Winter returned her stare, wishing he’d never opened his mouth. A silence fell between them, which was rudely broken by the ringing of the telephone. Narey ignored it, continuing to hold his gaze but finally giving in and picking up the receiver.
‘Yes?’ she demanded angrily, her tone quickly softening when she recognised the voice on the other end of the phone. Whoever it was didn’t bother much with pleasantries and went straight into whatever they had to say.
‘Yes, sir,’ Rachel said finally. ‘I was. I was there on Monday. I was only outside his house though. I…’
She had been interrupted and was listening intently, lines creasing her forehead.
‘I was just passing through and wanted to see where…’
The caller had cut in on her again and Winter could tell that Rachel clearly wasn’t enjoying what was being said. Then her face fell dramatically and her eyes shot across the room to Winter.
‘Yes, sir. First thing. Of course. I can assure you…’
The phone had gone dead.
She put the receiver back in its holder and looked at the floor for a moment before lifting her head and looking directly at Tony. He waited for her to speak.
‘That was Detective Superintendent Shirley,’ she began, an obvious note of shock in her voice.
‘Wanting to know if you’d been to Laurence Paton’s house.’
She hesitated.
‘Yes. He’s dead, Tony. Laurence Paton was found dead this morning.’
CHAPTER 16
‘What the fuck did you think you were doing there?’
DI Derek Addison had never been famed for his good nature or even temper and being forced to become a desk jockey while on the invalid list hadn’t changed anything for the better. Being ordered to give Narey a bollocking on the instructions of Central Scotland Police wasn’t helping much either.
‘I was just…’ Narey didn’t get far with her reply.
‘Shut up. When I want you to say something, I’ll ask you. Do you know how much I like having to listen to those country bumpkins telling me how to do my job? Do you? Don’t answer. I don’t like it one fucking bit. Chief Inspector Farmer Hayseed phoned me from Stirling — a place that I didn’t even know had telephones — and told me how to tell you off. Can you bloody believe that?’
Narey said nothing.
‘I asked you a bloody question, Sergeant,’ Addison roared at her.
‘No, I don’t suppose you can believe it, sir.’
‘Too right I fucking can’t. Lucky for you I’m more mad at them than I am at you. Although unluckily for you it just makes me even madder. Now what the fuck were you doing at this Laurence Paton’s house?’
Narey hesitated to see if a reply was expected this time and quickly sensed that it was.
‘I was just interested in an old case and I wanted to see where this guy lived.’
Addison stared at her.
‘That’s a pile of shite, Rachel, and you know I know it is.’
Addison had always been a man who called a spade a fucking shovel. Except that he was as likely to throw another few swear words in there as well.
‘It’s basically true, sir. I probably stayed slightly longer than I should have done and was maybe a wee bit conspicuous standing at his gate but I didn’t question him, threaten him or do anything to put him in a state of fear or alarm.’
Addison shook his head wearily.
‘If by conspicuous you meant confrontational, then you’re probably right. You know perfectly well that the Scottish Police Service code of ethical practice demands that you “perform your duties in an open and transparent manner” — even if it is a load of old bollocks. Fucksake, Sergeant, do you not think it looks a bit of a coincidence that you were arsing about there three days before Paton fell off a ladder and cracked his skull open? Lucky for you there was a witness who could see that what happened to Paton was just an accident.’
‘And a bit lucky I didn’t have anything to do with it,’ Rachel fired back angrily. ‘And I suppose a bit lucky I had an alibi, being 30 miles away and on bloody duty.’
‘Aye, okay, keep your knickers on,’ Addison conceded. ‘I know you didn’t have anything to do with it.’
‘Of course I bloody didn’t. And I could have you done for that knickers remark.’
‘Oh, fuck off and sit down. It’s bad enough those teuchters in Stirling giving me a hard time without you starting. You going to tell me what this is all about?’
Addison let his lanky frame collapse into a comfy looking armchair and, after standing indignantly for a few moments, Narey did the same but into a far less comfortable desk chair, her hackles still up.
‘You first,’ she told him. ‘Give me chapter and verse on what happened to Paton?’
The DI sighed and picked up the sheet of paper again.
‘Laurence Paton, school teacher,’ he began. ‘Deputy Head of English at the High School of Stirling. Forty-three years of age. Married to Isobel; no children. Lived in Wallace Place in Riverside, Stirling. He was up a ladder trying to unblock his guttering when the ladder slipped and he fell onto the driveway. He fractured his skull, broke his neck and suffered severe brain damage. He was unconscious when neighbours reached him and pronounced dead by the paramedics on arrival.’
Narey looked back at the DI, expressionless.
‘Where was his wife?’ she asked.
‘Out.’
‘Convenient.’
‘Not really. He died.’
‘Yeah, like I said. Who’s the witness?’
‘Hm?’
‘You said I was lucky there was a witness who could see it was just an accident.’
‘Oh, that. Yeah. You’ve already met her,’ Addison glanced at a sheet of paper to check the name. ‘A Mrs Helen Haskell. She was the concerned neighbour who was doing her civic duty by asking you what you were doing there.’
Narey rolled her eyes.
‘That nosy old bag? Not surprising, right enough. A proper curtain twitcher, that one. What did she see?’
‘She was at her front window and saw Paton fall. She ran over to him and saw the driveway caked with the poor sod’s claret. She started screaming the place down and another neighbour came running. It was him who dialled 999.’
Narey didn’t respond.
‘The local cops took the relevant statements and it all seemed tragic and sad but no big deal really until Mrs Haskell mentioned the aggressive and suspicious woman who had been standing outside Paton’s house three days before. Mrs Haskell had the woman’s car number and like good little polis they ran the numbers as a matter of course. Imagine their surprise and displeasure when it turns out to belong to one of Strathclyde’s finest. Imagine too how happy Detective Superintendent Shirley was when they called him.’
Narey closed her eyes and shook her head.
‘Your turn,’ Addison reminded her.
‘Laurence Paton,’ she began, mimicking Addison’s tired monotone. ‘Suspect in the Lady in the Lake murder in 1993. My father investigated the case but the body was never identified and the killer never caught. So there’s some personal interest there.’
She paused but it was Addison’s turn to say nothing and he let her continue.
‘I’d been thinking about the case recently. It’s the anniversary of when the murder was thought to have happened. I just wanted to see what Paton looked like and…’
‘And?’
‘And to see if I could spook him.’
‘Spook him into what? A confession or falling off a ladder and killing himself?’
Narey raised her eyes to the ceiling and exhaled sharply.
‘Okay, don’t bother answering that,’ Addison continued. ‘I know why you’d want to take a look at him. I understand, Rachel. But the thing is: Paton isn’t and wasn’t a suspect. Not according to Chief Inspector Hayseed and the rest of Central Scotland Police.’