The Night Hunter (7 page)

Billy knows as much about Sophie – my smiley and lovable big sister, cute as a box of pink peppermints, as adorable as a bunny – as there is to know. He is wily like a fox. I like the idea of sending the fox after the rabbit.

I am still mulling the conversation over in my mind as I take the Loch Eck road back to the house. Something runs in front of the car and I slam my foot on the brake to avoid a flash of red fur and fluffy tail. A red squirrel stops in the middle of the road, perches up on his hind legs with his front paws raised as if he’s about to go three rounds with the bumper of the Merc. After a little whisker twitching, he bounces on his way to the undergrowth at the side of the road where I follow the ripple trace in the foliage until he reappears, bolting up a tree. He sits on a branch, hands on hips, looking at me. The message is clear –
what do you think of that then?

I am still smiling as I pull into the driveway at Ardno. The timer on the gates says four thirty-five and as they swing open I can see the Shogun abandoned in front of the house. I park the Merc beside it and walk round the back where the patio door is open a little. Something is not right. The door is ajar but Charlie is sitting on the swing at the bottom of the garden, on his own. Parnell’s big rule: Charlie is never to be left on his own. He is the only son of a millionaire and all that, but here the wee guy is, sitting, not swinging. He does that when he’s feeling out of sorts. I can tell that he has been crying by the way he turns his head, defiantly looking away from me. I wave at him to let him know that whatever huge issue is troubling his little mind, I am OK with it. We have already agreed on many occasions that it is sometimes a bit tricky to be four, but being four is shitloads better than being three, or a grown-up, or a monkey.

As I walk to my flat, it becomes very clear what is troubling Charlie Parnell, aged four. I hear his dad through the patio doors. They are in the kitchen, and the white voile curtains are blowing in the wind slightly, making them twirl through the gap. I hear gentle birdsong, the clunk-clunk of Charlie making circular patterns with the swing and the forceful, unpleasant voice of Alex Parnell coming from within. He is interrogating his wife, the tone hard and persistent. I can make out the question,
So where were you then? Where?

I can’t make out the words of Mary’s mumbled answer but there is fear in her voice. I’ve heard her sound like that before. Before the bruises appear.

I hear her say something about Charlie as she appears as a dark shadow at the curtains, her clumsy hands pawing them to get through. She is so desperate to escape, she is halfway across the patio before she realizes I’m standing there. The expression on her face sears into my mind. The same expression was on Sophie’s face. Shame, fear, relief. Somewhere in there are the words,
help me.

‘I’m back,’ I start, as though I have heard nothing. ‘I’ve left the Merc at the front. Do you want it in the garage or …’

The curtain is nearly ripped from its track as Parnell pulls it to one side. ‘Don’t you …’ Then he stops when he sees me. My mind fills in the unspoken words: ‘…
walk away from me …
’

‘Oh, Elvie, glad you’re here. Maybe you can shed some light on a matter I’m concerned about.’

‘If I can,’ I say cheerily. Mary wants the patio to open up and consume her.

‘Last Tuesday. Can you recall what Mary was doing?’

Now I do look at her but I keep the expression on my face to one of mild amusement. ‘Tuesday? Her book group and then some yoga, I think.’ I shrug.

‘She didn’t go out again? In the Shogun?’

‘No.’

We share a brittle silence. Charlie’s swing is quiet and motionless. Even the birds seem to have stopped singing.

‘There’s some mileage logged on it that we cannot account for,’ says Parnell. His tone is more than accusatory. He waits for an answer.

Out the corner of my eye I can see Mary looking past me to Charlie. She is scared and humiliated. I keep my gaze focused on Parnell. ‘I had it.’ My voice is simple, a bit confused.

‘Really?’

‘Fifty miles from here to Dunoon, does that account for it?’

‘Just about,’ he says, jangling his change in his pocket. Uncertain.

‘Sorry if I shouldn’t have, but I did shout on Mary and tell her.’

Mary looks at me, lost.

‘You might not have heard, you were doing your yoga thing. I didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘I didn’t hear.’ Her voice is almost a whisper.

