Читать книгу The Pretender’s Gold - Scott Mariani, Scott Mariani - Страница 14

Boonzie left Belford Hospital with the dreadful image of Ewan, lying crumpled and shrivelled in bed covered with tubes and hooked up to machines, deeply imprinted on his mind. Dr Fraser hadn’t permitted him into the intensive care isolation unit and strictly allowed him only a few moments to peer through the thick glass window at his nephew inside.

A few moments were enough. He contained his rage as he walked outside into the windy, rain-slicked car park. Looking around for Duncan Laurie’s taxicab, he saw it was gone. The guy had obviously got tired of waiting.

The time was approaching midday. Boonzie’s body told him he was hungry but he wasn’t interested. He was thinking about his next move, and that he’d need to rustle up some form of transport of his own, when someone called his name from behind. ‘Mr McCulloch? Hold on a minute. Can I talk to you?’

He turned to see a woman emerge from the hospital entrance and hurry over to him. He guessed she was in her early or mid-thirties. She was wearing jeans and a rain jacket, and the cold wind blew her long dark hair in streams across her face as she approached. She brushed it away. Boonzie could see she was upset. He had no idea who she was, or how she knew his name.

‘I’m Boonzie McCulloch,’ he said. ‘How can I help ye, lassie?’ When you got to Boonzie’s age, everyone younger than forty-five was a lassie or a laddie.

She introduced herself as Grace Kirk and said she was a friend of Ewan’s. ‘I came to see him, but they wouldn’t let me. They told me his uncle was here visiting. Family members only.’

‘There’s nae much tae see, lassie,’ Boonzie said gravely. ‘He’s in a bad way.’

‘Is he … will he …?’

‘He’s alive. Whether he stays that way, or whether he’ll have any kind of a life after this, is anybody’s guess. Dr Fraser seems tae know what she’s doing. I trust her.’ That was a big thing to say, coming from Boonzie McCulloch.

Grace buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh, God.’ She fought with her emotions for a moment or two. When she looked up, her eyes were moist and pink. ‘I can’t believe something like this could happen to him.’

‘I need tae go and talk tae the police,’ Boonzie said. ‘Do ye know where the station is?’

‘I do. I work there.’

‘Ye’re a policewoman?’ Boonzie thought she didn’t look the type, but then again, what did he know?

She nodded. ‘I’m off duty at the moment, but my shift starts in an hour. Now they won’t let me see Ewan, I was about to head back there. You could follow me in your car.’

‘If I had one, I would.’

‘Then why don’t I give you a lift?’

Grace drove an ancient green Land Rover that was speckled with mud on the outside and as crudely minimalistic as a motor vehicle could be on the inside. ‘I’m afraid it’s not exactly luxury,’ she said as they climbed aboard.

Boonzie liked it. ‘The hours I’ve spent in these things. Takes me back, I can tell ye.’

She understood. ‘Military?’

‘Aye, long time ago. I live in Italy noo.’

‘Nice place to retire to.’

‘Retire? Me? Not on yer life.’

‘I’m sorry, I thought—’

‘Ye thought I was old.’ Maybe I am, he reflected.

‘I apologise. What do you do?’

‘Grow tomatoes,’ he replied, then changed the subject. ‘So I take it ye’re no one of the officers looking intae what happened to Ewan?’

‘I’m too close to it,’ she replied wistfully. ‘They wouldn’t have me on the case, knowing we were friends. Plus, I’m only a constable. DI Macleod and DS Coull are leading the investigation.’

‘That’d be who I need tae talk tae, then.’ He looked at her. ‘So you and Ewan must know each other pretty well?’

‘Once upon a time,’ she replied, a little evasively. ‘I’ve only just come back to this area after working away down in Glasgow for a few years.’

‘That’s where I’m from. Born and bred.’

She flashed a sad smile. ‘No kidding? I never would’ve guessed.’ Then the smile was gone again, like a ray of sunshine swallowed up behind fast-moving clouds. ‘This place is heaven to me. I can’t believe something like this could happen here. Especially not to someone like Ewan.’

‘Aye, well, it did.’

When they got to the police station, Grace led Boonzie inside and before long he was being shown into an interview room with the two officers in charge of the investigation, who introduced themselves as DI Fergus Macleod and DS Jim Coull. Boonzie thought that a Detective Inspector and a Detective Sergeant were a lot of horsepower to allocate to a simple assault and battery case, albeit a serious one. They invited him to sit, but Boonzie had done enough sitting on his journey to Scotland to last him a while, and remained standing. Grace hovered in the background, still out of uniform, while the detectives ran through their standard patter with Boonzie, designed to placate and reassure and instil trust, using phrases like ‘bring to justice’ and ‘leave no stone unturned’.

