Seven Eight Play It Straight (Grasshopper Lawns Book 4) Page 10

  ‘A new relationship? How long has that been going on?’

  ‘A few months. I can’t see what that could have to do with anything?’

  Iain shot her a quick glance at her tart tone and she rolled her shoulders and tried to relax. Hamilton seemed fascinated by the turn in the conversation.

  ‘Is this relationship likely to lead to marriage?’

  She stared at him, confused. ‘It’s been mentioned. But not any time soon.’

  ‘Would he like it to?’ Hamilton persisted, and she felt her shoulders tensing again.

  ‘You’d probably need to ask him.’

  Hamilton asked for Brian’s name and she gave it reluctantly. Iain looked up, surprised, and Hamilton shot him a sidelong glance.

  ‘You ken that name. I ken that name.’ He frowned. ‘Why do I ken that name?’

  Iain cleared his throat. ‘Mr Mitchell is the man who drove Miz Bentwood to the polis station this morning. He was also, uh, a person of interest in the senior singles investigation, but completely exonerated. In fact, part of the solving of the case. As was,’ he added with the faintest emphasis, ‘Miz Cameron.’

  She glanced at him and he went back to turning a pen over and over in his hands and avoiding meeting her eyes.

  Her feeling of baffled resentment grew. ‘What exactly is this all about?’

  ‘Part of the investigation,’ the CDI said smoothly. ‘I would like to ask you some more general questions, about the way your first husband left his money. I’m told he was a very rich man.’

  Edge shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say very rich, not by current standards. He was well off. As to how he left his money, at the time of his death he had wanted to provide a regular income for twelve people who were close to him, and he also had a fascination for an old-fashioned annuity scheme called a tontine. Apart from some property, and two annuities, for me and his sister, the bulk of his estate was paid into the tontine.’

  ‘How does that work?’

  ‘Any tontine, or the one James set up?’

  ‘Both.’ Hamilton sat back, suddenly more relaxed for no reason she could ascertain, and his eyes, although still watchful, were friendlier.

  ‘Well.’ She creased her brows in memory. James had talked about it often enough, although it was a long time ago, and she tried to remember exactly the way he had described it to her. ‘The original tontine was named for an Italian banker called Tonti, who thought it was a perfect way of investing in longevity. You paid a fixed amount to buy into one in your age group. I suppose the modern equivalent would probably be about ten thousand pounds. All the money collected was invested for a period, which was the actual tontine part of it. Say you started one now for people in their twenties, and several thousand people paid to join. The tontine period for them, because of their age, would be forty years, so for forty years all the interest would be re-invested. Then the tontine would start paying out annual interest to all the original investors. As they grow older and start dying off, the annual interest is shared equally among the survivors so that the longer you live, the more income you have. James was in insurance, and the theory absolutely delighted him.’

  ‘So if any one of you dies, the others are all better off?’

  ‘Yes. His mother died about two years after he did. His housekeeper has just died, so the next cheque will be bigger.’

  ‘And does your current, er, does Mr Mitchell know of this arrangement?’

  ‘He knows there’s an annual dinner and dividend. I don’t think I ever told him how the payments were shared out. It never came up.’

  ‘But of course anyone could look up what a tontine is, and how it pays out. If I’ve understood you correctly, if James Bentwood—James Junior—had died, the annual payment would have been bigger again.’

  ‘Yes.’ Edge stared wonderingly at him. ‘Are you saying that Jamey was the target, not Tim? Oh!’

  ‘It’s a line of investigation. Did it never occur to your late husband that an arrangement like that would create a risk of his heirs wanting to increase their holding?’

  ‘Well,’ Edge said frankly, ‘that was one of the things that killed off tontines generally. But no, he wouldn’t think it. He left us all well provided for individually. This money was for the people he loved and trusted the most, to ensure that no matter how old they got, or whatever else life threw at them, they would always have an income.’

  ‘Who is the youngest person in the tontine?’

  Oh, damn. ‘My niece. Kirsty Cameron.’ Sorry, Kirsty, that’s not going to help.

  However, Hamilton nodded, unsurprised. ‘Your husband was very fond of her?’

