Madness Lies Page 21

  ‘I could hardly stand. I don’t even know how we got to her house. A taxi maybe.’

  Her house? Carla stood up. Don’t cry, she told herself over and over. ‘Why did you come here? Sending those texts and now telling me this?’

  ‘But Carla, nothing happened.’ He stood and took her hand. ‘I swear nothing happened.’

  ‘So why tell me?’

  ‘Because, and I hate myself for this, I didn’t know whether anything had happened until I saw Tina at the station yesterday and she told me. I remember her pouring wine, putting on music, and leaning towards me. The next thing I knew, Lucy was picking me up off the road outside my folks’ house, and then I was throwing up on their carpet. I was also desperately searching for the phone they’d taken off me at the station, so I could speak to you. If Lucy hadn’t stopped me, I’d have phoned the hospital then. When I woke up the next morning, I had no idea what, if anything, had happened.’

  Carla’s head was pounding. She couldn’t make any sense of it.

  ‘Will you sit? Just let me finish, please.’

  Carla nodded and they both sat.

  ‘After I’d checked the hospital and gone round to your flat a few times, I called your mum and she told me where you were. Then I booked the flight, and went into the station to see DI Black. That’s when I saw Tina.’

  ‘And she said what?’

  ‘Apologised for coming on to me. Something about not being able to cope with the knock-back. And that you were very lucky.’

  Carla wanted to smile at that, but she had too many questions. ‘You went back to her house with her. Were you hoping something would happen?’

  He shrugged. ‘I was so rat-arsed, I haven’t a clue what I was thinking. I know how it must look. She’s…eh…not bad looking.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Carla, I know without a doubt that if she’d told me at the station it was only going to be her, I wouldn’t have gone. I hate myself for drinking so much, for going back to her house, for putting myself in a position where I could have hurt you, or ruined our relationship.

  ‘And the last text – I wasn’t trying to soften you up before telling you about Tina, I swear. I just wanted you to know that, whatever happens to us because of my stupidity, I love you. I should have told you long ago. So many times I’ve wanted to say it, but I bottled it. I’d look at you and wonder what the hell you saw in me. I was convinced it wasn’t going to last, that you’d find someone better.’ He paused. ‘It wouldn’t be difficult.’

  But it would. So difficult. Still, she wasn’t going to tell him that. Not now. How had they lasted so long when they both thought the other was too good for them?

  ‘I know you need time to think,’ he said. ‘I’ll find a hotel for a couple of nights.’

  ‘Ronald’s got plenty of room.’ Though the sun was still warm, she shivered. ‘Let’s go back to the house. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘Why don’t I go and get the car, bring it down here?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Neither of them spoke while they walked, a growing gap between them.

  ***

  Chapter 43

  DI Black looked around the room. This was more like it. A few smiles and everyone looking more relaxed. Exhausted, but relaxed. Progress had been made. It wasn’t good that they’d found Katya Birze dead, but at least they had a suspect, and the evidence against him seemed compelling.

  ‘For those of you that were fortunate enough to have had some recent time off, I’ll recap. Following a call from a man that saw Katya Birze struggling with someone with a car that’s registered to one Christopher Brent, we went to Brent’s house at Ness Castle. There were signs of disturbed earth in the garden, and we found the body of Katya Birze buried there. She’d been beaten and strangled. Post mortem’s today. We seized Brent’s laptop and his emails showed flights had been booked to London for himself and Sharon MacRae. Flybe confirmed they were booked on a return flight yesterday afternoon, at which point Brent was arrested and his car seized.’

  ‘Sharon MacRae confirmed Brent was connected to Todd Curtis and that both men had connections with some dodgy London characters involved in prostitution and drugs. She heard Katya’s name mentioned in a club in London. We have some carefully worded emails between Brent and Curtis, in which Curtis mentions having done some business for Brent on Thursday, the day Gordon Sutherland died. And we have some intimate photos of Katya Birze found in a bed-side cabinet in Christopher Brent’s house.’

