Candles and Roses (8 page)

‘They’re not even worth a penny.’ McKay was conscious he’d been staring blankly out of the passenger window for the last ten minutes or so. He’d been thinking, with no real focus, about Katy Scott, about her father, and then about Chrissie and about his own life. That way, he knew, lay nothing but self-pity or worse.

‘This is the place,’ Horton said. ‘Next left.’

It was a respectable looking new-build. Neat semi-detached houses with tidy, low-maintenance front gardens, most with at least one new car sitting on the drive. The sort of place that would attract young professionals with a half-decent joint salary. Somewhere you could trade up, step by step, from a tiny starter home to a five-bedroom villa without moving off the estate. The Reynolds were on one of the lower rungs of that ladder, but doing all right.

Horton pulled into the curb. ‘Number eleven.’

The houses along this stretch were largely identical, differentiated only by the colour of the paintwork and the efforts made to personalise individual properties—window boxes, garden furniture and ornaments, decorative door-knockers. All looked neat and well-maintained.

As they entered the front garden, McKay gestured towards a football lying at the edge of the lawn. ‘Patter of tiny feet,’ he said.

The front door was opened before he’d pressed the bell. A young woman, slim with pale blonde hair, was standing inside the doorway. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, in a tone that suggested it was unlikely.

‘Police,’ McKay said, holding his warrant card steadily before her face. ‘DI McKay and DS Horton. Mrs Reynolds?’

‘Yes?’

‘We’d like a word with your husband, if he’s in.’ McKay gave a smile unlikely to provide any reassurance. ‘Just a routine enquiry, in connection with an ongoing investigation. Nothing to worry about.’

‘You’d better come in.’ She ushered them into the house, leading them into a small sitting room. ‘I’m sorry everything’s a bit of a mess. I’ll go and get Danny.’

The room seemed tidy enough to McKay, except for a small pile of children’s toys next to the television. Exactly what he would have expected. Neat modern furniture purchased from some chain store. Large screen TV and a stack of DVDs. A handful of paperbacks on a bookshelf largely occupied by random ornaments. Aspirational was probably the word.

After a few minutes, an anxious-looking man appeared. He was probably around thirty, ginger hair already slightly receding, dressed in a tee-shirt and jeans, his watery blue eyes blinking nervously at them. ‘Danny Reynolds,’ he said. ‘Was it you phoned earlier? I don’t know why you’d want to speak to me.’ He sat himself down in the middle of the sofa. McKay and Horton had occupied the two armchairs.

‘As I told your wife, Mr Reynolds, it’s just a routine enquiry—’

‘Isn’t that what you say just before you arrest someone?’ Reynolds laughed. It wasn’t entirely clear whether he was joking.

‘We’re enquiring about someone we believe was a past acquaintance of yours. A Katy Scott.’

For a moment, Reynolds looked baffled. ‘Jeez. Katy. Haven’t seen her for years.’

‘But you did know her?’

‘Oh, aye. A long time ago. Is she in trouble?’

‘In a manner of speaking. I’d appreciate if you’d keep this confidential at present, Mr Reynolds, as we haven’t had formal confirmation of identity from the next of kin.’

Reynolds jolted upright. ‘Next of kin?’

‘You’ll have seen the news reports about the discovery of a body in the woods up near Munlochy?’

‘Up on the Isle, aye. Christ, you mean that’s Katy?’

‘We’ve reason to believe so, yes.’

‘My God. You never expect—’ He shook his head, as if trying to deny what he’d just heard. ‘Not someone you know.’

‘Can I ask how you knew Ms Scott?’

‘She was—well, just one of the crowd, you know? We’re talking ten years ago.’

‘You weren’t particularly close to her?’

Reynolds looked up in surprise. ‘You mean were we an item? Christ, no.’ He sounded unexpectedly vehement. ‘Is that what you thought?’ He looked nervously towards the door, as if concerned his wife might be eavesdropping.

‘Her parents seemed to have that impression.’

‘Is that why you’re here? Because her dad fingered me. It wouldn’t surprise me. But, no, we weren’t an item. She was just a friend. Hardly even that.’

‘Did your wife know her too?’ Horton asked.

‘Zoe?’ For a second, Reynolds looked uneasy. ‘Yes, a bit. Like I say, we were all part of one crowd. You know what it’s like at that age.’

