The Back of Beyond (43 page)

She felt a little shy with him when he came through from the shop again, beaming as he sat down beside her. ‘Well, that's the last stage set in motion, but I'll stay on with you for a while, till you get over the shock a bit. The Super understands how upset you must be, and said I can stay for as long as you need me. I parked the car at the other end of the village, so the neighbours won't have any cause to gossip. How are you feeling now?'

‘Much better, thanks to you. I'd have gone to pieces if you hadn't …'

‘Lexie, I know this isn't an appropriate time, but I have to know if …' He looked away in some embarrassment, and his voice was barely audible as he went on, ‘I need to know if there's any chance for me. If there's not, don't be afraid to say, and I'll never mention it again.'

It took a moment for her to understand what he meant, and it was surprise as much as shyness that held her back from throwing her arms round his neck. ‘It's OK, Roddy,' she said, cautiously, ‘I've been hoping you'd …'

Taken abruptly into his arms, she gave herself up to the thrill of his kisses, but they ended just as abruptly. ‘No, Lexie dear,' he murmured, as she tried to kiss him again, ‘now I know how you feel, this can wait … till we get Tom Birnie safely behind bars.'

As usual while driving down the track, it took all Alistair's concentration to avoid the sharp stones which could slash his tyres, so he was on the road before he could do any thinking. If it really was Alec Fraser's body that had been found, everything pointed to Tom Birnie being the killer. There was nobody else it could have been. Poor, poor Lexie. What a state she must be in.

It didn't take long for him to reach the village, and he drew into the little side lane some distance from the shop. The only other vehicle in sight was the little red Post Office van at Sandy Mearns's gate, and he didn't want Aggie or Doodie Tough or any of the other scandalmongers, to see his A40 outside the shop and make something out of nothing. It wouldn't be fair to Lexie.

He closed his car door quietly and walked along to the opening through to her house. It was getting quite dark, yet her light wasn't on and he hoped that she hadn't gone out, though she would be needing company after what she'd been told today. As he stood uncertainly, wondering what to do, he could see the flickering of the fire through the curtains, so she couldn't have gone far. She had told him once that she didn't lock her porch door if she wasn't going to be out long, so she likely wouldn't mind if he went in to wait for her.

In case she was inside sleeping off the effects of long bouts of weeping, he made no sound as he turned the handle with great caution, stepped gingerly over the threshold then closed the door carefully behind him. The door into the kitchen was half open, and there she was on the couch … but not asleep. For a few moments, transfixed by the sight of the detective with his arms around her, Alistair stood with his mouth agape, until a weird sensation started in his innards. If he had loved Lexie, he'd have sworn it was jealousy, but he didn't, so it wasn't – it couldn't be? It was just shock at seeing her being kissed so ardently by a man … especially this man.

The pair were so absorbed in each other that they weren't aware of his presence, so he backed out on tiptoe, took time to close the door silently again and stumbled to his car on legs that felt as heavy as tree trunks. Then he plumped down in the driver's seat to start the engine. He had to think, but not here – not so near.

Arriving back at Benview, he went straight to bed to consider what he had seen. It was strange, really, that Lexie hadn't met somebody long before this. But that 'tec? He wasn't a good choice. What could she see in him? Had it been reaction to what he'd told her? Or had he taken advantage of her vulnerability?

Alistair stretched out to the chest of drawers for his cigarettes and lighter, but as the flame ignited, it dawned on him that, although he had never actually loved Lexie, he had always been sure that she loved him. Was that why he felt so betrayed?

David was surprised to hear his father's car coming back after just twenty minutes. What had happened at Lexie Fraser's house? If only Mum was here. If he knew where she was, he'd write and beg her to come home. She wouldn't know about poor Auntie Marge, of course, and she'd be terrible upset when she did.

Oh, this was awful! How could he sleep with all these thoughts jumbling round in his head? Maybe he should try reading? He'd read all his comics, though, and Mum had made him put all his books in the cupboard on the landing on the shelf under hers and Dad's. He might as well take a look. There might be one he hadn't read.

Jamming his feet into his slippers, he crept across his bedroom and inched the door open to save it squeaking, then stepped along the landing to the next door, which was a bit trickier. He held his breath at the three long creaks it gave before he got it open, but nobody shouted at him so he felt for the flashlight Mum kept there because there wasn't an electric point. The weak beam wavered along the row,
Treasure Island, Huckleberry Finn, The Last of the Mohicans, Children of the New Forest
, two of the
Biggles
series. He'd read them all … two or three times. Looking up at the shelf above, he didn't fancy any of Dad's books, Dickens and that crowd would be dull and boring. C.S. Forester's
The African Queen
sounded a bit more promising, though, at least it looked action-packed.

