The Unkindest Cut (16 page)

‘I think we know what came next,' Marie said, suddenly finding her voice. ‘He left you tied up and you were angry because he didn't seem to care if you were stuck there until morning. So why are you trying so hard to protect him now?'

‘Because …' Helen's voice died away.

‘Because you still love him?' Jane suggested. Silence dragged slowly along.

Reluctantly, Helen nodded.

‘Are you going to tell us who he is?' Jane persisted.

Helen shook her head.

‘We can find out easily enough,' said Marie. ‘We only have to ask around the town about who she has been keeping company with. Somebody who knows both of them will tell us.'

‘At least it won't have been me,' Helen said. ‘And I won't be confessing to being an accomplice.'

‘There's no such thing or person as an accomplice in Scots law,' Marie said. ‘Now, what became of the necklace? Does he still have it?'

Helen sat up straight. ‘Would it make a difference if he was to give it back, voluntarily?'

‘A big difference,' Jane said. ‘Provided that he hadn't stolen anything else.' Once again she hoped she knew what she was talking about. It seemed logical and there was sometimes a streak of common sense threaded through the law. Not often but sometimes.

Helen produced her mobile phone. ‘May I ring him?'

‘Yes, of course.'

Helen kept the small screen out of Jane's view while she selected a name and keyed for a connection. A male voice answered. It took Jane a few seconds of visualizing faces and testing the voice on them, but she identified it at the third or fourth try. Helen quickly warned the other that his identity would be known. ‘Go and return that thing to Mr Golspie,' she said, ‘and they'll go easy on you. No, not to the police, to Mr Golspie hisself. Apologize. Say that you got carried away. Blame me if you like – say that I pushed you into it. If you do that, I'll do whatever you want but I'd most rather just get married even if it means a council rental. Yes, I mean it. I promise.' She disconnected.

‘Who was the original Knifeman if you're saying your man just copied him?' Marie asked suddenly.

Helen paled. ‘Honest to God, I've no idea. If I knew, I'd tell you.'

Jane got out of the car and took her seat behind the steering wheel. ‘We may as well be getting back to Newton Lauder,' she said. ‘Do we have to collect your overnight things from the landlady?'

Helen feebly nodded her head and they set off. Perhaps the reality of the situation was finally settling in around her ears as she contemplated the part she'd played in the stealing of the necklace. She just hoped that giving it back would help matters, but she wasn't so sure …

‘W
ell, young lady,' said Ian Fellowes at his most paternal. ‘You've led us quite a dance. We've asked around among the young people of the town and it seems that you have been seen in the company of more than one of the male contingent. Many more. From what Mrs Fox tells us you still have a special relationship with the young man who raided the jeweller's shop and left you tied up.'

‘But he hadn't done any of the other thefts,' Helen said firmly. The air in Ian Fellowes's office seemed to be vibrating with discord. Marie remained there as of right, having escorted Helen there. Jane was still there because nobody had told her to get out and she was curious. DS Bright was taking a record as usual. The little room was packed.

‘You don't know that for sure – how could you?'

‘I could, because he was spending all his spare time with me. He talked about the robberies once or twice. Then he began to say that it would be a good idea to do something similar and let the other whoever-it-is take the blame so that we'd have the money to get married. Anyway, I'm not telling you who he is and I won't give evidence against him.'

‘You realize that the law can force you to give evidence against him – you're not protected by marriage or anything – and more importantly he might attack again with more serious consequences?'

Helen shook her head so violently that her curls danced. ‘I can make sure that he doesn't. He owed some money because he'd lost a bet and he wanted enough to pay it, but I've been saving up and I can give him enough.'

‘Bad move!' said Ian, looking very serious. ‘Just let him get the idea that if he loses money gambling you'll make his losses good and he'll never stop. Never. It's happened over and over again.'

Helen's hands became fists. ‘That's for me to worry about. As long as he keeps his nose clean it's no concern of yours.'

‘It is very much a concern of mine as long as there's any likelihood of him trying it on again.'

