It took him all of three seconds to read the script for the drama that had been played out the best part of twenty years earlier.
‘Perry Holmes,’ he murmured.
‘Spot on, my friend. That guy you had in your self-assessment group is Perry Holmes’s son.’
‘And Perry had Bella’s boy done to warn Tony off his daughter?’
I nodded.
‘Which means that Drysalter’s “accident” had nothing to do with him thumping his wife when he found out she’d been playing away, or with a gambling tab? It was Tony sending a signal back?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Did you know about Hastie McGrew being in my group? Is that why you asked me in here?’
‘No, Lennie,’ I said. ‘I promise you I had no idea. I’ve barely thought about McGrew since the day he went away. But since he’s probably the only guy alive, apart from you and me, who knows about the Watson feud, and. .’
He raised a hand, interrupting me. ‘I’m with you. Hastie’s a smart guy. He could have suspected, rightly or wrongly, who was responsible for old Perry’s death. What you’re about to ask me was whether I ever said anything to him that might have hinted that I knew where Bella was.’
‘I am indeed.’
‘I’m trying to remember.’ He frowned, deeply. ‘Jeez,’ he whispered. ‘There was one session, when I steered the group towards atonement. To get contributions going, I started off; I told them that one of the people I killed had left a teenage daughter, and that I’d established a fund that would pay her way through university.
‘I also mentioned that I was looking after someone else, a woman friend of Tony’s who’d suffered enough loss for anyone’s lifetime. I said I’d bought a place for her in Edinburgh, just off Dalry Road.’ His expression changed, took on a look of anger. ‘Fuck it!’ he snapped.
‘What?’
‘My psychologist colleague asked during the session if I’d done it anonymously. I said I had for the girl, but that I’d bought the flat under my investment alias, Jackson.’
‘McGrew heard this?’
‘Yes. He was there. If he’d wanted he’d have been able to look through the valuation roll, to find out who was paying the council tax.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘he wouldn’t; it only lists addresses. The property register, though, that’s a different matter. He could look for your name there. . or rather for Dominic Jackson. I’ll pass McGrew’s name on to my old team in Edinburgh. Mario McGuire will know who he is; he was around at the time.’
I looked across at him and my breath caught in my throat. That great big guy had tears in his eyes.
‘I thought I was gone from all of that,’ he sighed. ‘I swore to myself I’d never hurt another human being. There’s a curse on me, Bob, and now I’ve passed it on to Bella.’
‘Nonsense,’ I said, firmly. ‘Yours was exorcised years ago; if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be my friend. As for Bella Watson, she called her curse down on her own head, before you were even born. There was a streak of badness in her that affected everyone she touched. You’re not responsible for her death; she is.’
‘I’d like to believe all that, but it’s difficult for me. The dreams I have at night, man.’
For all his intensity, I could not stop myself from smiling. ‘Listen, mate,’ I countered, ‘you’ve done some awful things in your life, but you’ve faced up to them. You did them because you thought it was your duty. Society didn’t agree with you, but you’re paying the price it exacted without complaint. I’ve killed people too, in the line of my duty. Society said that was okay, but that doesn’t stop me having dreams that are, I’ll bet, just as bad as yours.’
I let my words sink in, before I added, ‘So, Lennie, think no more of this; complete your degree, and after you’re released next year, you and I will work together. How, I don’t know, but I can feel it; we will.’
Twenty-Four
I was still contemplating my departed visitor, after walking him to the lift, when Sandra Bulloch knocked on my door and slipped into the room. ‘Your friend Mr Jackson seems like a nice chap,’ she said, with a smile and a glint in her eye.
‘He is,’ I replied. I was amused by her reaction to Lennie; Sandra’s normally a very serious person, and it was the first time I’d seen her even hint that there was another side to her.
‘How old is he?’ she asked, not quite casually enough. ‘Late thirties?’ she suggested.
‘No, he’s in his mid-forties.’
‘He wears it well.’
‘Yes, he’s an ascetic. His life is almost monastic, you might say.’
‘Mmm. Does that mean he’s single?’
‘Yes it does. You might say he lives the way he does because he’s single.’
She stared at me. ‘Uh? I don’t get that, sir.’
‘He was convicted of his wife’s murder. He says he didn’t do it. Yes, I know most of them say that, but I believe him. He did kill another couple of people though, no question.’ I chuckled at her confusion, then explained who Lennie Plenderleith was, and had been.
‘He’s a charming man,’ she said, her enthusiasm dampened, ‘but I’ve heard that said about Crippen. Can we expect him to become a media celeb when he’s released?’
A good question, and one I hadn’t considered. ‘Probably not,’ I surmised, ‘for that would drag up his past. When he does get out he’ll only be Lennie Plenderleith to his probation officer. To the rest of the world he’ll be Dr Dominic Jackson, practising psychologist. But,’ I continued, ‘you didn’t come in here to ask for his phone number.’
‘No, sir,’ she agreed, ‘I didn’t. While you were engaged, you had a call on your private line from Chief Constable Steele, in Edinburgh. She asks if you could call her back.’
‘Of course.’
‘Shall I get her for you?’
‘No,’ I told her, ‘I’ll ring her myself. I’ve got another task for you. A life sentence prisoner named Peter Hastings McGrew was released from Kilmarnock Prison recently. I want you to find out what he gave as his address and who his probation officer is.’
‘If I’m asked why, sir.’
‘You can say that he’s a person of interest.’
‘And if I’m asked of interest to whom?’
‘Then you’ve got my permission to yell at whoever asks you.’
As my exec left me, I picked up the phone and dialled my old Edinburgh number. Maggie Steele picked up on the second ring.
‘Chief Constable,’ I said, ‘I’m told that you rang me. First McGuire, now you. Can’t you people leave me alone?’
‘You’re a hard habit to break,’ she laughed, ‘but it’s necessary. Mario told me that he’d been in touch with you about the Bella Watson murder. This is a completely different matter.’
‘Formal or informal?’
‘Let’s begin with informal, and take it from there. Imagine the shit hitting a giant wind turbine.’
‘That would spread pretty far,’ I conceded. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘I’ve got a missing officer, and his wife is nowhere to be found either. A bloodstained hand towel was found at their home, and forensics have established that it’s hers. . the blood, that is.’
‘How long?’
‘Have they been missing? Possibly as much as forty-eight hours.’
‘Is their car gone?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie replied, ‘and the duvet from their bed. The house was tidy, no signs of a disturbance, but their bedroom was in a mess, as if someone had packed and got out of there in a hurry.’
‘How do you know they used a duvet? They might have slept under a sheet in the summer.’
‘We found a cover in the tumble dryer. It’s a fair assumption.’
‘Yes it is,’ I admitted, ‘but all you’ve told me so far is that a couple have run off. How much blood was on the towel? Was it just a pinprick or was it a whole armful, to quote Tony Hancock?’
‘No, it was less than that. There was a little more in the kitchen.’
‘Come on now,’ I said. ‘She might have been chopping onions and cut a finger; we’ve all done something like that. She might have had a nosebleed. It might be completely unconnected with their disappearance, yet clearly you’re pressing the panic button. They could just have done a runner from a crisis situation; unmanageable debt, for example.’