  ‘We also entered James Allingham’s apartment at Castlefield yesterday, where we found the belongings of Birze and Danielle Smith. There was a business card for Brent Properties in Birze’s purse, and Christopher Brent’s prints were on a mug found in the kitchen. Brent has no alibi for between midnight and four am on Sunday morning. His phone shows he received a call around midnight, and he made a call to the same number twice before four o’clock. A spade in his garage had been used recently.’

  ‘We also visited a house near Evanton owned by Brent. There’s no suggestion that Birze was ever in that house, but the prints we believe to be Curtis’s were everywhere, and signs that he might have been staying there, as well as at Castlefield. Still a lot of unanswered questions, though. Roberts, what did you get from Manchester?’

  Roberts cleared his throat and tugged at his tie. ‘The DCI in Manchester spoke to the two witnesses in the case again, showed them the e-fit. They couldn’t say if it was the guy that had asked about Nancy Connor.’

  The troops muttered. A few shakes of the head, and some derogatory comments.

  ‘All right,’ the DI said. ‘So, it’s not our best e-fit. Let the boy finish.’

  Roberts’ face was scarlet as he continued. ‘One of them remembered Nancy Connor saying she had a child in her late teens, not long after she went on the game. A boy. He was adopted. They’re looking into adoption records now, but it could take a while.’

  ‘Anything on Danielle Smith?’

  ‘The skin under her nails wasn’t Ryan MacRae’s.’

  DI Black groaned. He hadn’t really expected it to fall into place that easily, but still.

  ‘The marks in the lane, above where the body was found, match his trainers,’ Roberts said. ‘We’re waiting for soil analysis, but it’s more than certain he was there. Any bets DNA samples taken from the bed in the house in Evanton will match the skin under Danielle’s nails?’

  DI Black nodded. ‘With any luck. Well done, Roberts. Lewis – give us your news about Ali the Bampot’s missing girl.’

  ‘I’m waiting for more information from Aberdeen Council, but one Sally MacArthur, eighteen years old, presented there as homeless last year, then she left the area. Intelligence suggests her body may now be somewhere in the Caledonian Canal.’

  DI Black sighed. ‘It’s only sixty miles long. We’ll find her eventually. Seriously, though, maybe you could use your considerable charms on the itinerants of Inverness and narrow it down a bit, so we can get the divers in. Good work, Lewis.’

  He gave out some tasks, then he went to his office. Not a bad couple of days’ work. And that was without his best detective. All he needed now was for Jackson’s drugged-up body to come ashore, and for Ryan MacRae to see the error of his ways and tell the truth. With Galbraith back, there’d be more chance of solving this quickly. He remembered Galbraith’s suspicions about Alice McGarvie, the SNP councillor. How had she known the details of Gordon Sutherland’s shooting? Time for a chat.

  *

  Typical bloody politician. Couldn’t answer a question straight, and if McGarvie didn’t like the question, she just answered a different one. Tact had never been Black’s strong point. Galbraith would have been much better at this. She was an ugly old bat, right enough. No wonder the grieving widow couldn’t take to her. But she knew what she was about.

  ‘Did I say that? Did I really?’ Alice McGarvie shook her head. ‘I think your officer must have misheard me.’

  ‘Detec
tive Sergeant Galbraith is not in the habit of mishearing people. It’s noted here quite clearly. Do I need to remind you where and when you said it?’

  She raised an uneven eyebrow. ‘DS Galbraith?’

  ‘You haven’t forgotten speaking to him then?’

  ‘I forget nothing, Detective Inspector. Nothing. Tell me, is DS Galbraith here? Perhaps we could talk to him and sort this out. If he’s not in the station, I’d be happy to come back later, when it suits him.’

  She was smirking. The old bitch knew that Galbraith wasn’t there. And then DI Black knew, and he smiled too. She had someone on the inside, someone who worked at the station. The son or nephew or second cousin of one of her separatist comrades. Nothing more sinister than that. He stood. ‘Thank you for coming in, Councillor. I’ll let you get back to your important business. Oh no, I forgot; you’re not in power now. It’s the other Independents, isn’t it?’

  Her smile was gracious as she nodded. ‘Speaking of important business, Detective Inspector, I hear there’s been another death. A foreign girl? Are you any closer to finding out who actually killed Gordon and these two poor girls?’