McKay could barely remember. ‘How did you meet her?’

‘I’ve no idea, really. Probably with some others in a pub. She was just
there
, you know? I’m not sure there’s much I can tell you. It’s been a long time.’

‘At this stage, we’re just after background. Trying to find out what sort of a woman she was.’

‘Well, she was—difficult, let’s say. She was always a handful. I mean, sometimes in a good way. She could be fun. But then she’d go too far. She’d go a bit off the rails.’

McKay decided to take a punt. ‘You’ve a police record for possession?’

Reynolds sat back heavily on the sofa. ‘Oh, Christ, I suppose it’s still on the record, isn’t it? It was only a bloody caution. Possession of a bit of grass. But, yes, that was her.’

‘In what way?’

‘We were coming back from the pub one night. Quite late. All a bit pissed. We got stopped by a couple of your colleagues in the city centre. It should have been nothing. We’d done nothing wrong, except had a few too many drinks. They’d probably just have given us a ticking off for being rowdy. But Katy starts making a big play about what I’ve got in my pocket, like I’m trying to hide something. I’ve no idea what she’s on about, but eventually the cops start taking it seriously. They ask me to empty my pockets, and when I do there’s this little packet I’ve never seen before. Turns out to be grass.’

‘She planted it on you?’

‘Her idea of a joke. I think she was a bit pissed off with me for some reason. Something I’d said or done earlier in the evening. Can’t remember what. But obviously the cops have to take it seriously then, so they haul me off to the station. And I end up with a caution and a record on your bloody system.’ He glanced nervously towards the door. It was evident this was a story he’d never shared with his wife. ‘Which, fortunately, hasn’t affected my career so far.’

‘I don’t think you need to worry about that now, Mr Reynolds.’

‘You never know. I work for a US company. They’re a bit puritanical.’

‘That was typical, was it? Of the way she behaved?’

‘That was one of the more extreme examples. Let’s just say that it didn’t pay to get on the wrong side of her. And she was a daredevil. Did things for the hell of it. I remember her sitting on the fencing at Kessock Bridge, drunk as a lord. We thought she was going to topple off. Scared the hell out of us. But she was just laughing.’

‘When she moved out of her parents’ place in Culbokie, they had the impression she moved in with you. Wasn’t that the case?’

‘Only in a manner of speaking. I was living in a shared house, a big Edwardian place. The landlord had inherited it and was trying to scrape together the cash to do it up properly. So he let the rooms to pull in some money. There were eight of us living in there. When Katy decided to move out of her parents’ place, there was a spare room so she moved in. A couple of us went to help her move. That’s probably why her dad got the idea she’d moved in with me. She didn’t stay long. Just a few months, then she went off to live with some girlfriend who’d got a spare place in a council flat.’

‘I don’t suppose you’re still in touch with the girlfriend?’

‘Not for years. I can’t even remember her name off the top of my head. Kirsty something? I’ve no idea what she’s up to now.’

‘What about Katy? Did you keep in touch with her?’

‘She was still part of the crowd. It was a mixed bunch. We were all local. Most of us had been at school together in Inverness, but there were others—like Katy—who’d got to know people and started tagging along. We were late teens, early twenties. I was doing an apprenticeship. A few of us were students. Some were working. One or two were on the dole.’

‘What about Katy?’

‘A mix as far as I remember. Did bar-work, waitressing, that kind of stuff. She was on the dole a bit when she could get away with it. Never stuck with anything for long.’ He hesitated, as if not quite sure how to articulate what he had to say. ‘If you want my real impression of Katy Scott, I’d say she was damaged goods.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Ach, it’s hard to describe. There was something not quite right, you know what I mean. Not quite balanced. I’ve told you about the daredevil stuff, the trouble-making. But there was something—I don’t know—something
darker
about her.’ He stopped, his expression suggesting he’d said too much. ‘I don’t want to badmouth her. Not after what’s happened. But somehow I’m not surprised she’s ended up like that. You always felt she was destined for a bad end, somehow.’

‘Aye, I know people like that,’ McKay said. ‘Why do you think she was like that?’

Another hesitation. ‘You met her parents?’

‘Aye,’ McKay said. ‘Not my type, if I’m honest.’

‘It was her dad,’ Reynolds said. ‘I mean, he was a right bastard, that goes without saying. He was a bully, a nasty piece of work. But there was something creepy about him as well. Something about the way he treated Katy. Something about the way he behaved to any young woman, from what I saw.’

