Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

woman. ‘Why would you think that?’
    ‘Isn’t that what you do? Investigate murders?’
    ‘And missing people.’
    ‘Ah,’ Ewart said.
    ‘And what about Mexico?’
    ‘What about it?’
    ‘That’s where Lorena’s from.’
    ‘I don’t follow.’
    ‘Ever been there?’
    ‘Never.’
    Gilchrist let the second lie of the day pass. He would come back to that one, catch him out later. ‘Not even with Lorena?’ he asked.
    ‘Look,’ said Ewart, ‘I’m not sure I like—’
    ‘I take it that’s a no.’
    ‘No. I mean, yes, it’s a no.’
    Ewart was becoming flustered, losing some of his guile. Gilchrist pressed on. ‘Do you know where Lorena lived?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Can you remember the address?’ Gilchrist watched Ewart’s face crease into an amazed smile. ‘The name of the town, then?’
    ‘Look, can you tell me what this is all about, please?’
    ‘As you said, I’m investigating a murder.’ Gilchrist moved away from the door, swung his computer case from his shoulder, laid it flat on the desk. He caught his image in a mirror on the wall, thought he looked tired and bruised.
    ‘I’d like to show you some photographs,’ he said. ‘For identification purposes.’
    ‘If you must.’
    ‘We could do it at the office later, if you like. Have you come into St Andrews, this evening, if that would—’
    ‘No, no, this is fine,’ Ewart grumbled, and stood by Gilchrist’s side.
    Gilchrist repositioned himself. From where he stood, Ewart’s face filled the mirror. He unzipped the back of his case and removed the envelope containing the photographs. ‘I don’t need you to see them all,’ he said. ‘Just a few.’ He watched Ewart nod as he slid his hand into the envelope and removed the postcards.
    Ewart seemed to still, as if time had stopped for an instant. Gilchrist fumbled inside the envelope and removed a batch of photographs. He spread them over the table.
    In the mirror, Ewart paled.
    Gilchrist picked up one of the photographs – Kelly alone, her eyes and teeth smiling in the bright sunshine. In the background, a bed of daffodils fixed the date as spring. He held her image up. ‘Can you identify her?’ he asked.
    ‘That’s the American,’ Ewart whispered.
    ‘Yes,’ said Gilchrist. ‘That’s Kelly.’ He looked at Ewart as a thought squeezed into his mind. ‘Did you ever go out with her?’
    ‘Wasn’t your brother seeing her?’
    ‘Let me ask the questions, Dougie.’
    Ewart shook his head. ‘No. Never.’
    ‘Ever go to her flat in College Street?’
    Ewart raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I’m sure I must have,’ he said.
    ‘Must have?’
    ‘Didn’t she share with Megs for a while?’ Ewart shrugged his shoulders. ‘Megs and I were an item for years.’
    ‘Before she moved in with Kelly?’
    ‘Before she even went to uni.’
    Well, that was news. ‘On again, off again?’ Gilchrist suggested.
    Ewart gave a grim smile. ‘Megs can be difficult to live with.’
    ‘And in between, you’d have relationships with others?’
    ‘Hardly.’
    ‘And what about Megs?’
    ‘She’d mope around, make life difficult and then we’d get back together and everything would be fine for a while.’
    ‘And what about Lorena? Did you go to Mexico with her?’ he asked again.
    ‘I’ve never been to Mexico.’
    ‘I don’t believe you.’
    Ewart’s eyes flickered left and right, as if his mind was working out which way to jump.
    Gilchrist picked up another photograph. A winter shot of Kelly with Rita. In the mirror, Ewart’s tongue ran across his top lip. ‘Remember Rita?’ Gilchrist asked.
    ‘Vaguely.’
    ‘She shared the same flat.’
    ‘Look,’ said Ewart. ‘I don’t see what I have to do with any of this—’
    ‘Almost done.’ Gilchrist delved into his case, removed the computer-generated image, placed it flat on the table like a trump card. Kelly stared up at them, half ghost, half alive. ‘We found her.’ he said.
    Ewart’s lips tightened, as if to make sure he did not say something he would later regret.
    Gilchrist turned over one of the postcards. ‘From Kelly to her parents.
Going to Mexico for a short break. Won’t be back in the States until March. Will be in touch. See you soon. Love you both. Kelly. Kiss kiss.’
    Ewart frowned. ‘I didn’t go with her, if that’s what this is about.’
    ‘She never flew to Mexico. She was murdered in Scotland and her body buried in someone else’s grave.’ Gilchrist picked up the Mexican postcard.