Madness Lies Page 15

  Sharon had seen another set of steps earlier, leading down from the kitchen. In the entrance hall, she listened. There was no sound. She tip-toed to the kitchen and down the stairs. Another door, with a key.

  The way her heart pounded as she opened the door reminded her of coming home to the flat when Peter was alive. She’d creep in, hoping he’d be in bed, or in a good mood, or with a friend. He never hurt her in front of his friends. He put her down often enough, laughed at her, but he couldn’t be seen to be hitting a lassie in front of his mates. That wouldn’t do at all.

  Sharon gave the hall cupboard a wide berth. She still did that at home. Peter used to hide in the cupboard and jump out on her. Terrified her every time. Not knowing if it was a joke or an attack. And if it wasn’t a joke, was he going to batter her or lock her in? Or both?

  Although the rooms were dark and gloomy, the servants’ quarters were almost as posh as the house. Three bedrooms, a big kitchen and a bathroom. There was no food in the kitchen cupboards or fridge, and nothing in any of the waste-paper bins. The bed in the largest room was made up. She considered turning the quilt back and smelling the sheets, but maybe that was going a bit far. It didn’t look as if it had been slept in, and there were no signs that anyone had been there recently.

  And yet. As she pulled the bedroom door closed, Sharon shivered and wondered if she was imagining a lingering hint of evil in the air. She had a sudden memory of the way she’d felt in Christopher’s house near Evanton. Had Todd been living there?

  The only place she hadn’t looked was in the cupboard by the door. As it creaked open, she shivered. There were boxes on each of the shelves. She looked in a couple. Old toys and shoes. On the top shelf, there was a plastic document wallet. Sharon’s heart hammered as she stretched up for it.

  There were photos at the front of the wallet. A younger Christopher, looking miserable, sitting in a chair on the patio, and a big guy with dark curly hair and a huge smile standing beside him. The date on the back was July 2007. She slipped the photo into her pocket and reached for another.

  She heard a noise behind her. Footsteps. A door creaking. Before she could turn, something hit her on the back of the head.

  ***

  Chapter 30

  No, Joe didn’t like Jimmy Jackson. No, they’d never got on. Yes, he’d go so far as to say he hated him. Yes, Jackson had tried to humiliate him, and not just once or twice. Yes, Jackson had said yesterday that Joe was having it off with Ryan MacRae’s mother. No, he wasn’t. Yes, he’d sat on her bed during the recent raid. No, he hadn’t been touching her up. Yes, he’d have been more than happy to see Jackson off the Force. No, he wouldn’t want to see Jackson dead. And no, he didn’t push anyone off the Kessock Bridge.

  The wee bald PSU guy looked bored. The taller one had a steely glare as he leaned back in his chair. Joe would have loved to see the chair give way. It had happened before. A touch too much arrogance, or a little boredom, and the chair was likely to go flying. More often than not it happened to the accused, rather than the interviewer. Most of the Inverness detectives were wise to it. These guys weren’t.

  Would Joe say he had a good relationship with Ryan MacRae? No, they had no relationship at all, but that didn’t stop him understanding the boy and realising what made him the way he was.

  And what would that be?

  He wasn’t about to give these numpties a lesson in psychology. But he had things to say; things they needed to know, though they probably wouldn’t believe him. ‘Jackson was out of his head on something.’

  ‘That’s convenient for you, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not really. He’d probably be here now if he hadn’t been high as a kite.’

  ‘Time will tell. Anything else?’

  ‘He was having it off with Danielle Smith.’

  The taller one laughed. ‘Aye, right.’

  ‘We’ve seen her picture,’ the wee one said. ‘As if she’d be interested in Jackson.’

  Joe stared at him. ‘We’re not talking romance here, other than in Jackson’s head. She was a prostitute. In case you’re not familiar with the concept, men paid her for sex. She wasn’t fussy. Wasn’t about to turn Jackson away because he was an ugly rancid bastard.’

  The big one leaned forward. ‘You sound quite resentful towards him.’

