‘How many times does she need to be told!’ snapped Walker. ‘She just won’t accept the fact that George Haggerty has a cast iron alibi for that morning. They were murdered between four and six; George had left at one and was on the A9. The fact he looked at Costello “funny” at Mary Jane’s funeral does not make him a murderer.’
‘She told me he looked right at her and clapped his hands,’ said Wyngate.
‘She told me the same thing,’ agreed Mulholland. ‘And “The Clapping Song” was on the CD, on repeat, when she walked in and found the bodies.’
‘That’s the song where they all go to heaven . . .’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Walker quietly, closing his eyes, summoning some patience. ‘I was there, about four feet behind her. Please, can we let it go?’
The table fell quiet as another table burst out laughing at some witticism.
Anderson said, ‘I did ask George about it. He’s round my house quite a lot these days to see Moses, so we do chat.’
‘Why?’ asked Mulholland.
‘Because,’ Anderson explained slowly, the facts so bizarre that he still found difficulty coming to terms with them himself. ‘He was Mary Jane’s father for most of her life, he has some . . .’ he struggled, ‘emotional right to see her son. Moses would have been his grandson.’
‘Until the DNA proved he was your grandson, you know, after you and Sally Braithwaite had a . . .’ added Wyngate, with his usual skill for saying the wrong thing, ‘fling.’
‘George says he has no idea what Costello’s talking about. He recalls seeing her at the funeral, he might have looked at her. He might have been brushing his hands against each other to keep warm. It was a cold day; he had just come out the crematorium. I was standing right next to him and there was bloody Costello hiding behind a Victorian gravestone like a ferret-faced Goth stalking the dead.’
The image made them smile.
‘George Haggerty might not have been everybody’s idea of a perfect husband but he had cared, in his own way. I have seen his distress at the loss of Mary Jane—’ Anderson took a deep breath. ‘My daughter. He has been generous to me in that grief while his wife and his son were murdered. He’s devastated; he’s on some serious medication. And’ – Anderson looked at them all one by one – ‘he is Moses’ grandfather. George has been dignified over that as well. That child was taken from him with little more than a glance at a test tube.’ He nodded. ‘When the court made that interim judgement, he said “do whatever is best for the boy”. And he meant it. I don’t think that’s the act of a guilty man.’
‘Sounds innocent to me,’ said Wyngate. As the father of two wee kids, he felt he could judge that.
‘And I bet Costello said that was exactly how a guilty man would act,’ argued Mulholland.
‘How does she think an innocent man should react to the murder of everybody he had loved in his life? Given her past, she should know the answer to that one,’ said Walker. ‘And there is the small issue of a total lack of evidence. As well as an alibi that can’t be broken.’
‘You checked?’ asked Anderson, surprised.
‘Bloody right I did. You?’ Walker asked.
‘Of course I did. So did Mitchum. I trust that bastard Haggerty as far as—’
‘I thought you just said—’
‘I know what I said,’ Anderson replied, ‘but that’s not what I feel. I know exactly what Costello is going on about. Yeah, I asked around about George’s alibi. He’s watertight. Police Scotland are his alibi. He was caught speeding up the A9. Dad in care home in Port MacDuff, care home phones the house at 1.10 a.m. George leaves after a bit of an argument. He stops on the road and texts the missus, she calls back. That all maps out. The mobile phone is where it should be. And then, thirty minutes later, he gets stopped by the traffic police. But Costello is . . . Well, George Haggerty is an itch she can’t reach to scratch.’ Anderson opened his palms, grasping for the right phrase. ‘She’s obsessed by him.’ He caught Walker’s eye, a shared thought that neither of them voiced. What the hell was she up to?
The Jenga tower at the corner table of Old Salty’s got higher, somebody was clapping their hands together in delight.
Clap clap.
‘Have you and George really bonded over Baby Moses?’ asked Walker.
‘Well, Moses has Down’s syndrome, he’s three months old. Mary Jane was his mother and she sold him. Seeing he was Down’s, Braithwaite the baby broker rejected him. Mary Jane was then murdered and Moses was abandoned in a stranger’s car. I think the wee guy needs all the family he can get. He’s great.’ His voice was full of pride.
It was obvious to the others that while Colin Anderson and George Haggerty had indeed bonded over their loss, their relationship would fracture the friendship of Anderson and Costello. It explained her absence from the table.
‘You can understand Costello being bitter. She feels that Malcom tried to reach out to her, and she failed him. I’m bitter. I’ve known Abigail all my life,’ said Walker. ‘Abigail Haggerty would have loved Moses, if she had ever been allowed to know she had a grandson.’
Anderson thought that he would have loved his daughter had he been allowed to know Mary Jane existed. But Sally had never told him about the outcome of their one-night stand when they were at uni together, and he had only found out about Mary Jane when her DNA flagged up. Yes, I would have loved to have known her, Anderson thought, but we don’t make the rules.
Mulholland waved a sticky finger in the fiscal’s direction. ‘You have known the Haggertys all your life, and you accept that George is innocent.’
‘I accept his alibi,’ corrected Walker, carefully.
‘And Colin, you share a grandchild with the guy, you know him, and you think he’s innocent. Why the hell does Costello think she knows better?’
‘Bloody female intuition,’ said Anderson dryly. ‘Seemingly that trumps small things like evidence and cast iron alibis.’
‘Well, she’ll have to toe the line when she finally deigns to return to work, when she gets on with cases she’s actually paid to investigate, not go off on a whim of her own. Yeah, a few days back and we’ll sort her out.’ Mulholland gave Wyngate an exaggerated nod, and got one in return.
Colin Anderson put his hands on the table then took a sip of his pint. Something about his manner, his quietness, cast unease over the rest of the table. ‘She’s resigned.’
‘Fuck!’
‘She what?’
Anderson looked at Walker, and gave him a slight shake of the head. ‘Sorry Archie, I didn’t know if you knew. She resigned on Friday the 10th. She wound up Haggerty at Mary Jane’s funeral on the Friday, then spent all weekend asking you, me and the Baby Jesus for help. Then she hangs about Haggerty’s house and he files a complaint for harassment. She gets short shrift from ACC Mitchum and resigns, not wanting to be hampered by the legal restrictions of Police Scotland.’
‘Resigned? Really? Resigned and didn’t tell me.’ The fiscal’s face was etched with disbelief that slowly morphed into hurt.
‘She didn’t tell me either.’ said Anderson. ‘I was told “formally”.’
‘Bitch,’ muttered Walker.
‘Stupid bitch,’ added Mulholland.
‘Brave though, that takes some balls.’ Wyngate raised his glass, they toasted her.
‘To