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Authors: Douglas Lindsay
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catches me and we mince along, bang on thirty miles an hour.
My rage passes. I forget that I was angry. I forget about the old woman, and do not wonder how long she sits in the parking area recovering her equilibrium.
12
––––––––
'H ow's this?' I say. Taylor's office, me and Morrow, coffee and doughnuts. Yes, coffee and doughnuts. We're all Americans now, as the Muppet Blair said. 'There's a correlation between the sleeping drug and the semen, but not directly with the death. Someone drugged her and raped her. Maureen, unable to cope, killed herself.'
'Hmm...' begins Taylor. 'Not bad. I know, just because a woman is raped, doesn't mean she's going to commit suicide, and you'd think that an older woman might be able to handle the situation better than someone much younger, but then... what do any of the three of us dicks know?'
'I'll check it out,' says Morrow. 'Speak to some people. Rates of rape amongst the over-60s, the victims' psychology. Like you say, everyone's different, but there might be some sort of pattern of behaviour.'
'Have we established her whereabouts on her final evening?'
Shake of the head from Morrow and me.
'OK, well that's something we really need to find out. Did she go anywhere, did anyone come to her house, did she have any clubs or other regular Monday evening activity?'
'On it,' I say.
'I've been hearing a lot about Paul Cartwright,' says Taylor. 'We need to get along to see him.'
'Me too,' says Morrow. 'There's a general feeling that he's a nasty piece of work.'
'Interviewed him yesterday afternoon,' I say.
'Good man,' says Taylor. 'How was that?'
'There's something about him,' I say. 'I can see why everyone hates him, and I can see why his church won out in the end. Very focussed. He set out to achieve something, and he did it. People in his church will have been pleased, those in the others pissed off. What are you going to do?'
'He know Mrs Henderson?'
'Just from the letters, which he was happy to talk about. Recalled every one...'
'Quite a few people said he has a freakish memory.'
'Yep, happy to admit it. Before this is out I think we'll be talking to him again, and I think there's a lot to learn from him, if we can work out how to get him to say the right things... but I don't think he had anything to do with her death. Not directly, at any rate.'
'OK, we'll leave him for the moment, but keep tabs on him. Once we get to second interviews, that's when people start to think, hang on a second, isn't this something more than a suicide enquiry?'
'And Cartwright's the kind of dude that Connor will be hanging with. Written all over him.'
'Well, I'm sure you were your usual discreet self,' says Taylor.
Morrow even laughs at that. Fucking hilarious.
'The fact is,' continues Taylor, 'we've yet to come up with proof of anything suspicious, so we have to continue to be careful. The superintendent is going to be shutting us down first opportunity he gets, so no mention of a murder investigation until such times as we know for definite.'
A couple of raised eyebrows dispatched across the table, and Morrow and I take the signal to leave.
*
I find myself back at the Old Kirk. No reason. I just felt drawn here for the silence. I parked in the small area between the church and the halls, noticed that the gates were unlocked. I'd been intending knocking on the gatekeeper's door and asking in some sort of small voice if she wouldn't mind me sitting in the church again. I wasn't going to have a reason. There was a fair possibility that in fact I was going to sit in the car park for ten minutes, not get out of the car, and then drive off.
Do I have a pathological fear that she might think I'm contemplating turning to God, or do I have a pathological fear that I am actually turning to God?
Neither, really. I want the silence, that's all. I'm just as happy to share it with Mrs Buttler.
So I walked in through the front door of the church. She turned at my footsteps as I
My rage passes. I forget that I was angry. I forget about the old woman, and do not wonder how long she sits in the parking area recovering her equilibrium.
12
––––––––
'H ow's this?' I say. Taylor's office, me and Morrow, coffee and doughnuts. Yes, coffee and doughnuts. We're all Americans now, as the Muppet Blair said. 'There's a correlation between the sleeping drug and the semen, but not directly with the death. Someone drugged her and raped her. Maureen, unable to cope, killed herself.'
'Hmm...' begins Taylor. 'Not bad. I know, just because a woman is raped, doesn't mean she's going to commit suicide, and you'd think that an older woman might be able to handle the situation better than someone much younger, but then... what do any of the three of us dicks know?'
'I'll check it out,' says Morrow. 'Speak to some people. Rates of rape amongst the over-60s, the victims' psychology. Like you say, everyone's different, but there might be some sort of pattern of behaviour.'
'Have we established her whereabouts on her final evening?'
Shake of the head from Morrow and me.
'OK, well that's something we really need to find out. Did she go anywhere, did anyone come to her house, did she have any clubs or other regular Monday evening activity?'
'On it,' I say.
'I've been hearing a lot about Paul Cartwright,' says Taylor. 'We need to get along to see him.'
'Me too,' says Morrow. 'There's a general feeling that he's a nasty piece of work.'
'Interviewed him yesterday afternoon,' I say.
'Good man,' says Taylor. 'How was that?'
'There's something about him,' I say. 'I can see why everyone hates him, and I can see why his church won out in the end. Very focussed. He set out to achieve something, and he did it. People in his church will have been pleased, those in the others pissed off. What are you going to do?'
'He know Mrs Henderson?'
'Just from the letters, which he was happy to talk about. Recalled every one...'
'Quite a few people said he has a freakish memory.'
'Yep, happy to admit it. Before this is out I think we'll be talking to him again, and I think there's a lot to learn from him, if we can work out how to get him to say the right things... but I don't think he had anything to do with her death. Not directly, at any rate.'
'OK, we'll leave him for the moment, but keep tabs on him. Once we get to second interviews, that's when people start to think, hang on a second, isn't this something more than a suicide enquiry?'
'And Cartwright's the kind of dude that Connor will be hanging with. Written all over him.'
'Well, I'm sure you were your usual discreet self,' says Taylor.
Morrow even laughs at that. Fucking hilarious.
'The fact is,' continues Taylor, 'we've yet to come up with proof of anything suspicious, so we have to continue to be careful. The superintendent is going to be shutting us down first opportunity he gets, so no mention of a murder investigation until such times as we know for definite.'
A couple of raised eyebrows dispatched across the table, and Morrow and I take the signal to leave.
*
I find myself back at the Old Kirk. No reason. I just felt drawn here for the silence. I parked in the small area between the church and the halls, noticed that the gates were unlocked. I'd been intending knocking on the gatekeeper's door and asking in some sort of small voice if she wouldn't mind me sitting in the church again. I wasn't going to have a reason. There was a fair possibility that in fact I was going to sit in the car park for ten minutes, not get out of the car, and then drive off.
Do I have a pathological fear that she might think I'm contemplating turning to God, or do I have a pathological fear that I am actually turning to God?
Neither, really. I want the silence, that's all. I'm just as happy to share it with Mrs Buttler.
So I walked in through the front door of the church. She turned at my footsteps as I
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