2007 - The Dead Pool (2 page)

He smiled weakly at her. ‘I know, and Jamie understood. But you kept in touch with me. I enjoyed your few lines on a postcard from time to time. And maybe that was almost as good as being in touch with Jamie, eh? We would talk about you a lot, you know.’

She returned his smile. ‘That’s a comfort of sorts. But…I don’t know…if only we could change the past. If I hadn’t let Ross bully me…’ She shook her head, momentarily lost for words.

‘You can’t change the past, Kirstin. But I want to say this. It’s been an unsavoury business. Ross’s behaviour, I mean. Even if there had been bad blood between you, that was no excuse. Jamie cared deeply about you. Ross knew that. He’s been unfair to you. And to his father.
And
he’s misled me. I shall be having words with Ross about this.’

She nodded her agreement. ‘Fair enough. You’ll not be surprised to hear that I’ve already done so. But let’s not dwell on Ross’s shortcomings just now. I want to know what happened. At the Cauldron, for goodness’ sake! It’s such a beautiful, peaceful place.’

‘Yes, it is that, my dear. Lovely.’ Unhurried, Donald took a sip of his tea and pushed the cup to one side, a bony forefinger tracing a pattern on the wooden tabletop. ‘Right, well let’s start from the beginning. You’ll remember that after Jean died he knew he needed something to pull him through. And he found it in the river work. He gave it his all. Made a big impression. His boss, a young chap called Glen Laidlaw, really took to him. You should go and see Glen, you know. Within two years he’d made Jamie head volunteer. But you’d gone by then, hadn’t you?’

She felt the familiar sensation of guilt that had been growing daily since she’d first heard about Jamie’s death. ‘Yes, I missed all that excitement. He must have been so proud.’

‘He was. Jamie went at the job with gusto. Took no prisoners. Had it in for those who sullied his river. He hated polluters, people leaving rubbish or folk disturbing the wildlife. Did you know, even when he was close to retirement, that the last two years or so before he left the firm, and for a while afterwards, he was becoming interested in environmental law? He did some pro bono work for a couple of small wildlife charities that were trying to stop a building development on the east coast.’

‘No, I had no idea. I knew he did a couple of evenings a month at an advice centre, handling debt queries, helping small businesses from going under.’ Kirstin smiled to herself. ‘Jamie was always very generous with his expertise. But I didn’t know about the environmental work.’

Donald gave a single satisfied nod. ‘No, he liked to keep that sort of thing to himself. His firm wouldn’t have looked kindly on that, since many of their clients were construction firms and property developers. He’d have made quite a few enemies if what he was doing had got out. I know for a fact he didn’t tell Ross. He felt Ross would never have approved of something like that. And anyway, it would have put Ross in an impossible position at work. By the way, did you know Ross has been made a partner at his dad’s old firm?’ Again, Donald gave a single confirmatory nod. ‘Yes, Jamie gave quiet, informal help to those who needed it against the big and powerful. I think he had become increasingly depressed about his main legal work at the firm and his other interests. You know what a decent man he was. He said that if he’d had his career again, he would have spent it working for the underdog.’

The comment drew Kirstin back in time and she had to stop herself from giving in to the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Yes, a few years ago, when I was thinking of trying to qualify beyond a paralegal to become a proper solicitor, he urged me to follow my passions, my conscience. He said that, in his day, he just fell into property and commercial law. It provided well for him and his family but I’m not sure it brought him much professional happiness.’

Donald returned her smile. ‘That’s right. So, his keenness to be involved with the river association was no surprise to me. He really threw himself into the new job. I saw him go berserk when he caught some youngsters firing an air gun at the mallards and their brood last year. Also, when things get a bit dry, there’s always a risk of fire. Especially in a hot summer like last year. Setting fires is strictly forbidden and that’s what first got Jamie tangled up with one particular group of river users. ‘That shower’, as he liked to call them. I think what really got his goat was that they weren’t children, or even teenagers.’

Kirstin raised an eyebrow. ‘Who were this lot?’

Donald leant back. ‘They were all a fair age, in their thirties, had good jobs, well off by all accounts, and had homes in the area.’ He began counting off his fingers one by one. ‘First of all, there was…Alistair, ‘Ally’ as he was called, and then lona Sutherland. She and this Ally were brother and sister. He’s a financier, or some such, and she was some sort of artist and gallery owner. Then Eraser Coulter. He was a bit of a ruffian and a vulgarian, Jamie said. A builder-cum-property developer. Lots of money.

