In Place of Death (26 page)

‘Yes?'

‘Miss Narey? I mean, Inspector Narey? ‘

‘Yes. Who's speaking?' The voice was familiar but it wasn't Mrs McBriar, the home owner. It was someone younger. It was . . .

‘Jess. Jess Docherty. From Clober Nursing Home. I look after your dad.'

She breathed deeply. ‘Hi, Jess. What's wrong? Is he okay?'

‘Yes. Well, no. I mean he's
okay
but he's a bit stressed. He's been asking for you and I can't calm him down. I usually can but he's agitated and
worried. He keeps going on about Huntly Avenue. You used to live there, didn't you?'

‘Huntly Avenue? When I was about thirteen! What is he agitated about?'

‘He keeps asking when you'll get here. Or there. He thinks he's in Huntly Avenue. He's worried about buses being off and you not being able to get home. It's really
upsetting him. I've told him you'll be fine but he's not having it. He wants to pick you up in his car and I'm having to say no. Could you maybe come over and see
him?'

Narey looked through the car's window at the house she was about to visit, the home of Jennifer Cairns' best friend. This wasn't a choice she wanted to make.

‘There was a bus strike when I was in second year at high school. I had to walk nearly three miles to get home and he was out of his mind with worry. I'll get there as soon as I can,
Jess. What time do you finish your shift?'

A pause. ‘Forty-five minutes ago.'

‘What?
Why are you still there?'

‘I told you. He's agitated. I couldn't go home and leave him like that. Wouldn't have felt right.'

Eileen McBriar had said that Jess wasn't the problem she seemed to be. She said that surly was just the way her face was, just the way she spoke. She'd insisted to Narey that Jess
was a good worker and that she genuinely cared. It looked like she might have been right.

‘Jess, I need to do something before I can get over. But I'll be as quick as I can. Can you stay with him? I know it's asking a lot.'

‘Course.'

‘Thank you.'

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Carrie Thomson was a good looking forty-something dressed as an early thirty-something but pulling the look off effortlessly and stylishly. Blonde and tanned, she was wearing
money and it suited her. The only clue that anything was wrong was in her make-up, eyes smudged from running mascara and cheeks streaked with tears. Narey also had the distinct impression that
she'd been drinking.

The strain in her voice was obvious and her slightly manic manner was testament to her insistence that she wasn't Jen Cairns' friend, she was her
best
friend.

‘Of course I'll help you. Why the hell would I do anything else? I can't go five minutes without thinking about her and bursting into tears. What
happened
to
her?'

Narey and Thomson were sitting in the front room of the woman's large and expensively furnished house in the West End, a couple of streets back from Clarence Drive. Becca Maxwell sat
quietly to the side, letting Narey connect one to one with the woman.

‘To be honest with you, Mrs Thomson, we don't know yet. That's why we need to talk to as many people as possible who can help us build a picture of Jennifer's life and
movements. So you were close?'

‘I think I was as close to her as anyone. We'd known each other for twenty years. Best friends isn't just a label, it's the way it was. She was godmother to my eldest. We
didn't go a couple of days without speaking, rarely more than one.
Yes,
we were close. We knew each other better than anyone else did.'

‘Better than her husband?'

Thomson laughed bitterly. ‘Much better, I'd say. Douglas is a lovely man in many ways but he didn't always
get
her. There was ten years between them but it seemed that
gap was growing. He was getting older quicker than she was. Jen could talk to me about stuff that he just wouldn't understand or be interested in.'

‘Like what?'

The woman shrugged expansively as if there was so much she didn't know where to start. ‘Fashion. Art. Music. Food. If we'd even mention a
celebrity
then Douglas would
start muttering and leave the room. He has very fixed ideas on why people should be famous and they don't include much more than being a politician or a classical composer.'

‘Did they get on?'

Thomson's eyebrows shot up and she moved back in her seat. ‘What are you actually asking me?'

‘Just what I said. Did Mr and Mrs Cairns get on well? Were they happy together?'

