The Third Sin (15 page)

She missed the next bit as Mike asked her if she wanted another lager and when she said no, tried to persuade her until she agreed just to shut him up. When she was able to tune in again the conversation had moved on. She heard the word ‘police’ and risked taking a sideways step towards them.

‘You know how they can …’ Philippa was saying ‘… don’t want …’

She had turned her head and Louise couldn’t hear the rest. Then Will said, ‘Yes, absolutely … not at all … leave it at that.’

‘Of course … mustn’t let …’

The gaps were infuriating. Will was agreeing with whatever it was. ‘No – absolutely right … I can’t have … questions. I know … that’s important.’

Philippa had her hand on his arm. ‘Definitely, Will. But Randall, you see … again …’

Straining to hear, Louise took another step sideways in their direction. Wrongly: it had opened up a gap between her and the rest of Mike’s group and suddenly Will and Philippa stopped talking and looked directly at her, a frown gathering between Philippa’s brows.

Louise gave a feeble smile then stepped back to Mike’s side, joining in the conversation with an enthusiasm he clearly found surprising.

‘There you are, you see, pet! All you needed was another drink to loosen your inhibitions. You’ll be the life and soul of the party before you know it.’

Philippa and Will separated almost immediately after that. Jen, having got herself another glass of wine and spoken for a few minutes to the parents of a child in her class, saw that Will was going back to where Randall was still holding Skye prisoner.

With a surge of guilt, Jen made an excuse and followed him across. She should really have mounted a rescue mission herself but after the ruthless way Skye had forced her to lie to the police this morning she was much less inclined to be protective than once she would have been. This was going to be trouble, though; she’d seen Randall in a drunken temper before and chairs had got smashed that time.

Skye gave a little cry of, ‘Will!’ as he approached.

‘Skye!’ he said, gently mocking, then went to put a hand on Randall’s arm. ‘Not sure about your tactics, dude! Let the lady breathe, why don’t you!’

Randall turned on him, his face suffused with rage. He picked up Will’s arm between two fingers, held it out then dropped it, snarling, ‘Keep your filthy hands off me, Stewart!’

Will stepped back. ‘OK, OK, calm down. It’s just that I don’t think Skye was too happy with the situation.’

Jen had just reached them and Skye, seizing her opportunity, moved away from Randall. ‘Hey, Jen!’ Her voice was shaking. ‘Where have you been? Randall and I were just catching up …’

Neither of the men was paying any attention to her. Randall said, ‘And you have a right to speak for her – how? You’re nothing but a lousy, stinking bent copper, you bastard!’ He launched into a stream of obscenities.

For a moment Will let him rave. Then he said, his voice dangerously quiet, ‘Shut up. If you don’t shut up of your own accord, I’ll make you.’

‘That’s a joke!’ Without warning, Randall took a swing at him.

Will dodged, but took a heavy blow on the shoulder. ‘That’s it!’ he yelled. His punch caught Randall on the side of the face.

‘Will!’ Skye wailed. ‘Randall – don’t!’

They were wrestling now. The raised voices attracted attention; conversations died as people turned to stare. Kendra and Logie came
hurrying over and then Philippa arrived, looking furious herself.

‘Will you both stop that at once! Someone’s going to call the police if this goes on.’

Neither man paid any attention. Randall was taller and heavier but Will was strong enough to push Randall off, letting him land a telling hit that split his lip.

‘Logie – take Will,’ Philippa said tersely, moving round behind her son to imprison his arms.

Randall struggled for a moment, but Will submitted readily enough as Philippa called briskly to the ring of onlookers that had collected, ‘Right. Show’s over. Sorry about that, folks.’ She wagged her finger at the two men. ‘And it’s Diet Coke for you two for the rest of the evening.’ She got her laugh and the little knot of people dispersed.

Randall took out a handkerchief to dab at his swelling lip and without another word swung round to stalk away, then stopped, his eyes widening.

She hadn’t moved quickly enough. Louise had gone towards the fight in case she would have to blow her cover and break it up before real harm was done and his sudden pivot had taken her by surprise.

He had spotted her immediately. He crossed the garden towards her in three strides and there was no mistaking his threatening attitude.

‘Get out of here!’ he yelled. ‘I warned you!’