‘Not surprised,’ I say cheerily. Contrary to popular belief, lying can be easy when folk think you incapable of it. ‘You had your whale music on and I didn’t shout that loudly. I knew I would be back before you noticed.’ I make my voice stern and nod towards Charlie who is watching us, still sensing the tension. ‘There was an urgent need for large chocolate buttons. Ears for teddy bear cupcakes.’

‘There were chocolate buttons in the cupboard.’ Parnell’s stare is challenging.

‘And none of them were left by the time we turned the oven off.’ I force him to look away.

Mary looks puzzled then the penny drops. ‘Oh, those cupcakes … I was wondering.’

I move towards the door of my flat, as if I consider this conversation over. ‘Your son is a keen baker but gets a bit rattled if the ingredients aren’t exactly right. He was a wee Gordon Ramsay heading for a five-star strop.’ I smile at Parnell. ‘So I nipped out to Morrisons in Dunoon, got a few things while I was there. Was that OK?’

‘Why not take the Polo?’ Parnell fires the question at me.

‘No booster seat,’ I reply.

Now he smiles at me, his melting smile. ‘Oh, I see, that’s fine. Just that the accountant was wanting to know about the mileage.’

‘Well, if it will help I’ll get a notebook. I can stick it in the glove compartment then you’ll know where I’ve been.’ I nod my head in a fair-enough kind of gesture. ‘Or I can get a booster seat for the Polo.’

Mary swallowed. ‘The notebook might be a good idea, Alex. I couldn’t remember what I was doing, thought I was going doolally for a minute.’ She looks at me closely. ‘Elvie? How are you after last night?’

Now Parnell joins in, hands out of pockets and outstretched towards me. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Elvie, we’d forgotten. Come in and have a coffee. You must be exhausted.’

‘I’m fine. I’ll go up to the flat if you don’t mind. I’ve just had a long chinwag with some cops. I’m coffeed out. I’ll be down in half an hour to let you away. You’re going out to dinner, aren’t you?’ Now I am the nanny talking to a normal married couple again.

‘Anytime that suits you. So, any news on last night?’ They move to stand together. He has his arm round her shoulders.

I do my shrug thing. ‘The dead woman was Lorna Lennox right enough.’

Mary takes two steps forward and hugs me. ‘Oh, you poor thing.’ The hug is for more than witnessing the death of a young woman. She stands back.

‘Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do,’ says Parnell. ‘And, oh yes, if you need time off, Mary can look after the boy.’

‘But you have that fundraiser in Glasgow on Monday night.’

‘I don’t need to go,’ mutters Mary.

‘Yes, you do.’ Parnell is abrupt. ‘It will be a late one and we’ll stay over.’

I nod. ‘No problem, I can take Charlie to my flat if you want.’ I turn to Mary. ‘If you’re thinking about that navy blue dress, you know it’s still at the drycleaners.’

Parnell smiles, now full of good humour. ‘And while you’re at it can you make sure my dinner jacket is clean as well, Elvie? It’s formal black tie. I’ll see you later.’ He goes back in through the curtains and leaves the two of us on the patio. The sun beats down on my back, the sweat makes my acne prickle.

Charlie has clocked that Mum and Dad have stopped arguing. Mum did not get hurt. In his wee world all is well.

‘Shall we go and give him a push?’ I ask.

‘Why not?’

We walk away from the open patio doors across the expanse of lawn. She whispers
thank you
out the corner of her mouth. Any more than that and Parnell might hear, any gesture and Parnell might see.

I act as if I have not heard.

I have no idea where she was or what she was doing, but whatever it was, it is something that she needs to do and something that Parnell cannot find out about. And if it makes her happy, that’s enough for me.

I pluck Charlie’s baseball hat from his head and place it backwards on my own. Mary pulls him back on the swing and I stand in front to make him feel secure. He knows that I will catch him. We chat about everyday stuff. The weather. What it’s like to be an astronaut, and the big topic of the day – do you get Coco Pops in space? I let Mary deal with that one. Alex Parnell is behind that curtain watching every move we make – I ignore the temptation to turn round and wave at him.

‘H
i, I didn’t want to bother you yesterday, you seemed busy,’ Mary says, standing on the doorstep of the flat. ‘You went for a very long run.’

‘I had a lot to think about. Come in.’

She hesitates. ‘I just wanted to return this book I borrowed.’

