The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) (12 page)

Craig flashed her a grateful smile.

“Fine. We didn’t finish cleaning upstairs. Let’s leave the men to the real work while we silly useless women get on with the housework,” said Nora indignantly.

“
Don’t be like that Mum,” said Craig.

“
Why not? Seems scrubbing toilets is the only thing my feeble mind can cope with,” she said before sweeping from the room, causing her son to roll his eyes.

Freya gave Craig an amused grin before following her out.

“Right,” said Craig after they’d both left. “Apparently the Pathologist said the murder was committed by a strong, healthy man.”

“
Or woman,” added Steve.

“
Or woman,” said Craig. “So that rules out half the village, we have a lot of elderly residents. Let’s concentrate on those under sixty five and over sixteen.”

The two PC
’s flipped through their notes.

“
Brenda and Bill Miller,” said Gary. “Brenda was one of the group who found Catriona. She was at home at the time of the murder cooking Bill something for tea because she was going to be out at the Book Club. Bill was working in his shed.”

“
Did she see him in there?” said Craig.

“
No. That gives him a window of two hours, plenty of time. Both of them spoke to the victim in the pub the night before her death, they said she was in good spirits and didn’t seem worried about anything.”

“
Brenda’s big but she’s not strong, she’s suffered from chronic asthma for years, I don’t think she could have killed Catriona, but Bill’s a good suspect,” said Craig, jotting his name down in his notebook. “Who else?”

“
I spoke to the local GP, Martin Lynch. Lives alone,” continued Gary. “He was at home when it happened. He didn’t go into work because he was frightened of the road flooding while he was away and being stranded. He works at the practice in West Kilbride,” he added for Steve’s benefit. “Last saw the victim the evening before in the pub. They didn’t talk and he didn’t really notice her. If you ask me he seemed a bit light on his feet. Fancy not noticing a looker like the victim,” he grinned. Craig’s hostile expression caused his smile to drop. “He’s a bit of a wet lettuce too, I can’t imagine him hurting a fly.”

“
You can’t judge by appearances, as you should already know,” Craig told him. “Lots of killers look harmless, it’s why they’re hard to catch. If they had
psycho
written across their foreheads it would be so much easier.”

“
Yeah, sorry,” Gary said to the tabletop.

“
So he doesn’t have an alibi?”

“
No. But neither does Toby Moore, that stuck up English git. He really got my back up, made me take off my shoes and put on slippers before I could go in his house.”

“
Toby is a bit of an arse,” said Craig. He’d never liked the man, thought he was a creep and knew Gary probably had a difficult time interviewing him. He should have sent Steve to speak to him instead.

“
Lives alone - can’t say I’m surprised - said he was reading all afternoon, Shakespeare apparently, thought I should be impressed but I wasn’t. He’s got a bit of a nasty side too, he went ballistic when I spilt a drop of tea on his carpet.”

“
Stick with the facts please Gary.”

“
Sorry, I can wander a bit.” Another inane grin that got Craig’s back up. “He was a bit nutty about the victim, kept saying how beautiful and amazing she was. He’s just the type to flip out if he was rejected. He said he didn’t lay a finger on her. Like everyone else, the last time he saw her was at the pub the night before she died. Apparently they had a deep and meaningful talk about great literature and she was hanging on every word he said. Out of everyone I spoke to he was the likeliest suspect, although he wasn’t here when the original murders happened, he was quick to point that out. Everyone else I spoke to were just little old couples too knackered to kill anyone and who wouldn’t have noticed a nuclear explosion never mind a murder.”

“
Well thank you for that insightful look into the minds of the villagers,” said Craig sarcastically. “Steve?” he said, hoping the personable, intelligent man would come up with more.

“
I spoke to Howard Grant, the wee man who found Catriona. He kept bursting into tears every time I asked him a question so it was slow-going but eventually I got it out of him that he saw her the morning she died. Apparently he went to her cottage to talk to her about the Book Club meeting that afternoon. She said she had everything ready and didn’t need him to go into town for anything because he knows she doesn’t like driving in the rain. From what he could gather she was alone, although she did keep him at the door, can’t say I blame her, spooky wee bastard. He seemed obsessed with her too, said he’d lost the best friend he ever had. Didn’t see or hear anything suspicious around the time of the murder. He might be small but have you seen the size of his hands? They’re like shovels. He’s well built too. Even though he’s short I bet he’s strong enough to have overpowered her. He’s the type I can see losing it and doing something mad like killing someone.”

“
Perhaps,” replied Craig thoughtfully. “Who else did you speak to?”