As she shrank away from him, Mike moved in front of her. ‘Now now, laddie,’ he said. ‘Calm down. There’s been enough nonsense tonight. Maybe you should just go and sleep it off.’

Another three men moved forward, forming a barrier. Louise stepped behind them and Randall had no alternative but to stop.

Ignoring them, he called, ‘You’ll suffer for this! Dirty little spy!’ But then he strode off back to the group and with distinct unease, Louise saw that they were all staring at her.

She said, ‘Thank you,’ a little shakily to Mike and his cohort,
uncertain how they would react to what Randall had said.

But Mike was amused. ‘Got another girlfriend then, has he, and didn’t want you turning up? Oh dear, who would be young, eh? Never you mind, Sam, there’s better fish in the sea than him.’

‘Toffee-nosed git!’ another man said, and there was more laughter. ‘Have another drink, lassie.’

Louise said she was driving but allowed them to cheer her up. She didn’t want to leave while Randall had his eye on her; she was afraid he might follow her out and, drunk and belligerent as he was, anything could happen.

Some of the guests were starting to drift away, though there were others who looked prepared to party till dawn. Her present friends seemed to be among them, unfortunately; it would have been reassuring to go out in their company but she was desperate now to get away.

At last she saw Randall go back into the house. She said goodbye as quickly as she could, given that she had seven men to kiss and in Mike’s case give a grateful hug to as well, and went out into the darkness of the narrow lane.

Here, right on the edge of the village, there were no street lamps. It was a fine starlit night but she’d have welcomed a moon to light the uneven footing of the verge as she stumbled along, and headlight beams as the occasional car drove past were very welcome.

Louise didn’t have the confidence to go down the road side of the cars that were still parked; she’d be too easily visible if Randall, bent on vengeance, had come back out of the house and noticed her leaving.

She would certainly be grateful to get back to the safety of her car. She had been forced to park some way from the gate and her progress along the verge was slow – and unpleasant, too. She swore as she stepped into a little ditch running across it that was full of water, then squelched on.

She would have plenty to think about on her way home. The party had been a fascinating exposé of the relationships within the one-time Cyrenaics. A lot of the tension seemed centred on Will; he looked to be having some sort of relationship with Kendra and with Skye as well – a very intense one, at least on her part – though what sort of relationship he had with Philippa was less clear. She needed to get back and write down everything she could remember of their conversation while it was fresh in her memory. It would provide plenty of material for Big Marge’s morning meeting.

And then there was Randall – she was inclined to discount him. He was plainly besotted with Skye and she, equally plainly, found him as unappealing as Louise did herself. He was just a pompous oaf and he was never going to have any romantic success until he stopped thinking of himself as God’s gift. Though the insult he’d hurled at Will Stewart, ‘bent copper’, was interesting – what did that mean? Maybe it was just a random insult because he’d been sacked.

There was the car now, thank goodness. Home, and bed. Louise tried not to think about a nice, peaceful cigarette while she wrote up her notes; she was proud of herself for managing to get right through the evening without trying to bum one from one of the smokers. She’d decided, at last, to give it up – even if Andy Mac would crow – and she was doing it cold turkey. This would be a demonstration of her amazing willpower, not relying on chemical help, and so far she was doing pretty well.

Louise was definitely feeling smug, both personally and professionally, as she went to get out her car keys. They’d slipped to the bottom of her bag; she bent over to rummage through it.

Was that a sound, from the rough ground at her back? She straightened up, alarmed, but couldn’t pin down the direction. There were scrubby bushes and a little clump of low trees nearby;
just an animal, she told herself, but she scrabbled for the key with renewed urgency.

She had no warning, no sense of anyone nearby. But as she found the key at last something came over her head and around her neck, pulling her backwards, then a gloved hand came across her nose and mouth with a strong, merciless grip, stifling her. She collapsed on to her knees, struggling helplessly, her hands scrabbling at her throat. Then the glove was removed from her face but the loop tightened and tightened so that though she screamed, all that emerged was a strangled groan. Then she had no more breath to scream, no more breath for anything except the urgency of getting air to her tortured lungs. And she was failing there too.