Settling down in bed again, he pulled out a bookmark and wondered why Dad hadn't finished the book. Then he remembered seeing Mum reading it. She probably hadn't finished it when she went away, and Dad must have put it back in the cupboard.

The bookmark however, wasn't a bookmark, he discovered. It was a letter from somebody called Tilly to his mother, dated 1 March 1948, telling her that Ivy Crocker had died. It ended, ‘Remember, if you're ever anywhere near Newcastle, Fred and I would love to see you again.'

The name Tilly was vaguely familiar, and he pondered over where he could have heard or seen it before. She lived near Auntie Ivy … where Mum had gone when she had the baby. Did Tilly know about that? He hadn't known himself at the time, not till Dad had told him and Leila what had happened. He still couldn't fathom out all the ins and outs of it, some things still puzzled him. Was Nicky his brother, for instance? They had the same mother, but apparently Uncle Ken was Nicky's father. That's what had caused all the trouble.

Out of nowhere, it suddenly struck David where he had seen the name Tilly before. She sent Mum a Christmas card every year. ‘Love from Tilly and Fred', she always put, the same as the letter. His heart skipped a beat. Was that where Mum was? Dad said he had no idea, nobody had.

A warm excited glow began to spread through the boy's rapidly-cooling body. If he could trace her and get her to come home, it would make up for being to blame for the burst-up in the first place. If he hadn't shown Dad those snaps …

Yes! It was all up to him now.

Chapter 34

Roddy Liddell had spent an almost sleepless night, but it wasn't the murder investigation which had kept him awake. Yesterday had been quite a momentous day for him, apart from the unearthing of Alec Fraser's body. He had more or less told the dead man's daughter how he felt about her, and wonder of wonders, she had said she felt the same. Perfect result, despite the bad timing.

But he'd have to put it on a back burner meantime. For now, he had to concentrate on tracking down that damned murdering doctor, whatever name he was calling himself. He had contacted Mrs Chalmers first thing this morning, and was inclined to believe, from the way she spoke, that it really was Tom Birnie she had seen, and that she wasn't one of the cranks they sometimes had to put up with. She had understood that she would be called as a witness at the trial, and said she would be happy to let the whole world know the kind of rotter her brother-in-law had been and obviously still was.

Of course, Liddell warned himself, the case might never come to trial if the man was as accomplished a liar as it appeared. Mrs Chalmers' evidence was only second-hand; it was her deceased sister's word against a desperate Birnie's. It would be impossible to make people believe that a doctor as well respected as he had been in Forvit, and likely in Glasgow and Inveraray too, would have illicit associations with young girls. He would deny it, no doubt about that, and look suitably horrified that his wife's sister would even think such things about him. What Nancy Lawrie could say would be more effective, if she was willing to testify, although, again, the swine would probably deny everything, and accuse her of telling lies out of spite because he had rebuffed her advances.

In any case, would she be capable of describing to a crowded court what he had done to her? Could he put her through such an ordeal … even for Lexie's sake? Infidelity was not enough to convict a man for murder, nor was fathering a child on a woman not his wife, nor was breach of promise. The whole investigation was liable to collapse, with not even the smallest piece of circumstantial evidence to go on. What could anybody expect after twenty years? Tom Birnie's method of killing his two victims and his reason for so doing were likely to remain his secret for evermore.

Since Nancy Lawrie had miraculously appeared again, the Forvit women had reversed their opinion of Alec Fraser. Yesterday afternoon, he'd been hard pressed not to laugh out loud.

‘I never thought Alec Fraser would've run off wi' her.' This was the postman's wife.

The one they called Doodie had almost nodded her head off. ‘Me, either. Didn't I say, Mattie? I said no, no, nae Alec. He's a decent man and he would never've ta'en up wi' a lassie young enough to be his dother.'

Mattie had added, ‘As for him and Mrs Birnie! Well, there was nae wey there would be ony scandal aboot them. They was pillars o' society, baith the two o' them.'

Not that that was conclusive, Roddy mused. Pillars of society had been known to stray, even to commit heinous crimes, they were only human, after all, with human feelings and failings.

Glancing at his alarm clock, which he had set for six but switched off at five thirty because he was wide awake, Roddy was astonished to see that it was now almost quarter to seven. Good God! He'd planned to collect Gaudie and be on the way to Inveraray before seven, and it would take him all his time to be ready for half past.