‘You didn’t borrow a book.’

Her eyes flit sideways down to the patio. The message is clear: Parnell is out and about, having a quick smoke and a coffee. I lean forward, pulling my hair from my eyes so I can see him. I wave. He waves back. He could be in Marbella sauntering around enjoying the sunshine in his shorts and T-shirt, but he’s at business. It’s half seven on a Monday morning and the mobile is already glued to his ear, a look of intense concentration fixed on his face.

‘Ta,’ I say, playing along, and take the book from her.
Catch-22
, anniversary edition. ‘Have you read it?’

‘Bits of it, but it’s not worth the hassle from Alex, he doesn’t like me reading. I think he’s a bit threatened by anybody with an education.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ She mimics me slightly. ‘Oh, Elvie, you are a tonic.’

‘I mean, why are you giving me this?’

She turns to look behind her, checking on Parnell, then taps the book with her forefinger. ‘I was given it by … a friend to see if Rachel wanted to do it at book group but I think it’s a bit beyond them. Thought you might like it.’ Her eyes wander past me up the stairs. ‘Can I talk to you a minute about the arrangements for the week?’ she asks rather formally.

‘Come on up.’

She gestures to Alex. I do not see his response but I presume that his watch has been flashed at her.
Don’t be long.
There is already heat in the air and she is wearing a new long-sleeved shirt, the shade of blue matching the bruise on her wrist.

Once in the flat she collapses on the sofa and swings her feet up in a way she’s not allowed to in her own house. ‘Sorry you had to witness that on Saturday.’

‘He was giving you a hard time.’ I place the book on top of a pile on the coffee table before going into the bedroom to get my running shoes.

‘He has a lot on at work and he gets so stressed about it all.’ Her voice drifts through the hall to me.

‘Why does he take it out on you?’

She never answers that question.

‘So, are you going to this thing tonight?’ I notice that she still has not told me where she really was that afternoon.

‘I have to.’

‘Well, I’ve to go to Glasgow today to sign a formal statement.’ I tap the copy of
Catch-22
. ‘I’ll take that and read it tonight in the flat; Charlie can watch Sponge Bob.’

‘That’ll work,’ she nods, then looks at me. ‘Elvie? Do they think last night had something to do with you? That poor woman?’

‘How can it? Nobody knew that I was going to drive past that place at that moment in time, did they?’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t like the idea of anything happening to you.’ She rubs her arms with the palms of her hands, easing the itching of new bruising. ‘How’s your mum?’

‘Mum doesn’t want to talk about any of it until she does want to talk about it, then she blows her top. Or she gets drunk.’

‘Everyone has their way of coping, I suppose. It would be so much easier if they knew that your sister was safe. Somewhere.’ She looks out the window, echoing Eric’s thoughts. I think they have been talking about me. I wonder when she last saw her own parents. I’m pretty sure Parnell has annexed Mary from them as he has annexed her from all her friends. ‘Poor Grant, he must have been very close to Sophie for him to fall apart like that.’

I shrug. This is a theme of Mary’s; the relationship between siblings holds fascination for an only child. ‘They were, once, but he just gets on her nerves now. Grant has always been self-centred, he loves winding Mum up. He was close to Dad, I suppose. Things change. We are all diminished without Sophie, every one of us.’ I tug the lace of my shoe really tight, tying it in a knot. For a minute I don’t look at Mary. ‘But nothing is going to happen to me, I am invincible.’

She shakes her head. ‘Nobody is invincible.’

‘Your son thinks he is when he’s on that swing.’

‘Oh God, he’s awful, isn’t he?’ She sighs. ‘I wish we weren’t going to this thing tonight, I really don’t feel like it. I never feel like it.’ She leans forward to the coffee table and pulls
Catch-22
off my Krav Maga manual.

‘Is this the weird thing you do in the garden? It keeps you very fit.’ She flicks through the pages. ‘Oh, it’s self-defence. Is it vicious?’

‘It is the way I do it.’

She raises her eyebrows, then sees my battered
Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti
. ‘You never tire of reading this, do you?
Goblin Market
?’

‘I’ll never tire of it.’

‘They were lucky girls,’ she says. ‘Lizzie and Laura. To have each other.’