Dear God! He’d got it wrong! He’d been so anxious that Louise wouldn’t see him doing his self-imposed surveillance that he’d let her get herself killed.

From the field gate near the entrance to Ballinbreck House where he’d parked – in his mother’s little Honda, not his own recognisable car – Andy Macdonald had monitored her progress back to the car, sunk down in his seat.

There was no sign of Randall following her. When Louise was only a few steps away from her car he’d decided enough was enough: he’d spent a long, cold, miserable evening being tormented by the sounds of merriment and the barbecue fragrance on the air, all for nothing. She’d been right; he’d overreacted. Chippie on the way home, he decided.

He’d just started the car when a movement caught his eye. All he could make out was that there was a dark shadow behind Louise – a shadow that shouldn’t be there.

He gunned the engine, put his hand on the horn and blasted the few yards down the road, leaping out without shutting the door almost
before it had stopped. As he reached the car something moved rapidly away, an amorphous shape vanishing into the surrounding darkness.

Louise was there, lying on the verge: a limp, sprawled body. He dropped to his knees beside her, feeling desperately for a pulse. Then he heard the rasping sound of her straining breath.

‘Oh, thank God for that! Louise—’

She was struggling to sit up, coughing painfully. He put his arm round her in support and she sagged against his shoulder.

‘Did you see who it was?’

‘No,’ she croaked. ‘Just – something here—’

Louise put a hand up to her throat. In the beam from his headlights he could see a deep-red pressure line but any ligature had gone. He scanned the rough ground over her shoulder but couldn’t see anything. He didn’t want to leave her like this but she said, ‘I’m – I’m fine. Go on.’

Andy sprinted across the scrub, scanning the bushes, looking ahead and all round, but there was no telltale movement, no sign of any dark figure. The assailant seemed to have vanished into thin air – then he realised there was a track that ran at right angles to the lane and as he got nearer he could see that it led to a big double gate in the wall of the house. He could see the roof of a garage beyond.

While he had been so confidently watching the main gate, Randall Lindsay had been able to slip out at the side and attack Louise. He turned back; no point in going in there. He could put out an emergency call from his mobile in the car.

He had left it blocking the road, but it had been driven in to the side and Louise was getting out of it, looking shaky admittedly but waving an apology to the car that had been waiting to get past.

‘For goodness’ sake, sit down!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re not fit—’

‘I’ll recover.’ Her voice was hoarse. ‘I just want to get home.’

‘I’ll phone the guys to come and deal with this and we’ll get you to hospital …’

She was shaking her head. ‘Don’t need hospital. It’s just bruising. And if you bring in the mob it won’t do any good. The ground’s dry so there won’t be footprints, I can’t ID my attacker – couldn’t see him, hear him, smell him even – and he wore gloves, so there won’t be fingerprints or even DNA. With all the people in there you won’t be able to pin down where anyone was for a given five minutes. And taking statements from everyone and checking them will tie up all the manpower we’ve got for a week.’

Andy stared at her. ‘You’re taking this remarkably calmly. We could pick up Randall, bring him in for questioning – he uttered threats about you—’

‘Not convinced it’s Randall. Lot of things happened. And I’m not calm, not inside, but I’m alive.’ She paused. ‘Thanks to you. Andy, what were you doing here, anyway?’

‘Wasn’t happy,’ he said gruffly. ‘I thought I’d just hang about and see you were all right.’

Louise was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘Not sure how you thank someone for saving your life. Isn’t that meant to put you under an obligation to look after me from now on, or something?’ She tried to laugh then began to cough, her face screwed up in pain. ‘Thanks, anyway.’

‘Aw, shucks! All part of the service. Look, you obviously feel strongly about this. Are you really saying – just let it go?’

Louise nodded. ‘I’ll report it, of course. But I know it’s a dead end and it’ll only be a distraction.’

‘You’re quite a woman,’ he said. ‘Insane, of course. Anyone else would be in a state of collapse and whimpering. Home, then?’

She smiled and nodded, but he realised she was sagging against her car and starting to shake. ‘You may think you’re all right,’ he said,
‘but you’re going into shock. You’re certainly not fit to drive. I’ll take you home and we’ll arrange to get your car back tomorrow.’

He was afraid she might argue, but she only said, ‘Does it have a good heater? I’m awfully cold.’