“
Jimmy and Lizzy Clark. Jimmy was down at his boat alone making sure it was secure before the storm came in and Lizzy was at home doing the laundry, no witnesses again. Didn’t hear anything. The whole village must go to the pub because that was where they last saw the victim, who was her usual self.”

“
It’s the only thing to do around here at night,” said Craig.

“
Last possibility was Adam Michie, aged twenty two. Lives with his gran, who’s an amazing woman. She’s almost completely blind but you should have seen the embroidery she was making, it was exquisite.” When his colleagues both raised an eyebrow he cleared his throat and hurried on. “Anyway, he said he was in his room listening to music and working on a college project, apparently he’s studying Psychology and she backed him up on that but it would have been easy for him to sneak out the back without her knowing.”

Craig added another name to his list then it was his turn.
“I spoke to the pub landlord, Gordon James. He’s run it single-handed ever since his wife did a runner nearly twenty years ago. He took it badly and won’t let anyone help him with the business, he said he doesn’t need time off because he doesn’t want to be anywhere else, he can still feel Isla in the pub. That’s what he told me one night when he was drunk anyway. Again he didn’t see or hear anything, Catriona was fine in the pub, didn’t argue with anyone. He was very fond of her, she was a shoulder for him to cry on when his wife left.”

“
Oh yeah?” said Gary knowingly.

“
He swears it was platonic, but you never know. The pub closes between two and four to give him a break, so he did have a window of opportunity.” He looked down at his notebook. “So we’ve got Bill, Jimmy, Martin, Toby, Howard, Adam and Gordon. Seven likely suspects.”

“
What about the women?” said Steve.

Craig gave an impatient sigh.
“Why do you keep talking about the women?”

“
I just don’t think we can assume the killer’s a man.”

“
True and the PM showed no sign of sexual assault. Alright, the women. Lizzy’s a possible suspect, no alibi and she was a close friend of Catriona’s. Maybe they had a fall out? Brenda’s out, she just isn’t physically fit enough and Claire’s far too old and creaky, as are the rest of the women in the village.”

“
You’ve missed one off.”

“
Don’t tell me you’re accusing my mum?”

“
No. I mean Freya.”

Craig was silent for a moment before he said,
“yes, she goes without saying.”

“
Sorry Sarge, I know you’re close.”

“
Used to be,” he corrected.

“
Yes, used to be, but I’m just trying to keep you objective. It must be really hard for you because you’ve known all these people your whole life.”

“
Thank you PC McKay for keeping me neutral. What would I do without you?”

Both constables were quick to pick up the sarcasm in his voice.

“But this does feel like a man’s crime,” said Gary.

Craig thought it was the first sensible thing he
’d said. “Aye it does. Hands on and brutal. Women tend to poison, not drown people.”

“
Unless they’re replicating past crimes,” interjected Steve.

Craig fixed him with a hard stare.
“What’s your take on Freya?”

Steve glanced to Gary for help but he leaned back in his chair and smiled, entertained by his discomfort.
“She seems very nice,” he eventually replied.

“
Is that it, just nice?”

“
Well, she’s obviously traumatised by the past but that’s perfectly understandable, I mean, who wouldn’t be?” he twittered, becoming flustered by the increasing animosity flowing off his superior officer.

“
And traumatised people can do insane things, is that what you’re saying PC McKay?”

“
No, not all of them. If they did we’d be inundated with murders,” he said, adding a nervous little laugh when Craig continued to stare at him.

“
Well I think she’s lovely,” interjected Gary,

“
I agree,” said Steve.

“
Really?” said Craig, raising an eyebrow.

“
Yes. Sir,” he added, nervously. He could actually feel sweat trickling down his spine. Now he knew why Sergeant Donaldson was rumoured to be such a bad ass in the interview room.

When Steve had squirmed for long enough Craig decided to let it go and move on.

“Let’s interview everyone on our list again. I’ll take Martin Lynch, there’s something else I want to discuss with him. Get to it. When you’re done we’ll meet back here.”

CHAPTER 8

“Thanks Martin,” said Craig, accepting a cup of tea and a biscuit off him.

Martin sank back into the opposing armchair with his own mug of tea.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything I didn’t tell your colleague earlier.”

“
I know. Actually there’s something else I wanted to ask you.”

“
Go on.”

“
Do you know if there were any other deaths around the time of The Elemental murders fifteen years ago?”

He seemed surprised by the question and reclined back in his seat thoughtfully.

“I’m not sure, I was only a teenager back then.”

“
Did you hear anything when you took over the Practice?”

“
No, not that I recall,” he replied, dabbing at his lips with a neatly folded handkerchief he kept in his trouser pocket, a lifelong habit of his.

“
Oh,” said Craig, disappointed.