  ‘I’ve just scored you off the list, so that’s something.’

  He was just starting on a cup of coffee when the call came. Jackson’s body had come ashore at Rosemarkie. And wouldn’t you know it – there was a wee sealed plastic bag of coloured tabs with smiley faces in his pocket.

  *

  New Craigs had been five star compared to the police station cells, with a proper room and decent food. Ryan had hoped they’d keep him in for a few days, but he only got two nights out of it. They were nice to him, but he simply wasn’t able to convince them he’d seriously considered jumping. He was at risk, they said, particularly given his age and the seriousness of the situation. But the risk was low. He’d be monitored in police custody or a secure unit, if one could be found, but he wasn’t sick enough to be kept in hospital.

  The psychiatrist, a woman, had asked some searching questions, ones that had made him think. Maybe it was little wonder he was such a fucked-up mess. And maybe it wasn’t his fault. Though she’d explained that she couldn’t tell the police anything without his consent, he hadn’t given much away. Just that he was scared of Todd Curtis, of the future, and of letting his mother and Liam down. He got the impression she’d have liked to keep him in longer to give him some respite from his fears, but she simply couldn’t.

  ‘You may not agree,’ she’d said, ‘but you are a child. And the police and justice system have to treat you, and look after you, as a child. Custody should be a care environment, and they must treat you with respect for your human dignity. I’m sure your solicitor will keep on top of them, but I’m going to get a doctor to visit you tomorrow to check on your condition. Tell the doctor what you’re feeling, if you have concerns.’

  And now he was back in the care environment, in a cell on his own, with a hard bench for a bed, and a couple of blankets. Respect for human dignity? He wondered if the psychiatrist had even seen the facilities. He had plenty of time to think now. His solicitor had warned him he’d likely be charged shortly. At worst, double murder and rape. At best, perverting the course of justice. Then court. Unlikely to get bail. A secure unit was the probable destination. From what he’d heard, if you didn’t know how to be a career criminal before you went there, a secure unit was just the place to learn. Plenty of drugs there too.

  So, he was going down, one way or another. Maybe it was time to tell them all he knew. And maybe even time to tell them he might have been mistaken when he thought he saw Galbraith pushing Jackson off the bridge. He’d spent much of the previous night listing possible reasons for his ‘mistake’.

  1. It all happened so fast.

  2. So much shouting and grabbing.

  3. Arms and legs everywhere.

  4. I was very upset.

  5. I was suicidal.

  6. I turned away just before Jackson fell.

  7. Maybe I didn’t see it quite as clearly as I thought I had.

  Aye, right. If he repeated the list often enough, he might start to believe it himself.

  *

  DI Black checked the blinds were closed. There wasn’t the slightest of gaps to give him away. It was just a wee victory dance, his moves imitating the cha-cha dancing baby from the 90s. It was all just too beautiful. Ryan MacRae was ready to spill.

  ***

  Chapter 44

  Ryan hadn’t seen these cops before. He’d hoped for Roberts. Despite all he’d said about the officer in the past, he respected him. He seemed honest. But Galbraith had seemed honest too. Still, he’d given that a lot of thought. Of course Galbraith was going to lie to someone who was threatening to kill himself. He was going to say exactly what Ryan wanted to hear. And he’d so wanted to hear that his mother hadn’t told Galbraith anything. Had Galbraith been lying about everything? Had he meant it when he’d offered to teach him to sail? Wouldn’t happen now.

  These guys weren’t going to make it easy for him; he could see that from their eyes. Cold and hard as steel. Maybe it was for the best. Keep things real.

  He told them he’d texted Todd at the morning break on Thursday, and Todd had picked him up from school. Todd was preoccupied as he’d driven out past the retail park on Telford Street, turning left just before the Muirtown Bridge, and parking at the side of the canal, close to the old boarded up house.

