‘That’s right, pet, you never,’ her mother replied quietly. ‘But dinnae worry, I’ll tell the lady fer you. Off you go.’
‘I would rather speak to Agnes… directly,’ Alice said.
Ignoring the policewoman’s words, Una Reid started shooing her daughter away with her hands and then replied firmly, ‘Naw, you can speak tae me instead. Agnes’s already oan a final warnin’, she’ll lose her job if she disnae go. But you can speak tae me… again.’
‘You sure, Mum? It’ll be alright then, I’d best go, eh?’ Agnes Leckie said, zipping up her tracksuit top, preparing herself to brave the downpour, huge drops of rain smashing onto the tarmac and soaking her trainers.
‘Aye. Off you go. Dinnae you worry yourself, pet. I’ll deal wi’ her,’ Una Reid answered, jerking her head in Alice’s direction.
Agnes lurched out from under the corrugated iron roof and squelched across the yard, her rounded arms flapping loosely at her sides.
‘Right,’ said Una Reid, watching her go, then finally giving Alice her full attention. ‘She’s away. You can speak tae me an’ I’ll tell you anythin’ you need tae ken. So… why are you botherin’ Aggie – my daughter, Agnes?’
‘I wasn’t “bothering” her,’ Alice corrected her, annoyed at not being able to speak to a possible suspect, ‘I was questioning her. We’re investigating Gavin Brodie’s death, as you well know.’
‘Aye. So whit dae you want wi’ her?’ Una Reid demanded, unabashed.
‘You didn’t tell me about Agnes, your daughter, and Gavin Brodie – the connection between them. You never mentioned Agnes’s troubles, the interdict that had to be taken against her to stop her harassing him, harassing his whole family.’
‘Naw, I didnae,’ the woman replied, then she paused as if thinking and said slowly, ‘I dinnae think it mattered. It wis history. You never asked me, neither.’
‘I didn’t know about it when I last spoke to you – that she had a grudge, to put it mildly, against the man.’
Una Reid gazed unblinkingly into the policewoman’s eyes before answering, and then said, ‘Aye, she does. And nae wonder! Who could blame her? Aggie went bust, lost her husband, an’ she blamed Gavin Brodie fer everythin’… everythin’. And she wis right. So dae I. Her business wis goin’ OK up until the bother wi’ the tax people, and her man couldnae take it when things started going wrong. He just walked away, walked oot on her. Aggie stopped lookin’ aifter hersel’. She’s bi-polar, see. It’s been diagnosed now, but not before she wis sectioned for it, mind, put intae the Royal. She blamed him fer everythin’ that happened. I done and a’.’
‘Has she ever been back to India Street, anywhere near Gavin Brodie, as far as you know?’
‘You’re jokin’ aren’t ye? Ye must be. No, Never. She’s shit-scared, terrified. But you’re no interested in that, are you? The court case and a’ that. No, you’re wonderin’ if she killed the man, aren’t you? Aggie? Jeez!’ she sighed. ‘Just to let you know,’ she added, hotly, ‘it’s ridiculous. you seen her for yourself. Are her prints all over things or somethin’? Course they’re fuckin’ not! Oh, and youse’ll have them, you know. Before she went into the Royal she wis in an’ oot the jail. Shoplifting, malicious mischief, drink and everythin’.’
‘OK, but we…’ Alice began, pausing momentarily to move further into the shelter in an attempt to avoid more drips going down her collar.
‘Aggie!’ the woman continued, fired up with anger at the thought, ‘Aggie can hardly get oot her bed in the mornin’ the now. She’s so drugged she can hardly think.’
‘Did you realise, when you got the job with the Brodies, who you were going to work for?’ Alice persisted.
‘No’ at first, it was a’ done through here, through the Abbey Park. Aifter the first few days I realised.’
‘And then, once you did realise, how did you feel about the man who had ruined your daughter’s life, seeing him every day?’
‘What d’you think I felt? I just about quit at first. But then, well, I needed the money. They’re private payers, like, good payers, too. And I didnae kill him, if that’s what you’re getting’ oan aboot the noo. Naw, I didnae need to. I watched him being punished day in and day out, that was reward enough for me. Why’d I bring his suffering to an end? I enjoyed seein’ it… got paid by him to watch it an’ a’.’
‘Alice?’ It was Ian.
‘Yes,’ she answered, her voice dull, but her heart suddenly thumping against her ribs as if trying to escape its cage. Simply at the sound of his voice at the other end of a phone.
‘I’m back. Have you had lunch yet? Could you spare half an hour or so, so I can see you. I’ve something to tell you.’
‘No, I haven’t had lunch. Whereabouts were you thinking?’
‘Say, that café in Stockbridge, in twenty minutes or so.’
She arrived first and took a table in the window, watching the people passing on the street outside, trying to calm herself by breathing in and out more deeply. Every time the door opened she looked up, and eventually, five minutes late, he walked in. Seeing her he came over and tried to kiss her cheek, but instinctively she turned her head away.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, sitting beside her, looking anxiously into her face.
Where to begin? It was, of course, the very question that she had been anticipating, but all the answers that she had envisaged herself giving fell away, and she heard herself muttering ‘Nothing,’ like a sulky schoolgirl. After a second, she spurred herself on and tried again. ‘Well, no, not nothing actually. Something. Why did you tell me on Wednesday night that you’d been at your studio when you weren’t? I went there at about 10.45 and looked round about it for a bit and you were nowhere to be seen. I saw Susie and she told me that there had been a power cut, and the place was out of action until the next day…’
‘I know, I know, that’s what…’ he began, frantically waving the bemused waitress away as you might a troublesome wasp.
‘And London. I don’t even believe you were there. You told me before that you’d cleaned the stone you used for the wishbone lithographs… you told me at the time you did it. No address, no call, no text. What’s going on?’
It had all fallen out in a breathless rush, but as she had promised herself, nothing had been kept back, no accidental traps were left for the unwary. She had shown her complete hand, including, by the tone of her voice, her annoyance, her hurt at his deceit. Hearing her words, he looked taken aback, but said not a thing. Seconds passed in silence between them, feeling like hours.
‘Well?’ she heard herself say, her tone more like a magistrate than a lover.
‘I… I… I was intending to tell you…’ he began, but stopped again, moving towards her and holding out his hand for her to take. ‘I was intending to tell you…’
‘What?’ she said, sounding horribly shrill in her own ears, wanting the worst to be over and forcing herself to add, ‘tell me what? That it’s finished? That we’re finished and that it is all over? Fine. OK. I understand that, but what I’d like to know…’ She ground to a halt, but it was all right, she had somehow got it out, so that all that was left for him to do was to nod his head. He would not have to say a thing. But as he listened to her, the expression on his face had changed, and he looked distraught, hurt, like a dog who had received an unexpected blow.
‘No! No! Alice… that’s not what I wanted to say. Not what I wanted to tell you,’ he said.
‘Well, what is it then?’
‘Not that, not anything like that. Christ Almighty! How could you even think such a thing?’
‘What can I get you?’ a waiter asked, pad at the ready, looking expectantly at them for their order.
‘Not now, nothing,’ Ian answered, then added for politeness’ sake, ‘later. We’ll order later, thank you.’