“
Why do you want to know?”

“
I’m afraid I can’t divulge that.”

“
I see.”

“
Did you know Father Logan well? I remember you were an altar boy.”

“
I was but only because my mum made me. To be honest he scared the life out of me. I just kept my head down and got on with my chores, hoping I didn’t do anything to upset him.”

“
Was he quick to anger?”

“
Oh yes. I remember once he didn’t consider my nails clean enough to assist with Mass and he went rather over the top in my opinion. Between the two of us, he made me cry more than once.”

“
You and me both Pal,” said Craig. He’d always liked Martin, he didn’t take himself too seriously, despite his high standing in the community. He was only a few years older than himself, although sometimes he could seem a bit fuddy-duddy. They used to be quite close but when he’d moved to Inverness they’d grown apart.

“
Why are you asking about Father Logan? Do you think this is the start of another series of murders?” said Martin.

“
I’m trusting you not to tell anyone this, but it’s possible.”

“
Just as Freya returns to the village. I always thought she was treated badly. I remember for years after she’d gone everyone was afraid to speak her name, like they were feeling guilty. I think her return has started something bad.”

“
We’ve not ruled out the possibility that Catriona’s death is a one-off.”

“
Maybe but I think it’s not very likely.”

Craig nodded.
“Who do you think killed her?”

“
I’m afraid I’ve no idea. If I did I’d tell you.”

“
You were her GP?”

“
Yes.”

“
Was there anything physical that might account for why she was murdered?”

“
No, unless you count eczema.”

“
So no unwanted pregnancies for instance?”

“
Good Lord no. I don’t think she even had a boyfriend.”

Craig sighed. He
’d hoped Martin could open some magic door for him that would reveal the killer. “How well did you know her?”

“
Not very, she was ten years older than myself. She was my patient and we passed the time of day but we weren’t close.”

“
Who was she close to?”

“
Surely you know this yourself?”

“
I want to hear it from you. I’ve been away from the village for a few years, relationships change.”

“
Lizzy was her closest friend. Then there’s Howard and Toby who followed her around like lapdogs. They made fools of themselves more than once fighting over her. A couple of times it got physical and I was called upon to treat them both for minor injuries.”

“
So they’re both capable of violence?”

“
Oh yes. Howard might be small but he’s very strong and Toby, well I don’t want to sound like one of the many gossipy old women around here but he does have a vicious streak. Once he punched Howard and he fell and then he kicked him in the ribs for good measure, all because he took Catriona to the cinema.”

Craig wondered if Catriona had bestowed too much attention on Howard and it had enraged Toby so much he
’d killed her, or vice versa. But anger like that would have erupted in a spontaneous burst of violence, he would have strangled her or battered her head in. Why replicate a fifteen year old murder if it was spur of the moment?

“
Thanks Martin, you’ve given me lots to think about.”

“
I can call my Practice Manager, ask her to look into the other deaths in the village fifteen years ago.”

“
That would be great, thank you.”

Craig left and returned to his mum
’s, glad that Steve and Gary were still out. They were both getting on his nerves a little bit and he wondered if he’d chosen the right people to assist him.

“
You look tired,” he told Freya, who was slumped on the couch in front of the television.

“
Nora’s a hard taskmaster,” she replied. “Upstairs is absolutely spotless. I even had to clean the toilet bowl with a toothbrush, it was like being back inside.”

“
You’re not saying the prison officers were as harsh as my mum?” he replied playfully, sitting beside her.

“
I suppose that would be unfair on the PO’s,” she said with an impish smile that made him tingle.

“
Ah, you’re back,” said Nora, emerging from the kitchen. “How did it go?”

“
I can’t tell you Mum.”

“
Fine, I get it. By the way, that magazine I found under your bed was disgusting.”

He would have denied it but his face turned scarlet.

“What magazine’s this?” smirked Freya.

“
Just some police literature,” he said.

“
There were police officers in it but if they went around dressed like that all the time they’d end up with frostbite,” said Nora disapprovingly.

Freya released an involuntary laugh, which she quickly stifled when she saw how mortified Craig was.

“My cousin slept in there a few months ago when he came to visit, it must have been his,” he said, clearing his throat.

“
It was dated two weeks ago,” countered Nora.

“
I deny all knowledge.”

“
Hmmm. Anyway I’m about to make your day even better. Mad Mandy called.”

“
Oh great,” he sighed.

“
Who’s Mad Mandy?” said Freya.

“
My ex-girlfriend and one reason I moved back here from Inverness. Unfortunately I only found out she was completely insane after we’d moved in together.”

The thought of Craig with another woman caused Freya an unexpected stab of jealousy.
“So it’s over, is it?”

