way, despite what Ronald wanted.’

Her hand flew to her face in distress and she began to sob in earnest. She was crying not for herself and what she now knew, but for her dead child, whatever she had done.

Ronald Reese-Brandon stood up as Bill reentered the room.

‘Can I go now?’

‘Not yet.’

‘But I’ve answered all of your questions. There’s nothing else to say.’

‘Sit down, Mr Brandon.’

‘
Reese
-Brandon.’

‘I have just spoken to your wife.’

‘What did you tell her?’ he demanded.

‘The truth. That you’d had sex with her daughter. That it was you who made Kira pregnant.’

‘You had no right to do that.’

‘
You’re
telling
me
what’s right and what isn’t?’ snapped Bill.

‘I would have preferred to tell Maria myself.’

‘I have no reason to believe you would have. You and Kira seemed to be taking a long time about doing that.’

‘This is private business, between my wife and I.’

‘Mrs Reese-Brandon has retracted her previous statement. She now says that you did leave the house the night Kira died.’

‘That’s nonsense. She’s only saying that because of what you told her.’

‘Your car left at eleven o’clock. You reversed down the drive without turning on the engine.’

Brandon was apoplectic.

‘She’s lying!’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Nowhere. I told you, Maria’s just angry. She’s lying.’

‘Where did you go?’

He shrugged. ‘All right, I did go out. But I drove round for a while, that’s all.’

‘Where exactly?’

‘Byres Road, through Partick. In circles.’

‘Why?’

‘I needed away from the house. From Maria.’

‘You went to look for Kira?’

‘No!’

‘She called you and asked you to meet her at the funfair.’

‘What? That’s nonsense.’ But Reese-Brandon’s eyes had flickered sideways.

‘She sent you a text, didn’t she?’ It was a long shot, yet Bill watched as the arrow struck home.

The other man’s lips thinned and he gave a sharp nod. ‘She wanted me to collect her. She was always doing that, especially since the pregnancy. She would go somewhere, then text me and ask me to pick her up. Kira was very demanding.’

‘Did she text you from the BlackBerry you bought her?’

Reese-Brandon looked surprised by the question. ‘No. She had a pay-as-you-go she used . . .’ He came to a halt.

‘When contacting you in particular?’

He gave a curt nod.

‘So you went to the funfair to meet her?’

‘I waited in the car near the station. She didn’t appear, and eventually I went home. She did that sometimes. Called me out, then never turned up.’

‘Did you try calling her?’

‘She didn’t answer.’

‘And what time was this?’

‘Around eleven thirty.’

‘You didn’t enter the funfair?’

‘No.’

‘You realise we have mobile footage of that night, from multiple sources?’

‘You won’t find me on any of it.’

39

Magnus answered his mobile on the second ring.

‘Can we talk?’ Rhona’s voice sounded tense.

‘Of course. Do you want to meet somewhere for a drink?’

‘I’ll come round, if that’s OK?’

He tried to keep his tone light. ‘There’s always Highland Park here for emergencies.’

She gave a small, forced laugh. ‘I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.’

As soon as she rang off, Magnus went to check out the fridge. If Rhona was coming from work, chances were she would be hungry. There was probably enough curry left over from the previous night, if he kept his own portion small. He selected a bottle of white from the wine rack and put it in the fridge. He knew she preferred white.

His preparations done, he sat back down at his desk and wondered about the purpose of Rhona’s visit. He doubted it would be personal; it was far more likely to be something about the case. Kira’s notebook lay open on his desk, where he’d been studying the final pages when Rhona had called. The entries had ended on an unfinished calculation, as though Kira had been disturbed midway through.

The emerging picture of Kira’s character had given him hours of thought. There were many similarities between her personality traits and Coulter’s, predominantly the narcissistic need to be centre stage and the desire to bend others to their will.

Coulter’s diary, he’d returned to its box file. His comprehensive reading had given no indication of any outside contacts the inmate might have had. Despite this, he agreed with Bill that Coulter had inside knowledge of this case. Another search of the workshop and Coulter’s room at the hospital was scheduled for tomorrow, along with a further interview. Magnus knew how much pleasure Coulter would be deriving from all the attention he was receiving.

