Lying Dead (19 page)

    ‘Not really.’

    Susie clicked her tongue in exasperation. ‘Josh, this is something you have to do for Dad. It would make him really happy to have Moss back, and he’s no use to the other man because no one will buy him. He won’t listen to Dad because they’ve quarrelled.

    ‘But I used to know him quite well, a long time ago,’ she gave a little giggle, ‘and if he knows it’s just that a little boy really misses his pet, and Moss isn’t going to be going off winning trials again, I’m sure he’ll be more reasonable. And Dad would be really pleased.

    ‘You know how well you did, talking to Mrs Fleming—’

    Josh’s face darkened. ‘That was horrible. And Dad said he was just going to be allowed to come home anyway.’

    ‘Nonsense!’ his mother said again, savagely this time. ‘Your father is embarrassed about it, that’s what
that
’s about.

    ‘Now, all I’m asking you to do is tell Mr Murdoch how much you miss Moss and how fond you are of him, and then say, “Please will you let me take him home with me?” really nicely and politely. For Dad!’

    Josh didn’t reply, slumping sullenly in his corner, and they drove most of the rest of the way in silence. As they turned into the narrow Drumbreck Road, Susie glanced in the mirror.

    ‘You’ve got a dirty mark on your face, Josh. Here – lick this and wipe it off.’ She handed back a tissue. ‘And put away that sulky face. No one wants to do anything for a boy who looks all scowly and bad-tempered.’

    She parked at the marina. She wasn’t sure which was the Murdochs’ house but at this time of day Niall was most likely to be at work. She asked a young man who was sorting out sailing tackle, and he directed her to an office at the side of the big storage shed.

    Niall Murdoch was alone, frowning over some papers that looked like accounts; when he saw his visitors a slow, unpleasant smile spread across his face.

    ‘Well, well, well! Sent in the heavy mob, has he? Or have you come to up the offer for that useless dog?’

    It was with some difficulty that Susie managed to say coquettishly, ‘Oh, Niall! What a way to greet me after all these years!’

    Niall looked at her, derision in his eyes. ‘I’m
so
sorry, Susie. I hadn’t realized this was a social call. After all these years, I’m touched that a couple of smoochy dances at the Young Farmers’ ball could have inspired you with a desire to renew the acquaintance.’

    Susie’s face flared. ‘It – I didn’t mean that. I just expected common courtesy.’

    ‘Well, I think you’ve had that now. Can I revert to my question – have you come to up the offer?’

    ‘I wish I could.’ She was proud of her self-control. ‘I know you’ve turned down the offer Findlay’s made, and that really was the last penny we could raise. You know the foot-and-mouth simply wiped us out – you can imagine what it was like, being a farmer yourself.’

    ‘Ah, but I had the sense to get out, didn’t I?’ He laughed. ‘Poor old Fin – never the sharpest knife in the drawer.’

    It was hard to believe that this sneering and unpleasant creature was the young man all the girls had fancied when they were young together. The first part of her plan had clearly failed; she could only try the second, though with a sinking heart.

    ‘It was Josh who made me come, actually,’ she said. The child, standing silent and unhappy at her side, gave her a startled look as she went on, ‘I’m sure you realize that Moss is finished, professionally. You haven’t been able to sell him as a working dog. But Moss was one of the family. Josh can hardly remember him not being around and he’s been grieving for him ever since he had to be sold. And I thought that, even if you couldn’t agree to it on a business basis, you wouldn’t be cruel enough to kill a little boy’s pet. He’s no use to you, anyway.

    ‘Go on, Josh.’ She nudged the child.

    ‘Please, Mr Murdoch, may I have Moss back?’ he said without conviction.

    Niall threw back his head and laughed. ‘Dear, dear! Was this Fin’s idea?’

    ‘Of course not!’ Susie was indignant.

    ‘You would say that, wouldn’t you? Well, whoever thought of it, it was bloody silly. You can go back and tell Findlay he knows my price. If he wants the dog, he’ll have to find it – that’s all. Tell him I’ll be phoning to make the appointment with the vet.’