First telephoning to tell his sergeant that he was running late, Liddell gave himself the quickest wash and shave he'd ever had, rummaged in his chest of drawers for a clean shirt and uncrumpled tie till the kettle boiled, and drank his cup of tea while he dressed. It was twenty-nine minutes past seven when he went out to his car, his brown wavy hair flopping over his eyes because he'd forgotten to brush it, two small pieces of toilet paper attached to his chin to staunch the blood where the razor had nicked it.

Alistair's thoughts were so tangled when it was almost time to get up that he knew his work would suffer. Maybe he should just lie there in the hope that exhaustion would overcome him eventually and he could sleep for a few hours?

He had more or less decided that what he felt for Lexie now stemmed from pity rather than love, but he still couldn't make up his mind about his wife. What he felt for her wasn't so easily defined. This not knowing where she was had blunted the earlier hatred and resentment for the pain she had caused, and what was left was an aching anxiety to know that she was safe and well. What she had done while he was a prisoner of war still rankled, and he wasn't sure if he could ever forgive her, but his children needed their mother and for that reason alone, he would ask her to come home. The thing was, where the devil was she? She had made it quite clear to her sisters – just Peggy now – that she wanted to be on her own, but that was almost six months ago. Surely she had done all the thinking she needed by this time.

Oh, hell! He couldn't carry on like this, going round and round and getting nowhere. He'd be as well going in to work to take his mind off it.

After a quick wash and shave, he came out of the bathroom and called, ‘Come on, troops, time to get up,' before going downstairs.

The first meal of the day had deteriorated into a cup of tea and a slice of toast each, but neither his son nor his daughter had complained … so far. A flurry of raised voices overhead made him smile. David would be accusing Leila of sneaking into the bathroom before him, and she would be retaliating by saying she couldn't let him go first because he splashed soapy water all over the floor and left the basin in such a mess. But they were good kids, and David seemed to have a talent for repairing old clocks and watches. Leila, of course, wasn't quite so dedicated. She appeared to be serious about Barry Mearns, so she probably had her mind set on marriage and babies, not a career in a small watch-maker/jewellery shop in a side street.

Leila came downstairs first. ‘David thinks Mum's with the Tilly Something who sent her a card every Christmas.'

Taken aback, he stammered, ‘I … I never knew her.'

‘Are you going to get in touch with her? She lived beside Auntie Ivy, so it must be in or near Moltby somewhere.'

‘But she might have moved …' The accusation in his daughter's eyes made him get to his feet. ‘I'll tell you what. If you and David clear everything up when you're finished, I'll go and phone Auntie Peggy. I'm not saying she knows that address, but she could possibly find out for us.'

*    *    *

As David grudgingly dried the dishes, his ears were fine-tuned to catch what his father was saying on the phone in the little porch at the front door, but, unfortunately, all he could hear was an odd phrase here and there, and only one side of the conversation.

‘… I should know myself … yes, yes … paid more attention …'

David nudged his sister. ‘Auntie Peggy's getting on to him for not remembering himself.'

‘What? … Gwen's address book? … I don't know. I think she kept it in her handbag.'

‘She doesn't know either,' David muttered in disgust.

‘She didn't know Mum ever went to Auntie Ivy's …' Leila stopped speaking at David's imperative ‘Ssshh!'

‘Yes? … it doesn't matter … but I'd be grateful if you or Dougal remember anything … Yes, I know he wasn't at home, but Marge could have said something in a letter … OK, thanks anyway.'

He came back into the kitchen, shaking his head. ‘She doesn't know. Well, that's it, I suppose.' Alistair gave a long sigh and shook his head again. ‘Look at the time! The shop won't be opened at eight o'clock this morning.'

‘Nobody ever comes in as early as that, anyway,' Leila consoled.

‘This'll be the day somebody does,' her father said, dolefully. ‘Have you both got everything, now?'

David gave an annoyed exclamation. ‘No, I've forgot a hankie. Just be a tick.'

With his father and sister on their way to the car, he ran to the sideboard and extracted a sheet of notepaper and an envelope from the left-hand drawer. He wasn't going to be stumped because he didn't know exactly where this Tilly lived. He was desperate to see his mother, and the only way to find her would be to write … to any sort of address. He was often left on his own in the little back workshop, and surely he'd have a chance to scribble a few lines, and Dad wouldn't miss a stamp if he took one.

‘Thomas Birnie?'

The tall, white-haired man frowned, then gave a light laugh. ‘No, I'm sorry, you've got the wrong man. My name is Charles Balfour and I've never heard of this … what was it you called him? Birnie?'

‘I am Detective Inspector Liddell from Aberdeen City Police, and this is Detective Sergeant Gaudie. There is no mistake and we are taking you to the Police Station here …'

‘Are you arresting me? On what charge, may I ask?'