‘You think he abused her?’ Horton said.

Reynolds shifted uncomfortably. ‘Look, I’ve no reason to think so. Katy never said anything. Not in so many words, anyway.’

‘Not in so many words?’

‘She’d talk about—you know, home being hellish. About wanting to get away from her dad. I thought it was just the religious thing, the discipline. But it seemed more than that. Then I thought maybe he hit her. But then, when I met him, when I saw him and Katy together—’

‘Aye?’

‘I mean he always had—well, like his hands on her somehow.  I can’t really explain it any other way.’

McKay nodded. 'I get the picture.'

'But even if there is something in that, what would it have to do with her death? You’re not suggesting her dad killed her?’

‘Jesus, no, son. Get that out your head. All we’re trying to do is build a picture of Katy Scott. Her life. Who she was. Where she went. Who she knew.’

‘The thing is,’ Horton added, ‘abusers tend to be very manipulative. They’re very skilled at shifting the responsibility on to their victims. They condition the victim to think it’s their fault they’re being abused. That they deserve it. The victim comes to believe it, and they can end up drifting from one abusive relationship to another.’

Reynolds nodded. ‘I can see that with Katy. She was always attracted to the wrong blokes, the ones who treated her badly. I thought it was the danger she was after. But she was always self-destructive.’

‘So if she was abused by her father,’ Horton went on, ‘apart from the fact that we’d want to bring any abuser to justice, it might help give us a lead on Katy’s death.’

‘When you last saw Katy, was she still living in Inverness?’ McKay asked.

‘Yes, I think so.’ Reynolds stopped and frowned. ‘Actually, that’s not quite right. I ran into her again, a couple of years later. I’d forgotten.’

‘In Inverness?’

‘Yes, but she’d moved on by then. It was just before Christmas—two, maybe even three years since I’d last seen her. Maybe six or seven years ago.’

‘Where was this?’

‘A pub in the city centre. The old crowd had pretty much broken up by this point. I was going out with Zoe. A couple of others had got married. One or two had moved away. Anyway, it was a Friday night. Zoe and I had arranged to meet some friends for a couple of drinks after work.’ He gestured towards the pile of toys. ‘We used to do that sort of stuff before the young ball and chain turned up. We were in the pub and Katy came in with a bunch of other women. She spotted me and made a bee-line over. She didn’t look great. She was looking worn, you know? Skinny, cheap clothes, looking a bit older than she really was. I thought it was probably just because the rest of us had moved on. We’d got ourselves decent jobs, reasonable places to live. We’d put the teenage stuff behind us, but she was still in the same place.’

‘You think it might have been more than that?’

‘She just struck me as being in a bad way. We chatted for a bit. She reckoned things had been going pretty well for her. She’d found some counsellor who’d been helpful, had begun to help her deal with things. But of course being Katy she couldn’t be content with that. She’d taken up with some new bloke and they’d moved down south, and it wasn’t really working out.’ He paused. ‘I’m trying to remember what she said. I didn’t really take it in at the time. It was just Katy, blethering on about her troubles. Manchester, I think. She was living in Manchester. Can’t remember any more than that. It didn’t mean much to me.’

‘She didn’t tell you the name of the guy she was with?’

‘If she did I’ve forgotten. It was no-one I knew.’

McKay sat back on the sofa. ‘Well, many thanks, Mr Reynolds. That’s been very useful.’

‘I don’t feel I’ve been able to tell you anything.’

‘You’ve given us plenty to chew on. As I say, we’d appreciate if you could keep all this confidential until we’ve confirmed Katy Scott’s identity. We expect to do that tomorrow.’

‘Can I tell Zoe what this was about? She’ll be worried about why you were here.’

‘Yes, of course. Just don’t go thinking you can earn yourself a few quid by leaking this to the local press. If it gets out, I’ll know where it’s come from and I might have to start telling your puritanical US employer about your unfortunate police record. You get my drift, son?’

‘I get it.’

‘Good lad. There’s one more thing you could do for us, and then we shouldn’t need to trouble you again. Have a think about the people who would have known Katy when you were hanging around together. Anyone you can remember with whatever information you might have about them. Addresses, phone numbers, whatever. Doesn’t matter if they’re well out of date. They might give us a start.’