‘There’s a rug. Smells a bit of my mum’s dog, but it’s warm.’

He tucked her into the passenger seat, then locked up her car before he drove off. He could hear her teeth chattering as he put the heater up to maximum.

After a moment or two, Louise said, ‘That’s better. Andy, it was fascinating—’ She started to cough again, her eyes watering with the effort.

He was intrigued to know what she had to say but he said firmly, ‘Save your voice. You’ll hurt your throat. In the nicest possible way, shut up.’

A minute later, he saw that she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Bill was in the kitchen making a cup of tea when his wife came downstairs on Sunday morning, yawning. She had slept badly, her mind too full of problems that had scampered around her troubled dreams, turning back on themselves like rats in a maze.

‘Didn’t hear you getting up,’ she said, taking the mug he was holding out to her.

‘Wanted to have a look at the ewe I was worried about yesterday, but she’s fine today. Just her little bit of fun.’

Marjory laughed. Farming wisdom always had it that sheep had one aim in life: to find a way of dying, preferably as expensively as possible. ‘At least you didn’t call the vet,’ she said.

‘Oh, that ewe’s always a wee drama queen – goes into decline at the least thing. Worried well, the doctors call it when it’s people.’

‘I love it when you talk about their personalities. I can’t tell one from another.’

Bill smiled. ‘Professional skill. There’s a couple I’d call the vet for right away if they were drooping.’

‘Stoic sheep – I like the idea.’ Marjory pulled the steeping porridge on to the hotplate and started stirring it. ‘Bill, what do you think of Cat’s Nick now?’

‘Seems a nice lad,’ Bill said happily. ‘When you think what he might have been like! And he’s having a good effect on Cat – she didn’t jump down my throat once at supper last night. That’s a record.’

‘Mmm,’ Marjory said. Farmers weren’t famous for their modern and liberal views but Bill was normally kept in check by his wife as well as his daughter. With Nick’s constant encouragement he had become expansive.

She had flinched at the sly, sidelong glances he directed at Cat, unnoticed by Bill. Even Cat, she thought, was uneasy about it. If she hadn’t been, she’d have launched into a tirade when Bill said that if you were able-bodied you should have to choose between working and starving.

Nick had agreed. ‘Absolutely.’

‘How interesting,’ Marjory said sweetly. ‘And you go along with that, do you, Cat? Bit of a turnaround.’

Cat went pink, muttered something and changed the subject, but Marjory felt so uncomfortable, it was as if she’d had ants crawling across her skin all evening.

Her mother had been there too; she hadn’t said much but then Janet Laird had always been quiet. It didn’t mean she wasn’t paying sharp attention to all that was going on, though, and she was a shrewd judge of character – perhaps as a result. Marjory decided she’d make time as soon as possible to pop in to see her and get her verdict.

Now she said, ‘I’m not sure I’d take him at face value, Bill. I think he’s a bit sleekit.’

‘Sleekit?’ Bill looked affronted. ‘Having nice manners hardly makes him untrustworthy. I certainly appreciate it.’

‘You don’t think it’s funny that a boyfriend of Cat’s should have the sort of views that Cat absolutely despises? It wasn’t like her to be so quiet.’

Giving him a sideways glance Marjory saw, from his faint flush, that she had sown a doubt in his mind. But he said stubbornly, ‘Maybe he’ll make her a bit more down to earth. And anyway, maybe he’s just been brought up to believe it’s polite to not disagree with his elders and betters.’ He was looking thoughtful, though.

Satisfied with her groundwork, Marjory said, ‘Could be,’ as she put out the porridge. ‘Bill, pass me up Meg’s bowl for the scrapings.’

Hearing her name, the collie jumped up, circling her mistress hopefully.

‘Not yet, Meggie, it’s too hot. It’ll hurt your nose. You’ll just have to be patient.’

Her eyes on Marjory’s face, the dog gave a heavy sigh and lay down again.

‘Understands every word you say,’ Bill said fondly.

‘Of course she does. She’s a highly intelligent animal,’ Marjory agreed. She’d also noticed that Nick Carlton hadn’t got the effusive greetings Meg normally gave visitors to the house.

