‘Did you go to his funeral?’ she asked.
‘Tony’s? No chance. I did solve his murder, though.’
‘Did I do the autopsy? I can’t remember.’
I laughed. ‘No, love, you were too busy at the time, having James Andrew.’
‘That’s right! I do remember now; I’d forgotten the name, that was all. You showed me the photographs when I was in the Simpson Maternity Unit and I showed you how I thought he’d been killed. I told you that when you found the killer he’d have scratch marks on his wrist from where the victim had resisted him, trying to stop the last knife thrust.’
‘And you were right, as it turned out.’
‘They won’t find any marks like that on whoever killed this woman,’ she pointed out. ‘He had her restrained and stabbed her from behind, over and over again, until he hit the spot.’
I’ve been a cop for going on thirty years and for most of that time, a detective. I’ve known the aftermath of violence, many, many times, far more often than has been good for me, so that now, when I see it, or when it’s described to me as Sarah did then, it’s as if I’m right there at the crime scene watching it happen.
‘I don’t get this, you know,’ I told her. I wasn’t puzzled by the manner of the murder, but by its motive.
‘What’s not to get?’
‘Why would anyone want to kill Bella Watson now? Once upon a time, sure, when she was at the heart of the action and every bit as bad as her two brothers, it wouldn’t have surprised me, but now, with her well into her sixties, it does. Back then her enemies would have filled a good-sized pub, but today most of them are dead and those that aren’t are decrepit. She’s been living quietly since her younger son died. . and trust me, if she hadn’t been, I’d have known about it one way or another.’
‘Perhaps it was just a random attack,’ Sarah suggested.
‘After which the body was stripped of any identification and dumped in the Forth? That’s more than a wee bit doubtful in my experience. . but then again I’m not part of the investigation. I’m sure that Mario only involved me so that I could confirm what he suspected.’
It was her turn to laugh. ‘Don’t kid yourself. He knew it would get your juices flowing.’
She had a point, but. . ‘If that’s so, it won’t do him any good. It’s Maggie’s force now, not mine, so I can’t, I won’t get involved.’
I really did believe that at the time.
Twelve
‘I’m glad you’re on your own, dear,’ Mrs McConnochie said, as she came back into her living room carrying a tray, laden with a cafétière, two cups in their saucers, a sugar bowl, a milk jug and a plate of biscuits. She may have caught a frown on Karen Neville’s face for she continued, ‘I have nothing against Indian people, mind. I knew his mother when they lived here, remember, a very nice woman. It’s just that yon Tarvil is so big it would have been a tight squeeze to fit us all into this wee room.’
The detective sergeant smiled and replied, ‘Of course. He is a family-size unit, isn’t he.’
She waited while her hostess poured the coffee, and took a chocolate biscuit when it was offered.
‘Well, dear,’ the elderly lady began, once she had settled herself into her armchair, ‘how can I help you?’
‘By telling me as much as you know about the lady upstairs.’
‘Of course, dear. What’s happened to her?’
Karen longed to tell her that her proper title was Detective Sergeant, but the coffee was light years better than the crap in the CID room, and she was hoping for a refill, so she held her tongue. ‘Nothing, we hope, but she seems to be missing.’
Mrs McConnochie ventured a small conspiratorial smile. ‘She hasn’t done a moonlight, has she? Were those sheriff’s officers at her door?’
‘No, no,’ Neville assured her, ‘nothing as serious as that.’ She decided to volunteer some information. ‘The man’s a meter reader. Miss Spreckley’s hasn’t been read for over a year and it has to be done annually.’
‘And the young woman?’
‘She’s from the law firm that factors the flat.’
The neighbour’s eyebrows rose. ‘You mean Bella doesn’t own it? Well, fancy that! She told me that she did, the deceitful besom.’
‘You can forgive her that one,’ the DS said. ‘She lives there rent-free.’
‘Oh, she has a life-rent, does she? That’s different.’ Clearly, the old Scots legal term carried weight with Mrs McConnochie.
‘How long has she been there?’ She had put the same question to the girl from the law firm, only to find that she had been told nothing beyond the information she had needed for her weekend task.
‘Oh, quite a long time; maybe not as much as ten years, but not far short of it.’ The answer was followed by a question. ‘If Bella doesn’t own the flat, then who does?’
‘I have no idea,’ Neville replied, truthfully. ‘A client of the law firm, that’s all I’ve been told. I was half hoping you might be able to tell me that, otherwise I’ll probably have to wait until Monday to find out.’
‘It’s important then?’
‘Not necessarily, but. .’
‘Ah, so you do think something’s happened to her.’
Bloody hell, Karen thought. How stale am I? I’m supposed to be questioning this old bat, but it’s the other way around.
She yielded. ‘We can’t say that for certain, but it’s a possibility.’
Mrs McConnochie’s tight smile was more than a little smug. ‘And maybe a little more than that, dear, yes? I watch television; Silent Witness is one of my favourites. When I had a look upstairs I saw people on the landing putting on those white paper suits, and I know what that means.’
‘All it means,’ the DS assured her, defensively, ‘I promise you, is that we need to check some things. I’d love to tell you more, but I’m not allowed to.’
‘And far be it from me to get you into trouble, my dear. Would you like some more coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘And another biscuit?’
‘Yes please. Do you and Miss Spreckley ever have coffee together?’ she asked, in a near-desperate attempt to regain the initiative.
‘Yes, but not regularly; I invite her in occasionally, but she never seems to return my hospitality. As a matter of fact, the only times I’ve ever been in her flat were when I’ve run out of milk and the shops have been closed.’
I’ll bet you had plenty in the fridge, Karen thought.
‘From what I was able to see, it’s very nice upstairs. Whoever does own the place spent a lot of money on it before Bella moved in. I remember it well, the joiners, painters, plumbers, carpet fitters all coming and going. They made a lot of noise. . not that I complained, mind you. Bella doesn’t, though; she’s very quiet.’
‘And did she,’ Damn it! ‘does she, live alone, yes?’
‘Oh yes.’ The old lady’s smirk told Karen that she had picked up on her faux pas. ‘There’s no man involved, if that’s what you mean. I’ve never seen any gentlemen callers, not of that sort anyway, in all the time she’s been here. In fact she very rarely had visitors.’
‘Has she ever spoken to you about family?’
‘No. Not in any detail. She did mention a sister once, and a niece. That’s right,’ she exclaimed, with a flash of recollection, ‘there was a girl came to visit her, with a toddler in a pushchair. I had to let them in as the lassie was like you two were earlier, not knowing which button to push. She asked me where her Auntie Bella lived.’
‘When would that have been? Do you remember?’
‘It was this year some time, and it had been snowing; maybe February, that would be right. Oh yes, and there was a man. He came to pick them up; I’d to let him in too. A rough-looking chap he was, I didn’t like the look of him. He didn’t even thank me when I let him in and told him where to go.’ She paused. ‘Here, you don’t think that he could have been involved, do you? Involved in whatever’s happened to poor Bella, that is.’