Gallery Whispers

5

'There was no sign of forced entry to the house, and nothing appeared to have been disturbed. Dorward's people found two plates, cups, saucers and cutlery in the dishwasher. It had been run, though; every damn thing in it was fingerprint-free. There were two longstemmed wine glasses on the draining board, and an empty bottle of Mouton Cadet on the table. Each of the glasses still had traces of wine in them, and one had lipstick on the rim, the same shade as Mrs Weston's. The team tried to lift prints from them, but they were too badly smeared.'

'What about the bag?' Skinner grunted.

'It was strong, clear polythene, unmarked. No brand name on it, no store name; nothing at all. There were no others like it in the house or in the garden shed, nor was there any sign of the black tape. We've looked everywhere now; someone took it away, for sure.'

'Probably brought it too. The ex: what do we know about him?

What does he Profess? Do we know yet?'

Martin nodded. 'Brian Mackie had all that before ten o'clock this morning. He's a surgeon. He has a chair at Edinburgh University, and works mostly at the Western General Hospital.'

'Mmm. Divorced for seven years, you say. Did Mrs Weston have any man friends?'

'Apparently so. Maggie found a neighbour, a Ms Joan Ball, another single woman, who claims to have been a close pal. According to her, Mrs Weston was having a relationship with one of her clients, a guy called Terry Futcher. He runs an advertising agency, and he's married.

'The husband was still around, as well. They stayed friends after the split…'

'Do we know why they were divorced?' the DCC asked.

'It seems to have been her idea. She told Joan Ball that she just wanted her own space. She wanted the freedom to be herself, she said.

After they parted, the boy stayed with his father during the school term and with her during the holidays. The Prof has a cottage up in the Highlands and occasionally the three of them went up there together.

'He'd visit her at the steading on occasion too. Joan Ball knew not to call on her when she saw his car there… or Futcher's for that matter.'

'And did these cars stay all night?'

'Of course.'

'Did she see any cars there last night?'

'No, she didn't,' Martin replied. 'She was out herself, and got home well after midnight. She said that Gaynor's lights were on, but other than her own, there was no car at the door. She'd have noticed if either of the blokes were there.'

'Did the Prof know about Futcher?'

'Yes. But Ms Ball didn't think that the boyfriend knew about him.'

Skinner shook his steel-grey head. 'Shit. Two-timing the married boyfriend with the single ex-husband. That's a nice twist.'

Martin smiled, suddenly and wickedly. 'Who said the ex is single?' he asked. 'Professor Weston married his secretary five years ago.'

'Jesus!' The acting Chief Constable laughed out loud. 'Two cheated wives, a cuckolded lover, and an ex-husband with a guilty secret.

There seems to have been a whole queue of people with a reason to top this woman.'

'Except,' countered the Head of CID, 'that Sarah's thinking, and mine, is that Gaynor Weston topped herself, with assistance. Now why would she want to do that? According to Joan Ball's account, she was living the life of Reilly.'

'Could you and Sarah be wrong?'

The DCS frowned at his friend. 'The postmortem may show that, but I don't think so.'

'Then I hate the sound of this one,' Skinner said. 'Unless we get a clear DNA link to the helper… suppose they made love before they did it… it could be a bastard to prove. Christ, I almost wish this person had been just a wee bit cleverer; hadn't left the second glass, and most of all that the bugger had left that roll of black tape … stuck, preferably, to Mrs Weston's fingers.

'If he… or she… had done that simple thing, we'd be reporting this one as a suicide, and saving ourselves a lot of work; and probably grief.'

He frowned. 'Did she leave a note?'

'No. We turned the place inside out; even looked in her computer.

Nothing at all.'

'Apart from her gentlemen callers, did Mrs Weston have a big circle of friends?'

Yes. Her diary was chockfull.'

'In that event, all those people will have to be checked out… as indeed will the very helpful Ms Ball, if she's as close a pal as she told Brian. At the moment she's our only witness. I wonder if she has a roll of black tape in her toolbox?'