  A man parked beside them. Todd told Ryan to stay in his car, while he and the man walked up the slope along the canal bank. They were back before long, and Todd said they were going for a drive in the man’s car. Told him to get in the front, while Todd sat behind the man in the back. Ryan had been bored stiff as Todd and the man chatted. Gordon Sutherland had asked him why he wasn’t in school, and Ryan had wished he was.

  He shivered. What happened next didn’t make any sense. Todd told the man to stop on Kenneth Street, and then he shot him in the back. He could have done him in at the canal if he’d wanted to. Ryan tried, yet again, to remember what they were talking about just before Todd told the man to pull in. His mind was blank.

  ‘We’re only talking Thursday,’ the tall one said. ‘And you can’t remember?’

  Ryan sighed. ‘What more can I say? I didn’t know what was going to happen. I have no idea why he shot Gordon Sutherland. He was just a boring old man.’

  ‘And you can’t remember what they were talking about in the car? You’re just sitting there, no idea where the boring old man is taking you, no idea what was going on?’

  ‘Mate, I spend most of my life not knowing what’s going on.’

  The wee one leaned across the table, a smirk on his face. ‘Were you and Todd Curtis having it off?’

  The legs of Ryan’s chair screeched across the floor. It was only the social worker’s hand on his arm that stopped him jumping up. ‘What the fuck? That’s disgusting.’

  ‘Was Todd Curtis your pimp? Did Gordon Sutherland pay to have sex with you?’

  Ryan shook his head. ‘No sex, no pimping. What do you think I am?’

  ‘He must have wanted something in return for all he gave you.’

  ‘Not that.’

  ‘So what was it all about?’

  Ryan shrugged. ‘Youse’ll have to ask him. If I was to make a guess, I’d say he was probably involved in my father’s death, and he felt guilty.’

  The officer opened the file in front of him. ‘Peter MacRae. Drug dealer. Wife beater. Junkie. General arse-hole.’ He looked up.

  Ryan laughed, and saw surprise on the officer’s face. ‘You forgot ‘psycho’, but otherwise, you’ve got him about right.’

  ‘Nothing suspicious about his death. Sounds like he caused it all by himself. Shame he had to take three innocent people with him.’

  ‘Someone was supplying him. I reckon it was Todd.’

  ‘What kind of car does Curtis drive?’

  ‘Mostly a black one, but I’ve seen him in a few different cars.’

  �
��A black what?’

  Ryan shook his head. He’d never been good with cars. Wasn’t interested. Different if it was a boat.

  ‘Any distinguishing features?’

  Ryan shrugged. ‘Don’t think so. It’s smart; leather seats. Maybe there’s an ‘L’ on the badge. Maybe not.’

  ‘A Lexus?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Let’s get back to Thursday. So you’re going along Kenneth Street. The road’s quiet. And suddenly – ’

  A light bulb went off in Ryan’s head. He sat up straight. ‘That’s it; they were talking about the traffic in Inverness, about the new bypass.’ He put his elbows on the table, his hands in a prayer-like pose over his nose and mouth. The room was silent. He sat back. ‘That way madness lies.’

  The smaller cop scoffed. ‘Regular wee Robbie Burns, aren’t you?’

  ‘Burns?’ Ryan laughed. ‘Do you not need any qualifications to be a detective? It’s Shakespeare; King Lear.’

  ‘Right, smart arse; what’s it got to do with anything?’

  ‘That’s what Gordon Sutherland said, right before Todd shot him. That way madness lies. Those were his last words.’

  ‘Apropos to exactly what?’ The big one smirked at Ryan.

  Ryan grinned. The bugger thought he was going to catch Ryan out with grammar, if nothing else. He clearly hadn’t had Miss Campbell for English. ‘Apropos their discussion about the different options for the bypass. Todd mentioned a tunnel under the Ness. Gordon Sutherland said, ‘That way madness lies’.’

  He remembered the ice in Todd’s voice when he asked Sutherland to repeat what he’d said. Sutherland repeated it. Todd told him to stop. Bang. Curtis had shouted at Ryan to run, but not to follow him down Fairfield Road.

  ‘Doesn’t take us very far, does it?’ the tall one said.

  Ryan shrugged. ‘That’s down to you guys. Maybe if you were out there trying to find him…’