Текст книги "In Place of Death"

Автор книги: Craig Robertson

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter 55

Narey was sitting with the lights off, waiting for something to happen. Not just anything but a very particular something that was as much hope as expectation. She knew the place well but everything changed in the dark. Furniture seemed bigger, closer. The room itself seemed smaller but without end.

The lights outside the window were sneaking their way in, casting shadows and playing with her mind, making things stretch and twist. It gave her time to think but it was an elastic and unhelpful form of time. Thinking in the dark wasn’t generally to be recommended. Your mind went places it shouldn’t, running through doors that you knew were shut for a reason.

There were doors marked Dad, Tony, Work, Future. She was crashing through them all, even the ones that shouldn’t be linked but were. It wasn’t exactly helpful given the circumstances but she couldn’t help herself. The more you thought about why you shouldn’t go there, the more you were thinking about it.

She’d given Tony an ultimatum but had basically left him to choose whether to go along with it or not. It meant she’d given him the option of completely destroying what they had. It was like giving a chimpanzee the keys to a Ferrari. Men weren’t good with decisions, she knew that. They’d rather not make them and they certainly didn’t like being made to make them. What other choice did she have though? She had to trust he had the sense to see what was important. If he didn’t then they were wasting their time.

It didn’t come too naturally to her to sit still for any length of time. It never had. As a kid she would devour books but always on the move in one way or another. She’d sometimes walk and read, through the park or down by the river. Even if she read in one spot, on her bed or in the living room, then she’d roll and wriggle, move from one place to another, never giving the world the chance to take root beneath her. Ants in her pants, according to her mum and dad.

She had to try to stay still now though. Still and quiet and unseen and patient. The only things allowed to move were the doors that opened and shut in her head. There was no guarantee that this still-waiting would have the outcome she was hoping for, but there was no other way to find out. She’d sit and she’d wait. And she’d think.

In the end, it took a bit less time than they’d thought. She’d sat in that familiar chair in the dark for less than forty-five minutes when she heard three little words whispered in her ear. ‘Here we go.’

Her pulse quickened and her hands gripped the sides of the chair. She’d been ready from the moment she sat down but now she felt the need to reinforce that. Feet flat to the floor, ready to brace against it even though she probably wouldn’t have to.

She mentally crossed her fingers and hoped their man wouldn’t change his mind or chicken out. The words in her ear meant he was on site and ready to move in. It didn’t mean that he’d definitely be coming through the . . .

The creak of weight outside the door filtered through the apartment just a moment before the sound of something jangling at the lock. Surely he didn’t, couldn’t, have a key. Although in his line of work maybe it wouldn’t be too difficult for him to get his hands on some kind of skeleton key. Whatever he was using, a key or a jemmy, it had worked. The door edged open and the person on the other side stood quietly, testing the temperature.

She held her breath, sitting tight. A potent cocktail of anticipation, adrenalin and apprehension coursed through her veins. Don’t switch on the light, she silently urged him. Not just yet. Let’s both savour this.

Footsteps padded through the hallway, and the door to the living room, which she’d left ajar, was slowly eased wider still. A tall shadow appeared in the doorway, its outline framed by the street lights shining through the window. It was him. Surely it was him.

The shadow’s owner carried a torch and in seconds a slim beam of light arced across the room, settling first on the desk against the far wall where Tony’s laptop sat along with the external hard drive which held many of his photographs. She’d let him go a little further, until he was within touching distance of what he’d come hoping to find.

Pausing for a moment to sweep the torchlight over the desk, he reached out to flip open the laptop’s lid. Thinking better of it, he closed it again, picking the laptop up and stretching to do the same with the hard drive.

‘That’s a better idea,’ she called from the gloom. ‘Don’t waste time trying to get into them here. Safer just to take them with you.’

He jumped at her voice and threw the laptop across the room at her. She dodged it easily but suddenly regretted the theatrics and knew Tony would be furious if the laptop was damaged.

‘Who’s there? Who the fuck is there?’

He sounded scared. Desperate.

‘We’ve met before. Don’t you remember?’ She was enjoying the moment but she also wanted to push his buttons as much as possible. Anything that made him lose his cool would be a good thing. ‘I told you then that I wasn’t a lady. You’ve got to believe me now.’

The torch wavered in her direction and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. He gasped when he saw her.

‘You fucking bitch. I’m going to kill you.’

Those were the magic words. Giannandrea and Toshney emerged from the shadows and crossed in front of him and two uniformed cops piled through the door to take him down from behind. He struggled against them but could do nothing against the superior numbers. He writhed in frustration, his face contorted, spitting in fury.

‘I’ll fucking kill you,’ he raged. ‘I mean it. I’ll fucking kill you.’