  Joe sighed. ‘I thought we’d already established my resentment towards Jackson. I wouldn’t get too excited about it, if I were you. And if I was going to murder him, do you really think I’d do it with Ryan MacRae looking on, and any number of cars passing by?’

  ‘So you’ve thought about it?’

  ‘No, I haven’t thought about it. Why don’t you go and see how many people you can find in the station that actually liked Jackson. As for those that disliked him, ask how many of them have thought about murdering him. I think you’ll find there aren’t too many in either category.’

  ‘Tell us again what Ryan MacRae said.’

  Joe told them again.

  *

  ‘Is that helping?’

  Sharon shook her head and winced. Christopher put the bag of ice on the kitchen table. ‘Maybe I should take you to A&E. I can use Isobel’s car – she’s just come back. She’s upstairs with the kids.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. What was it?’

  ‘An axe on the hook on the back of the door. The string broke when I banged the outer door against the cupboard door. You’re lucky it didn’t break the skin or knock you out.’

  ‘An axe? Why?’

  He smiled. ‘It was for chopping wood for the fires. It’s been there for a very long time.’

  She wondered. Had he hit her with it to stop her finding something? What was he doing down there anyway, sneaking up on her? The fact that he was more entitled than she was to sneak around his family home wasn’t lost on her. Nor were his manners. He’d helped her up to the kitchen, found some ice for her head, made her a cup of tea, and he hadn’t even asked. Yet.

  ‘Sharon?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Here it was.

  ‘Were you looking for something in particular? Something I can help you with?’

  He was so polite, for a lying bastard. Sharon didn’t hold back. ‘Aye, there is something you can help me with. How about telling me where your fucking mate, Todd, is? You do know a Todd? Stays here sometimes. The Todd that’s been hanging about with my boy. The Todd that knew Peter. The Todd the police want to question. The Todd you’ve never mentioned.’

  His eyes wouldn’t meet hers, but he tried to take her hand. She pulled it away. ‘How did you know Peter?’

  Christopher shook his head. ‘I didn’t know him. Todd did. He was Peter’s…his supplier. They were together the day Peter died. They’d met in Glasgow for the handover. Peter wanted to sample the goods. Todd didn’t realise he was going to drive back that day. He tried to stop him, but Peter wouldn’t listen. Todd was gutted when he heard about the crash.’

  ‘So why isn’t he targeting the relatives of the three people Peter killed? What about the woman that lost her young child and her elderly parents? That’s who he should be feeling guilty about. Not Ryan.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s about guilt. I think Todd feels some kind of duty towards Ryan, now that Peter’s gone.’

  ‘A fucking duty towards him? So he gets him involved in two murders?’

  That was definitely shock on his face. Probably shocked that she knew. ‘Two murders?’

  ‘The shooting, and a young girl, just the other day.’

  Christopher shook his head. ‘No way was Todd involved. No way. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Todd and Peter. I figured Ryan would tell you himself about Todd. I didn’t really want to talk about that part of my life. My relationship with him is complicated, and a bit odd. To be honest, I’ve been trying to distance myself from him for a while.’

  Aye, right. What about the sock? And Ryan saying you were both involved in the shooting? Though it was hard not to blurt everything out, Sharon knew she had to watch herself
. If Todd and Christopher were killers, she could be in danger. All she wanted was to get home to her boys. But there was something she had to ask. ‘Did you know who I was when you saw me in the Phoenix?’

  He nodded, and she felt a shaft of pain shooting through her heart.

  ‘Not long after I moved up north, Todd and I were parked on Grant Street, when you and the boys passed. Todd told me who you were. Liam fell and cut his knee, and you were so loving towards him. I thought you were beautiful, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you with your friend in the Phoenix a couple of weeks later. I was desperate to get to know you, and it had nothing to do with Peter or Todd or anyone else.’

  She almost felt better when he said that, but it was too late. ‘So where does this Todd live?’

  ‘Carlton Terrace, off Millburn Road, I think. I don’t see that much of him, and I don’t ask.’

  ‘Will you go to the police?’

  Christopher stared into the distance. ‘He didn’t kill anyone.’ His voice was firm. ‘I know he didn’t, but I think he might be in some trouble. I was going to go out after dinner. There’s some people I need to see. They might know where he is.’

