Simon Beckett - Written in Bone

‘Oh, God, I’m sorry…’ Maggie stammered. She avoided looking at me as she fumbled in her pocket for a tissue. Pale splashes of soup dotted the bright red of her coat as well as Strachan’s clothes.

‘Leave it, it doesn’t matter,’ he said, irritably.

‘No, please, let me clean it up…’

Her face had gone almost the same colour as her coat, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of what had happened, or because she was conscious of me watching her. Strachan crossly took hold of her wrists as she began dabbing ineffectively at the front of his shirt.

‘Michael? I heard something breaking.’

Grace was coming downstairs, wrapped in a thick white towelling bathrobe. Her hair was piled loosely on top of her head, the ends of it still damp.

Deliberately pushing Maggie’s hands away, Strachan stepped back from her. ‘It’s all right, darling.’ He gestured ironically at the mess. ‘Miss Cassidy here just brought you some soup.’

Grace gave a wry smile. ‘So I see. Well, don’t keep her standing outside.’

‘Actually, she was just leaving.’

‘Don’t be silly, not when she’s come all this way.’

Reluctantly, Strachan moved aside to let Maggie in. As he closed the door behind her, she finally acknowledged me.

‘Hello, Dr Hunter,’ she said, with a look of studied innocence, before quickly turning back to Grace. ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Strachan. I didn’t mean to bother you.’

‘It’s no bother. Come on through into the kitchen while I get a cloth for the mess. Michael, darling, why don’t you see to Maggie’s coat? There’s a sponge you can use in the utility room.’

‘At least let me clean the floor…’ Maggie protested. She was convincing, I’d give her that.

‘Nonsense, Michael can see to that as well. He won’t mind, will you, Michael?’

‘No,’ Strachan said stonily.

Maggie shrugged out of her coat and gave it to him. Without its bulk she looked even tinier than before, yet she still seemed to fill the room with an energy that belied her size.

She didn’t look at me as we went into the kitchen. Grace started to fill the kettle.

‘I feel really bad about this,’ Maggie said to her. ‘Especially at a time like this. Being attacked like that…it must have been awful for you.’

It was time I intervened. ‘Grace, you really should be taking it easy. Maggie and I will be fine by ourselves for a few minutes. Won’t we, Maggie?’

Maggie gave me a look of daggers. ‘Well…’

‘Actually, I do feel a little washed out,’ Grace said. And it was true she was looking pale. She gave a wan smile. ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind keeping Maggie company, David, I’ll see how Michael’s doing, and then I think I’ll go to bed.’

I told her I didn’t mind at all. Maggie watched her go, then her shoulders slumped. She turned to me, angrily.

‘Happy now? I was only being sociable.’

Instead of answering I went to the sink and pulled a sheet of kitchen paper from a roll. ‘You’ve got soup on your jeans,’ I said, handing it to her. I watched as she angrily started to wipe it off. ‘Your gran’s name isn’t Campbell, by any chance?’

‘Campbell? No, she’s a Cassidy, same as…’

Her face fell as she realized.

‘I practically lived on the stuff when I was a student,’ I told her. ‘Cream of chicken was my favourite. It’s the sort of smell you never forget.’

‘All right, so my gran didn’t make it. So what? It’s the thought that counts.’

Her defiance was wafer-thin, but before either of us could say anything else we heard Grace scream. I ran out into the hallway to find her staring towards the open front door, anxiously hugging herself.

A few seconds later Strachan came back inside.

‘It’s all right, David. False alarm,’ he said, closing the door.

Grace wiped her eyes and gave a tremulous smile. ‘Sorry. I’m jumping at my own shadow.’

‘Can I do anything?’ I asked.

Strachan had gone to put his arms round his wife. ‘No. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

‘Actually, we were just leaving,’ I said. ‘Maggie’s offered to drive me back to the hotel. Haven’t you, Maggie?’

The reporter managed a strained smile. ‘Aye. I’m a regular bus service.’

Neither of us spoke as Strachan helped Grace upstairs, then came back down and collected Maggie’s coat from the utility room. There were darker patches of red where he had sponged the soup from it.

‘Thank you,’ Maggie said in a small voice. She looked down at the floor, where the shards of broken crockery lay amongst the spatters of soup. ‘I’m sorry about the mess. And I’m really glad your wife is all right.’

Strachan gave her a cold nod. I told him I’d call out the next day to check on Grace, and ushered Maggie outside. Night had fallen as we hurried to the Mini, leaning into the wind as the rain was driven against us in sheets. It was still warm inside the car, and I belatedly remembered her warning about the broken heater. But that was the least of my concerns as I slammed the car door and turned to her angrily.

‘So are you going to tell me what you thought you were doing back there?’

Maggie was struggling out of her coat and thrusting it on to the back seat. ‘Nothing! I told you, I just came out to-’

‘I know why you came, Maggie. Christ, Grace was attacked! She might have been killed, and you pull a trick like that? Just so you can get your name on the front page?’

Maggie was on the verge of tears as she rammed the car into gear and headed for the road. ‘OK, so I’m a cow! But I can’t just sit at my gran’s pretending nothing’s happening. Whatever’s going on here, a story like this could be a big deal for me! All I want is a few words from one of them.’

‘Is that all this is? Just a career opportunity?’

‘No, of course it isn’t! I was born here, I know these people!’ Her chin came up. ‘And I left you alone when you asked me to this morning, didn’t I? I could have followed you, but I didn’t. Give me that much credit, at least!’

Her small face was pinched and intense. I still didn’t like what she’d done, but her need to be believed seemed genuine. And she was right; she had kept her word that morning. The wind shook the Mini as I debated what to do. If I could trust her. What do your instincts say?

I just hoped I could trust them, as well.

‘This is in confidence, Maggie. Strictly off the record, OK? People’s lives are at stake.’

She nodded, quickly. ‘Aye, of course. And I know I shouldn’t have come out to see Grace…’

‘This isn’t just about Grace…’ I paused, uncertain even now. But it was going to come out soon anyway. Better to tell her now than have her keep snooping around. And perhaps getting herself-or someone else-hurt because of it.

‘Duncan, the young constable, was murdered last night.’

Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, my God!’ She stared through the windscreen as it sank in. ‘I can’t believe it. I mean, he was…What the hell’s going on? This is Runa, for God’s sake, things like that don’t happen here!’

‘Apparently they do. Which is why you need to stop pulling stunts like this. Two people have been killed already. This afternoon it could easily have been three. Whoever’s doing this, doesn’t care who he hurts, Maggie.’

She nodded, chastened. ‘Does anyone else know? About Duncan, I mean?’

‘Not yet. Kinross knows something’s going on, and so do some of the others. Brody or Fraser will probably have to tell people before much longer. But until they do, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.’

‘I won’t say anything. I promise.’

I believed her. For one thing, she couldn’t get word out to her newspaper, but for another Maggie looked stunned. She still seemed shell-shocked as the headlights picked out a shape on the side of the road ahead of us. It was blurred by the squeaking windscreen wipers, then resolved into a figure crouched in a reflective yellow raincape.