‘Like you killed Jennifer Cairns?’

‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’ He’d lost it completely. ‘Get off me!’

She stood over him as he looked up, screaming obscenities.

‘David McCormack, I am Detective Inspector Rachel Narey of Police Scotland and I’m arresting you for the murders of Jennifer Cairns, Euan Hepburn and Remy Feeks. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say may be noted in evidence. Do you wish to say anything, Mr McCormack? Or do you prefer David Haddow?’

His head shot up and he stared hatred at her, his face turning a blood-boiling shade of anger.

‘I’m saying nothing. Get my lawyer. I’m demanding my lawyer.’

‘You did kill her though, didn’t you? Your partner’s wife. How long had you been having an affair with her? How long?’

There was no reply.

‘You broke in here looking for the photographs that prove you were at the Odeon. Didn’t you?’

McCormack glared but still said nothing. ‘Take him away. And get his lawyer. He’s going to need one.’

The ring of his mobile phone made Winter jump, the noise rattling round the high night air and cutting through the whistle of the wind. He sat bolt upright and stared at the screen, the lights of the city below and beyond him.

Rachel. His finger scrambled for the screen and hit receive.

‘We’ve got McCormack. He came looking for the photographs as you thought he would, once he saw you were up there out of the way.’

‘Well, I didn’t know it would be him. That was down to you. And I couldn’t be sure I’d been followed that night from Oran Mor and another night. It was just a feeling. Has he confessed?’

‘He hasn’t admitted or denied anything. But he will. Now, can you get yourself down from there safely without breaking your neck or do I need to send a helicopter?’

He laughed. ‘A helicopter would be nice, but no thanks. This is something I need to do.’

‘Exorcize some ghosts?’

‘Yes. Exactly that.’

‘Okay, we’ll pick you up at the bottom. And please, be bloody careful.’

‘Didn’t I promise I would?’

Chapter 56

Tuesday afternoon

David McCormack sat in interview room 2 in Stewart Street, his back firmly to the chair, trying and failing to give an impression of calm. By his side was his solicitor, Patrick Doull, and opposite were Narey and Addison.

Doull came with a reputation as hard-nosed and aggressive. He looked like a middleweight boxer in an expensive suit, well-schooled in confrontation and doing whatever it took to keep his clients out of jail. The word was that you couldn’t mark his neck with a blowtorch. They both knew he’d be hard work.

The room was deliberately small and claustrophobic. Anyone with a sense of smell could still make out the countless cigarettes that had been smoked in there. No amount of bleach or fresh paint could remove that any more than it could get rid of the twin spectres of sweat and fear.

The interview had already lasted ten minutes. Doull had made his mark early, stressing his client’s clean record and professional standing, questioning the legality of the process that led his client to the flat in Berkeley Street and making loud noises about entrapment being illegal in Scotland since the incorporation of the European Convention on Human Rights into Scots law. In terms of the interview, it was bluster. Narey led the attack.

‘Mr McCormack, officers carried out a search of your home earlier today. They found a number of items of interest. Do you know what they might be?’

Doull answered as she’d expected. ‘My client isn’t a mind reader, Detective Inspector. Why don’t you just tell us what you found?’

‘Okay. In a small rucksack in a cupboard, we found three torches, spare batteries, a Swiss Army knife and a street map of Glasgow. In the same cupboard, there was a pair of waders. Can you explain why you have those, Mr McCormack?’

The man didn’t look worried or surprised. ‘There’s nothing unusual about any of those things.’

‘Okay. We also found this camera. Is it yours?’

She placed a Nikon SLR on the desk between them.

McCormack was wary, as if fearing a trap. ‘It looks like mine. I can’t be sure.’

‘We’ve already dusted it for fingerprints.’

Doull nodded at his client, who answered, ‘Yes, it’s mine.’

‘Good. There were a considerable number of images of empty buildings on the memory card. Can you tell us about them?’

McCormack looked troubled but gathered himself. ‘I like to explore abandoned places. It’s legal.’

Narey smiled at him. ‘Not entirely. Anyway, let’s leave that for now. We also found these.’

She placed a clear evidence bag on the table. Inside were a pair of black-silk panties.

‘Do you recognize them?’

‘No. I . . . They belong to an ex-girlfriend.’

‘What’s her name? We can check with her.’

‘I don’t remember.’

Narey looked across at Addison who duly laughed.

‘You don’t remember. Must be plenty of exes then. Mr McCormack, were you having an affair with Jennifer Cairns?’

Colour drained from his face at the mention of the name.

‘No. I wasn’t. They’re not Jen’s. You can’t prove that they’re hers.’

‘Which is it, Mr McCormack? That they’re not or that we can’t prove it?’