“
Yes, thank God.”

“
She’s already called four times today. She won’t stop until you speak to her, you know what she’s like,” said Nora before carrying the laundry basket through to the kitchen.

“
Are you going to call her?” said Freya. She held up her hands. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“
It’s alright and I won’t if I can help it but once she called me a hundred and twenty three times in a day. I’ve changed my number twice but somehow she always gets hold of my new one.”

“
What’s she like?”

“
Absolutely stunning,” replied Nora, returning to the room minus the laundry basket. “Six foot tall, long curly red hair, perfect bone structure, but completely mad mental. She’s a model, quite a successful one too and God complex isn’t the word.”

“
She’s a total nightmare.” Craig went silent when the phone started to ring again. “If that’s her I’m not here.”

“
I’m not your secretary,” snapped Nora, but she picked up the phone anyway. “Oh hello Mandy, sorry he’s still not back. He’s working. Now don’t do anything silly Hen, you’ve got such a bright future, think of your modelling career, your fans…oh just a second Love I think I heard him come in.”

“
No,” whispered Craig, frantically waving his hands back and forth.

Nora covered the mouthpiece.
“She’s threatening to kill herself again.”

“
It’s only a threat, she won’t actually do it.”

Nora thrust the handset at him.
“Talk to her yourself, she’s your problem.”

Craig sighed and reluctantly put the phone to his ear, wincing at the screeching down the line.
“Hello Mandy. Now stop being ridiculous. No I’m not coming back to Inverness, I’m happy here. We’ve gone through this so many times and I’m not doing it again,” he said, getting to his feet and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

“
It’s a shame that relationship went wrong,” said Nora. “He was crazy about her when they first met.”

“
How did they meet?”

“
At a nightclub in Inverness. She seemed so sweet at first and of course what man wouldn’t be bowled over by a successful model.”

Freya winced, wondering how an ex-alcoholic jailbird with no prospects could ever attract a man like Craig. She was stupid to even hope.
Not that she wanted him anyway
, she quickly told herself.
Yeah, right.

“
They moved in together then it all started to go wrong. She cheated on him but got insanely jealous if he even talked to another woman. She got violent a few times too. You know Craig, he’d never hurt a woman, so when he didn’t hit back she thought that gave her licence to hit him more.”

“
The bitch,” scowled Freya.

“
So he left her and now she won’t leave him alone, even though it was over months ago. She doesn’t really want him, it’s all about control. He dared to leave her and she’ll do anything to get him back, just to prove to herself that she can.”

“
Is he likely to go back to her?”

“
Who knows. He did love her very much and I’m not convinced he still doesn’t.”

“
Oh.”

Nora watched Freya from the corner of her eye. She
’d seen how she looked at her son and even though she felt sorry for her and even liked her she didn’t want him taking up with her. Nora wanted him to meet a stable, baggage-free woman and that wasn’t Freya.

That night while they slept there was a terrific hammering at the front door, causing the house to jump awake. Craig raced downstairs in jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, rubbing his eyes. He peered through the spy hole before opening the door to reveal Martin struggling to stay upright in the wind.

“
The Parish House is on fire,” he managed to shout.

“
Shit.”

“
The volunteer Fire Brigade’s up there but it’s all hands on deck.”

“
I’ll grab my constables and meet you up there,” he said before slamming the door shut in his face and running back upstairs.

“
What’s going on?” said Nora, appearing on the landing in her dressing gown.

Freya emerged from her bedroom in a short black t-shirt and nothing else. Craig tried not to stare at her long slender legs.
“Fire?” she said questioningly.

“
Up at the Parish House.”

“
What can we do to help?” said Nora.

“
Nothing, just stay here,” he replied before charging into his bedroom to throw on some clothes. Fortunately he had a spare uniform in his wardrobe then he pelted back downstairs, Freya and Nora following. Freya winced as he pulled on his fluorescent jacket and black boots then he hurried out into the night, calling at them over his shoulder to lock up behind him.

He raced across the road, fighting against the wind and rain. Glancing up the hill towards the Parish House he saw an orange glow but that was all he could make out. He banged on the door of Freya
’s cottage.

“
Open up,” he yelled.

After rounding up his grumbling constables he shoved them out the front door and into his car. They drove up the road guided by the orange light emanating from the Logan residence.

“Fire. Is this the second murder?” said Gary.

“
Let’s hope not,” replied Craig, focusing all his attention on the road ahead that was almost invisible through the heavy rain. They had to abandon the car halfway up the hill when it got stuck in the mud and struggled the rest of the way on foot, covered in mud and dripping wet
again
by the time they reached the house.