Black Mail (2012) (14 page)

Charlie reversed into a parking place at the far end of Park Terrace and switched off the ignition. He levered himself out of the driver’s seat and leaned with both elbows on the car roof, shielding his eyes from the watery sun as he scanned the city centre and the sprawling conurbations. ‘You get a cracking view from up here,’ he said. ‘Can you see my house?’ he asked, pointing a gloved finger towards the specks on the horizon.

O’Sullivan put his forearm in front of his eyes and squinted. ‘Is it the one with the pink-flowered lace curtains in the upstairs bathroom?’

‘Nice try. But the bathroom’s on the other side of the house.’

‘Okay, I admit it. It was the garden gnome I recognised.’

‘His name’s Alan.’

‘Named after Alan Rough, by any chance?’

‘Might be,’ Charlie said defensively.

‘My Dad’s got a garden gnome,’ O’Sullivan offered.

‘Called Jinky, by any chance?’

O’Sullivan nodded in affirmation as Charlie slammed the car door and depressed his key to activate the central locking.

Charlie could feel the tension between Jude and Simon Ramsay as they sat facing him at opposite ends of the settee.

‘When did you last see Mike Harrison?’ Charlie cast his eyes
down at his notebook, pen poised, leaving the question hanging to see who would volunteer to respond.

‘Last Wednesday.’ It was Simon who had spoken.

‘Which was the fifteenth,’ Jude said. ‘Mike and Laura came here for dinner to celebrate Simon’s fortieth.’

‘Was there anyone else present?’ Charlie asked.

‘My kid sister, Helen, and her boyfriend, Bjorn Svensson,’ Jude said. ‘My other sister, Alison, and her husband were supposed to be coming but they couldn’t make it because of the weather.’

‘How did Mike Harrison behave?’ Jude looked puzzled. ‘Was he his usual self?’ Charlie probed. ‘Did he appear worried? Was he distracted? Did he seem preoccupied with anything?’

Jude looked at Simon and puffed out her cheeks. ‘Nothing wrong, as far as I could tell,’ she said. ‘He was the life and soul of the party, as usual.’

‘He didn’t mention any particular problems?’ O’Sullivan inquired. ‘Anyone or anything bothering him?’

‘Not that I can remember,’ Simon stated, lighting up a cigarette.

‘He did say something about financial problems,’ Jude said, ‘but I took that with a pinch of salt. Mike was forever going on about how difficult it was for a bookie to make ends meet these days.’

‘Your sister, Laura, how was she?’ Charlie asked.

Jude shrugged. ‘A bit quieter than usual, perhaps. She was upset because she’d been mugged.’

Charlie glanced up from his notebook. ‘Mugged?’

‘A couple of thugs tried to snatch her handbag on Monday night.’

‘Where did that happen?’

‘Outside a cinema in Renfrew Street. Laura managed to hang on to her bag but she got a punch in the face for her trouble,’ Jude said.

‘When I saw her yesterday, I did notice her face was bruised,’ O’Sullivan said.

‘I got the impression there was more to it than that,’ Simon said.

‘More to it than what, Simon?’ Jude asked tetchily.

‘I don’t know. Laura was very quiet all evening. I don’t think it was just on account of the mugging. I thought there was something going on between her and Mike. When I let them in I got the impression that they weren’t talking.’

Jude looked askance. ‘Your imagination is running away with you, Simon.’ She turned to face Charlie. ‘Mike and Laura were perfectly all right, Inspector. Take my word for it. If there had been anything untoward, Laura would’ve told me. We’re very close.’

Simon drew hard on his cigarette. ‘I suppose I might’ve been mistaken,’ he muttered, exhaling a lungful of smoke. ‘It was just a feeling I had.’

Charlie broke the silence that followed. ‘As far as you know, did Laura and Mike have any marital problems?’ Again, he directed the question towards no one in particular.

‘No more than most.’ Jude smoothed down her skirt. ‘They had their ups and downs. Who doesn’t?’

‘I believe your father didn’t approve of their relationship?’

‘It’s no secret that Dad had no time for Mike. He believed the stories that were being bandied around.’

‘Stories? Such as?’

‘That Mike was involved in activities less legal than bookmaking.’

‘Was he?’

‘I would have thought you would be in a much better position to judge that than I am,’ Jude said stiffly. She looked pointedly at her watch. ‘Do you have many more questions?’

‘Just a couple of routine ones,’ Charlie said. ‘Where were you yesterday morning between seven and nine?’

‘In bed. I had a late night at the opera on Friday and I didn’t get up until after ten.’