‘Which he wouldn't.'

‘Which he certainly would. People get hurt that way. It's happened before. It happens all the time. Anyone can see it except for folk like you.' Ian pointed a finger into her face. ‘He promises never to gamble again. He thinks he can win this time so breaks his promise. He loses. He can't bear to admit it to you. So he has another try at recouping his losses. And this time the victim tries to fight him off and serious blood gets spilled. So where does your boyfriend finish up?'

Helen got to her feet. ‘I don't have to stay here and listen to this. You can't make me.'

‘I could. Don't make me make you.'

‘It's Alistair Ledbetter,' Jane said suddenly. For lack of seats she was standing with her back against the door.

Helen's knees gave way and she sat down with a thump on the hard chair. ‘No!' she said. ‘What's she doing here anyway? She's no right.'

Ian looked as though he had been on the point of saying the same, but he waved away the objection. ‘You're sure?' he asked Jane.

‘I'm afraid so,' Jane said. ‘I was sure that the man I'd seen pass my window was somebody I knew and when … when you mentioned gambling losses I remembered Alistair trying to borrow money off me and insisting that his father mustn't know. I've been thinking it over and over and it would fit with my attack too. He could have had time to leave the limo behind the shops and get to my surgery in the time taken by Knifeman. And the same when I called him to pick me up. And I did think that his driving was a little shakier than usual.'

‘But that doesn't prove anything,' Helen said desperately.

‘No, of course it doesn't,' Ian said. ‘But it tells us who to make enquiries about. When we start asking people whether you and young Ledbetter are a couple, what answer will we get?'

‘They may say that we're a couple, but what does that prove? All right, Alistair tied me up. I'll complain to him all right but I'm not making any complaint to you and if you bring him into court I'll deny it. Perfectly loving couples do tie each other up sometimes.' She blushed scarlet. ‘It's all part of the fun.'

‘You didn't seem to be finding it fun when I found you,' Jane said.

‘Either he has or he hasn't returned the necklace to Mr Golspie,' said Marie. She was standing beside Ian Fellowes. ‘The mobile phone company can trace the call that she made. If that was to Alistair …' She broke off when Ian held up a restraining hand.

Ian picked up the phone. ‘See if you can connect me with Mr Golspie the jeweller, either at home or in his shop.'

‘All right,' Helen almost shouted. ‘All bloody right. He did tie me up and pinch the necklace, all because I'd said something stupid. But I told him to give the necklace back, you heard what I said, and I hope he's done it by now or I'll be furious.'

‘We'll find out, shall we?' Ian said.

‘But do you still love him?' Marie asked. Ian looked at her curiously. Clearly Marie's question was, to her, the vital factor in the equation; but it should not weigh with an investigating officer.

Five minutes later they had the answer. Mr Golspie had just returned to his shop and found a package on the floor below the letter box. It contained the missing necklace. There was no covering letter.

‘There's an end to the matter, then,' Helen said.

‘I'm afraid not,' said Ian. ‘Bright, have Alistair Ledbetter fetched in here.'

Helen was aghast. ‘But you can't do that. He's returned what he took.'

‘Somebody seems to have returned what seems to be the stolen necklace,' Ian said, ‘but none of that is proven. There's a strong presumption that whoever took one thing took others and is the Knifeman, but we can soon settle the matter. Miss – I'm sorry, Mrs Fox I should say. Do you have your microchip reader with you?'

Jane had become habituated to carrying her microchip reader in her roomy shoulder bag ready for just such a need. She placed it on the desk.

Ten sullen minutes later Alistair Ledbetter was brought into the room. The accompanying officer stood with his back to the door. Jane was pushed into a corner. Alistair looked at Helen with reproach in his eyes. His T-shirt was already loose at the back. At Ian's invitation he lifted it and Jane applied the reader. There was no reaction at all nor any sign of a scar or of metallic foil.

