Gallery Whispers

'What?' said Mackie. 'On a miserable day like this?'

'He'd promised; whatever the weather was like, he said. Dennis has to get himself worked up for trips like that. I just hope his wheelchair doesn't rust.

'Where is the Paterson girl?' Neville asked.

'In the bathroom. We whipped the pair of them out of there pretty sharpish, so I said that since we were waiting for you, she could go and freshen up.'

As he spoke, the door opened, and Andrina Paterson came into the room, a uniformed woman constable behind her. Karen eyed her appraisingly; she was a short girl, with a trim waist, neatly built but with strong, well-muscled arms, a trait that she had noticed before in nurses.

'Join us, please,' said Mackie, standing and showing her to a chair across the table from where he and the sergeant were seated. 'I repeat my offer to you. You can have a solicitor if you wish. I'll delay this interview for that purpose.'

Staff Nurse Paterson shook her head. 'No, like I said before, let me hear what this is about, then I'll decide. I haven't got the money to splash out on lawyers.'

'If that's how you want it. We can stop the interview at any time if you wish.' He reached across and switched on the black box tape recorder, identifying himself and Neville formally, stating the time, place and subject of the interrogation.

'Miss Paterson, I want to ask you a few questions about the death of your boyfriend's mother, Mrs Gaynor Weston.'

The nurse stared at him, in apparent astonishment. 'But what about Ray's drugs?'

'They've got nothing to do with you, as we both know. Anyway, that's a relatively minor matter. Now: Gay Weston. You recall the circumstances of her death?'

'Yes. She killed herself. She had cancer and decided to opt out.'

'So you approve of that?' asked Mackie quietly.

Andrina frowned. 'I approve of people having the right. A lot of nurses do. At the end of the day, it's often the drugs rather than the tumour that take people out anyway.'

'When did you learn that Mrs Weston had cancer?'

'Ray told me.'

'Before she died?'

The girl thought for a few seconds. 'No. Afterwards; he definitely told me afterwards.'

'Did he say anything about the circumstances?'

'He told me that his dad had discovered it. He told me that she had taken an overdose.'

'Did he say how?'

'By injection.'

Mackie frowned. 'Didn't it strike you as unusual for someone to kill themselfwith a syringe?'

'Why should it? People kill themselves with syringes often enough in this city. Druggies and such.'

'Don't be flip with me Andrina, this is too serious. Come on, now.

You're a bright person, I can see that. Haven't you worked this out yet?'

She looked at him, silently.

'Okay,' he said. 'I'll spell it out for you. I'm looking at a situation where I have two apparent suicides. I've got Ray's mother, and I've got your Uncle Tony. A big coincidence, for sure. You've been having a bad run of luck in the relative stakes of late.' Andrina Paterson's eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. The superintendent continued, regardless.

'This is where you really get unlucky though. Our pathologist has determined that neither Gay Weston or your uncle were alone when they died. They both had help; and that help came from the person who injected them both, someone who was skilful to professional standards with a hypodermic.

'I hear you're damn good with a needle, Andrina.'

The girl gulped; her hands began to tremble, but only very slightly.

'I think I'd better have a solicitor now, don't you?'

'I think that would be a good idea,' said Mackie, switching off the tape.

78

'I'll bet you wish you were next door, Raymond,' barked Clan Pringle, looking round the drab, windowless room. 'Next door with your nice girlfriend and that nice Mr Mackie.'

He glared across the table at the boy. 'Well you're no',' he snapped.

'You're in here with me, and you're not getting out until you tell me what I want to know.'

'That remains to be seen, superintendent,' said the solicitor. The man was frowning. More than a bit pissed off to be hauled away from the golf club, even on a wet day, the policeman surmised.

'Listen, Mr Lesser,' he rumbled. 'You've got a right to be here, but don't you think that you're running this interview. Don't you think that for one fucking minute. We're in charge here, Sergeant Steele and I.' He glanced to his left.

'Now, let's cut out all the crap. Ray, son. Where did you get the grass?'

The tall youth lifted his eyes from the table. 'You don't need to admit anything,' the solicitor whispered, but his client waved him away with a long slim hand.

'From a guy I was at school with. I bought it from him.'

'Are you going to tell us his name.'

'No. He's a friend.'

Pringle shrugged. 'Fair enough; you posh school lads stick together.

Where did you get the pills?'

Raymond Weston looked back at him across the table. There was something about the lad, Pringle admitted to himself. A sort of wild, rangy presence, not physically threatening to a grown man perhaps, but he could understand how he was able to dominate his roommate Beano, and to attract a tasty wee girl like that Andrina, even though she was a few years older than him.

'I took them from my dad's study.'

'Did you sell them?'

'Not exactly. I swapped them for beer.'

The superintendent nodded. 'Right. You can regard this as an official caution. Don't do it again, understood, or you'll be banged up in Aberdeen, rather than studying there. You'd hate that, son; inside a week your arsehole would feel as if it had been cored like an apple.'

The solicitor stared at him across the table, not knowing whether to be relieved, astonished, or to be flattered that his mere presence had made the formidable detective crumble. 'Well, if that's it.' He began to stand. 'Come on Raymond. I'll take you home.'

'Sit down, man,' Pringle growled. 'Don't you know when the decks are being cleared. I'm going on to the real business now. Can you guess what that might be?'

The tall youth leaned back in his chair. 'I could try,' he said. 'I'm bright enough to know that you don't send two superintendents out on a Saturday over a wee bit of smoke and a couple of junior aspirins. I'd say this has something to do with my mum and Andrina's uncle.'

'Why would you say that?'

'Because I can't think of anything else.'

'As it happens, you're right. We've got evidence that both of them were helped to kill themselves. Wrap that any way you like, it means murder. Now wipe that smug look off your face and get serious, because there's only two people in the frame for it; you andAndrina.'

'Now wait a minute' Raymond exclaimed.

'I'm telling you son. Someone gave your mother the jab that killed her, someone did the same for Uncle Anthony. Your girl's a nurse with access to drugs. Where else would we look?'

'But you're… That's crap!' The boy was rattled, at last, Stevie Steele saw.

'Convince us. Ray,' he said quietly. 'Where were you when your mum died. We know you weren't in Aberdeen.'

'I was with Andrina. I spent the night with her in Edinburgh.'

'So why didn't you tell us that right away?'

'Because my dad thinks I see too much other. I didn't want to start another row.'

'And what about the night Mr Murray died? You saw him then, didn't you?'

Ray Weston nodded. 'Andie and I went to see him in the evening.

He'd phoned her and asked us to come round.'

'So?'

'So we had a coffee with him, Andie fixed him a gin and tonic and we left. With him alive!'

'When was this?'

'We were gone by about half past eight.'