‘Either.’

‘But we can prove it. DNA tests might take a couple of days, no longer. I’m confident that they will match to Mrs Cairns. Aren’t you?’

McCormack’s eyes flitted to his lawyer, looking for help. Doull recognized the gesture for what it was. ‘I’d like a moment alone with my client.’

Narey and Addison nodded to each other in agreement. ‘Interview suspended at 14.42,’ she told the tape. ‘DCI Addison and DI Narey leaving the room.’

‘Two minutes,’ Addison informed Doull. ‘That should be long enough to tell him what he needs to do.’

The solicitor ignored Addison’s remark and the door was closed on Doull and McCormack as the officers left. When the door reopened, less than ten minutes later, it was clear that the atmosphere inside the interview room had changed.

‘Are you ready to continue, Mr McCormack?’ ‘Yes. And I wish to make a statement.’ ‘Good. Then let’s get going again. Interview resumed at 14.51. Those present as before. David McCormack has intimated his wish to make a statement. He will now do so.’

The man drew a deep breath and let it back out slowly. With a final look to his lawyer, he began. ‘I wish to confirm that I was involved in a sexual relationship with Jennifer Cairns. This began three months ago. It was mutually initiated and consensual at all times. I did not kill her and I was in no way involved in her death.’

Narey nodded slowly at him as if grateful for the information. The man’s lawyer had obviously told him not to deny something if it could be easily proven. Deny everything else. That was going to be their strategy. ‘How often did you and Mrs Cairns see each other?’ McCormack looked uncomfortable. ‘When we could. Maybe two or three times a week.’

‘And was Douglas Cairns aware of your relationship?’

‘No. Of course not. It would have destroyed him. Jen said that he could never find out.’

‘So Mrs Cairns said your affair would always be a secret. Always just be an affair. Were you happy with that or did you want more from your relationship?’

He flushed slightly. Just a hint, a little poker tell. Then he shrugged.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Yes you do. Did you want to take it further, be a couple, have her split from her husband, be with you full-time?’

‘No.’

‘You sure?’

‘My client has already answered—’

She ignored him. ‘She’d have been better off with you, wouldn’t she? Younger, better-looking, more what she needed. Give her what her husband couldn’t.’

‘Maybe but I . . .’

‘Is that what you argued about in the Odeon?’

‘No.’

‘But you were in the Odeon with her?’

‘Yes. No, I . . .’

‘You were in the Odeon with her, you argued and you killed her.’

‘DI Narey, I must speak to my client alone.’

‘You argued, you lost it and you killed her. Maybe you didn’t mean it. Was it an accident?’

‘Yes! It was an accident. I swear.’

Doull was red-faced with frustration. ‘Don’t say another word! This interview is suspended until I speak to my client. I insist.’

Narey looked to Addison who stood up, smiling, and spoke to the tape. ‘Interview suspended . . . again . . . at 14.56. Doull, maybe you can find out what else he hasn’t told you and then we might not have to stop every five minutes. I’m going to the pub at six.’

The lawyer scowled but said nothing.

On their return, McCormack was sitting pale and clearly rattled. When the tape was restarted, they found he’d changed his tune again.

‘I went to the Odeon with Jennifer Cairns on the night she died.’

‘Why were you there?’ Narey gave him no time to relax.

McCormack glanced at Doull who nodded. ‘We went there to explore the building.’

‘You’re an urbexer. An urban explorer.’

‘Yes.’

‘And why did you take Mrs Cairns along?’

‘I . . . she wanted to know what it was like. I’d told her what I did.’

‘Showing off? Playing the big man?’

‘DI Narey—’

‘It’s okay. Yes, maybe that. But she was interested. Excited. She wanted to try it. So I took her to the Odeon. She enjoyed it. She liked the fact we were in there all alone. No one could know we were in there. Especially her husband. His . . . our offices were just a few hundred yards away and yet—’

‘Did you have sex in there?’

He hesitated before nodding.

‘Out loud, please, Mr McCormack.’

‘Yes. Yes, we had sex. Being in there . . . it turned us on. We had sex. It was natural.’

‘That’s so lovely. It didn’t stay very lovely though, did it? You began arguing, is that right?’

More hesitation. Tears began rolling down the man’s face.

‘We argued. We had a fight. About telling Douglas. I didn’t want . . . it wasn’t that I wanted her to leave him there and then but maybe one day. That was all. She lost it. Began shouting and screaming. Completely irrational. She started to run and slipped on the stairs. She hit her head. Twice. From one step to the next.’

No one else in the room said a word. They all just looked at McCormack.

‘That’s what happened. I didn’t do it. She fell.’

