The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(27)

‘I wouldn’t worry about that now,’ she reassured him. ‘Only one CSI entered. She came down from the top to check that no one was mortally wounded inside. I spoke to her supervision. She’s the best there is.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ Ryan scratched his head with both hands, a grim expression on his face. ‘Any evidence in there has been totally compromised. The folly is open to the elements from above. The place is full of debris: leaves, bird shit and things with eight legs. Feel free to check it out for yourself.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ O’Neil gave an involuntary shudder. ‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Ryan. And, for what it’s worth, I agree with you, the place should have been covered over and sealed completely. There was no body though. The Crime Scene Manager made a judgement call.’

‘Shame it was the wrong one.’

‘Yeah, well, what’s done is done. Lock it up. We best get going.’

Ryan secured the door to the temple. They retraced their steps along the riverbank, passing some pretty static and mobile homes, then walked across the seventeenth-century humpback Kenmore Bridge, the point at which the river met the loch. The light was fading as they reached the car.

‘What now?’ Ryan said.

‘The PM for me,’ O’Neil said. ‘I want you on a train to Edinburgh.’

‘From here?’ He was horrified.

‘No, I’ll drop you in Perth.’

‘I assume to visit Trevathan’s chambers?’

‘Correct.’

Ryan glanced at his watch. ‘They’ll be gone by the time I get there.’

‘No they won’t, I checked. Caroline isn’t the only brief with a major drugs case on the go. Edinburgh has one too, and by all accounts it’s not going well. So tonight it’s all hands on deck, everyone staying late. The drive to Perth will take an hour or so. There’s a direct train from there at 17.06 that gets in to Edinburgh Waverley at 18.21.’

‘Waste of time, if you ask me. If they’re that busy, they’re unlikely to tell me anything—’

‘Turn on your detective charm then.’

‘On?’

‘Use your initiative, Ryan. Trevathan’s colleagues are up to their necks in a major prosecution. Distracted and under pressure, they might throw you a crumb to get rid of you. If you draw a blank there, book a nice hotel and hang around at the law courts tomorrow morning. You never know, you might get lucky. Staff love to gossip. Some will talk to anyone prepared to listen. Be receptive, you’re good at that. I want to know if Trevathan’s trial went ahead or was adjourned – and don’t come back empty-handed.’

Ryan’s attention strayed to the Kenmore Hotel across the river. ‘Do I get to eat first?’

‘Sorry, there’s no time. You’ll have to grab a sandwich and eat on the train. We need to get on top of this. Having gathered all the barristers together, listed the trial, warned and prepared God knows how many witnesses, I’m sure the Lord Advocate’s office would’ve pursued the case, with or without him—’

‘Except there’s not a whisper of that anywhere.’

‘I’m thinking it was or is being heard in secret, Ryan. These cases can go on for months.’

‘A new judge would have to be briefed though, surely. That would take time—’

‘They’ve had time. I reckon they would want to begin proceedings at the earliest opportunity. The new judge wouldn’t necessarily be aware of pre-trial issues, so they’d have to read up on the case and hear the evidence when it was presented in court, same as the jury. Why else bother to retrieve that briefcase if they didn’t need to use what was inside?’ She stuck a hand out. ‘Chuck us the keys?’

‘I don’t mind driving.’

‘My ankle is fine now.’

Reluctantly, Ryan handed them over.

O’Neil pressed a button on her key fob. The lights flashed, unlocking the doors. They strapped themselves in and she drove off at speed, keen to reach Perth before rush hour. In his head, Ryan questioned her motivation to be rid of him. He couldn’t help wondering what she had up her sleeve.

‘I thought you said you hated post-mortems,’ he said after a while.

‘I do.’

‘Then slow the hell down. You’ll be attending your own if you put us off the road.’

‘I want you on that train.’

‘Why don’t we swap?’ he suggested. ‘You go to Edinburgh and—’

‘No.’ O’Neil turned left. ‘I have it covered.’

‘I insist—’

‘I said no, thanks, Ryan.’ She shot him a dirty look. ‘Besides, I have something else to do.’

So, he was right.

Ryan crossed his arms defensively over his chest, his focus on the winding road ahead. Ordinarily she took her time while driving, progressive but steady. Not this trip. Hell-bent on reaching their destination, she was pushing on – and some. She could handle a fast ride too. In spite of his comment a moment ago, he didn’t feel the least bit anxious.

‘Don’t sulk,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

‘I’m not. That’s not my style.’