Was in business with the Sutherland lad. Then there was Bonnie Campbell, a New Agey type. Did massage and meditation, that sort of thing. She runs a homeopathy clinic. I think Sutherland was also financing that. And then there was Craig Irvine and his girlfriend, Morag. Irvine was a scientist. Clever, doing well in the world of pharmaceuticals, and Morag worked for a big headhunting firm. So they were far from being a bunch of useless nobodies.’

‘But why did Jamie get himself involved with these people?’

‘For the simple reason that he couldn’t ignore them or their behaviour. I said to Jamie at the time, it was as if they were all going through their second flush of youth. Behaving in unruly ways. Wine bottles all over the place, camp fires into the evening, abusive language and…well, lots more besides. Like I said, I think they were trying to grab the last of their youthful freedom before settling down. It’s not an unknown phenomenon.’ Donald shrugged. ‘Anyway, Jamie was appalled. Said if Ross had behaved like that, and he was near enough the same age as this lot, then he’d disown his son. Though Ross, as y—’

She didn’t want to get back on to the subject of Ross, and cut across the old man’s thoughts. ‘But couldn’t Jamie have just got the police to have a word, if these people’s behaviour was that bad?’

The old man slid the teapot away from him. ‘Well, that was just it. Apart from setting fires, and the police would want actual proof of that, it was suggested that Jamie relax about the other things. The police were, shall we say, not going to get too exercised over the antics of a few overgrown adolescents. Jamie took the whole matter to the committee that oversees the care of the river, its conservation, the volunteers, all that. The offenders were sent letters on several occasions, but they just went on doing what they pleased. I told him they’d grow out of it, but Jamie had the bit between his teeth. He was livid and got worse the more they ignored his admonishments. I think baiting Jamie became a sort of game for some of them.’ Donald gave a pitying shake of his head. ‘And, to be frank, it became a bit of an obsession with him.’ Kirstin frowned. ‘In what way, an obsession?’

‘Oh…you know, doing regular patrols day and night. Just to keep an eye on things. But, in reality, it was far beyond the call of duty. He kept a sort of record, or ‘surveillance logs’ as he liked to call them, of the entire goings on, all of it charted in various notebooks that he’d type up on his computer. And, as if that wasn’t enough, he would fire off emails for posting on the river association’s website. Quite the…what do they call them?…yes, quite the ‘silver surfer’, our Jamie. Incredible really. He was an old dog who certainly could learn new tricks. And that’s what kept him going. He thought of little else until…until the Cauldron killings.’

‘Cauldron killings?’

‘You mean, you don’t know? Didn’t Ross tell you?’ She shook her head. ‘I only saw him for a short while today. What on earth are the Cauldron killings?’

Donald sighed. ‘Well, brace yourself. I wouldn’t have dreamt of telling you about this in our occasional postcards. I assumed Ross would have filled you in as soon as he saw you. But never mind.’ He paused to take a long breath, obviously readying himself for an unpleasant task. ‘I don’t think anyone will ever know exactly what went on, but one day last summer—Sunday the thirteenth of August, to be precise—they were down at the Cauldron and weir area having an all-day party. Jamie had got wind of it and was all fired up. Morag Ramsay had told him about it. She’d asked him to turn a blind eye, just for once. Mainly because, after that, the friends were all going their separate ways for the rest of the summer. Jamie had no intention of letting them get away with it, but he was thwarted. When it came to it, he couldn’t get down there on patrol that day. His hip was playing up. Nor could he get any other volunteer, or his boss, Glen, to attend. Maybe it was just as well. Those deaths left a terrible mark on the community and on Jamie.’

Kirstin leant forward. ‘In what way?’

‘Well, human nature being what it is, everybody was absolutely horrified
and
, simultaneously, captivated by the terrible killings. I don’t particularly want to go into every distressing detail.’ He paused to gulp greedily at his tea, as if knocking back hard liquor. ‘There had been a lot of drinking, drug-taking and other horsing around throughout the day. Eventually the group decided to play some sort of hide and seek game with Morag Ramsay as the seeker. She found them. The bodies. To put it bluntly, Craig Irvine and lona Sudierland had been battered to death while having sexual intercourse. It happened in the wooded area on the other side of the Cauldron. They were naked and he was sprawled on top of her. It was very bloody, apparently. Catastrophic head injuries.’