We were lucky girls.

‘I gave up my degree before we got to the Romantics. Alex got me a first edition of her collected works just because I mentioned this poem to him. Then he gave me a telling-off for reading it in case I mark it. It is
that
valuable. He bought it as an investment, so it has to sit on a stand in the living room and be admired, not read. He knows the cost of everything and the value of nothing. He thinks I’m bored up here.’

‘You are.’

She stands up and gives me a wry smile. Her hand goes to the top of her left thigh, another little rub, another little bruise. She walks towards the door, reluctant to leave.

I say, ‘I need to go to Glasgow now, so I’ll let you know once I’m free then we can hook up and I’ll take Charlie. I might even take him to the Goblin Market if we have time.’

‘So he gets to see the secret garden and I don’t?’ Her anxiety has passed.

‘He’ll like it.’

‘
Tender Lizzie could not bear to watch her sister’s cankerous care, yet not to share …
’ Her hand sits on the handle of the door, her fingers curl round it and she looks down the stairs in that abstract way she has. ‘And I know that you do care. For Sophie. She’s very lucky.’ I cannot read her expression, there is nothing I can reference.

‘I feel a bit guilty that you’re paying me to look after him when I’m caught up in all this.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about it. Alex didn’t employ you to look after Charlie; he employed you to spy on me and he thinks you’re good at it. He likes the way you rarely let me out of your sight. He thinks that you can’t tell a lie because you lack imagination.’

‘Shows what a bad judge of character he is.’

Billy Hopkirk seems to be an expert at parking illegally and not being seen. First he double parked as we dropped Charlie off at the flat in Park Circus. Mary was back from a stressful trip to Buchanan Galleries to buy a new dress, one to cover the bruises, no doubt. I spent a couple of minutes reassuring Mary that the dress – a long, swirling black number – was fabulous and she believed me.

Now Billy is stuck in the car park at the Western Hospital, without a ticket. He keeps looking at his watch. He wants us to be a bit late so that ‘Jack’ will be in a hurry and want rid of us, but not so much of a hurry that he’ll blow us out altogether. So far he has refused to enlighten me about who ‘Jack’ actually is.

Billy is wearing the same clothes as yesterday and he smells as though he hasn’t washed them for a month. His perfume is chip fat and vinegar with a top note of fag ash.

We’ve been sitting here for about twenty minutes, stewing in the old Vectra with the sun beating in the open window, listening to the noise of the busy street. For the umpteenth time I lean forward in the seat to pull the sweaty shirt from my back. The heat is making my acne boil painfully. I am in a mood and the wait is not helping. I’ve already lied and told him that I have to be back at Park Circus at two. All he said was that we had better get on with it, without telling me what ‘it’ is.

‘Oh, look, we might be in business. Keep your gob shut, hen. If you can.’

I get out the car to stretch my legs. Billy eases his beer belly from the driver’s seat then waddles towards a grey-haired man in a grey suit with matching face. He is carrying a briefcase and a load of files under his arm.

‘Jack? Jack, just the man.’

The man stops and turns his eyes towards the sky. I’m not convinced that he is feigning his horror. ‘Well, well, Billy the Fox Hopkirk. How are you, you old …’ He stops when he clocks me. That look again, this time with a degree of medical assessment. ‘Fox?’ he finishes. His mind is moving quickly, I can see him making connections. ‘What do you want?’

‘You’ve just done the PM on Lorna Lennox.’

‘Maybe.’

‘That wasn’t a question, that was a statement. I was going to pull the old pals act so you can tell us what you found.’ Billy spreads his arms in mock endearment.

‘As a cop you were always just on the line, but as a retired cop you are now on the wrong side of it. No can do, even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.’ The man in the grey suit with the grey hair reaches out to his car door. His grey car door.

‘Well, I’m now working privately for Gillian’s mother.’

‘And God forbid that the time ever comes when I have to deal with her. But if I have to, then I will.’ He tries to walk round Billy, who puts his beer belly to good use.

‘Oh, I know that.’ He is civility itself. ‘But at least you can let me know what you cannot tell me and let me draw my own conclusions. We’ve done that often enough in the past, you and me.’ He looks up at the man in grey, almost fluttering his eyelashes at him.