The buzzer interrupted his train of thought and he rose to release the entrance door. He went to open the flat door and saw Rhona climbing the stairs. She looked weary, and he remembered that this was Sunday night and Rhona had probably worked on the case the entire weekend. She threw him a brief smile as she reached the landing.

‘What a wonderful smell.’

‘Chicken Tikka Masala, a Glasgow speciality. Want some?’

‘I’d love some.’

He ushered her inside. Above the aroma of curry that pervaded the flat, he caught her perfume as she passed him in the doorway. He liked the way she always wore the same one. He had no idea what it was called, but its scent had become one with her in his mind.

‘I didn’t realise how hungry I was until I started to climb those stairs.’ She dropped her bag on the sofa and slipped off her coat, tossing it over the back of the seat.

‘A dram?’

‘Please.’

He set about pouring the whisky and adding a little water. She accepted the glass and they went through the ritual of swirling the liquid and breathing in the aroma, which had become a comfortable shared routine.

She took a sip and he watched as she reflected on the taste. ‘Good.’ She dropped onto the couch, kicked off her shoes and settled her legs beneath her.

He sat across from her. ‘Five minutes, then we eat.’

‘I might need ten for what I have to say.’

‘OK,’ he said, cautiously.

She took another sip before she spoke.

‘Something’s happened about McNab.’

‘They’ve picked up Kalinin?’

‘No. Before I start, I want you to promise to tell no one what I’m about to say.’ She held his gaze, her eyes serious, and he nodded his agreement. ‘I may sound as though I’ve lost my marbles, but since you’re a psychologist you’ll be the best judge of that.’

She had both intrigued and worried him.

‘Let’s hear it.’

After her revelation over whisky, then food, she had asked to go out on the balcony for some fresh air. They stood there now, a chill wind ruffling the grey waters of the river below. She had borrowed a thick, cabled sweater before they stepped outside. It hung well below her waist and her hands were hidden in its long arms. She huddled inside it against the chill.

‘So you don’t think I’m mad?’ she said, after a long silence.

‘No.’

‘Do you believe he could be alive?’

‘There’s only one way to find that out for certain.’

‘And that is?’

‘Dig up his grave.’ He was only half joking.

‘Which we can’t do. And what do you think about Petersson? Can we trust him?’

‘Well, most of what I know about his investigative work casts him in a good light. But I’m under no illusions that he would do anything to pursue a story. That kind of tenacity comes with the territory, and it will include telling lies to get what he wants. Discovering that the only witness who could put Kalinin behind bars is actually alive would definitely be a scoop worth fighting for.’

Rhona sighed. ‘So what should I do?’

She had never asked his advice before. He felt flattered and slightly at a loss.

‘I thought Petersson told you to do nothing more for the moment.’

‘That’s not an option,’ she stated firmly.

She wasn’t seeking his advice at all, he realised. She knew what she intended doing, and wanted to gauge his reaction.

‘What are you going to do?’ he said warily.

‘First, find out if that call came from where he said it did.’

‘How?’

‘I’ll ask Roy to help me with that. Also, Petersson said that the number gave a dead tone when he tried calling it. I want to know if that’s true.’ She folded her arms protectively across her body. ‘There are things about Michael that Petersson doesn’t know. If he really is trying to contact me, there are other avenues he might try.’

‘Such as?’

Her face shone pale in the shadows. ‘I’d rather not say until I’ve checked them out.’

‘But you’ll keep me informed?’ He suddenly felt worried for her. If Kalinin did believe that McNab was alive, he would stop at nothing to discover his whereabouts, and a search would inevitably lead him to Rhona. Magnus wanted to tell her to leave well enough alone, as Petersson had apparently done. She must have been reading his expression.

‘I’ll be careful,’ she told him.

She moved inside, leaving him to follow. Settling back on the couch as he closed the balcony doors, she said, ‘Can we talk about the Reborn case now?’