The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (best value ebook reader TXT) 📗

'But James was such a quiet man. He wouldn't have said all these things.'

'But he did say them Mrs Sinclair, I'm afraid,' Frank said. 'It's all in our evidence file, in black and white. He did say them.'

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He kept his eyes firmly closed as Lexy, her driving having now morphed from over-cautious to over-confident, swung the big Volvo left and right down the twisty glen that led to the village of Lochmorehead. Partially it was because he really didn't want to have to look where they were going, but it was mainly because it helped him think. Assuming he could stay awake that was, because the rocking motion was causing him to drift off.

Jess Sinclair hadn't been much help, other than confirming what they already knew. His marriage to Morag had been in difficulty and that presented a cast-iron motive for the killing. If I can't have you, then no-one else will have you either. They got about a dozen of these a year in the Met alone, so it was hardly unusual. So strong was the motive and the evidence, it was easy to forget that James McKay hadn't actually done it. He wondered too if there was anything in Jess's belief that he wouldn't have said all these things in his emails to his wife. But that was crazy, and he quickly dismissed it from his mind.

However, there was no doubting that whilst Pollock might be a sly bastard, he was no fool. He would have known at the time that the case against Lieutenant James McKay didn't quite stack up, and somewhere tucked away in that file there must be a fact or two that could prove it. The problem was that for them, it would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

Then suddenly a modest smile of satisfaction spread across his features as, quite out of the blue, a rather brilliant idea came to him through his semi-meditative state. Because whilst he and Lexy might not know where to look in that bloody file, Chief Constable Sir Brian Pollock most definitely would. And what's more, Frank thought he now knew how to tease it out of him. For that, he would need to enrol the services of Maggie Bainbridge and her associate. And of course DCI Jill Smart had furnished him with plenty of budget in the kitty to cover it. No bother.

Chapter 14

The flight from Heathrow to Glasgow Airport was a mere sixty minutes in duration and equipped only with overnight bags, it hadn't taken them long to de-plane, as the lead flight attendant had described it, and reach the concourse area, where the rental car booths were located. At which point the operation had gone somewhat belly-up, on account of Jimmy's driving licence having an out-of-date photo and Maggie having forgotten to bring hers with her at all.

'Look, you can see it's me,' Jimmy was arguing, holding up the licence and stabbing at the picture with his forefinger. 'It's supposed to be just for ID purposes, and anyone can see it's me. And we've got a booking. Look, here's the paperwork, I printed it out just in case.'

The desk clerk, wearing a badge that identified him as Calum, and clearly harassed from dealing with the early-morning rush, was determined to be unmoved. Maggie cursed their luck for finding this spotty youth on duty rather than one of the usual smartly-uniformed young women, upon whom Jimmy would have been able to cast his spell. She thought it likely the youth would be immune to her physical charms, that of a forty-two-year-old former barrister who never looked her best after an early start, but that didn't mean she couldn't dust down some of her old advocacy skills. Not that she'd been much good at that either.

'Calum,' she said, in what she hoped was a respectful tone, 'I know you're only doing your job, but this is really really important.' She dropped her voice to a whisper so Jimmy couldn't hear. 'And I'm sorry about my brother, but it's just that he's terribly upset. We're going to our mum's funeral you see. She died very suddenly and it's been a huge shock to us all as you can imagine.'

The youth gave her a suspicious look. 'I'll speak to my manager. Wait here,' he said, disappearing off into the little office behind the front desk. To the rear of them, a queue of customers who had been hoping for a swift and efficient transaction were starting to make their displeasure heard.

A couple of minutes later he re-emerged. 'My manager says we can retain a credit card as security on this occasion. And she says we'll have to charge you an extra insurance fee of a hundred and twenty pounds. She says it's refundable if you bring back the car on time and undamaged.' He didn't look or sound pleased about any of it.

'What did you say to him?' Jimmy asked, as they made their way to the multi-storey car park, keys in hand.

'I told him we were going to a funeral.' Maggie hoped he wouldn't ask for any more details.

'You lied,' he laughed.

'I'm a barrister, remember? That's what we do.'

They had three or four hours to spare before their early afternoon meeting with Alison Macallan in Lochmorehead, which Jimmy had decided would be used to show her some of the sights of his home city.

'Been to Glasgow before boss?'

'Nope, never,' she said. 'I don't think I'd even been to Scotland before my last trip to see Alison.' That time when she'd sneaked a visit to Dr Flora Stewart.

'Well you've got a wee treat in store,' he said, smiling. 'I'll take you up to the West End and show you the Uni and all my old haunts. It's beautiful at this time of year, with all the trees turning to gold in Kelvingrove. That's the park that sits alongside the river Kelvin. A really nice spot.'

They parked up on a long tree-lined avenue that