‘And you, sir?’

Simon sucked hard on his cigarette. ‘I had a lie-in, too.’ Jude’s piercing eyes stared long and hard at her husband’s profile.

Charlie put away his notebook. ‘I’ll leave my phone number,’ he said, taking a card from the breast pocket of his jacket and placing it on the coffee table. ‘If you think of anything that might be relevant, don’t hesitate to give me a call.’

After showing them out, Jude strode back into the lounge. ‘Why didn’t you say anything to the police about going out for cigarettes yesterday morning?’ she demanded.

‘It was irrelevant,’ Simon said, waving his hand dismissively. ‘They’ve got enough on their plate without getting bogged down with insignificant details.’

‘Where did you buy the cigarettes?’

‘I didn’t say I
bought
cigarettes. I said I went out to get some. My car windscreen was frozen solid and while I was waiting for it to defrost I remembered I’d left a packet of fags in the glove compartment. I found it, so I came back in.’

Helen Cuthbertson, wearing a cream miniskirt and a matching, figure-hugging angora sweater, sat with her legs crossed on a
high-backed
chair opposite Charlie and Tony. Her make-up was flawless.

‘I really don’t think there’s anything I can help you with, gentlemen,’ she said, blowing on her tapered fingernails to help dry the bright, purple polish. ‘It was a run-of-the-mill, boring dinner party. Bjorn hates our family gatherings at the best of times and this one was even worse than usual because Jude had insisted that he wear a dinner suit. He didn’t want to go, but I dragged him along. As for the others …’ She placed her index finger across her lips as she reflected. ‘Simon seemed to be having a miserable time – which is par for the course when Jude’s around – and Mike’s jokes were even cruder than usual. By the end of the evening Mike was pretty much the worse for wear. Not that I’ve got a lot of room to talk, mind you. I was knocking back wine and Drambuie like they were going out of fashion. I paid for it the next morning,’ she added, massaging her forehead tenderly.

‘How were your sisters?’ Charlie asked.

Helen puckered her lips. ‘Laura was moody – nothing unusual in that – and Jude was making no secret of the fact that she was pissed off with Simon.’

‘How would you describe the relationship between Laura and her husband,’ O’Sullivan inquired.

‘I’m not the best person to ask. I haven’t spent much time in Glasgow in recent years – I had to do a lot of travelling for my job. And when I was here,’ she added, ‘I didn’t see much of the Harrisons. Bjorn and I have our own circle of friends and we only ever socialised with Laura and Mike on family occasions.’

‘I believe Mr Svensson is away just now?’ Charlie said.

‘In Stockholm. Mummy’s sixtieth. I managed to find an excuse to avoid having to suffer the old bat.’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Bjorn says that it isn’t fair that he has to put up
with my relatives while I avoid his like the plague.’ She fluttered her long false eyelashes. ‘I must admit – he does have a point.’

‘Where were you yesterday morning around eight o’clock?’ Tony asked.

‘I hope you’re not checking up to see if I have an alibi, Sergeant?’ Helen placed her hands on her lap and smiled coyly. ‘Let me see now. At eight o’clock, I was in bed – with Bjorn. We got up around nine and I drove him to the airport just after ten to catch his flight. It wasn’t until later in the day that Laura phoned to tell me the dreadful news about Mike.’

‘When will Mr Svensson be back?’ Charlie asked.

‘Tomorrow evening. Will you need to talk to him?’

‘There may be a few questions,’ Charlie said, getting to his feet. ‘If so, we’ll be in touch.’

‘Bit of a wasted day, sir?’ O’Sullivan said as they drove down the slope into Pitt Street’s underground car park.

‘Not a lot to go on,’ Charlie conceded.

Getting out of the car, they bent into the funnelling wind as they hurried towards the main building. ‘Fancy a coffee?’ Charlie asked as they were climbing the staircase.

‘I’ll get them in,’ Tony volunteered. ‘I’ve got a pocketful of change.’

When they got to his office, Charlie looked at his watch. ‘It looks like I’m actually going to be home in time for dinner. Must call Kay and give her the glad tidings,’ he said, putting his coffee down on the desk and stretching for the phone. Kay answered on the first ring. ‘You can put the dinner on, love,’ Charlie said, ‘I won’t be late.’ Replacing the receiver he asked Tony, ‘Do you have anything exciting planned for this evening?’

‘I’ve invited someone round to my place, but I’m going to have to put them off. I’m not half-way through analysing the crime stats for tomorrow’s report.’

