The Distant Echo. Val McDermid
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was gone for as long as it took to move the Land Rover and walk back. Maybe twenty minutes.’
‘We’ve only got your word for that. We’ve been speaking to some of the other people at the party, and we’ve not had many sightings of you. I think you were away for a lot longer than that. I think you came across Rosie Duff and you offered her a lift.’
‘No!’
Maclennan continued relentlessly. ‘And something happened that made you angry, and you raped her. Then you realized that she could destroy your life if she went to the police. You panicked and you killed her. You knew you had to dump the body, but you had the Land Rover, so that wasn’t a big deal. And then you cleaned yourself up and went back to the party. Isn’t that how it happened?’
Ziggy shook his head. ‘No. You’ve got it all wrong. I never saw her, never touched her. I just got rid of the Land Rover before somebody had an accident.’
‘What happened to Rosie Duff wasn’t an accident. And you were the one who made it happen.’
Flushed with fear, Ziggy ran his hands through his hair. ‘No. You’ve got to believe me. I had nothing to do with her death.’
‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Because I’m telling you the truth.’
‘No. What you’re telling me is a new version of events that covers what you think I know. I don’t think it’s anything like the whole truth.’
There was a long silence. Ziggy clenched his jaw tight, feeling the muscles bunching in his cheeks.
Maclennan spoke again. This time, his tone was softer. ‘We’re going to find out what happened. You know that. Right now, we’ve got a team of forensic experts going over every inch of that Land Rover. If we find one spot of blood, one hair from Rosie Duff’s head, one fibre from her clothes, it’ll be a very long time before you sleep in your own bed again. You could save yourself and your father a lot of grief if you just tell us everything now.’
Ziggy almost burst out laughing. It was so transparent a move, so revealing of the weakness of Maclennan’s hand. ‘I’ve got nothing more to say.’
‘Have it your own way, son. I’m arresting you for taking and driving away a motor vehicle without the owner’s consent. You’ll be bailed to report to the police station in a week’s time.’ Maclennan pushed his chair back. ‘I suggest you get yourself a lawyer, Mr Malkiewicz.’
Inevitably, Weird was next up. It had to be the Land Rover, he’d decided as they’d sat in silence in the interview room. OK, he’d told himself. He’d hold his hand up, carry the can. He wasn’t going to let the others take the blame for his stupidity. They wouldn’t send him to jail, not for something so trivial. It would be a fine, and he could pay that off somehow. He could get a part-time job. You could be a mathematician with a criminal record.
He slouched in the chair opposite Maclennan and Burnside, a cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth, trying to look casual. ‘How can I help?’ he said.
‘The truth would be a start,’ Maclennan said. ‘Somehow, it slipped your mind that you’d been joyriding in a Land Rover when you were supposed to be partying.’
Weird spread his hands. ‘It’s a fair cop. Just youthful high spirits, officer.’
Maclennan slammed his hands down on the table. ‘This isn’t a game, son. This is murder. So stop acting the goat.’
‘But that’s all it was, really. Look, the weather was shite. The others went on ahead to the Lammas while I finished doing the dishes. I was standing in the kitchen looking out at the Land Rover, and I thought, why not? Henry’s away back to England and nobody would be any the wiser if I borrowed it for a few hours. So I took it down the pub. The other three were pretty pissed off with me, but when they saw the way the snow was coming down, they decided it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. So we took it to the party. Ziggy moved it later, to save me from making a complete arse of myself. And that’s all there is to it.’ He shrugged. ‘Honest. We didn’t tell you before because we didn’t want to waste your time over something and nothing.’
Maclennan glared at him. ‘You’re wasting my time now.’ He opened his file. ‘We’ve got a statement from Helen Walker that you persuaded her to go for a ride in the Land Rover. According to her, you were trying to grab her as you drove. Your driving became so erratic that the Land Rover went into a skid and stalled against a kerb. She jumped out and ran back to the party. She said, and I’m quoting now, “He was out of control.”’
Weird’s face twitched, tipping the ash from his cigarette down his jumper. ‘Silly wee lassie,’ he said, his voice less confident than his words.
‘Just how out of control were you, son?’
Weird managed a shaky laugh. ‘Another one of your trick questions. Look, OK, I was a bit carried away with myself. But there’s a big difference between having a bit of fun in a borrowed motor and killing somebody.’
Maclennan gave him a look of contempt. ‘That’s your idea of a bit of fun, is it? Molesting a woman and frightening her to the point where running through a blizzard in the middle of the night is better than sitting in a car with you?’ Weird looked away, sighing. ‘You must have been angry. You get a woman into your stolen Land Rover, you think you’re going to impress her and get your way with her, but instead she runs away. So what happens next? You see Rosie Duff in the snow, and you think you’ll work your magic on her? Only she doesn’t want to know, she fights you off, but you overpower her. And then you lose it, because you know she can destroy your life.’
Weird jumped to his feet. ‘I don’t have to sit here and listen to this. You’re full of shite, you’ve got nothing on me and you know it.’
Burnside was on his feet, obstructing Weird’s path to the door while Maclennan leaned back in his chair. ‘Not so fast, son,’ Maclennan said. ‘You’re under arrest.’
Mondo hunched his shoulders round his ears, a feeble defence against what he knew was coming next. Maclennan gave him a long, cool stare. ‘Fingerprints,’ he said. ‘Your fingerprints on the steering wheel of a stolen Land Rover. Care to comment?’
‘It wasn’t stolen. Just borrowed. Stolen is when you don’t plan to give it back, right?’ Mondo sounded petulant.
‘I’m waiting,’ Maclennan said, ignoring the reply.
‘I gave somebody a lift home, OK?’
Maclennan leaned forward, a hound with a sniff of prey. ‘Who?’
‘A girl that was at the party. She needed to get home to Guardbridge, so I said I’d take her.’ Mondo reached inside his jacket and took out a piece of paper. He’d written down the girl’s details while he’d been waiting, anticipating just this moment. Somehow, not saying her name out loud made it less real, less significant. Besides, he’d worked out that if he pitched it right, he could make himself look even further in the clear. Never mind that he’d be dropping some girl in the shit with her parents. ‘There you go. You can ask her, she’ll tell you.’
‘What time was this?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Two o’clock, maybe?’
Maclennan looked down at the name and address. Neither was familiar to him. ‘What happened?’
Mondo gave a little smirk, a worldly moment of male complicity. ‘I drove her home. We had sex. We said goodnight. So you see, Inspector, I had no reason to be interested in Rosie Duff, even if I had seen her. Which I didn’t. I’d just got laid. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.’
‘You say you had sex. Where, exactly?’
‘In the back seat of the Land Rover.’
‘Did you use a condom?’
‘I never believe women when they say they’re