Carrie crossed her arms and locked them tight. ‘Douglas was happy.'

‘But not Jen?'

‘I'm not saying that.'

‘Then what
are
you saying?'

‘He was happier than she was. Jen needed a bit more than Douglas seemed able to give her. That doesn't make her a bad person.'

Narey's voice softened. ‘I'm not saying it does. Carrie, I'm not here to judge Jen in any way. I'm here to find who killed her.'

The woman stared for a bit then nodded, relaxing slightly. A thought occurred to her but she held on to it for a while, reluctant to set it free. Finally, she did.

‘Do you think it was Douglas?'

‘I'm sorry to answer a question with a question, Carrie, but do
you
think it could have been Mr Cairns?'

Thomson's eyebrows knotted in thought as her head made little sideway movements. ‘I don't think he has it in him.'

‘But you think he may have had reason to?'

‘I didn't say that.' The answer was too quick.

Narey nodded, making it obvious she had read a lot into the woman's answer. ‘Carrie, I know you're sitting here to defend your friend but I need to remind you that you are also
here to help her. Was—'

‘You
don't
need to remind me of that,' Thomson snapped.

‘Was Jen having an affair?'

Carrie's mouth screwed shut involuntarily and Narey knew she'd been right. She watched the woman's mind battle with itself, knowing it was just a matter of time.

‘Yes.' The word came out laced with bitterness; she was angry at being forced to betray her friend. Narey felt sympathy for her but didn't have time for it.

‘Thank you. I need to know this. I wouldn't ask otherwise.'

‘I'm sure.'

‘Was this the first time she had been involved with another man?' Narey knew she had lost any hope of the woman liking her enough to help her so there was little more to be lost on
that score.

‘No. She'd had an affair once before. Look, this wasn't her fault. She . . . Look, Douglas couldn't get it up any more. Okay? Too much stress and Shiraz. So I think she
went for a younger, better-functioning model.'

‘Carrie. I'll say it again. I'm not judging, I'm not blaming. I just need to know. If Jen had previous affairs then the man or men might be suspects.'

The nod of agreement was grudging. ‘She saw a guy named Phil Traynor, a car salesman, for a few months but it ended maybe a year ago. He was married too and they both thought they'd
pushed their luck far enough. There was no falling out. No recriminations.'

‘Where can I find this Phil Traynor?'

A shrug. ‘As I said, he's a car salesman. BMW dealership in the north of the city, I think.
He's married.
'

‘I kind of think that's his problem, don't you? And we'll be discreet. We have done this kind of thing before. Anyone else other than the man she was seeing before she
was killed?'

‘No. And I'd have known. She wasn't some kind of slut. She was a good person.'

‘Okay, what about the man she'd been seeing lately? What can you tell me about him?'

Thomson stood up, her hands going back through her straight blonde hair. ‘I think I need a drink. Can I get you something?'

‘No, thank you.'

Narey heard glasses clinking from the next room and a fridge door opening and closing. She could also hear nerves fraying. Thomson returned a couple of minutes later with a glass of white wine
held shakily in her right hand. Narey gave her time to drink some courage from it before asking her to continue.

‘I don't know his name. I'm sorry.'

Narey's heart sank. ‘How long had she been seeing him?'

‘A few months. Four months, I'd say.'

‘From now or from when she was killed?' As soon as the words were out she regretted how harsh they sounded but it was too late.

‘She had seen him for four months.'

‘And yet she never mentioned his name?'

‘
No
. She just called him The Man. I think she found it exciting that way. An extra edge of whatever. It was always just “I saw The Man last night” or “I'm
going to sneak off tonight for a few hours with The Man”. Never a name.'

‘You must know something about him though. Any little thing might help.'

‘Well he had quite a big thing apparently but I don't see how that's going to help. He had some kind of job where he could get away at any time. His own boss was how I'd
taken it. He was younger than her. The sex was good, adventurous. She said he was a bit of a bad boy and she liked that.'

‘How do you mean, adventurous?'

