Thursday legends

'Unlikely,' said Martin. 'She's about eighty-five.'

'Two doors along, then. Unless it's a local vendetta or a family thing, I'm going to have to look back through the stuff he was involved in as a copper, to see if there might be a connection. You've sat in my chair too. You know how sensitive it can be.'

'Aye, and how confidential. You're right; you do that. Report anything you find to Maggie privately, but keep me in touch as well.'

'Of course. There's one thing I did say I'd do for Maggie this morning, though.' He glanced at his watch. 'I have to see the owner of the pub along the road — or last night's bar staff — to get a list of all the people who were in there.'

'Sure. The alarm was raised by one of their punters; maybe another one saw someone going into Alec's house. The Auld Hoose isn't the only pub in town, though. We should check the others, starting with the Golfer's Rest round in the Main Street. I'll tell you what; you take that, I'll take the Auld Hoose.'

McGuire nodded, stood, and turned towards the door. Before he and Martin reached it, it opened, and a young woman constable, in uniform, appeared. The DCS recognised her at once. 'PC Cowan. What brings you here? Finished your door-to-doors?'

She brought her left arm round from behind her and raised it. She was clutching a plastic supermarket bag, wet and encrusted with dark sand. Martin took it from her and looked inside; it contained a blowtorch, a knife, and a heavy steel wrench, all still soaking. 'I was on the beach search team, sir. I went round to the harbour when the tide was low enough, and I saw that on the bottom.'

'Where?' asked Martin, urgently.

'Near the wall beside the car park, sir.'

'Good for you, PC Cowan. Did your sergeant tell you to do that or did you work it out for yourself?'

The woman looked diffident. 'I sort of worked it out, sir.'

'Well done, you. Is the beach search still going on?'

'Yes, sir. There are people out in the east bay.'

'Get on your radio, then, and tell them to chuck it. We won't find anything else. Call everyone back in here.' He pointed to the desk at which McGuire had been sitting. 'There are still streets to be allocated for door-to-door interviews. I want you to dish them out to the search teams as they get here, along with interview sheets and clipboards.

'Before that, though, I want you to tag those three items, put them in the evidence bags which you'll find in that cupboard over there, and call for a car to take them to DI Dorward in the forensic lab. Got all that?'

'Yes sir.'

'Good; get on with it, then. The Inspector and I have a couple of calls to make. You're in charge till Sergeant Steele gets back.'

The two detectives stepped out into the street. 'Bright girl, that,' said Martin. 'Ready for CID, if she wants it.'

'Don't they all want it?' McGuire suggested. 'I couldn't wait to get out of uniform.'

'Me neither; but they're not all like us. Besides, this force needs good people in every department. Cowan's divisional commander might kick up hell if I try to pinch her.'

'You can fix him, though.'

'Probably, if I brought the Big Man into it, but I'd rather not have to. Ask Maggie to have a look at the girl; if she'd like her on her strength, she can ask for her. It'll make it easier if it comes from within the division.'

They set off across Forth Street; on the other side they walked directly into a television cameraman, with a reporter by his side, microphone in hand. 'A quick word on camera, Andy?' asked Julian Finney, of Scottish Television.

'No way. This is Maggie Rose's investigation; ask her when she gets back.' He nodded towards McGuire, who was heading in the direction of the Golfer's Rest. 'Don't go pointing that bloody thing at Mario either; that ain't allowed, and you know it.'

'It's okay, we won't do that. I know the SB people are off limits. Alec Smith wasn't though, was he? I've just spoken to the guy who found the body. The way he described it, this was a torture killing. But, don't tell me, that's not for quoting, is that right?'

Martin looked at the journalist. 'Yeah, I guess that having your balls burned off with a blowlamp could be described as torture.'

'Ahhh!' Finney winced.

'That was only the start. It could happen to you too, if you cross-examine our key witnesses.'

'Point taken, Andy, but the guy approached me, honest. Have you got a precise cause of death yet?'

'I honestly don't know. It could have been head injuries, but we'll need to wait for the post-mortem. Sarah should be starting it soon.'

'D'you expect a quick result?'

'We'll let Maggie answer that one; at the moment we're doing the usual, asking lots of people lots of questions and hoping that at least one of them saw something that'll help us.'

'What's your gut feeling, though? Still off the record.'

'My gut feeling is that there's a very dangerous man walking about. If he lives in North Berwick we'll catch him easy, but I doubt if he does. After he killed Alec he walked round to the harbour and dropped the murder weapons into the sea, right beside the car park. My guess is that after he did that he got into a motor and drove off.

'This guy's long gone; and I'll tell you something else, Julian — very much off the record — he hasn't left a ghost of a trail.'

9

They did it alclass="underline" all the routine slogging that is part of every murder enquiry. By the end of the afternoon every one of Alec Smith's neighbours in Forth Street had been interviewed by CID officers. Most of the other houses in North Berwick had been canvassed by senior officers. All of the Friday evening customers listed by publicans had been located and questioned.

With DCI Maggie Rose back in command in the van, the Head of CID had taken on foot-soldier duties. He and McGuire had visited every resident of the converted Granary flats, and of every other house clustered around the small tidal harbour. No-one could recall seeing anyone drop anything into the water late in the evening. No-one could recall anyone being parked there, or driving away.

Andy Martin was dog-tired when he arrived back in Dean Village, just before seven. It had been a blazing day, and there was still real heat in the sun. He slid the MGF into his garage and was about to pull down the up-and-over door, when Rhian stepped inside.

'Hi,' she murmured. 'I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it.'

'So was I.'

She slid her arms around him as he pulled down the door. 'That would have disappointed me. I hate disappointments. I don't think I could stand two in two days; you're not going to disappoint me again, are you?'

He grinned down at her. She really was very attractive, in a bikini top and shorts, her tan dark and shiny; very much a woman, not a girl at all. 'I think there's every chance of that,' he chuckled, as she reached back to flick the catch of her top. 'But I'll do my best.'

He picked her up and carried her, through the garage exit and into the house, up the first flight of stairs, then up the second, and into his bedroom.

Yes, you surely are mad, Martin, he said to himself, but right at that moment he cared not a bit.

Rhian was a screamer and the window was open; at first he hoped like hell that the music next door was loud enough to cover her cries, but after a while he stopped caring. 'You have definitely done this before,' he said, afterwards, as the air seemed to sizzle round them.

'I did tell you that. You're not too shabby yourself, officer, definitely not a disappointment.' She nestled into the crook of his arm. 'There. Feeling better now?'

'And how.'

'Has it been a bad day?'

'Yes, but don't let's talk about it.'

'Have you caught anyone yet?'