‘And now it’s only you.’
Something shifted behind Magner’s eyes. He unfolded his arms and gripped the edge of the table, as if to prevent himself from accidentally reaching out and throttling Gilchrist. ‘Brian and I were in business together for many years. We were close friends. I adored Amy and I loved Eilish and Siobhan. I volunteered my time to help you investigate the deaths of my friend and his family, and you talk to me as if I’m some kind of-’
‘You’ve been accused of sexually abusing eleven women,’ Jessie barked.
‘Which my client categorically denies,’ said Pettigrew, pushing back his seat to let them know the interrogation was over. ‘Now, if you’ve no further questions, my client herewith revokes all voluntary assistance-’
‘Just one more,’ Gilchrist said.
Pettigrew’s face contorted into an irritated scowl. ‘What is it?’
Gilchrist leaned across the table, pressing closer to Magner.
‘How did you get that cut on your right hand?’
CHAPTER 6
Magner’s scowl turned into a smile, and he held out his hand.
The injury was on the right palm, at the base of the thumb, and taped with a stretch plaster streaked with the rust-coloured stain of dried blood.
‘It looks fresh,’ Gilchrist said.
‘I cut myself in the hotel room last night, slicing fruit.’
‘What kind of fruit?’
‘An apple.’
‘Don’t you bite them like a normal person?’ Jessie again.
‘I prefer to slice off chunks.’
‘You must be left-handed,’ Gilchrist said.
‘I am.’
‘So you held the apple in your right hand, and sliced a chunk off with your left?’
‘Exactly.’
‘And the knife slipped?’
‘It did.’
‘You didn’t need stitches?’
‘Thankfully, no.’
‘Where did you find the plaster?’
‘I always have some in my toilet bag.’
‘I bet you do,’ Jessie said.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Pettigrew snapped.
‘That your client gives the impression of always being prepared.’ She glared at Magner, anger shimmering off her like heat from rock. ‘I bet you spent a fortune on johnnies in your heyday-’
‘Right. That’s it.’ Pettigrew pushed himself to his feet. ‘This charade of an interview is now terminated. I am instructing my client not to utter another word. If you wish to speak to Mr Magner again, you will have to find some reason to detain him.’ Pettigrew gripped Magner by the elbow and pushed him, rather unceremoniously Gilchrist thought, towards the door.
Jessie announced, ‘Interview terminated at thirteen-eighteen.’
Gilchrist waited until the door closed behind them, then let several more seconds pass before he turned to Jessie. ‘Want to talk to me about it?’
She grimaced, shook her head. ‘I hate cunts like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Cocky, arrogant, thinks he’s God’s gift to women.’
‘He’s handsome, in a rugged sort of a way,’ Gilchrist tried, looking for a reaction.
‘If you plastered over the pockmarks, maybe. You should have seen the way he looked at me when I walked in. Stripped naked and screwed by the time I’d sat down. I’d bet a year’s salary he’s guilty of raping every one of these women. I can see it in his eyes.’ She shuddered. ‘Gives me the creeps just thinking about him touching me.’
‘And his involvement in the McCulloch’ – he almost said massacre, but settled for – ‘case?’
‘His alibi seems solid,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know. His answers were too quick, like he’d prepared them, particularly about the cut on his hand. I mean, who cuts their hand eating an apple, for crying out loud?’
‘If you hadn’t been so determined to rile him, he might have agreed to give a DNA sample-’
‘Like hell he would. That slime-ball solicitor would never have allowed it.’ She scraped the business card from the table and stared at it. ‘Thornton Pettigrew. I mean, what mother would ever call her child Thornton?’
‘Pettigrew’s mother?’
Jessie glared at Gilchrist. ‘You’re such a smart-arse at times.’
Gilchrist pushed his chair back. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I believe Magner. I want you to find out who was at the convention last night. Check CCTV footage, establish who he talked to, who he had a pint with, who he shared his bed with-’
‘So, you’re thinking he spent the night with someone?’
‘Well, he’s divorced, isn’t he?’
‘As if that makes any difference. Husbands screw behind their wives’ backs all the time.’
An image of his late wife Gail having it off with her lover Harry flashed into Gilchrist’s mind, thankfully replaced by a picture of Cooper settling on to him. And wives do the same to their husbands, he thought.
‘Maybe he’s looking for wife number two,’ he said.
‘I doubt it.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Same age as McCulloch, I’d say. Late forties, early fifties.’
‘Check it out. See what you can find out about his past. And have a talk to the PF about the rape allegations. Maybe we need to set up a meeting. Then ask Stan about McCulloch’s phone records. He must have something by now.’
‘And while I’m trying to cram a week’s work into a Friday afternoon, what exactly will you be doing, sir?’
‘Checking up with Cooper.’
‘Typical.’ She left the interview room, flashing a wry smile.
On the drive to Dundee, Gilchrist took a call from his daughter, Maureen.
‘Hey, Mo,’ he said. ‘Long time.’
‘It’s only been a week, Dad.’
‘But we live in the same town now,’ he complained. ‘Shouldn’t we be seeing a bit more of each other these days?’
‘Okay, what are you doing tonight?’
‘I can’t tonight. I’ve got a major case on the go…’ He let his voice trail away as he realised she was winding him up.
‘I know, Dad. It’s all over the news.’
‘How about tomorrow night?’ he suggested, trying to change the subject.
‘I’m working on my final thesis. You know how busy I am.’
Three years earlier, Maureen had been involved in a terrifying incident that almost claimed her life. And after her mother’s death, Gilchrist had managed to persuade both Maureen and his son, Jack, to return to St Andrews from Glasgow. Maureen now lived alone in an attic flat in South Street. But rather than hide in the shadow of her horrific experience, she had tackled the devil head on and applied for an Open University course in forensic science. She expected to graduate in the summer, and was always on the lookout for first-hand experience of crime scenes.
Which was why Gilchrist gritted his teeth. He knew what was coming.
‘Any chance of being shown around?’ she asked.
Shown around was Maureen’s way of asking for access to a crime scene.
‘Not this one, Mo. It’s too high profile.’
‘But that’s exactly the kind of case I need-’
‘I can’t, Mo. I’ve got to play by the rules this time. McVicar and Greaves are all over it. The press are camping out by the front gate. If you showed up, I’d be fired on the spot.’
For a moment he thought she had hung up, but then she said, ‘Okay. If that’s what you want.’
He felt a hot surge of irritation flash through him. This was Maureen at her worst. Just like her mother, she could twist his words to make him feel guilty. ‘It’s not what I want, Mo. It’s what I have to do. There’s a difference.’ He waited a beat. ‘Why don’t you join us in The Central tomorrow, and we can have a chat about the case?’
‘Won’t you be too busy for that?’
Gilchrist bit his tongue. ‘It doesn’t matter how busy it gets, princess, we all have to eat. The Central’s convenient, and it serves a great pint. We’ll be there around one.’