  ‘Yes. Kirsty lived with us for two years in South Africa before we returned to Scotland, and always spent her school holidays with us.’ She closed her lips firmly. It was none of his business that her brother’s second wife had been wholly absorbed in her twin sons, and disliked her stepdaughter.

  ‘Is there any particular reason you reverted to your maiden name?’

  ‘I didn’t. I married again, Alistair Cameron. He died eight years ago.’

  He ignored her flat tone. ‘Cameron? A relative?’

  ‘Distantly related. There are lots of Camerons in Scotland.’

  ‘Ken. Well, Mrs Cameron, you’ve been very helpful.’ He finally smiled. ‘Iain, any questions?’

  Iain stirred and finally looked up. ‘I think that’s covered everything. In view of your past relationship with Police Scotland, we can tell you a bit more than we would normally pass on to anyone under investigation.’ He looked at Hamilton, who nodded heavily back. ‘For instance, Tim Murdoch’s murderer has been arrested, thanks to a tip off from a member of the public who saw him hanging about outside the house.’

  ‘That was me!’ Edge interrupted indignantly, adding fairly, ‘Although it was actually Vivian who spotted him, and got me to phone.’

  Iain looked faintly surprised. ‘Is that right? I knew it was a Miz Cameron, I didn’t realize it was you. Anyway, he is cooperating fully. He spoke once to a woman who may be involved in the case. He has listened to part of this interview, and we’ve now been told,’ he touched his earpiece lightly, ‘that he is quite sure it wasn’t your voice.’ Iain finally also smiled, albeit the same professional smile of his superior officer. ‘You’ll understand that with both the Bentwoods in residence at the apartment, and in view of the direct financial gain, we had to question you.’

  Edge tried to push for more details, but it seemed that Iain’s contribution to the meeting was over, and Hamilton wasn’t interested in discussion. Edge’s mounting fury turned into a few angry tears in the taxi to Waverley, which she dabbed away hastily. It was too bad! As birthdays went, this was taking the cake, and even she had to smile wryly at the pun. The only consolation was that if the Lawns had stubbornly gone ahead with a ‘surprise’ birthday tea, the surprise would certainly be on them, although that reminded her that she was famished. Nearly three o’clock—breakfast seemed a very long time ago. Once on the train she got out her mobile phone, which she had switched to silent, and looked for missed calls and messages, a little surprised that the only one was a text message from Kirsty. Let me know when you’re on your way, I’ll meet the train.

  Linlithgow – including the Palace and loch

  Edge, gloomily aware she had reached the age where tiny keyboards and aggressive auto-spellchecks were a trial, and had the birthday to prove it, rang instead of texting back. She left a message on Kirsty’s voicemail. If she got it, fine. If she didn’t, there were always taxis in and out of the station and it wasn’t as if she was in any particular hurry to get home anyway. It was perfectly clear nobody had even noticed she was missing, and that Brian was still in the huff, or had even decided enough was enough, which at least would solve that niggling little problem. Old, unloved, and accused of murder. Happy birthday, Beulah, this is your life.

  Aware that she was flogging herself into a black mood, she went to the train lavatory to check her appearance a
nd to blot away any traces of tears before Kirsty could see them. The reflection in the mirror returned her stare bleakly. Hair coiled tidily on top of her head. Faint mascara smudges under the eyes, easily whisked away, and her lipstick refreshed. She was wearing a crisp safari-styled linen suit which was sensible, practical, and comfortable. Maybe her agent was right; she needed to change her image, splash out a bit more. Upgrade her wardrobe, chop her hair into a perm, lose the few extra pounds that Brian kept remarking on, and get out and about, stop letting her life revolve around the activities at the Lawns. Mend fences with Sylvia, who had an active life outside the Lawns, and not only on the dog-show circuit, she was always away to first nights and openings. Or go back to on-line dating . . .but that did make her smile, despite her bleak mood, and she went back to her seat, hugging her elbows against the ferocious air-conditioning and staring out the window at the damp countryside flying past.