I stand in front of the car door. ‘When the times comes?’ I repeat back at him.

The grey-haired man stops his little dance with Hopkirk. ‘Sorry?’

‘You said, “When the time comes”. Which means when they’re dead. Lorna was still alive on Friday.’

He drops his briefcase down to rest at arm’s-length and looks away.

‘This is Sophie McCulloch’s sister,’ Billy mutters out the corner of his mouth. ‘She has issues.’ He touched his temple indicating that he thought I was
not all there
. ‘And if you don’t fall for the emotional blackmail, think about the rant she’s about to give to the press. You won’t come out of it well, Jack.’

‘I don’t give a f—’

‘Language in front of the lady!’ Billy turns to me. ‘Sorry, sweet cheeks, I was using the term loosely.’

‘No offence taken.’

Jack is wrong-footed by the familiarity of our exchange.

‘So come on, Jack, be nice, for old times’ sake.’

‘For Sophie’s sake …’ I keep my voice calm.

‘So, Jack, a wee favour, an off-the-record chat between old colleagues.’

‘He kept Lorna alive for a long time,’ I add for effect. ‘He might still have Sophie alive. You will help us.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Do you hear that certainty in her voice? She knows you’ll help eventually, so you may as well tell us now and save time.’

The pathologist turns to Billy. ‘Why don’t you take it up with the SIO? My report is in the post to him.’

‘Why should we, when we can hear it from the horse’s mouth?’

Jack breathes in deeply; I think he’d like to punch that foxy look from Billy’s face. ‘I don’t think I can help you,’ he says to me directly. ‘There are proper channels.’

‘Lorna died in my arms.’

‘Yes, I know. I read the report. It will be public soon enough. The cage webcam on the rock was activated by her falling past it.’

‘So she was up on the hill.’ I take one step forward, invading his space. ‘I need to know if the same thing is about to happen to my sister.’ I sound as if I blame him. And he is intelligent enough to know that my logic is sound. He bites his lip slightly, unsure. The dead he can cope with. But whether Sophie lives or dies might be up to him now. I read his discomfort so I push the argument home. ‘The more knowledge we have, the more chance we have.’

‘I am sure you will be informed in due course.’

‘I want to be informed now.’ My voice is steady but insistent.

‘So where had Lorna come from?’ asked Billy, nonchalantly. He could have been asking who dived for the penalty.

‘Well, that’s in the public domain. She came from the top of the moor. She was naked and barefoot, and got caught in the lie of the land where the ground level dropped because of the landslide. She was exhausted, it was dark. She headed towards the cliff where she fell.’

‘No idea what she was doing up there?’

‘I’m a pathologist, not a cop.’ Jack looked at me. ‘But I don’t think they have any idea about that.’

‘Any evidence where she was running from?’ Billy asks.

‘She couldn’t have gone far, not in that state. She must have been taken by car and thrown out, which is a good theory except there’s no road.’

‘Could I have done anything to save her?’

‘Not at all, Miss McCulloch. She was bleeding internally. Keep that to yourself.’ His voice is quiet.

Billy speaks out the corner of his mouth. ‘She’s a medical student. She’ll get the big words and all the patient confidentiality stuff.’

‘She had an injury?’ I persist. ‘On her leg?’

‘Yes. A clean excision but badly healed.’

I nod. ‘Like a tattoo or something had been cut out? Or a birthmark, maybe?’ I am not looking at him. I am simply thinking out loud. ‘And she was so thin, emaciated.’

‘Undernourished but not starved in the medical sense of the word.’

‘Sexual assault?’

‘There seems to be no sexual motive,’ he said carefully.

‘Lorna’s fingertips were bloodied to the bone like she’d been scraping to get out.’ Now I put my fingers on his chest. His shirt is cool to my skin. I keep my eyes on the back of my hand. ‘Was there anything, any trace under her nails? Anything that might help us locate her?’

‘You are very observant. So you will also have noticed that she was clean. And there was nothing under her fingernails, what there was left of them. And she had been deprived of sunshine. Now, I really have to go.’ He casts me a look of pity, I step to one side. ‘And one more thing. Was that your jumper under her neck?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have close contact with a dog?’

‘No.’