Autographs In The Rain Part 11

'And what did you say to him?'

'I promised him a visit soon, but I wasn't specific about it, I couldn't tell him any date for sure.'

'What kind of car do you drive?' Mackenzie asked abruptly.'A Corolla hatchback.'

'What colour is it?'

'Blue.'

'So if a blue hatchback was seen outside your uncle's house on the day he died, the day he told his neighbour that he was expecting a visit from you, that wouldn't have been yours, then?'

'No, it would not.'

'What do you earn, Miss McConnell?'

'Mind your own business.'

t'It is my business, hen. Have you not worked that out yet? No point in being coy anyway; could find out by picking up a telephone.'

'Okay; my salary is around twenty-two thousand.'

'Not bad, eh?'

'Reasonable. I work for two of the most senior police officers in Scotland, on a confidential basis. I have their trust,' she added, pointedly.

Mackenzie laughed again, this time with undisguised mockery. He reached across and switched off the tape once more. 'And your man Skinner's never made a mistake about a woman has he? I seem to remember he was all over the tabloids not so long ago. Something to do with him s.h.a.gging a woman detective sergeant on his staff.

'Does he give you one as well, now and again?'

'This is outrageous,' Ruth spluttered. 'Listen, Bandit, or whatever your d.a.m.ned name is, unless you stop peddling innuendo and get specific about the purpose of this conversation, I'm walking out of that door, and I am going to see Mr Skinner ... and if that doesn't worry you, then you are an even bigger fool than you are a playground bully.'

The Strathclyde inspector reached across and pressed the record b.u.t.ton of the tape once again. 'All right, let's just jump to the "Detective Sums Up" bit. Your old Uncle John tells a neighbour on Sat.u.r.day the eighteenth of November, in a state of some excitement, that he's expecting a visit from his niece... namely you, because I've confirmed that you're the only niece he had.

'Later that afternoon, just as it was getting dark, a blue hatchback vehicle, just like yours, pulls up outside his door. A tall, dark-haired woman, whose description you fit perfectly, is seen to get out and walk straight into the house.

'And right at that time, someone sticks the old man in a scalding bath and drowns the poor old sod.'48.AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.

She stared at him across the desk, speechless, truly shaken for the first

time.

'And there's more. Your uncle hadn't shown up at his golf club for a while, so one of his cronies went to see him. He found him concerned and confused, as if the ageing process had caught up with him, finally.

'But he noticed that things were missing from the house. There was a silver trophy he won at golf years back; there was a very fine grandfather clock; both missing. When your uncle's pal asked what had happened to them, all he said was that his niece had money troubles.

'Then he told his old friend to b.u.g.g.e.r off and mind his own business.'

Mackenzie paused. 'So you see, Miss McConnell. I'm engaged in a search for a cold, cruel murderer, and all the evidence I have points straight at you, his only niece, the sole beneficiary in his will.

'Yet when I ask a neighbouring force to do me a favour by picking you up and bringing you through for interview, I get a call from some jumped up woman refusing and telling me to report to her. I don't mind telling you that p.i.s.ses me off, and it doesn't make me inclined to go any easier on you than on any other suspect.

'So... If you weren't drowning your uncle on November the eighteenth, what the h.e.l.l were you doing, Miss McConnell?'

'I was with my boyfriend.'

'Who is?'

'Detective Sergeant Pye; he's on the staff of Detective Chief Superintendent Martin, the Head of CID.'

'There you go dropping those names again. Is he the lad who brought you here? The same guy who found your uncle's body?'

She nodded. 'Yes, that was Sammy.'

'Do you live with him?'

'As of today, yes, I think I do. But not then.'

For the first time she sensed Mackenzie becoming more cautious. 'Did you spend all day with him?'

Ruth took a deep breath, and decided to tell the truth. 'No. I went round to his place in the morning; we had a sandwich lunch, watched television for a bit, and then I went shopping in Jenner's and John Lewis. I left Sammy's at about two thirty, and I got back just after six. Later we went out for a meal and a drink.'

'I see. And can you prove you were in Jenner's or in John Lewis? Doyou have any credit card slips, for example, with your signature and the date and time?'

'No,' she admitted. 'I didn't buy anything. I didn't see anything I fancied.'

At once all the hardness was back in the dark-haired detective, as he turned to his sergeant once more. 'I see. p.i.s.s poor cover story, Gwennie, isn't it?

'Miss McConnell, even by your own account you had plenty of time to drive through to c.u.mbernauld that afternoon, do the old man, then drive back to the love-nest in time for a nice evening out.

", 'It was a really smart touch too, going back the following Sat.u.r.day and arranging for the boy Sammy to find the body.

'Miss, I want to see your car, I want to see any record you have of petrol purchases, and I want to see all your bank accounts. I expect that when I've done all that I will have more than enough evidence to justify a charge of murder. In fact, I could arrest you right now, and take you back to c.u.mbernauld, but that would just be too much f.u.c.king ha.s.sle. Since your man's a DS, I'll trust him to be professional enough to ensure that you don't do anything silly, and that next time, when I send for you, you're delivered, gift-wrapped.

'This interview is terminated at five thirty-seven p.m.' He switched off his tape. 'You can go. I'll tell Rose what's happening. Be available to us at any time tomorrow.'

Ruth picked up her bag, looked down her nose at the two detectives, then stood up from the table and left the room.

She was shaking as she walked up to Pye, who was waiting for her outside the building, in accordance with Skinner's order. He saw her agitation at once. 'What's up, love?' he demanded.

'Not here! I can't tell you here. I have to get out of this place, right now.

Sammy, love; please take me to Mr Skinner, wherever he is. I need to see him, right now!'50.12.Dan Pringle looked around as he stepped out of his car. It was eight thirty five on a late November morning, and the sun had only just struggled above the eastern horizon. Yet as he breathed in the clean, crisp, morning air, the burly detective superintendent felt a sudden, strange burst of pleasure and relief.

To his great surprise, he was discovering that, with each pa.s.sing day, he liked the Borders more and more. When Bob Skinner and Andy Martin had invited him to move south, following John McGrigor's decision to hand in his warrant card, he had felt that it was no more than a step towards his own being put out to gra.s.s.

Sure, they had said all the right words; they had explained that the Borders division was a mature area which required maturity and experience of its senior police officers, even... especially, perhaps... those in the detective branch. Yet he had felt a niggling suspicion that he was simply being put out of the way, a belated punishment for his scarcely disguised annoyance when the young Head of CID had been appointed over his head.

Now, only a few days into the new job, he realised that they had been right. He took a sniff of the agricultural air and smiled. 'No bulls.h.i.t,' he whispered. Never before had his career taken him on to a farm of any description. Never before had he consciously mixed with countrymen; a different sort entirely, stolid, straightforward, undissembling men who looked you straight in the eye, unimpressed by t.i.tles or authority.

He knew that no bright young lad, or fast-tracking young woman from the city could hope to step into a place like this, particularly not to follow a ma.s.sive son of the soil like McGrigor, who had carried an awe-inspiring reputation from the rugby field into the senior ranks of CID.