Free Dead in the Water by Aline Templeton

Naismith had always seemed quite an efficient way of catching up with what had happened overnight. Now she got a report on her desk instead: more paperwork, less real information.
    Fleming sighed. She was getting more like her father all the time. And thinking of her father . . . The case had been on her mind ever since she’d been forced to leave it yesterday and she was in a hurry to get back to it.
    She had left the papers ready on her desk, with the second set of interviews with the Grants on top. She switched off her phone, paired them with the earlier ones, and settled down to read.
    Robert Grant, Ailsa’s father, had accepted her suicide unquestioningly and even after the pathologist’s findings seemed unconvinced. The words ‘some mistake’ featured – had he special reason to block an enquiry? The son mentioned family rows, but then clammed up.
    Jean Grant, like her husband and son, had said the three of them were together all evening and Ailsa was the only one who went out. But she had from the first flatly refused to accept her daughter had killed herself, and talked of a phone call to Ailsa that afternoon, and then of her putting on make-up before she left.
    With a pang, Fleming thought of the young woman preparing to go out: her skin with that pregnant glow, eyes carefully shaded, mouth reddened before she put on the pretty blue coat, straining against the bump perhaps. Had she gone to meet her lover eagerly, hopeful that he would take her away, or offer marriage, even? Had she taken luggage with her? No one seemed to have checked.
    The Grants had been asked separately if they knew who the father of the child was. Both men said no, but Jean had hinted at knowledge, while admitting her daughter had not actually told her.
    It was only on hearing the report of murder that she made an astonishingly direct accusation. With a fiercely vindictive tone which came through the formal phrases, she claimed her daughter had been killed by Marcus Lazansky, a former boyfriend who had rejected Ailsa, then gone to Glasgow. Later, despite her mother’s dark warnings, Ailsa had followed him there, with this result. Jean offered no evidence; she ‘just knew’.
    Marcus Lazansky – the man Janet had been talking about only yesterday, now Marcus Lindsay. How strange he should be here, just now! Though of course, since the man owned a house in the area, it wasn’t really that surprising.
    It took some time to work through intervening reports, most of them detailing enquiries which had led nowhere, then at last she came to the follow-up on Lazansky.
    Donald Bailey had interviewed his parents, Ladislav and Flora. They had stated categorically that their son was in the United States and had been there all year, which, Bailey accepted, let Marcus off the hook.
    Fleming sat back to consider it, looked at her watch and was astonished to discover it was almost eleven o’clock. She’d better check there were no urgent messages on the answer machine.
    There were several, all routine stuff until the last one. The acting Procurator Fiscal’s voice said crisply, ‘Inspector Fleming, I understand you have been tasked with reviewing the Ailsa Grant case. I shall want a report from you on your progress as soon as possible. Perhaps you can call me – when you decide to return to your office.’
    Fleming slammed down the receiver and swore, loudly, just as a knock came on the door and DC Kerr opened it, then stopped on the threshold. ‘Sorry, boss! Is this a bad time?’
    Fleming controlled herself. ‘No, no, Tansy. Come in. It’s as well you interrupted me before I strangled the phone, since I can’t reach the Fiscal’s neck. And you never heard me say that.’
    Kerr grinned. ‘Sorry – what was that? Sudden attack of deafness. Must see the doctor.’
    ‘Nasty, deafness. Still, I’m glad you didn’t catch what I said. An innocent young woman like you shouldn’t hear language like that.’
    ‘Wouldn’t have understood it if I