Kirstin felt suddenly chilled. ‘
My God!
’

‘Quite. It was awful.’ Donald looked away towards the window, clearly uncomfortable with what he’d had to report. ‘And Jamie felt terrible. Guilty about all the trouble and arguments, now some of those same folk were dead. And then they arrested Morag.’

Kirstin leant back, trying to force down some of the now cold tea, struggling to wipe from her face the horror at what she’d just heard.

Donald was looking directly at her again. ‘Jamie took an active—morbid, even—interest in Morag’s case. Visited her in prison. Offered to help out on the legal side of things. Used to say she was the only one of that shower who had any substance to her. Morag had apparently helped him by talking about Jean and his loss. I think he felt he owed her. And, of course, he believed her to be wrongly accused and Jamie couldn’t abide injustice of any sort. And to add to it all, she tried to commit suicide when on remand. Apparently she made some sort of garrotte from her clothing, attached it to the sink in her cell, and tried to strangle herself. Jamie was appalled by that and swore to help her if he could.’

‘That sounds like Jamie.’ Kirstin smiled. ‘And what’s this Morag like? Have you met her?’

Donald gave a quick nod of the head. ‘Only briefly. Said hello to her once or twice when I was out on the river with Jamie. She seemed a bit stand-offish to me. Not that forthcoming. To be honest, I was quite surprised that they had clicked. And I know Ross was suspicious of her motives in befriending his father. He thought she might be manipulating Jamie, getting him to look less sternly on her group in order to gain some gratitude from them. I’m not sure I’d go that far. But anyway, Jamie was adamant. He liked her. Described her as a ‘lost soul’. Unhappy, depressed but trying to hide it. I know he thought her boyfriend, Craig, was leading her a merry dance. And that she didn’t fit in with the others perhaps? And I think he saw something of himself in her. Like him, she could be a bit sharp-tongued, appear cold and snooty. You know how Jamie could get if he was upset or outraged by something. So, that was it. They got on. It was only last year that he started regularly doing the patrol that takes in the Cauldron. That’s when the trouble began. Before that he’d been on perfectly civil terms with the group, as far as I know.’

Donald looked tired now. The conversation, and perhaps the memories it had brought up, seemed to have visibly drained him. ‘I’m an old man now, Kirstin. At that age when people, the police and suchlike, don’t take me too seriously. However, I knew Jamie very well. We saw each other through most of life’s ups and downs, joys and sadnesses, and I’m ninety-nine per cent certain of one thing. Jamie would not take his own life. There would have to have been some unimaginably appalling reason for him to do something like that. It must have been an accident. And yet, he knew every inch of that stretch of river. ‘It’s a living thing,’ he used to say.’

Kirstin shifted in her seat, feeling chilled to the bone. ‘So, what do you think happened that night? I could only get the bare bones out of Ross.’

Donald paused, a look of hopeless despair on his tired face. ‘I really don’t know, even though I went to the inquiry. It’s all supposition. It looks as if he went out that evening, sometime after nine. I know that because I spoke to him on the telephone shortly before to arrange a game of golf. Is that the action of a suicidal man? I ask you. I told the inquiry this but…’

He stopped to brush a hand over his thinning hair. ‘All I know is that he was found the following morning. His body was caught on the weir. In those conditions—heavy rainfall, flooding—it would be expected to go over, but his clothing had snagged on broken tree branches for some poor dog-walker to find. The so-called forensic experts reckoned that he’d fallen or let himself be swept into the Cauldron just after the entrance to the footbridge. It’s a bad spot in high water. They thought he’d been pulled under by the current and then hit his head on some of the stones and rocks that pepper the Cauldron’s bed. They surmised that he was unconscious by the time he reached the weir. I pray to God that’s true.’ He slumped forward, head drooping, in a pose of utter hopelessness.

Kirstin reached across the table to take his hand. ‘Donald, I’m sorry, so sorry.’

He gave hers a gentle squeeze in return. ‘Something’s amiss. Jamie was different in the weeks before it happened. Obsessive, secretive. I should have paid more attention. I thought he might have been going through another stage of grieving over Jean. But, when I think about it now, there was something else bothering him. I don’t know if anything untoward had occurred. But if anyone or anything caused us to lose Jamie before his time, I think we should know, don’t you?’