    Then he bent down to the child. ‘But I tell you what, Josh. If you like, you can go to the house over there, where Moss is,’ he pointed, ‘and say goodbye to him. Give him a nice big hug to show him how fond you are of him. But I warn you, he just about had my daughter’s hand off when she tried to pat him.’

    He roared with laughter at the look on Josh’s face.

    She wasn’t going to budge him, after all. He was going to go back to Findlay and Findlay was going to plunge them into debt all over again. Susie felt real panic at the thought of it. She wanted to walk out, hurling insults at him, but she had to have one last try.

    ‘Niall, I know what Findlay’s able to pay would leave you out of pocket. But surely even two thousand pounds is better than nothing?’

    He looked at her oddly. ‘No, I don’t think it is, really,’ he said. ‘Fortunately I’m in a position now where it doesn’t matter so much. Findlay cheated me, and I’m going to see he pays me in full, one way or another. It’s up to him.’

    ‘But Niall—’

    ‘Heaven knows,’ he went on, interrupting her, ‘I always had you down as a bit of an airhead, but I never realized you were dumb enough to think I’d fall for a pitch like this.

    ‘And what on earth’s happened to you? I remember you as moderately fit, but you’ve fairly let yourself go, haven’t you?’

    Susie felt physically sick with rage. ‘Oh, did you fancy me? Now I always thought your eyes were too close together.’

    It was childish and ineffectual, but it was all she could think of to say. She grabbed Josh’s hand and stormed out, with Niall’s laughter following her. The young man who had directed them earlier, on his way into the office, had to jump back to let them pass.

    Back in the car Josh said, in a small voice, ‘Do I – do I have to go and say goodbye to Moss?’

    ‘Of course you don’t. Don’t be silly,’ she snapped unfairly. ‘And you’re not to say a word to your father about this. Knowing what Mr Murdoch said would only upset him.’

It was five o’clock when the phone rang in Marjory Fleming’s office with the unwelcome news that Keith Ingles wasn’t at the location where he was supposed to be working. He wasn’t at home either. He had fled.

Chapter 10

‘DI Fleming? You’ve been trying to contact me.’

    Marjory Fleming glanced at her watch. It was six o’clock; she had first phoned with an urgent message for DCI Carter to contact her at half-past eleven this morning, and then again at two o’clock this afternoon.

    ‘Oh yes,’ she said coolly. ‘I was anxious to brief you on developments at this end in the Natasha Wintour case.’

    ‘I gather from Tucker that you’re a bit more prepared now to accept my theory that it’s domestic.’ He sounded bored.

    ‘Not exactly.’ The man had a serious talent for irritating her. ‘The situation’s changed radically and I didn’t want your team to waste time investigating a false trail. Or getting sued by Jeff Brewer for wrongful arrest.’ She shouldn’t have said that.

    He didn’t react. ‘To be honest with you, we haven’t been able to do much about it yet. We’ve a couple of Yardie gangs who seem hell-bent on mutual destruction and we’ve just had our fourth fatal shooting in a fortnight.’

    My body count’s higher than your body count? Oh, please! ‘Then you’ll be relieved to know that we think it’s more likely to be our case than yours,’ she said crisply. ‘We’ve identified her as a local woman called Davina Watt. She went to Manchester and changed her name, but we suspect it’s linked to a robbery with violence here some years ago. We’re looking for confirmation but at the moment it looks as if the killing didn’t take place in Manchester after all.’

    ‘Fine, fine!’ he said heartily. ‘Good to know. Over to you, then.’

    Fleming could readily appreciate his eagerness to wash his hands of it, but she had a job to do too. ‘We would need to have someone talk to Brewer again and to the regulars in the bar in the light of this new information. If we could establish what happened to her after she left home here—’

    She heard another phone ringing at his end. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘I’ll have to take this call. I’ll put you on hold.’

    It was several minutes before he came back to her. ‘I’m sorry. Something’s come up. I’m going to have to go.