His insolence got under Liddell's skin. ‘No charge … yet. We are merely taking you in for routine questioning.'

‘Questioning? About what? A robbery, a paternity suit, ha ha? You've got the wrong man, I tell you. I have committed no such crimes, Inspector.'

Having to hold himself back from punching the man in his supercilious face, Liddell said, ‘It is nothing like that. Fetch your coat, please, and come with us now.'

‘Am I allowed to tell my wife where I am going?'

Gaudie's restraining hand on his sleeve made Liddell take a deep breath, and he managed to keep his voice steady. ‘Yes, of course.'

Birnie disappeared into what they took to be the kitchen, and came back in a few seconds, followed by a brown-haired, pleasant-faced woman who looked to be in her late forties, much younger than her husband, if he was her legal husband, which was doubtful. ‘What's wrong, Inspector? What is Charles supposed to have done?'

The soft, lilting Highland tongue made Liddell feel even more sorry for her. Poor soul, he thought, she's in for a shock when everything comes out. ‘We want to question him regarding his first wife, Ma'am.'

Her unlined brow wrinkled. ‘His first wife died many years ago.'

‘Yes, Ma'am, we know. Are you ready, sir?'

With a sneering smile at Liddell, the doctor kissed her cheek. ‘I'll be back before you know it, my dear. There's been some terrible mistake, but I'll soon clear it up.'

They hadn't far to go, and within minutes, the three men were seated at a table in a small room in Inveraray Police Station. Giving his sergeant time to produce his notebook and pencil, Liddell regarded his suspect. The man must know he was about to be accused of murder, but his eyes – a startlingly bright shade of blue – held no indication of worry or apprehension, and his hands were as steady as a rock when he took out a packet of cigarettes. ‘May I?' he asked, as he extracted one and fished in his pocket for his lighter.

Silently, Liddell pushed the ashtray over to him. ‘If you're ready, we can begin. As your present wife mentioned, your first wife died some years ago. Is that correct?'

The silver head nodded, the mouth turned up briefly in a sad little smile. ‘Yes, that is so, Inspector. Sadly, Margaret caught a chill one night, which developed into pneumonia. She'd had a bad chest since she was a child, I believe, and I did advise her not to go out that night, it was so cold and damp, but she wouldn't listen.'

‘She was, perhaps, going to choir practice at the church?'

Liddell thought he could discern a flicker of anxiety now, but Birnie said, quite calmly and with a sarcastic smile on his long lean face, ‘No, Inspector, Margaret had a voice like a corncrake. As I told you before, you have the wrong man.'

‘No, sir, I think not. You have been definitely identified by a witness as Thomas Birnie, medical practitioner.'

‘A case of mistaken identity, Inspector.'

‘She swears …'

‘She? Oh, Inspector, never, never trust a woman's judgement. If you ask any woman if she has seen a certain man, of course she will say yes. It is part of their nature.'

‘Is it part of their nature to provide that certain man's address?' Liddell was growing increasingly irritated by the doctor's attitude. ‘Furthermore, this lady had not been asked anything about you. She did, of course, know that we were trying to trace you, but she came to us of her own accord to tell us where she had seen you, and how she discovered where you lived … under an assumed name.'

‘I am afraid your witness picked me at random, Inspector. I had never heard the name Thomas Birnie until you mentioned it to me earlier. Where, if I may dare to ask, does your witness live?'

‘She and her family were on holiday in Inveraray from Aberdeen when she spotted you. She knew you very well at one time, and I have every faith in her. She made no mistake.'

‘I have never known anyone from Aberdeen, Inspector. I cannot understand this.'

Liddell was pleased to detect a tremor in the voice now. Birnie was getting edgy, though he would still brazen it out. ‘How long have you been practising in Inveraray?'

There was a slight pause. ‘Um, we moved here only a few weeks ago, on account of my wife's health. Prior to that I was almost twenty years in the heart of Glasgow.'

That could be true, Liddell thought; since he left Forvit, but it would have to be checked. ‘And before that?' This was the crucial period.

‘Dunoon, From the time I qualified until Margaret died … almost eight years.'

‘Not Dunoon, Doctor. Well over a hundred miles from there, wasn't it?'

‘What are you getting at, Inspector?' The mask was beginning to slip, the voice was sharper, higher. ‘Where am I supposed to have been?'

‘Do you know Aberdeenshire at all, Doctor?'

‘No, I have never been as far north as that.'

The questioning went on for hours, over and over the same details, with Birnie obviously trying to remain calm, but there was an odd second or two when Liddell knew that perseverance would pay off. The man would crack … if they kept at him.