The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(32)
‘Correct. He talked Wendy into a run after work one time, sharing the Sunday roast and pretending to be his girlfriend to shut his mother up. You saw how distraught Mrs Fraser was. She’s a lonely woman, unable to cope as an empty nester. Since her husband died, she’d been banging on about James going home so she could take care of him. Taking Wendy along seemed to do the trick.’
‘Did she describe the route they took?’
‘She did. I can’t yet confirm if it’s the course they followed last Sunday but I don’t believe in fairies, do you? If Fraser kept to his routine – I know I do – he almost certainly ran right past our crime scene.’
‘So what, they’re killing randomly now?’
‘Maybe not.’ O’Neil swore under her breath. ‘Where the hell am I?’
‘You’re talking to yourself, guv. That’s not a good sign. Are you lost?’
‘Took a wrong turn. On track now.’
‘You’re suggesting Fraser saw something?’
‘That’s my best guess. His jogging gear and the time of day were a dead giveaway. Whoever killed him would realize that he was a local, not a tourist. They would figure out that he’d come forward when the case hit the press.’ The implication was clear. ‘They have other work to do, Ryan.’
‘You know, you could be right. His mother saw him on Sunday—’
‘For the last time,’ O’Neil interrupted. ‘If I remember rightly, she said he arrived early and left at around eleven a.m.’
‘But I asked her if he seemed worried about anything. She said no.’
‘Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe their presence didn’t register. His killers weren’t to know that, were they? Or maybe Fraser didn’t mention it to his mum for altruistic reasons. You saw her. She’s a bundle of nerves. He might not have wanted to worry her. We need to speak to her again. That’s best done face to face. The poor woman has been through enough.’
‘I suppose they could have followed him to her house, seen her open the door and waited until he left again.’
‘Yup. They follow him home to Whitley Bay three miles away and make sure he can’t shop them to the law. On the information we have, it’s the most likely scenario – unless you have other ideas?’
‘None.’ Ryan took a moment to get his thoughts in order. ‘An unplanned murder makes sense of the tremor in Spielberg’s voice. The fact that the body was left at the scene instead of being removed like Trevathan or the Brighton and North Shields victims.’
‘Exactly. Talking of Brighton, there’s no update there. Sussex police are on the lookout for a victim and will call me as and when there are developments. No news yet from the coastguard. We need to get a handle on this investigation before it spirals out of control.’
Ryan put his phone in his pocket, O’Neil’s words ringing in his ears. Resigned to spending the evening alone, he glanced at a discarded newspaper on the bar, a report into the deaths of four mountaineers in an avalanche in Glencoe, the total number who’d lost their lives in one season reaching fourteen; unprecedented high winds, sub-zero temperatures and extreme snowfall creating the perfect conditions for tragedy.
Depressing.
He turned the page.
O’Neil was dealing with a different kind of avalanche, one Ryan knew she’d struggle to cope with in a unit consisting of two. They needed help but it was far too early to tackle her on the subject. With the Lord Advocate, Scotland’s Solicitor General and the Crown Agent baying for justice on Trevathan’s behalf, she’d want to be seen to be keeping all the balls in the air, demonstrating progress before utilizing her authority to take on more staff. Her reputation was at stake. His too, now he came to think of it.
‘You going to buy me a pint or ignore me?’ The voice took him by surprise.
Ryan swung round.
O’Neil was standing right behind him, a glum expression on her face. ‘My ankle’s killing me, I’m dog-tired, starving and could use a drink. Couldn’t be arsed to drive home. Are you happy to keep me company? I’m wearing a new scent. It’s called Mortuary. I’m surprised they let me in here.’
Ryan couldn’t tell her how pleased he was to see her. ‘My shout, guv, what can I get you?’
O’Neil glanced at the optics behind the bar. ‘Seeing as we’re in Scotland, I’ll have a wee dram of Jura Air.’ She smiled at him. ‘Second thoughts, let’s live dangerously and make it a double. I need a good kip and we’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’
18
They arrived at Parliament Square before nine, splitting up once inside the High Court so they could cover the building quickly and rendezvous in the car park at eleven, ready to return to Newcastle in good time. Ryan got there first. While he waited for O’Neil to surface, he tried Caroline again. They still hadn’t made contact and he was starting to get worried.
This time he got through.
Ryan was hanging up as O’Neil walked out into the sunshine at a fast pace, head down, unaware that he was watching her. He’d enjoyed hanging out with her last night – more than he cared to admit – and when they parted for separate rooms he felt dismayed. She drove him mad and he strongly suspected that she knew it.