‘Very well,' Ian said. ‘It seems that you were not the robber of Miss Highsmith.' He snapped his fingers. ‘I must get used to your new identity.'

‘But at the time of the robbery I
was
Miss Highsmith,' Jane said, trying to keep amusement out of her voice. Alistair winked at her. He seemed to be in good spirits and confident of his own future.

‘We still have a lot of enquiries to make,' Ian said. ‘Do you have a passport?'

Alistair shook his head. ‘Never needed one.'

‘I'm releasing you on your own recognizances. A charge may or may not be brought later. Report to the desk downstairs once a day so that we always know where you are. If you have any information that could help to identify the real Knifeman, you would be doing yourself a favour by telling us.'

Alistair nodded and got to his feet.

‘This evening,' Helen said quickly. He nodded again and left the room followed by his uniformed shadow.

Ian looked at DS Bright. ‘See to the updating of the information on the boards in the incident room.' Bright nodded and made a note.

‘You won't be needing me any more,' Jane said.

‘Not for the moment. Unless you have any more useful ideas?'

‘You'll be the second to know.' Ian looked blank. ‘I'll be the first,' she pointed out. She left the building with a smile on her lips. Pulling Ian's leg had always been her favourite hobby.

J
ane found that she was living at a mad gallop. A new husband brought new demands for her attention and a growing baby bump brought its own challenges. They were in the process of selling the two houses that they had occupied as singles and so the ongoing services of Helen Maple (who Jane had insisted they should still keep employing despite the Knifeman investigation), which should have lightened the load, were largely taken up with cleaning and otherwise preparing the houses for sale. Jane's practice became overloaded when the only other vet within easy reach of the area was involved in an unsavoury scandal and lost half his clients. One of the experts who had authenticated the Raeburn painting changed his mind but his competence was called into question by other experts during a lawsuit over a different painting in different ownership – a lawsuit that seemed destined to last for ever.

All in all it was a relief to be summoned once more to Ian Fellowes's office where Jane could count on being allowed to think of only one thing at a time. She found the detective inspector leafing through a drift of statements and looking harassed. He got hurriedly to his feet and led her down to the former gymnasium.

The scene in what had become the incident room had suffered several changes, the most obvious of which was that the whiteboards now extended all around the room and were very largely covered with printing in many hands and colours; and dozens of photographs. Jane was relieved to note that her own wedding photographs were now almost completely obscured by later additions.

The collator was the only other person present. He, too, was looking harassed.

‘I'll tell you the problem …' Ian said. He then fell silent.

Jane, who had spent much of the day so far on her feet, took a chair, put her feet up on another and let out a deep breath. The chairs, being police issue, were not noticeably more comfortable than tired feet but it made a change.

Ian found his voice. ‘We've been going over and over the known facts and the reasonable suppositions about Knifeman. We've picked out everybody local who comes within a mile of conforming to the criteria of age, size, build and so on. We then deleted anyone who had a shatterproof alibi. We're left with twenty-two names of hot prospects. I'm hoping that you can help us to whittle down the list.'

‘You have tested each of those with a microchip reader?'

‘We have, but without a single positive result.'

‘Then,' Jane said, ‘your next step is to consult everybody who sells lead foil, especially those who advertise it on the Internet. That won't be conclusive, because aluminium foil is more effective than lead, but Knifeman doesn't necessarily know that. Or get each of your remaining suspects unexpectedly out of bed. I don't suppose Knifeman sleeps with aluminium foil taped over his left kidney.'

Ian brightened. ‘Now, that's the sort of thinking I look to you for. You're sure that your two acquaintances are right and lead foil wouldn't do it? We've consulted several sources but the few who have so far replied disagree with each other.'

‘It does it for X-rays. I have an old and very small X-ray machine because if an animal's brought in after a traffic accident I can't wait around for X-rays to come back from Edinburgh. The makers forced me to buy a lead apron and I had to promise to use it if I ever wanted to have babies, but I tried it out on X-ray film and aluminium foil worked better provided that you kept it uncrumpled.'