‘She hit two steps?’ Narey asked. ‘Are you sure it was two?’

‘Yes I . . .’ McCormack froze mid-sentence. ‘Maybe not. I’m not sure. It all happened very quickly.’

‘So maybe more? Or maybe fewer?’

‘Don’t answer, David.’ Doull put an arm out in front of his client, part protection, part speech barrier.

‘I’m not sure,’ McCormack repeated. ‘I was in shock.’

‘Right. Of course you were. Let’s leave that for now. But we will come back to it. Maybe once you’ve had a chance to think of a number. What did you do next? You didn’t phone for an ambulance and the police. Why not?’

‘I panicked. I was scared. I covered her up and I got out of there. I know it was wrong but I didn’t know what to do. After I’d left it was too late. Anyway, it wasn’t going to bring Jen back. It wouldn’t have helped anyone.’

‘It might have helped your partner. He was left with no idea of what had happened to his wife. He was left not knowing her body was rotting away just that few hundred yards from his office.’

McCormack’s head fell to his chest, as if he was unable to face it or her.

‘Look at me, Mr McCormack. Please.’ He did so. ‘Did anyone see you leaving the building? Did you then or later discover that anyone knew you’d been there?’

He looked her straight in the eye the way people do when they are lying and trying to convince you otherwise. ‘No. At least if anyone did then I never knew about it.’

‘Okay. Do you or did you know a man named Euan Hepburn? Don’t bother looking at your lawyer, Mr McCormack. He doesn’t know whether you knew Euan Hepburn or not. Only you know that. So, did you?’

‘I don’t think so. I may have met him through urbexing but we don’t always know someone else’s real name so I can’t be sure.’

Deniability. She knew that was the game he was playing. And he’d play it again.

‘What about Remy Feeks? Did you know him?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You really don’t seem to know very much, Mr McCormack.’

‘DI Narey—’

‘Do you think you ever met Remy Feeks?’

‘I might have done, yes.’

‘And where do you think you might have met him?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Narey nodded and nibbled at her lip. She made a show of looking down and checking her notes. ‘Were you in Oran Mor last week, Mr McCormack?’

She saw the reaction in his eyes. Surprise. He began to turn towards his lawyer but he stopped himself and took a breath instead.

‘Yes I was.’

Now it was Doull’s turn to react. He again didn’t know where the questioning was going and he didn’t like it. Narey saw him on edge and ready to dive in. She’d make sure she beat him to it.

‘Why were you there, Mr McCormack?’

‘I was having a drink with some friends.’

‘Friends?’

‘Acquaintances. I didn’t know all of them.’

‘Was Remy Feeks among them?’

He tugged at his collar, his hands betraying him. ‘I can’t be sure.’

‘Was there a man among your group of acquaintances who identified himself as Remy Feeks?’

The question seemed to prove difficult. McCormack deliberated, weighing up his options and finding that he had none.

‘Yes. I think there was. I barely spoke to him though.’

‘Mr Feeks was murdered in the grounds of the former Gray Dunn biscuit factory. Are you familiar with that site? Have you heard of it?’

‘I think so, yes. I’m an architect. I know buildings.’

‘Uh huh. You know buildings. Do you also know the Molendinar Burn?

‘Of course.’

‘So you know of the Gray Dunn building, you know of the Molendinar, you admit you were in the Odeon. These are all known urbexing sites, are they not, Mr McCormack?’

He shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose they are.’

‘You suppose. You know they are. Here’s what I think happened. You left Mrs Cairns’ body in the Odeon and on the way out you were seen by Mr Hepburn who was also there to explore the building before it was demolished. You either saw him and knew he’d seen you or you later found out he’d been there at the same time.’

‘No.’

‘You knew he could put you at the scene of the death and you were scared.’

‘No!’

‘You befriended Mr Hepburn through the OtherWorld site. We know you had two aliases on the site, Spook, which you’d used before, and JohnDivney, which you created exclusively to talk to Hepburn. You went urbexing with him then either you or he suggested exploring the Molendinar, probably you. You both went down there and you murdered him, leaving him there because you thought he’d never be found.’

‘No.’

‘Say nothing, Mr McCormack.’ Doull looked fit to burst.

‘You thought that might be the end of it but then Hepburn’s body was found and suddenly people were asking questions, other urbexers sticking their noses in. You knew Remy Feeks found the body, you wondered what else he knew. You were terrified now. Two bodies on your hands. You couldn’t take the risk and you killed Feeks as well. Am I right?’

McCormack looked to Doull and then turned back, his mouth stuck firmly shut and his eyes wide. The lawyer looked like he’d taken a few punches along with his client and he’d had enough.

‘My client is exercising his right to silence and will continue to do so. This interview is over.’