Free 2007 - The Dead Pool by Prefers to remain anonymous, Sue Walker

don’t know if it was intentional as such. But he would have known the danger of going down to the Cauldron in those conditions. There had to be some self-destructive impulse involved. I’ve thought about that every day these past five months.’
    Without warning, he sat up straight and banged a palm on the desk, making her jump. ‘It’s left me sad but, from time to time, so angry. Whatever happened to Jamie, some of those bastards that made his life a misery are responsible. At least in part. To that extent, you could say that the river work killed him. If he hadn’t met that lot…but maybe that’s too simplistic. I can’t afford to think that way. I couldn’t live with myself.’
    He slumped back again, the momentary spurt of fiery energy gone. ‘And, as for those sods, it’s pointless trying to get back at them. Two of them are dead. And I suppose the rest of them don’t really matter. Initially, after his death, I had fantasies of telling all, and then shaming those that are still living. I’m thinking of Alistair Sutherland and Eraser Coulter in particular. They led Jamie a merry dance. But,’ he splayed his hands over the file, ‘but this makes it all too…well, as I say, complicated. By shaming them, you forever taint his memory.’
    The impulse grabbed her without warning. She needed to get away, breathe some outside air.
    ‘I…I’m sorry. I must go. I want to think about all this. It’s…not what I expected to hear today.’
    ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told y—’
    She raised a hand. ‘No, no, don’t apologize. I’d far rather know what was going on, whatever it was. It’s just…I need to go now.’
    He was at the door before her, opening it and gently placing something in her hand. ‘Here. My card. My home number, mobile, everything’s on the back.’
    He walked past the deserted reception area and back into his office. At least she’d allowed him to escort her to the car park. He sat back down at his desk, hands clasped, as if in prayer. It had been a lot for her to take in. But he had done the right thing. He’d thought long and hard about it after Donald’s call.
    His hands dropped on to the desk and, slowly, he retrieved the notebook. There had been nothing to worry about. Kirstin Rutherford wouldn’t have stumbled on it during a cursory look. But he knew exacdy where the entry was.
    Man 14⁄8⁄06
    All hell has broken loose. I am utterly at a loss. I feel sick all the time. I can concentrate on nothing. Every minute of the day I try to blot out the memories. But they are seared into my brain. That is my punishment and I cannot escape it. Ross is worried about me, keeps coming round, phoning. Has offered to come and stay or has offered me the option to stay at his house for a while. I don’t want that. I want to be alone. Away from everyone .
    Tues 15⁄8⁄06
    The police are still swarming over everywhere, interviewing everyone again andagain .
    Wed 16⁄8⁄06
    Bad news. Two officers turned up this afternoon. I am to be interviewed tomorrow .
    Thanks be. Glen has agreed to withhold the logs-or, rather, the ‘difficult’ logs. ‘It’s best all round.’ He’s right. We need to stick together. Anyway, he has little choice. Not only would the logs reflect badly on the association (and Glen) if they came to light, but there is a deeper worry. So I, inturn, will help him .
    Gently, Glen turned the page, running a finger down the little notebook’s spine.
    I will not tell anyone that Glen was there on Sunday .
Sunday, 13 August 2006
    Bonnie Campbell ambled along the ground floor of the Scottish National Gallery of Modem Art, easing her way through the throng, and turned right, back out of the main door. She wasn’t really enthused by any of it today. Not by art, not by the prospect of a picnic, not by anything. The idea of spending long hours with that lot had depressed her from the moment of waking. She thought of pleading illness — calling Fraser, who was the