  The train’s air-conditioning was so extreme she was shivering when she reached Linlithgow, and her sunglasses fogged up instantly as she stepped off the train into the August humidity. As they cleared she recognized Kirsty’s little red car waiting at the bottom of the platform steps. Despite her best intentions, her lurking rage flared again. She stalked up to the passenger door and jerked it open to glare inside.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kirsty said bluntly ‘but I couldn’t tell you in advance. Your surprise had to be genuine.’

  ‘Surprise? I’m raging.’ Edge got in and slammed the door with force and Kirsty winced. ‘Not with you. And I’m sorry about the car door. But I’m so angry with Fiona I can barely speak.’

  ‘I was, too, but I’ve been thinking since. You have to see it from her point of view,’ Kirsty said fairly, putting the car into gear and pulling out of the station. ‘She learns that a killer was contracted to terminate the man and woman he finds at the apartment. She may even have been told that when he tried to phone, he reached a woman with an Edinburgh accent. When it comes to murder, the polis have to look at who benefits, so when Fiona said it would be worth thousands a year to you—and for that matter to me—they have to overlook favouritism. If I told you that same set-up, about any other family, you’d have been as suspicious. I know you didn’t do it, but no-one’s going to listen to me saying my aunt and I don’t want extra money, even though we don’t care a bean for the horrible Bentwoods.’

  ‘Don’t be reasonable, I’m not ready for it,’ Edge grumbled, then looked surprised as Kirsty took the cobbled high street rather than the road out of the little town. ‘Now where are we going?’

  ‘I brought brown bread,’ Kirsty was apologetic.’ I thought you’d need time to cool down and you know you love the swans. Call it a Thursday treat, seeing you said you refuse to celebrate or even acknowledge your you-know-what this year.’

  She parked next to the loch and Edge, after a rebellious moment, got out. She did love the swans, and they did love their bread. The clouds parted reluctantly and the ruined palace loomed magnificently high above the pewter waters of the loch as the swans gracefully squabbled over the fragments of bread. Ducks of all shapes and sizes nipped between their gigantic cousins and stole what they could, and splashing flashes of temper erupted. A family arrived with more bread in time to divert the birds as Kirsty’s supply ran out. With a last hopeful duck in their wake they walked for a few minutes beside the loch and Edge turned her face gratefully to the watery sun, her wrath dissipating.

  ‘I don’t suppose she’s still at the Lawns. It takes a special kind of chutzpah to accuse someone of trying to get you murdered while still living almost on their doorstep, and on their tab.’

  ‘No, she’s not.’ Kirsty shot her a sidelong glance. ‘JJ won’t be out of hospital until Saturday, and she wouldn’t go back to the apartment on her own. She’s staying with the Murdochs. Not the parents, they’ve gone back into the country, but with the uncle. Apparently they invited her.’

  ‘Huh. That wife of his must be thrilled. I got the impression she didn’t take to Fiona with quite the same enthusiasm Fiona took to her.’ Edge shook her head. ‘But thank God for that. One more evening of her being vivacious and I probably would have murdered her. If you could have seen her last night, treating us all to her interactive star performance and being playfully annoyed if anyone dared to chat privately! Donald was a hero, he could see William was about to be foully rude to her and he managed to distract her into concentrating on him, but I’d been dreading tonight.’

  ‘Now you sound more like yourself. Want to go back to the Lawns, now that it’s Fiona-free?’

  ‘Not particularly, I still have the rest of this horrible day to get through, and I don’t want to see anyone. What happens to you? Still suspended?’

  ‘Yes, although Iain explained it wasn’t because I’m under suspicion, just the circumstances. I couldn’t expect to be allowed anywhere near a homicide where my favourite relative is a suspect and I have a motive myself.’

  ‘Oh Kirsty, I’m so sorry. Do you mind very much?’

  ‘I’m—miffed. But at the same time I do have to see the official point of view. I don’t have to like it! This is a particularly bizarre case, and I’d love to be involved. I probably shouldn’t be telling you—in fact I know I shouldn’t, so put it down to miff. Iain tipped me off secretly. I think he was trying to make me feel better. What makes it bizarre is that the killer, Bart Morrison, wasn’t only being paid, he was being coerced. And pretty shittily, too.’