  ‘Good. Where are we going?’

  He stared at her. ‘You can’t come. Your head – you should rest.’

  Was that a reason for hitting her? To keep her from coming with him? ‘No way. My son’s in deep shit because of this Todd. If you’re going looking for him, I’m coming.’

  ‘It might not be pleasant.’

  ‘I’m a big girl. I can handle it.’

  ***

  Chapter 31

  Joe was suspended while the investigation was on-going. He was free to go, they said, for now. They didn’t give him his phone back, so he couldn’t call Carla. He sat in the car and wondered if she was home, if she was okay. He couldn’t wait to see her. Probably best to go to the hospital first, and take it from there.

  He started up the engine. Before he could pull out, Roberts and Tina Lewis drew in beside him. He knew he couldn’t speak to them; it wouldn’t be right. He should just ignore them, drive away. But when Tina Lewis opened his passenger door and whispered the name of a pub, he decided he’d join them for one drink, then he’d go to the hospital.

  *

  In the Clachnaharry Inn, Joe ordered a half-pint. He was looking forward to seeing Roberts. He had no intention of discussing today’s events. All he wanted was a friendly face, and a bit of inane chat. Maybe a game of pool. That would be enough. But Roberts didn’t come. Just Tina Lewis, with way too much lipstick and a beguiling smile. The clang of warning bells almost deafened Joe. He was used to them by now; he heard them every time she was near, but tonight he was past the point of listening.

  Tina bought two drams and pointed him towards a table in the corner. She said nothing about Jackson or Ryan MacRae or the investigation, until Joe asked how they’d got on at Castlefield Apartments.

  Tina shrugged. ‘We didn’t get much. There’s a James Allingham lives on the first floor. Apparently, he has a scar on his face. Hasn’t been there for a while, but it’s not unusual for him to be away for long periods. Someone else has been staying there recently, and he fits Todd Curtis’s description. Allingham has a black Lexus. We’ve got the registration and it’s logged on ANPR. When I left tonight, the DI was considering what to do next. He wanted to talk it through with DCI MacBain.’

  Tina always looked good, but with each dram, her looks and her wit were enhanced until Joe could hardly take his eyes off her. She laughed and teased and made him forget. They played pool and she beat him hands down. When some ugly wee bastard tried to charm Tina, Joe felt his hackles rising and his hand tightening on the pool cue. It reminded him of a night in a pub in Perth, before he’d even turned twenty. He was playing pool with his pal, Matt, when these two girls started coming on to them. He and Matt hadn’t even argued over which one they preferred; they were both gorgeous. The night was going so well, until their Neanderthal boyfriends turned up. Matt wasn’t a fighter. He’d talked the pool cue out of Joe’s hands, persuaded him that, gorgeous though the girls were, they really weren’t worth fighting over. ‘That kind of anger’s bad,’ Matt had told him, as they walked back to their flat.

  Joe knew he was right. Several double vodkas inside him, and he’d felt invincible, as if he could have taken both guys and half a dozen more. And for what? He’d given up spirits then. Stuck to beer and the odd glass of wine. Until Tina Lewis decided she knew what was best for him.

  She knew what was best now, as she took the pool cue from Joe’s hands, winked at the other guy, and led Joe out of the pub.

  Back at her house, she opened a bottle of wine, and put on some music. She sat beside Joe on the sofa. Close, too close. She passed him a glass.

  ‘Thanks. D’you think I killed him?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I told Roberts last night I’d like to.’

  ‘Yeah? He didn’t say.’

  ‘I hated him.’

  ‘You weren’t alone there.’ Her voice was soft. She reached a hand towards his leg, touched his knee. ‘You’re not alone now.’

  She was much closer. Her blonde hair brushed his face as she leaned towards him. Her breath smelled of toothpaste, and her neck of perfume. He felt her lips on his, the slide of her lipstick, and the gentle biting of her teeth.

