The Distant Echo. Val McDermid
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Brian?’ Eileen said suddenly, anxious for her chicks.
Colin shrugged. ‘He’s not come home. He must have stayed down in the town.’
‘He should be here. He shouldnae hear this from strangers.’
‘He’ll be back for his breakfast,’ Archie said roughly. ‘He needs to get ready for his work.’
‘Was Rosie seeing anybody? Did she have a boyfriend?’ Shaw let his eagerness to be away take over and shunt the interview back on the track he wanted.
Archie scowled. ‘She was never short of boyfriends.’
‘Was there anyone in particular?’
Eileen took a tiny sip of whisky. ‘She’s been going out with somebody lately. But she wouldnae tell me anything about him. I asked her, but she said she’d tell me in her own good time.’
Colin snorted. ‘Some married man, by the sounds of it.’
Archie glared at his son. ‘You keep a civil tongue in your heid when you talk about your sister, you hear me?’
‘Well, why else would she keep it secret?’ The young man’s jaw jutted out defiantly.
‘Maybe she didnae want you and your brother sticking your oar in again,’ Archie retorted. He turned to Janice. ‘They once gave a laddie a battering because they thought he wasnae treating Rosie right.’
‘Who was that?’
Archie’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘That was years ago. It’s got nothing to do with this. The laddie doesnae even live here any more. He moved down to England not long after it happened.’
‘We’ll still want his name,’ Shaw insisted.
‘John Stobie,’ Colin said mutinously. ‘His dad’s a greenkeeper at the Old Course. Like Dad says, he wouldnae dare go near Rosie.’
‘It’s not a married man,’ Eileen said. ‘I asked her. She said she wouldnae bring trouble like that to our door.’
Colin shook his head and turned away, nursing his whisky. ‘I never saw her with anybody lately,’ he said. ‘But she liked her secrets, did Rosie.’
‘We’ll need to take a look at her room,’ Shaw said. ‘Not just now. But later today. So if you could avoid moving anything in there, that would be helpful.’ He cleared his throat. ‘If you’d like, WPC Hogg can stay with you?’
Archie shook his head. ‘We’ll manage.’
‘You might get reporters coming to the door,’ Shaw said. ‘It would be easier for you if you had an officer here.’
‘You heard my dad. We’re better left to ourselves,’ Colin said.
‘When can I see Rosie?’ Eileen asked.
‘We’ll send a car up for you later. I’ll make sure somebody calls you to arrange it. And if you remember anything Rosie said about where she was going tonight, or who she was seeing, please let us know. It would be helpful if you could make a list of her friends. Especially anyone who might know where she was last night and who she was with. Can you do that for us?’ Shaw was gentle now he could see his escape route clear.
Archie nodded and got to his feet. ‘Later. We’ll do it.’
Janice stood up, her knees complaining at their prolonged crouch. ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’
She followed Shaw to the door. The misery in the room felt like a tangible substance, filling the air and making it hard to breathe. It was always the same. The melancholy seemed to grow incrementally in those first hours after the news arrived.
But that would change. Soon enough, the anger would come.
Weird glared at Maclennan, skinny arms folded across his narrow chest. ‘I want a smoke,’ he said. The acid he’d taken earlier had worn off, leaving him jittery and fractious. He didn’t want to be here, and he was determined to get out as quickly as he could. But that didn’t mean he was going to give an inch.
Maclennan shook his head. ‘Sorry, son. I don’t use them.’
Weird turned his head and stared at the door. ‘You’re not supposed to use torture, you know.’
Maclennan refused to rise to the bait. ‘We need to ask you some questions about what happened tonight.’
‘Not without a lawyer, you don’t.’ Weird gave a small, inward smile.
‘Why would you need a lawyer if you’ve got nothing to hide?’
‘Because you’re the Man. And you’ve got a dead lassie on your hands that you need to blame somebody for. And I’m not signing any false confessions, no matter how long you keep me here.’
Maclennan sighed. It depressed him that the dubious antics of a few gave smart-arsed boys like this a stick to beat all cops with. He’d bet a week’s wages that this self-righteous adolescent had a poster of Che Guevara on his bedroom wall. And that he thought he had first dibs on the role of working-class hero. None of which meant he couldn’t have killed Rosie Duff. ‘You’ve got a very funny notion of the way we do things round here.’
‘Tell that to the Birmingham Six and the Guildford Four,’ Weird said, as if it were a trump card.
‘If you don’t want to end up where they are, son, I suggest you start co-operating. Now, we can do this the easy way, where I ask a few questions and you answer them, or we can lock you away for a few hours till we can find a lawyer who’s that desperate for work.’
‘Are you denying me the right to legal representation?’ There was a note of pomposity in Weird’s voice that would have made the hearts of his friends sink if they’d heard it.
But Maclennan reckoned he was more than a match for some student on his high horse. ‘Please yourself.’ He pushed back from the table.
‘I will,’ Weird said stubbornly. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you without a lawyer present.’ Maclennan made for the door, Burnside on his tail. ‘So you get someone here, right?’
Maclennan turned at the open doorway. ‘That’s not my job, son. You want a lawyer, you make the phone call.’
Weird calculated. He didn’t know any lawyers. Hell, he couldn’t afford a lawyer, even if he’d known one. He could imagine what his dad would say if he phoned home and asked for help with the situation. And it wasn’t an appealing thought. Besides, he’d have to tell a lawyer the whole story, and any lawyer paid for by his father would be bound to make a full report back. There were, he thought, far worse things than being nicked for stealing a Land Rover. ‘I tell you what,’ he said grudgingly. ‘You ask your questions. If they’re as harmless as you seem to think, I’ll answer them. But any hint you’re trying to stitch me up, and I’m saying nothing.’
Maclennan closed the door and sat down again. He gave Weird a long, hard stare, taking in the intelligent eyes, the sharp beaky nose and the incongruously full lips. He didn’t think Rosie Duff would have seen him as a desirable catch. She’d probably have laughed at him if he’d ever propositioned her. That sort of reaction could breed festering resentment. Resentment that might have spilled over into murder. ‘How well did you know Rosie Duff?’ he asked.
Weird cocked his head to one side. ‘Not well enough to know what her second name was.’
‘Did you ever ask her out?’
Weird snorted. ‘You’ve got to be joking. I’m a wee bit more ambitious than that. Small-town lassies with small-time dreams; that’s not my scene.’
‘What about your friends?’
‘Shouldnae