Free Fire in the Blood (Scott Cullen Mysteries) by Ed James Page B

Iain last." He frowned, and turned to a particular page in the notebook. Cullen gave him time. "On the twelfth of June it would be. They were in the pub in Gullane after a family meal, the day before they set off. If I remember it correctly, they'd had a big bust-up and Alec had taken them out to try and resolve it. The way both Alec and Fraser tell it, the boys were not going to go on their trip. The intention of the meal was to come to an agreement about the company, which I think they did, given that Dunpender is still independent eighteen years later. The boys made up that night, put their differences behind them. As I say, from what I could tell, prior to that, their trip was effectively cancelled and Iain had an advert in the Courier trying to flog their tickets. Nobody took them up - imagine if they had…" Stanhope broke off, lost to some strand of what-if.
    "Did Alec Crombie directly hear from Iain during their trip?" asked Caldwell.
    Stanhope frowned. "He didn't hear directly from Iain during the trip," he said, "but Fraser had called home every other night."
    "Just Fraser?" asked Caldwell, scowling.
    "I think so," said Stanhope. "This was before mobiles, remember."
    "He was calling his father, right?" asked Caldwell.
    "No, it was mostly their mother," said Stanhope. There was a pause. "She was a severe woman, believe you me, ran that house like an army camp. Never got involved in the whisky, mind." He took another slurp of tea. "She passed away a few years later. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to suggest that the strain of Iain's disappearance did it, if I'm being honest."
    Caldwell was frowning at Cullen, looking irritated. "What is it?" he asked, wondering if the same doubts he had were becoming present in her mind.
    "It's maybe nothing," she said, with a shrug, "but did you just take Fraser's word for what happened?"
    Stanhope's face suddenly changed, his eyes narrowing and his lips pursing. "Are you coming here and saying I've done a half arsed job, missy?" he asked, his voice low and harsh.
    Caldwell closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them. "No, I'm not," she said. "I simply asked if you'd taken Fraser Crombie's word for everything that happened on this trip."
    "Well, no," said Stanhope. He handed her a notebook. "Iain's wife got a phone call every other night as well. From Iain."
    Caldwell picked up the notebook and looked through the shorthand notes. She gulped. "We didn't know he had a wife," she said.
    Stanhope laughed. "And they call you two detectives," he said.
    "Steady on," said Cullen. "It's not mentioned in the file. It isn't us doing the sloppy work."
    "I'm ten seconds away from asking you to piss off, you know," said Stanhope.
    "And I'm ten seconds away from asking you if you want to continue this questioning in the station," said Cullen. "You're not a serving officer any more, you know."
    Stanhope took another drink of tea. His eyes scanned the horizon for a few moments, then switched to Cullen, a smile suddenly on his face. "There's no need for either," he said. "Her name was Marion Crombie, nee McCoull. I think she remarried a couple of years later, though I don't know her married name."
    Cullen smiled disingenuously. "Thank you," he said.
    Stanhope slowly rearranged his notebooks. Caldwell held the one up with the reference to Marion Crombie. "I'll bring this back once I've copied it," she said.
    Stanhope rolled his shoulders. "It won't exactly be needed," he said.
    They sat for a few seconds, finishing their cups of tea.
    "We never imagined that his body was here all that time," said Stanhope.
    "We don't know that it's Iain," repeated Caldwell.
    Stanhope winked at her. "Aye, well," he said, "I've got a policeman's hunch about this one. It's a useful thing to have, missy."
    "There's another possibility," said Cullen. "Alec Crombie thinks it could be an Irish worker they had there, a Paddy Kavanagh."
    Stanhope closed his eyes. "Another of my ghosts," he said. "I hadn't been