said.
Best thing that could have happened . But what he said out loud was: ‘It’s hellish.’
‘Do they think . . . ?’
‘What?’
‘Maybe I had something to do with it.’
Fox shook his head. ‘But they’ll want to talk to you. Standard procedure, so don’t worry about it.’ She nodded slowly and he stroked her hair again. ‘When did you last see him, Jude?’
‘Saturday.’
‘The same day he . . .’ Fox gestured towards the plaster cast.
‘I came back from the hospital and he wasn’t here.’
‘Did you hear from him?’
She took a deep breath and exhaled, then shook her head. ‘Wasn’t so unusual, to tell the truth. Some nights, I was lucky if I saw him for five minutes. He’d be out with his mates, and come home next day with the story that he’d bunked on a couch or a spare bed.’
‘Did you try phoning him over the weekend?’
‘Texted him a couple of times.’
‘No answer?’
She shook her head. ‘I expected him home on Sunday, but then ...’ She gazed at her broken arm. ‘Maybe he was feeling more ashamed than usual.’
‘And by last night?’ Fox coaxed.
Another deep breath. ‘By last night ... maybe I was getting worried.’
‘Or anaesthetised.’ Fox gestured towards the empty glass. She shrugged as best she could. ‘When I dropped in yesterday,’ he went on, ‘why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I didn’t want you to know.’
‘I tried calling you last night . . . there was no answer.’
‘You said it yourself - anaesthetised.’
‘And again this morning?’
She stared at him. ‘Have they sent you here to interrogate me?’
‘I’m just asking the questions they’ll ask.’
‘You never liked him,’ she commented.
‘I can’t deny it.’
‘Maybe you’re even glad he’s dead.’ Her voice was turning accusatory. Fox lifted her chin with one finger, so she was facing him.
‘That’s not true,’ he lied. ‘But he was never the man you deserved.’
‘He was what I got, Malcolm. And that was plenty enough for me.’
5
He met Annie Inglis for coffee at the Fettes canteen. Apart from the staff, the place was deserted. Inglis insisted on fetching the drinks while he sat at a table near the window.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ he told her with a smile, as she pushed the mug towards him.
‘Sugar?’ She tipped half a dozen sachets on to the table. He shook his head and watched her draw her chair in. She’d chosen hot chocolate for herself. She fidgeted a little, dabbed a finger against the surface of the liquid and sucked on it. Then she made eye contact.
‘So,’ she said.
‘So,’ he agreed.
‘Any idea what happened?’
‘Building site by the canal. Someone did a job on him.’
‘How’s your sister doing?’
‘Her name’s Jude, short for Judith. I’m not sure how she’s doing.’
‘You went to see her?’
‘She was tucked up in bed with a bottle of vodka.’
‘Can’t begrudge her that.’
‘Jude has a history with alcohol.’ He stared down at his coffee. It was meant to be a cappuccino, but the foam was non-existent. Inglis gave a twitch of the mouth and allowed the silence to linger.
‘So,’ she asked at last, ‘you got to meet DS Breck?’
‘Wondered how long it would take you,’ he muttered.
She ignored this. ‘How did he strike you?’
‘I’d say he’s good at his job. The conversation never really got round to his predilection for kiddie-fiddling.’
She bristled, but only for a moment. ‘Malcolm,’ she said quietly, ‘I’m only asking.’
‘Sorry.’
‘And the reason I’m asking is because Gilchrist and me have been talking ...’
‘Is he your boss, by the way?’
‘Gilchrist?’ She widened her eyes a little. ‘He’s my DC.’
‘He’s older than you.’
‘So your immediate thought was that he had to outrank me?’
Fox was saved from answering by the sound of her phone. She lifted it from the table and checked the
Best thing that could have happened . But what he said out loud was: ‘It’s hellish.’
‘Do they think . . . ?’
‘What?’
‘Maybe I had something to do with it.’
Fox shook his head. ‘But they’ll want to talk to you. Standard procedure, so don’t worry about it.’ She nodded slowly and he stroked her hair again. ‘When did you last see him, Jude?’
‘Saturday.’
‘The same day he . . .’ Fox gestured towards the plaster cast.
‘I came back from the hospital and he wasn’t here.’
‘Did you hear from him?’
She took a deep breath and exhaled, then shook her head. ‘Wasn’t so unusual, to tell the truth. Some nights, I was lucky if I saw him for five minutes. He’d be out with his mates, and come home next day with the story that he’d bunked on a couch or a spare bed.’
‘Did you try phoning him over the weekend?’
‘Texted him a couple of times.’
‘No answer?’
She shook her head. ‘I expected him home on Sunday, but then ...’ She gazed at her broken arm. ‘Maybe he was feeling more ashamed than usual.’
‘And by last night?’ Fox coaxed.
Another deep breath. ‘By last night ... maybe I was getting worried.’
‘Or anaesthetised.’ Fox gestured towards the empty glass. She shrugged as best she could. ‘When I dropped in yesterday,’ he went on, ‘why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I didn’t want you to know.’
‘I tried calling you last night . . . there was no answer.’
‘You said it yourself - anaesthetised.’
‘And again this morning?’
She stared at him. ‘Have they sent you here to interrogate me?’
‘I’m just asking the questions they’ll ask.’
‘You never liked him,’ she commented.
‘I can’t deny it.’
‘Maybe you’re even glad he’s dead.’ Her voice was turning accusatory. Fox lifted her chin with one finger, so she was facing him.
‘That’s not true,’ he lied. ‘But he was never the man you deserved.’
‘He was what I got, Malcolm. And that was plenty enough for me.’
5
He met Annie Inglis for coffee at the Fettes canteen. Apart from the staff, the place was deserted. Inglis insisted on fetching the drinks while he sat at a table near the window.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ he told her with a smile, as she pushed the mug towards him.
‘Sugar?’ She tipped half a dozen sachets on to the table. He shook his head and watched her draw her chair in. She’d chosen hot chocolate for herself. She fidgeted a little, dabbed a finger against the surface of the liquid and sucked on it. Then she made eye contact.
‘So,’ she said.
‘So,’ he agreed.
‘Any idea what happened?’
‘Building site by the canal. Someone did a job on him.’
‘How’s your sister doing?’
‘Her name’s Jude, short for Judith. I’m not sure how she’s doing.’
‘You went to see her?’
‘She was tucked up in bed with a bottle of vodka.’
‘Can’t begrudge her that.’
‘Jude has a history with alcohol.’ He stared down at his coffee. It was meant to be a cappuccino, but the foam was non-existent. Inglis gave a twitch of the mouth and allowed the silence to linger.
‘So,’ she asked at last, ‘you got to meet DS Breck?’
‘Wondered how long it would take you,’ he muttered.
She ignored this. ‘How did he strike you?’
‘I’d say he’s good at his job. The conversation never really got round to his predilection for kiddie-fiddling.’
She bristled, but only for a moment. ‘Malcolm,’ she said quietly, ‘I’m only asking.’
‘Sorry.’
‘And the reason I’m asking is because Gilchrist and me have been talking ...’
‘Is he your boss, by the way?’
‘Gilchrist?’ She widened her eyes a little. ‘He’s my DC.’
‘He’s older than you.’
‘So your immediate thought was that he had to outrank me?’
Fox was saved from answering by the sound of her phone. She lifted it from the table and checked the
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