  *

  Sharon knew evil. And she knew it wasn’t always obvious. Peter MacRae had been a good looking guy, with a broad smile and beautiful blue eyes. He was a bit overweight, and it made him look cuddly. For a long time, she hadn’t seen the evil. His temper and cold sarcasm were never far away, but the evil was buried deep, waiting. And when it came, and stayed, she knew she was to blame. If she hadn’t spoken back to him, if she hadn’t given so much love to Ryan and Liam, if she hadn’t wanted so much, the evil wouldn’t have come. She was convinced it must be her fault. Her mother had told her often enough just how evil she was. Her mother’s boyfriends and their beatings, their wandering hands; none of that would have happened if Sharon and her siblings hadn’t been evil.

  Aye, right. Sharon knew now that neither she nor her siblings were evil. But this guy was. It was in his eyes, and it was dark and strong, and if she looked too long, she might drown in the fear that was washing over her. She wanted to reach for Christopher’s hand, but that wasn’t an option now.

  They’d entered the club through a back door in a filthy alley. Sharon hadn’t heard what Christopher muttered to the thug on the door, but the way the bugger had looked at her made her shiver.

  They followed the thug down a corridor. To her right, behind a wall, she could hear music, talking and laughter, bottles clinking. They climbed a rickety stair to a landing with two doors and another stair.

  ‘Stay here.’ The thug knocked on the nearest door and went in.

  Christopher tried to smile at Sharon, but his mouth was having none of it. There was sweat on his brow. Behind them, a door opened. Sharon turned and saw a blonde girl, her head down as she slid past. She was wearing a towel, and she ran up the next stair. She looked about fourteen. The door was still open. As someone hurried to close it, Sharon saw a mirrored wall, bright lights, a bed, two naked men. And that smell. ‘Oh fuck.’

  ‘What?’ Christopher’s eyes had been on the other door, waiting for it to open.

  ‘Nothing. A bit nervous, that’s all.’

  It was like something she’d seen on screen, so many times. The back alley, the thug, the stairs, and the doors, hiding secrets and shame. She expected the vice squad to burst in at any moment.

  And now the door was opening and the thug was beckoning them into the room.

  At least you could see what the thug was. Not like these two, in their designer suits and shiny shoes, Rolex watches and soft undercut hairstyles. Smart as fuck, and probably twice as evil. They made Sharon’s skin crawl. Christopher seemed happy enough to see them. The older of the two, a swarthy
mafia type in his late forties, stood and reached for his hand. ‘Chris, my man. Put it there.’

  The younger one, a skinny guy with red hair, followed suit. ‘Chris, dude. What’s kickin’?’

  Dude what’s kickin’? His arse needed kicking.

  ‘Same old, same old. Guys, this is Sharon. Sharon, Dino and Lucas.’

  Dino took her hand first. She thought he was going to kiss it, but he didn’t. Just held onto it and stared into her eyes until she had to look away. It wasn’t any easier with Lucas. His hand was sweating, slimy, disgusting. She avoided his eyes.

  ‘How is life in Scotland?’ Dino asked.

  Before Christopher could answer, Lucas laughed. ‘Fucking Jockland? Fuck’s sake. Fucking Sturgeon. Fucking ball-breaker, man. Fucking Jocks’ll have us all fucking bankrupt.’

  Sharon stared at him. The language. Lack of vocabulary or what? And who did he think he was, slagging off Nicola like that?

  Christopher smiled. ‘It’s good. I like it.’

  ‘And Todd Curtis?’ Dino’s voice was cold. ‘Does he like it?’

  The camaraderie was gone. There was silence. Steely eyes.

  Christopher’s face paled. He shrugged. ‘I’m a bit worried about him. He said he was heading down south. I wondered if you’d seen him.’

  Dino picked something up off the desk. It looked like a letter opener, but sharper, deadly. He turned it over in his hands. ‘I haven’t seen him, but I’d very much like to.’ Sharon jumped as he drove the thing into the desk.

  ‘Sharon, doll,’ Lucas said. ‘How about you go with the ape and leave us men to talk?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Go with ‘the ape’? That’d be right. Was that his nickname or just a very fitting description? She felt a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t fucking touch me, ape.’