Quintin Jardine - Thursday legends

'Yes, Juliet, involving the kid makes you a real nutter in my book.'

She seemed to flare at him. 'I did not involve her. Margot insisted; when I told her what Spike had told me, and that I planned to take revenge for her father. She insisted; I couldn't have stopped her if I'd tried. The tranquilliser gun was her idea. The plan for killing Shearer was hers. I didn't know she actually had sex with him, though.'

'Did you know what she did to Luke Heard?'

She looked at him, genuinely surprised. 'Who?'

'Sophie's father; her lover's father; he told me the story tonight. Luke found out about them, and tried to split them up. He was in way over his head, though. Margot knew from Sophie that Howard Shearer was Heard's Private Enemy Number One. She fed him an idea; she would pick up Shearer in his after-hours pub, lure him into a honey-trap, tie him up and take compromising pictures of the two of them together. He went for it; even agreed to pay her. So Margot did all that; only as you, and she if you say so, had planned, instead of taking bed-time snap-shots she cut some bits off him with the rose pruners, sliced him a bit more, then battered him to a jelly with his son's baseball bat.'

He laughed bitterly. 'Bloody obvious now. When Margot saw the body under the Belford Bridge. She didn't scream out of shock, but out of fright. She thought that it would have been long gone out to sea by then.' Her reaction told him that he had hit the mark again.

'You know, Heard shit himself when he came back from KL,' he continued, 'and found that Shearer was dead, not all over the Sun as he thought he would have been. He met Margot; we tailed him. She told him that from now on it would be business as usual for her and Sophie

… or else… having already called the girl on her mobile and told her to jump her ship and come home.'

He nodded. 'Yeah. If you tell me that Margot insisted on being involved, I don't have any trouble believing you.' Then he paused.

'But as for Rhian… that really hurts. Why did she try to kill Bob Skinner? Did she insist too?'

Juliet's voice was almost a snarl. 'No. We did; Margot and I. We told her that she had to play her part. We told her we'd kill you if she didn't.' it might not have been that easy,' he murmured. 'But why, for God's sake? Why kill Bob?'

The eyes flared again, wildly. 'Because he had to be the one behind it. Smith reported to him; he must have known. He must have given the go-ahead.'

'Ahh. You are so wrong, woman,' Martin shouted at her. 'Bob had no idea of what Smith was up to. Alec was as crazy as you. He was on a one-man crusade to avenge his son's death from AIDS. That's why he did what he did. If the Big Man had known about it, he'd have had him sectioned; put away in a Laughing Academy somewhere.

'Alec was so worried about Bob finding out that he made up a story about a knee injury, so he didn't have to face him at their Thursday night football get-together. Then, he was so intent on his campaign, he left the force, to pursue it full-time.

'Bob was completely in the dark about him.'

She gazed at him and decided to believe him. 'You say? Well, no matter, Rhian didn't kill him.'

‘It isn't no matter to him, I promise you. It won't be no matter to Spike either, when he learns that she used his car. He told me that she drove him to the studio on Sunday, then picked him up afterwards.

'You've used that poor innocent guy, haven't you?'

'Only out of necessity; I really am very fond of him, you know. As was Rhian, of you.'

She sighed, with a hint of sadness. 'So, clever Andy. What happens now?'

Martin was about to tell her, when he heard a sound from behind. He turned and saw Margot, wild-eyed, a big kitchen knife clasped in both hands, running at him across the room. Adroitly, he avoided her lunge, and hit her a big, back-handed blow on the side of the head, sending her sprawling on the floor.

'Don't even think about getting up, girl,' he warned her. 'Don't even think about it.'

He looked back at Juliet. 'We'll pick you up in the morning,' he told her, 'when we're ready for you. Don't try to do a runner. You're all effectively under arrest now; the place is under surveillance, front and back.

'Margot's done; that's for sure. So's Rhian; we will find damage and fibres on Spike's car. You may doubt that, but our man Arthur Dorward will, if I know him.

'As for you? Yes, I think I have a strong enough circumstantial case against you. As for me? I'm going to grab a few hours well-earned rest. You have the same few hours to do some thinking… and packing. We'll be here for you early.'

He turned, trotted downstairs, and hurried back into his own house, to Karen. Back to sanity.

It was just after three a.m. when he slipped silently into the moonlit bedroom. The window was open slightly and a draught of air was wafting the curtain gently, in and out, in and out, yet the room was still oppressively warm. Karen was sleeping on her back; she was naked, half-covered by a single sheet, having thrown or kicked the duvet to the floor.

As he undressed, he smiled at her, at the woman who had saved his life, and who had enriched it since with her unconditional love, bringing him a kind of tranquillity which he had never imagined before, yet for which, he knew now, he had been searching through all of his adult days.

He slipped under the sheet beside her, trying not to touch her, not to waken her. He felt a desperate need to look at her in the night light, to savour the statuesque lines of her body, to imprint the perfection of her profile in his mind for ever. And he needed something else too; he needed her once more as a shield, to force away the horrors of the last few hours, as long shots and far-out suppositions had turned into terrible, chilling certainty, as he had finally seized the separate strands of the multiple investigations and woven them into the blackest cloak of truth.

From somewhere in the sleeping Village outside came a muffled sound, as a car engine barked into life, then settled into a steady ticking-over throb. But nothing could have broken into his reverie as he lay there, imagining the life that he and Mrs Karen Martin would have together.

'Well?' she whispered softly. She had not moved, and he wondered for how long she had been awake. 'Do you look like a right bloody idiot?' She turned her face towards him on the pillow, smiling, gently. 'Or did you live up to the bullshit you fed Spike Thomson?'

She saw his grin, and through it to the trauma which lay behind it. 'Andy…' she said, sitting up, anxious now.

'Yeah,' he said, slowly, laying a hand on her thigh, his eyes softening, beginning to lose their haunted look. 'We are the true forensic scientist, you and I… We are, together at least, the great detective… We have, when we need it most, the magic ingredient…'

'You got a result, then?'

'Oh yes, I know who slaughtered Alec Smith, and I know who diddled the Diddler, and I know who tried to kill Bob… and I know why.'

She was wide awake now, intent. 'Well? Who?' she demanded.

His smile widened further. His eyes shone in the dark. 'The answer's downstairs,' he told her. 'In my briefcase, in our living room.

'Go on,' he challenged her, mischievously. 'Work it out for yourself.'

They were found next morning. Mother and daughters, in the back seat of the Vauxhall, in the garage, holding hands, their faces suffused and pink from the carbon monoxide asphyxia. There was no note, or at least…

Dean Village Tragedy by Paul Blacklock Evening News City Reporter

'There was no note found,' reported Detective Chief Superintendent Andy Martin, the tragic trio's next-door neighbour, who raised the alarm and was first into the neat, terraced house, nestling beside the gentle Water of Leith.