  Kirsty paused, stared out over the loch, and turned back to retrace their steps. ‘He’s a Weegie heavy and although he’s got a record, it’s for gang violence, not contract killing. He woke up on Monday morning to a text telling him to click onto a particular website address. It was a live cam feed, infra-red, showing his sixteen-year-old daughter in a room, tied to a chair, a two-litre bottle of water with a drinking straw strapped to her chest, and wads of banknotes piled on her lap. Thousands of pounds. The text had been sent during the night and said to wait for instructions but he phoned the number back immediately. That’s when he spoke to the woman who doesn’t sound like you or me. She’s definately Scottish, though; he thought an Edinburgh accent. When he told her he’d seen the website, and needed to know what to do next, she acted as though he was trying to sell her something, told him off, and disconnected. The next text told him where to find the key to the room where his daughter was being held. It was hidden under a pot plant at the Bentwoods’ address in Morningside. If he wanted to save his daughter, he had to kill the man, woman and possibly boy at the Morningside address. Then he’d get a final text telling him where the room was, and he could save his daughter and collect his money.’

  Edge had stopped in her tracks while Kirsty was talking. ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘No, of course not. Who could joke about something like that? Fiona does have a son, after all, although I gather she never intended to bring him. Anyway, Iain saw the texts. And the website. They were trying to trace it, but it went offline without any warning just before noon today. Morrison started spilling the beans the minute the patrol car picked him up yesterday. He’s frantic.’

  ‘That’s diabolical.’ Edge was staring, and then anger flared briefly again. ‘And if Fiona knew any of that, and thought I could be responsible, she’s insane.’

  ‘There’s a bit more. The phone number has been traced to a pay-as-you-go SIM card bought by an American tourist in London two months ago. The American link, to be honest, didn’t help, with you just back from there. You do,’ Kirsty repeated, ‘have to see the official point of view in this. Fiona doesn’t know the details of the kidnapping. That’s top secret.’

  Kirsty started walking again and Edge fell into step beside her. ‘They’re keeping the whole thing hushed up, so the contractor couldn’t know Morrison had been picked up, but the live link to the website shut down anyway. That wasn’t long after Fiona was brought into the polis station, which is freaking Iain and Hamilton out. Either the daughter’s dead, or somehow word reache
d him that Morrison had been picked up. Which is nearly impossible, as the secrecy on this had been absolute. If someone on the investigation is linked, or even talking to the wrong people, it becomes a nightmare.’

  ‘I was going to ask why he didn’t go to the police straight away, but I guess if he’s not a law-abiding type, he wouldn’t.’

  They’d reached the car and Kirsty unlocked it, nodding. ‘He’s got a record, like I said, did time for killing someone in a drunken knife-fight. Not the type who would see the polis as his allies and supporters. And who’s to say, if he had come to us, that she’d have been found in time anyway? Two-litre bottle, less than a third full, before the website was closed down about four hours ago. A couple of days to find her before it’s too late.’

  ‘And no clues in the room?’ Edge pulled her seatbelt across as Kirsty started the car and waited for a disdainful Egyptian goose to waddle past before pulling out of the parking spot.

  ‘No windows, no visible doors, low ceiling, rough uneven floor, leprous-looking plaster on the walls. The experts think it’s an old subterranean cellar, because of the damp patches on the walls, but there’s hundreds of them in the Old Town. It doesn’t even need to be in Edinburgh, just because that’s where Tim was murdered. Morrison’s from Glasgow, and that’s where his daughter vanished. It could be anywhere.’

  Edge shuddered at the thought and glanced at her watch. ‘If she hasn’t gone stark staring mad by now already. I would have. Heavens, I thought I was feeling sympathy hunger pangs but look at the time! Can I buy you a very late lunch, or an early supper, or do you have plans with Drew?’

  Kirsty gave her a cautious glance. ‘Despite your attitude towards your you-know-what, we had hoped you would at least come to the circus with us tonight.’

  ‘Oh, the travelling circus? I saw the posters in town!’ Edge thought about it for a moment, then smiled. ‘I haven’t been to a tenting circus in years, I wonder what it’s like? No animals, I suppose, nowadays.’