'Let's wait for good Doctor Sarah's postmortem report, said Martin.

'Once we have that we'll have a better idea of the basis of our investigation. If we do find ourselves with a lot of interviewing to do, I'll give Brian extra resources to handle it, if he needs them.'

The Head of CID looked across to the far end of the big room, as Gerry Crossley, the Chief Constable's secretary, came in carrying a tray with two mugs and a plate of biscuits. 'Apart from all that, though, sir,' he said, as the young man placed the tray on the coffee table, 'why did you want to see me?'

'I want to brief you on something that's developed. And to ask your view on what I intend to do about it.' He paused, as the door closed behind the secretary. 'I've called a meeting of heads of Special Branch from all eight Scottish police forces; two o'clock this afternoon, in this building.

'But before I get round to that, let's deal with the really important stuff. Sarah called me from Edinburgh Royal, while she was waiting for the body to arrive from Oldbams. She said that she was worried about you; that you weren't yourself this morning.

'I can tell just from looking at you that she's right. What's up, son?'

Martin picked up his mug, took a sip to test the temperature, then a mouthful. He held it, cradled in both hands, for several seconds, staring across the room and out of the long window. Finally his gaze swung round to Skinner.

'It's Alex and me,' he said, at last. 'We're in bother. I think we might be breaking up.'

There was an edge to the silence which filled the room. Andy looked at his friend, trying to gauge his reaction.

'Anybody else involved?' Bob asked quietly.

'Yes,' Martin replied. 'But not in the sense you mean. Mitchell Laidlaw's the problem; Laidlaw, and the mighty firm of Curie Anthony and Jarvis. With every day she spends there, Alex's ambitions are becoming more clear. Before she graduated, they were vague, and involved going to the Bar.

'Under Mitch's influence she's become hooked on litigation. That's the specialist area she wants to follow, and being Alex, she's only interested in becoming the best there is.'

'Do you begrudge her that?'

'No, I don't. But her ambition and my hopes for the two of us don't fit together any more. We've been dancing around this for a while now. This morning I brought it to a head. I asked her whether she wants to break off our engagement to concentrate on her career.'

Skinner gasped. 'That's a bit heavy, Andy, isn't it?'

'Maybe it is. But she didn't say "no".'

The silence returned, ever more palpable. Bob stood up, walked over to the window and looked out. 'Is this purely about Alex?' he asked, quietly. 'Or does her mother come into it too?'

'What d'you mean?'

'You know bloody well what I mean. You tell me you see her career as a rival; but are you coloured in that by what you know about Myra?

Let's not piss about: Alex's mother was a serial adulteress. Are you asking yourself whether this new-found ambition others, this lusting after something other than you, might be some sort of genetic inheritance setting itself free?'

Martin threw back his head. 'Jesus, Bob!' The words burst out in a great gasp.

'Alex isn't a bit like her mother. It's you she takes after, and that's what really worries me. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but all that time that Myra was screwing around, you hadn't the faintest idea of it, because you were so wrapped up in the job. If she hadn't been killed, your marriage would probably have gone on.'

Skinner snorted. 'You think it would have survived her being pregnant by another man?'

'Sure. She'd either have had the kid aborted without your knowledge, or she'd just have told you that it was yours. You'd never have doubted that for a second.'

The big man's eyes narrowed. 'So my family's subordinate to my job is it?' he whispered.

'No it's not,' Martin snapped. 'Not any more. You've sorted out your priorities. But you've done it from a position at the top of the tree. Alex hasn't, and she's only just started to climb. I hadn't thought of it this way before, but if I think of you and Myra, then look at Alex and me, the roles are reversed.

'I'm not saying for one moment that I'm afraid Alex will start sleeping around: but sometimes I'm not so sure about me.'

'Ahh Christ,' said Skinner wearily, shaking his head. 'Life's never easy, pal, is it. Look take it from me, my daughter loves you. Do you love her?'

'Of course.'

'Well? Isn't that enough?'

'That's what I'm asking Alex. So far, I've had no answer, just silence. And to me, that's speaking volumes.'