‘Oh, did I not tell you?’

‘Tell me what?’

‘I got the date wrong. The analysis isn’t required until a week on Monday.’ Charlie suppressed a grin. ‘Who’s the lucky girl, then?’

‘Chance would be a fine thing!’ O’Sullivan let out a snort. ‘I’ve invited Tom Freer round to sample my collection of malts.’

‘Do I know him?’

‘He’s a new guy, up from London. He was with you in the interview room when you were grilling Fraser about the Save the Children box.’

Charlie snapped his fingers. ‘Got him! He counted the money for me. Seemed like a decent enough lad.’

‘He was working for the Met but he requested a move up north because his girlfriend was transferred to Glasgow by her firm. He knows hardly anybody up here so I thought it would be a nice idea to offer him some traditional Scottish hospitality. He’s bringing the Indian takeaway and I’m supplying the bevvy.’

‘Sounds perfect!’

‘It’ll make a change from drinking on my own. Do you fancy stopping off for a quick one on the way home, sir?’

‘I sure as hell fancy it, but I’d better not risk it. It would be more than my life’s worth to get involved in a session. Anyway, I need to stop off in Sauchiehall Street to pick up a Christmas present for Kay, and I don’t want to be late. Sunday night is stovies night,’ he added, smacking his lips.

‘Shouldn’t that be “Rainday” night?’ Tony said. Charlie chuckled. ‘Which reminds me,’ Tony said, getting to his feet. ‘There’s a call I have to make. I’ll be back in a minute.’ Nipping into the adjacent empty office he pulled his mobile from his pocket. Having checked the slip of paper in his notebook he tapped in the number. ‘Sue? It’s Tony.’

‘Hi!’

‘How did the skiing go?’

Sue had to shout to make herself heard. ‘I’ve got a bruised knee, a sore bum and a twisted ankle – but apart from that it was fine. And now I’ve got a houseful of kids screaming “Happy Birthday, dear Jamie”.’ She held the phone away from her ear. ‘See what I mean?’

‘Lucky you! How are you fixed for tomorrow night?’

Sue shoved a finger into her ear. ‘Everything’s organised. I’ve got a babysitter lined up and I’ve managed to enlist a couple of volunteers to close up the school hall after the nativity play.’

‘Great! How about we meet in the Tron Bar at half-seven and wander down from there?’

‘That’s going to be a bit tight for me. It might be better if we met at Glasgow Green.’

‘Okay. How about the park gates at the Clyde Street end? As near to half-seven as you can make it.’

‘Fine. I’m really looking forward to the gig.’

‘Me too.’

Sue started humming the intro to ‘Fake Plastic Trees’, but was quickly drowned out by another screeching chorus of ‘Happy Birthday, dear Jamie’.

Tony wandered back into Charlie’s office. ‘What about Ballinluig? Will we need to go up there?’

‘Can’t see that we’d get a lot out of it,’ Charlie said, shaking his head. ‘Why don’t you give the Pitlochry boys a bell? Brief them on the situation and ask them to drop in and have a chat with the Mitchells when the snow has cleared.’

The phone on Charlie’s desk rang. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the handset. ‘Picking this up is flirting with disaster,’ he said. ‘I’ve just told Kay I’m on my way home.’ He let it ring twice more before snatching the receiver from its cradle. ‘Anderson!’ he barked.

‘This is Simon Ramsay, Inspector. I hope I’m not disturbing you?’

‘Not at all, Mr Ramsay.’ Charlie switched the phone to loudspeaker mode so Tony could listen in. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Following on from our discussion this morning, I didn’t want to say any more in front of my wife.’ Ramsay hesitated. ‘But I don’t think Laura Harrison’s injuries were caused by a bag snatcher.’

‘Really? How do you think they were caused?’

‘By her husband.’

‘Indeed?’ Charlie winked at Tony. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘It’s just a hunch. I’ve had my suspicions for some time that Mike was violent towards Laura, though she never said anything. I hope this isn’t out of order, but I thought you ought to know. Perhaps you could find some way to check it out?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Please don’t mention anything to my wife about what I’ve just told you – and especially not to Laura. Neither of them would appreciate my interfering.’

‘No problem, Mr Ramsay. Our little secret.’ Charlie replaced the receiver slowly. ‘Maybe today wasn’t such a waste of time after all.’ He drummed his fingertips on the desk. ‘If I was a suspicious person I might think our Mr Ramsay was trying to plant a seed in my mind that Laura Harrison had a good reason for wanting to see the back of her old man.’