Free Candles and Roses by Alex Walters Page B

the hell out of us. But she was just laughing.’
    ‘When she moved out of her parents’ place in Culbokie, they had the impression she moved in with you. Wasn’t that the case?’
    ‘Only in a manner of speaking. I was living in a shared house, a big Edwardian place. The landlord had inherited it and was trying to scrape together the cash to do it up properly. So he let the rooms to pull in some money. There were eight of us living in there. When Katy decided to move out of her parents’ place, there was a spare room so she moved in. A couple of us went to help her move. That’s probably why her dad got the idea she’d moved in with me. She didn’t stay long. Just a few months, then she went off to live with some girlfriend who’d got a spare place in a council flat.’
    ‘I don’t suppose you’re still in touch with the girlfriend?’
    ‘Not for years. I can’t even remember her name off the top of my head. Kirsty something? I’ve no idea what she’s up to now.’
    ‘What about Katy? Did you keep in touch with her?’
    ‘She was still part of the crowd. It was a mixed bunch. We were all local. Most of us had been at school together in Inverness, but there were others—like Katy—who’d got to know people and started tagging along. We were late teens, early twenties. I was doing an apprenticeship. A few of us were students. Some were working. One or two were on the dole.’
    ‘What about Katy?’
    ‘A mix as far as I remember. Did bar-work, waitressing, that kind of stuff. She was on the dole a bit when she could get away with it. Never stuck with anything for long.’ He hesitated, as if not quite sure how to articulate what he had to say. ‘If you want my real impression of Katy Scott, I’d say she was damaged goods.’
    ‘How do you mean?’
    ‘Ach, it’s hard to describe. There was something not quite right, you know what I mean. Not quite balanced. I’ve told you about the daredevil stuff, the trouble-making. But there was something—I don’t know—something darker about her.’ He stopped, his expression suggesting he’d said too much. ‘I don’t want to badmouth her. Not after what’s happened. But somehow I’m not surprised she’s ended up like that. You always felt she was destined for a bad end, somehow.’
    ‘Aye, I know people like that,’ McKay said. ‘Why do you think she was like that?’
    Another hesitation. ‘You met her parents?’
    ‘Aye,’ McKay said. ‘Not my type, if I’m honest.’
    ‘It was her dad,’ Reynolds said. ‘I mean, he was a right bastard, that goes without saying. He was a bully, a nasty piece of work. But there was something creepy about him as well. Something about the way he treated Katy. Something about the way he behaved to any young woman, from what I saw.’
    ‘You think he abused her?’ Horton said.
    Reynolds shifted uncomfortably. ‘Look, I’ve no reason to think so. Katy never said anything. Not in so many words, anyway.’
    ‘Not in so many words?’
    ‘She’d talk about—you know, home being hellish. About wanting to get away from her dad. I thought it was just the religious thing, the discipline. But it seemed more than that. Then I thought maybe he hit her. But then, when I met him, when I saw him and Katy together—’
    ‘Aye?’
    ‘I mean he always had—well, like his hands on her somehow.  I can’t really explain it any other way.’
    McKay nodded. 'I get the picture.'
    'But even if there is something in that, what would it have to do with her death? You’re not suggesting her dad killed her?’
    ‘Jesus, no, son. Get that out your head. All we’re trying to do is build a picture of Katy Scott. Her life. Who she was. Where she went. Who she knew.’
    ‘The thing is,’ Horton added, ‘abusers tend to be very manipulative. They’re very skilled at shifting the responsibility on to their victims. They condition the victim to think it’s their fault they’re being abused. That they deserve it. The victim