Boonzie cut to the chase with, ‘So do ye have any suspects yet?’

‘Not at this time, Mr McCulloch. It’s still very early days.’

‘Seems tae me ye’re looking at two related crimes,’ Boonzie said. ‘Ewan had reason tae believe that what happened tae his business partner Ross Campbell was nae accident. Now someone’s oot tae get him, too.’

‘We know about your nephew’s suspicions regarding Mr Campbell’s death,’ Coull said. ‘He was here two days ago, telling us the whole story. I should say it was quite a tale. Something about a salmon poacher working the loch at the time of the alleged incident. Also about some gold coins that were in Mr Campbell’s possession.’ Coull added the last part with a raised eyebrow and an expectant tone.

Ewan’s visit to Fort William police station was news to Boonzie. The gold coins were even more so. He said nothing for a moment as he wondered why Ewan hadn’t mentioned them. It could all have happened since they’d last spoken, while Boonzie was attending to certain matters before setting off.

‘I gather you and he have been in contact,’ Macleod said. ‘Just out of interest, he didn’t happen to mention anything about the coins to you, did he? Such as, where exactly Mr Campbell might have found them?’

It sounded to Boonzie as though the cops were fishing for particular information here, though he had no idea what or why. ‘No, it’s the first I’ve heard o’ it. What’ve gold coins got to do with this?’

‘I’m afraid that’s a police matter,’ Macleod said, clamping on the lid with something that looked a little too much like a satisfied smile. ‘Concerning a separate investigation.’

Thirty-three years in the military, twenty-six of them as an NCO climbing up the ranks of the British Army’s most elite regiment, had honed Boonzie’s skill at reading people. Neither Macleod nor Coull was making a good impression on him. He sensed they were holding back. He didn’t like being kept in the dark.

‘A separate investigation? So ye’re saying ye dinnae see these two cases as connected?’

‘Again, it’s too early to say, Mr McCulloch,’ Coull replied in a smarmy, condescending tone that made the bristles on the back of Boonzie’s neck prickle even more. Coull added, ‘And as we’re not generally in the habit of divulging the details of our ongoing police investigations to the public, might I suggest that you go home and let us take care of it? Rest assured, we’ll find the men who did this.’

Boonzie grunted. ‘Aye, we’ve heard that shite before.’

Macleod said sharply, ‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning that I havnae come all the way here from Italy tae be given the brush-off, while my nephew’s lyin’ in a hospital bed wi’ a face like raw minced steak an’ a stoved-in heid he might never recover from. Ye’ve had two long days tae investigate what Ewan told ye aboot the poacher, and it seems tae me as though ye’ve done bugger all but sit on yer big fat arse’ – pointing first at Macleod, then swivelling his accusatory finger like a turret-mounted fifty-cal Browning to aim at Coull – ‘and yer wee scrawny arse.’

With the cops momentarily too stunned and outraged to utter a reply, Boonzie glowered at them both with steely disapproval and added, ‘There’s more tae this than meets the eye, and if the police cannae be bothered tae find out what, then I damn well will.’

Standing in the background, Grace Kirk hadn’t spoken a word. Boonzie thought he saw a flicker of amusement curl her lip, but then she quickly suppressed it.

There were no such smiles from the two detectives. Macleod was the first to bounce back. ‘You’re not showing a lot of respect for officers of the law, Mr McCulloch.’

‘Ye get what ye’re due, son. Nae mair, nae less.’

‘I hope you’re not getting ideas about pursuing any sort of private citizen’s inquiry,’ Coull said, with cheeks flushed the colour of cheap wine. ‘The police take a very dim view of that kind of thing.’

‘Then ye’d best stay oot ma road,’ Boonzie grated. ‘There’s nae room for amateurs in this kind of business.’

‘You’re warned, McCulloch!’ Macleod stood up aggressively from his chair. He was four inches taller and considerably wider than Boonzie, and was all hard-eyed and tensed up like a silverback gorilla ready to attack. It was a display of intimidation most men would have shrunk away from, but Boonzie did not shrink away. He stared at Macleod, calm and cold, and kept staring until the cop seemed to deflate and sat down again without another word.

At which point, the discussion was over. ‘I’m sorry, lassie,’ Boonzie said to Grace, and walked out of the room.