Simon Beckett - Written in Bone

The angry mounds of Kevin’s acne looked worse than ever against his pallor. ‘I…Nothing.’

Brody crossed his legs, as though the two of them were having a friendly conversation. ‘I think we both know that’s not true, don’t we? I’m pretty sure you haven’t done anything wrong, except for sneaking around outside. And I’m fairly sure we can persuade Sergeant Fraser here to overlook that. Provided you tell us exactly why you were doing it.’

Fraser looked tight-lipped at Brody’s assertion, but didn’t contradict him.

‘So, Kevin, how about it?’ Brody asked.

The tension in the teenager was obvious as he fought between answering and maintaining his silence. Then his eyes went to the tarpaulin-covered body. His mouth worked, as though words were trying to force their way out.

‘Is it right? What everyone says?’

He sounded agonised.

‘What are they saying?’

‘That that’s…’ He darted another quick look at the tarpaulin. ‘That that’s Maggie.’

Brody paused, but then answered. ‘We think it might be, yes.’

Kevin started to cry. I remembered the way he’d behaved around Maggie, how he’d blushed whenever she’d acknowledged him. His crush had been painfully apparent, and I felt more sorry for him than ever.

Brody fished in his pocket for a handkerchief. Wordlessly, he went over and gave it to him, then returned to the workbench.

‘What can you tell us about it, Kevin?’

The youth was sobbing. ‘I killed her!’

The statement seemed to charge the air with an electric current. In the silence that followed, the stink of burned flesh and bone seemed stronger than before, overlying the smell of fuel oil, sawdust and solder. The workshop’s walls reverberated under the gale’s assault, rain clattering like tin tacks against the corrugated roof.

‘What do you mean, you killed her?’ Brody asked, almost gently.

Kevin wiped his eyes. ‘Because if not for me she wouldn’t be dead.’

‘Go on, we’re listening.’

Having come this far, though, now Kevin seemed to balk. But I was thinking about his reaction when Brody had revealed that the body found in the crofter’s cottage belonged to a prostitute from Stornoway. Not just shocked. Stunned. As though he’d only just made a connection. What was it Maggie had said about her anonymous source? It’s not like it sounds. The person who told me…It was in confidence. And I don’t want to make trouble for them. They’re not involved.

‘You told Maggie the dead woman’s name, didn’t you?’ I said.

Both Brody and Fraser looked at me in surprise, but that was nothing compared to Kevin. He stared at me, open-mouthed. He seemed to search for a way to deny it, then his will buckled. He nodded.

‘How did you know what the woman was called, Kevin?’ Brody asked, taking over.

‘I didn’t for sure…’

‘You were sure enough to give Maggie the tip. Why?’

‘I…I can’t tell you.’

‘You want to spend time in a cell, lad?’ Fraser cut in, oblivious to the angry look Brody shot him. ‘Because I can promise you that’s where you’ll be heading if you don’t talk.’

‘I’m sure Kevin knows that,’ Brody said. ‘And I don’t think he wants to protect the person who did this to Maggie. Do you, Kevin?’

The teenager’s gaze involuntarily twitched towards the tarpaulin again. His expression was anguished.

‘So come on, Kevin,’ Brody coaxed. ‘Tell us. Where did you get the name from? Did someone tell you? Or do you know someone who knew her? Is that it?’

Kinross’s son hung his head. He mumbled something none of us could hear.

‘Speak up!’ Fraser barked.

Kevin’s head jerked up angrily. ‘My dad!’

The cry rang out in the confines of the workshop. Brody’s face had stilled to immobility, masking any emotion.

‘Why don’t you start at the beginning?’

Kevin hugged himself. ‘It was last summer. We’d taken the ferry across to Stornoway. My dad said he had some business to see to, so I walked into town. I thought I might go and see a film, or something…’

‘We don’t care what you watched,’ Fraser interrupted. ‘Get to the point.’

The look Kevin gave him suggested he might be his father’s son after all.

‘I cut through some back streets, near the bus station. There were these houses nearby, and when I got nearer I saw my dad standing outside one of them. I was going to go over, but then this…this woman opened the door. She was just wearing a short bathrobe. You could see nearly everything.’

Kevin’s pocked face had gone crimson.

‘When she saw my dad she grinned…sort of a dirty smile. And then he went inside with her.’

Brody nodded patiently. ‘What did she look like?’

‘Well…like she was a…you know…’

‘A prostitute?’

That earned a shamed nod. Brody looked as though this new development was as unwelcome as it was unexpected.

‘Can you describe her?’

Kevin’s fingers went unconsciously to rub the livid bumps on his face. ‘I don’t know…Dark hair. Older than me, but not that old. Pretty, but…like she didn’t look after herself.’

‘Was she short, tall…?’

‘Tall, I think. Big. Not fat, but not skinny.’

He could be shown photographs later to see if he recognised Janice Donaldson. But his description fitted her so far.

‘So how did you know what she was called?’ Brody asked.

The teenager’s face flamed an even deeper red. ‘After he’d gone in, I…I went over to the doorway. Just to see. There were a few buzzers, but I’d seen he’d pressed the top one. It just said “Janice”.’

‘Did your dad ever know that you’d seen him?’

Kevin looked appalled. He shook his head.

‘So did he go to see her again?’ Brody asked.

‘I don’t know…I think so. Every few weeks he’d say he’d got some business to see to, so I…I guessed that was where he was going.’

‘Some business,’ Fraser muttered.

Brody ignored the interruption. ‘And did she ever come to see him here? On the island?’

The question was met with another quick shake of the head. But I was recalling the curt way Kinross had silenced Cameron in the bar earlier. At the time I’d thought he’d simply been irritated by Cameron’s officious manner, but now the way he’d effectively ended the meeting was shown in an altogether more sinister light.

Brody kneaded the bridge of his nose, wearily. ‘How much of this did you tell Maggie?’

‘Only her name. I didn’t want her knowing my dad went with…you know. I just thought…her being a reporter, she’d be able to write a story saying who the woman was. I thought I was doing her a favour! I didn’t know it would end up like this!’

Brody patted the youth’s shoulder as he started crying again. ‘We know you didn’t, son.’

‘Can I go now?’ Kevin asked, wiping his eyes.

‘Just a couple more questions. Do you have any idea how Mary Tait might have got Maggie’s coat?’

Kevin lowered his head, avoiding anyone’s eyes.

‘No.’

The denial was too rushed. Brody regarded him expressionlessly.

‘Mary’s a pretty girl, isn’t she, Kevin?’

‘I don’t know. I suppose.’

Brody let the silence build for a few seconds, waiting until Kevin had started to shift uncomfortably before asking the next question.

‘So how long have you been seeing her?’

‘I haven’t!’

Brody just looked at him. Kevin dropped his gaze.

‘We just…meet up. We don’t do anything! Not really. We haven’t…you know…’

Brody sighed. ‘So where do you “meet up”?’

The teenager’s embarrassment was painful. ‘On the ferry, sometimes. The kirk ruins, if it’s dark. Or…’