Louise Hepburn awoke with an achingly dry throat and a stiff, bruised neck. She swallowed, wincing, as she opened her eyes. It took her a second to realise where she was, and when she did the pain of embarrassment gripped her too.

He’d taken her to his mum’s last night, instead of delivering her home. She’d been livid with Andy but she hadn’t been strong enough to argue last night and even if she had been, his mum was so nice and concerned it would have been downright rude. She was a retired
nurse, apparently, and she checked Louise out and confirmed that no real harm had been done, then supplied a nightie and a toothbrush and tucked her up in bed with a couple of paracetamols, a soothing hot drink and a hot-water bottle.

Louise admitted to herself that it had been good to be cosseted, but after Andy had picked up his own car and gone back to his flat it had got a little alarming. May Macdonald had laughed as she said goodnight. ‘I’m so glad to meet you, Louise. Andy’s always been an awful boy for keeping his cards close to his chest. Sleep well, dear.’

Somehow she was going to have to make it plain that they only worked together and didn’t really get on, even as colleagues.

What really got to her, though, was being under such an obligation to him. She’d insisted, quite rudely, that she was able to look after herself and then had conclusively proved that she wasn’t. If he hadn’t been there – Louise shuddered.

When she thought about how close it had been, how she had felt as the band across her throat squeezed tighter and tighter, how easily this morning could have been a day she didn’t see … She mustn’t think, that was all.

She had to put it right out of her mind, concentrate on the information she’d collected last night and the leads it suggested. After all, she couldn’t be sure that her attacker wouldn’t strike again as long as he was still at large.

Andy had promised to come in to see how she was on his way to work and if he thought Louise was just going to accept meekly that she should stay at home and nurse her injuries, he had another think coming.

She moved very gingerly, though, as she got out of bed. Her throat, her neck, her back were all painful but at least not incapacitating. And the last thing she wanted was time to think about her injuries.

It was still early, but May Macdonald must have heard her moving
and greeted her when she came downstairs with more paracetamol, the fluffiest scrambled eggs Louise had ever tasted and lots of anxious enquiries.

Louise assured her she’d managed to sleep, ate her eggs and tried, as subtly as she could, to disabuse May of the assumption she had obviously made. The trouble was she really didn’t want to upset her; May was lovely and it was a treat, too, to be cosseted, as she hadn’t been since her poor mother’s mind had become clouded.

She was almost sorry when Andy appeared, still looking anxious and insisting that she took the day off.

‘I’m absolutely fine,’ she protested. ‘It only lasted a few seconds, for heaven’s sake.’

She was even more grateful to May when she told her son to stop fussing. ‘Louise knows her own mind, Andy. She doesn’t need bossing about – not out of office hours.’ She gave Louise a mischievous look. ‘Oh, he was always like that, you know, even as a wee boy. He—’

‘Mum!’ Andy said in exasperation. ‘Oh, all right, Louise. If the two of you have ganged up I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do. If you want to go to your flat to change we’d better get a move on or we’ll be late for the team meeting.’

As he left the kitchen, Louise made her thanks to May and was warmly embraced. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you – come back any time, dear,’ she said. ‘Someone with a bit of a spark is just what that boy’s needing.’

Louise gulped. ‘Er – yes. Thanks again,’ and bolted for the car.

It was a shame, though, she thought as they drove away. She’d have loved to accept the invitation, if the bargain hadn’t included Andy.

Horrified at what had happened, DI Fleming had been inclined to overrule her constable about not following it up. Hepburn, though,
with her voice still rough and a scarf wrapped round her neck that didn’t quite cover up the bruising, had pointed out that with nothing to go on it would make more sense to focus their efforts on the original cases.

In a sense she was right; it was a fairly safe assumption that the person who had strangled Eleanor Margrave had tried again. Something had spooked the killer; Hepburn must have gleaned some information so significant that she had to be silenced, even at the cost of focusing police attention on the suspects present. The challenge now was to recognise what that had been.

Hepburn was still in danger, though probably less so now she had got a chance to report in. She’d said that Randall didn’t know her address, only her mobile number, and as she was insistent that the flat had an entryphone and she would be careful, Fleming allowed herself to be satisfied with that. The best protection they could give Hepburn was to get the perpetrator in a cell with the door locked.