    ‘We’ll do our best for you, naturally, but I can’t promise any very speedy action on your request. It may be hard for you to understand what it’s like in a city like this, but we’re fire-fighting crime at the moment and it seems to be taking hold. Liaise with Tucker – that would be best.’

    The phone abruptly went dead. Trying very hard to be reasonable, Fleming put down the receiver at her end.

    Of course she understood. The man was under a lot of pressure, obviously, and perhaps his voice had been weary rather than bored. He was right, she didn’t know what it was like to be in a position like that, and since the killing wasn’t on his patch, why should he make the priorities of the Galloway Constabulary his? It was his tone and his attitude that she found hard to take.

    She had seen Davina Watt’s broken body left in a hollow in the ground and lying on a mortuary slab. She was a woman who had died violently, and that was important too. Death in a quiet rural area was no less horrifying than death in the squalid streets of a city, even if Carter was afraid there would be another death tomorrow in a way that she wasn’t.

    They might, anyway, be better off working through Tucker. She’d liked the look of him, and he and Tam, amazingly, seemed to have developed a good rapport. If Tam had a chat with him they might get a better result.

    Fleming looked at her watch again. She was going to be late tonight; there were patrols out looking for Ingles and others going round pubs and hotels with Davina’s photo and she wanted to get at least some of the reports before she packed it in and went home.

    She’d phoned Bill earlier to tell him what was happening; she rang him again now. He and the children had gone to see Janet and Angus, he said, so there would be no need for her to build in a visit. Angus had been quieter today but Bill was worried by Janet’s obvious exhaustion.

    Weren’t they all? Marjory sighed. Working on a murder case might have its problems, but you could at least hope for a successful conclusion. In her parents’ case, the only possible outcome was bleak indeed.

    Tam would still be in the building. She’d asked him to familiarize himself with the Ingles case; if he wasn’t committed to being home for supper they could discuss it at the Salutation over a pint and a sandwich. Or perhaps, if her resolution failed, one of their Scotch pies, guaranteed to give a nutritionist heart failure at ten paces.

Mirren Murdoch was eating the mushroom omelette her mother had made for her supper. She wasn’t hungry, but eating it was easier than explaining why she didn’t want to.

    Mum was doing the usual mumsie bit, asking questions about what she’d been doing today and stuff, but Mirren had conversation-killing down to a fine art now; if you just said ‘Yes,’ ‘No,’ and ‘Whatever,’ it usually worked.

    Mum had given up quicker than usual tonight and had started talking to HIM (she refused even to think of him as Dad) about the swear words someone had sprayed on the house. Mirren was on that person’s side; anyone who hated HIM couldn’t be all bad. But Mum was saying the police had been and someone was going to be arrested. Pity it wasn’t HIM.

    Mirren had finished. They were still eating, but when she asked if she could go Mum sighed and said, ‘Oh, all right, if you want.’

    She went out and shut the door, marched on the spot for a moment or two, then stood listening. It was a habit of hers, the way she learned what was really going on. And sure enough, after a moment or two her mother started.

‘Niall, I need to talk to you about that dog.’ Jenna spoke in tones of exasperation. ‘For God’s sake, will you settle for what the man’s offered you, or else if you’re set on cutting off your nose to spite your face, give it away? What’s the point of having it put down – you’ll only be landed with a bill from the vet.’

    ‘Hand it back to Stevenson – or his stupid wife – as a present, you mean, with a bow round its neck and a card saying, “Best wishes, Niall”? You’re joking!’

    ‘Not exactly. And don’t sneer at me like that. There are plenty of charities that find homes for unwanted dogs.’

    There was a pulse ticking at the corner of his eye. ‘Stevenson fleeced me. He buys back the dog for less than half of what I paid for it, and I’ve been taken for a sucker. If you think he’s going to go away smirking, you’ve got another think coming.

    ‘He put me through it over that dog – could have caused me serious grief if I hadn’t thought of a way round it – and he’s not getting away with it. The way I see it, killing his dog is fair compensation for him making a fool of me in public.’