Thomson frowned. ‘She didn't go into the juicy details, Inspector. I got the feeling it was . . . thrill-seeking? Definitely out of the norm that she is used to with Douglas.
Was
used to.'

‘Okay, I'm sorry I had to ask. What else can you tell me? Was he married?'

‘I don't think so but he was definitely in some kind of relationship. He was sneaking away as much as she was. When I think about it, it was odd how little she told me about him. As
if it was some big secret that was even more exciting because she didn't tell me more.'

‘Okay, any clues in how she met him?'

She took a long sip of wine as she thought about it, a realization dawning. ‘Well . . . yes, it was work-related. I remember her saying at the beginning how it had been a shitty work day
but how it hadn't been all bad. She said it with a wicked grin on her face and I immediately called her on it being some guy. She just laughed and made this face as if he was really hot.
Another time, she talked about how it couldn't be all work and no play and she was definitely preferring the play side of it.'

‘So it could have been a client?'

‘Or a supplier or a designer or a delivery guy. It almost became a running joke that she wouldn't tell me. This man of mystery. I'd joke to her that he might be a spy or a . .
.' The woman's face dropped. ‘Shit, I used to say he might be a spy or an international hit man. Christ. Do you think it
was
him?'

Narey wouldn't have answered that even if she'd known. ‘We have to find him to find out. What other circles did Jen move in where she might have met someone? This
man.'

Carrie's hands flew up in a despairing gesture. ‘God, it could have been anywhere. She was really . . . sociable. She got out whenever she could. And her work took her all over. Lots
of houses, contracts for developers, magazine work. Her business was going really well. People liked her and her work.'

‘Okay. On the night that Jen disappeared, she was supposed to be seeing a client in the West End, at Kensington Gate. Was she?'

Carrie looked distinctly uncomfortable. She stared at her feet. ‘I don't know. But I don't think so.'

‘You think she was seeing this man? Did you not think to tell the police that?'

‘I didn't know for sure. Of course I suspected that she was going to see
The Man
rather than some unknown customer but I didn't know. And I didn't want to . . . I
couldn't go tell the police or Douglas in case she turned up. It occurred to me that maybe she'd lost her mind and actually run off with this guy.
I didn't know.
'

Narey's stare left her in no doubt that she wasn't impressed. She didn't push it though as she needed a bit more from the woman.

‘Okay, I'm going to leave you my card and if you can think of anything else about him then please call me. Anything at all that might lead us to him.'

‘Yes, of course. I'm sorry I was . . . I just didn't want to . . .'

‘It's okay. I understand, Carrie. Really. Okay, there's just a couple more things I need to ask.'

Thomson sank some wine back, draining the glass. ‘Okay, hit me.'

‘This might seem strange but did she ever mention urbexing?'

‘What?
I don't know what that means.'

‘Did she ever mention exploring abandoned buildings or places like that?'

She looked aghast. ‘No. Never! Why would Jen want to do something like that?'

‘Okay. Then finally, do you think Douglas Cairns knew his wife was having an affair?'

Carrie Thomson blew out her cheeks and pushed her hair back on her head, holding it there, her knuckles glowing white through her tan.

‘I obviously don't know the answer to this . . .'

‘But?'

‘But yes. My guess is that he did.'

Narey drove to the nursing home with the woman's words echoing through her head. Betrayal was a powerful motivation. People would do a lot for those they loved but
they'd do a lot
to
those who threw that love back in their face.

The door to the home was opened by a tired-looking woman in her fifties. She looked how Narey felt. Her name was Avril or April, something like that. She nodded a greeting and held the door
wide.

Narey walked the corridor to her dad's room, blinking at the awful yellow walls. Were they meant to be cheery? If so, it wasn't working.

She was just about to push open the door to his room when she stopped, hearing voices inside. His familiar tones, older and weaker now but still the same comforting, loving voice, and he was
using her name. God, it always felt so good when he did that. But something wasn't quite right. He was talking
to
her. And she was seemingly answering.