Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

to the shocked smiles of a young WPC, Bert had already called back and confirmed he had a warrant.
    ‘What did he tell you?’
    ‘That he located both postcards in Megs’ kitchen, next to the phone.’
    ‘Anyone with him?’
    ‘Sheriff Tyler.’
    Randall frowned. ‘At that time of night?’
    ‘According to Bert, Sheriff Tyler was on his way out for a midnight fishing trip when he called. He told Bert he’d like to come along for the ride.’
    Randall studied his notes, then said, ‘You drove yourself back.’
    Gilchrist had stuffed Ewart into the boot of Megs’ car, unbound and ungagged, and set off across the countryside, following the tyre marks of Ewart’s earlier passing. When he reached the paved road he turned right, remembering being flung across the boot space as Ewart had slammed on the brakes and veered sharp left.
    ‘Yes,’ he said.
    ‘How did you know where you were?’
    ‘I didn’t. I asked.’
    ‘With no clothes on?’
    ‘How else?’
    It had felt odd being naked behind the wheel. The Vauxhall’s heater was shot, giving out little warmth even though the temperature gauge wavered on the hot side of normal.
    ‘And then you made your way here, with Dr Ewart locked in the boot, what, for how long? Two, two and a half hours?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Randall closed his notebook and held Gilchrist’s gaze in a long hard look. ‘I have to tell you that this maverick approach of yours has been noted by senior staff members. You should have called into the office—’
    ‘And done what? Turn myself in?’
    ‘You were causing this Division to utilize unnecessary manpower. You should have at least kept us informed—’
    ‘And what would that have achieved?’
    ‘We would have listened to—’
    ‘You saw how Tosh listened. He wasn’t interested.’
    Randall tried a smile, but he was fooling no one. ‘Tosh can be a bit wild at times.’
    ‘Tosh is on his way out of St Andrews.’
    Randall stilled, as if Gilchrist’s words had struck a nerve. ‘Tosh is well connected,’ he said at length.
    ‘I know,’ said Gilchrist, and stood.
    Randall pushed back and stood, too. Worry etched his brow. ‘We wouldn’t want you to leave the office,’ he said.
    ‘We?’
    Randall’s calm demeanour seemed cracked at the edges. ‘Until we complete our search of Mrs Caulder’s home.’
    ‘And you want me to do what, exactly? Let myself be locked up until you decide I’m free to go? You have the postcards. You have Dougie. Why not let Tosh take him out the back and beat the truth out of him?’
    ‘I don’t think there’s any need to take that attitude.’
    ‘There’s every need.’
    ‘We don’t have any physical evidence linking Dr Ewart to the—’
    ‘Bert will lift DNA from the postcards’ stamps.’
    ‘I hope so,’ Randall purred, his voice back in control.
    Without replying, Gilchrist pushed past.
    In the hallway, he ordered a taxi, then took a seat in one of the interview rooms.
    Bert would find Megs’ DNA on the back of the stamps. Christ, he would have to.

CHAPTER 34
     
    They found Megs at the bottom of the quarry pit, her body chained to the anchor like a balloon in air. Not quite eight hundred metres deep, but deep enough to have kept Gilchrist’s body hidden for a long time, perhaps for ever.
    Ewart was grilled for six straight hours, and for six straight hours, despite having identified Kelly earlier from Gilchrist’s photographs, denied all knowledge of her, swore blind he never had sex with her, that Megs was his one true love. He troubled his inquisitors by insisting that Gilchrist had broken into Megs’ home and interrupted an embarrassing moment, then trussed them together like pigs and driven them for two hours in the back of Megs’ car to the quarry.
    ‘The back seat, not the boot?’ Ewart had been asked.
    ‘Back seat. Have your boys take samples from there. Then we’ll see who’s telling the truth.’
    When challenged by Greaves, Gilchrist suggested Ewart and Megs used the back seat for reliving their student years, which had him worried that he had underestimated Ewart.
    But he still had a few questions of his own to ask.
    ‘Megs said you didn’t have to kill Kelly,’ he had said to Ewart.
    ‘Your word against mine.’
    ‘So why did you do it?’
    ‘I didn’t.’
    ‘Kelly was pregnant,’ Gilchrist said.
    Ewart glared at him, as if seeing him for the first time.
    ‘Did she tell you the child was yours? Were you frightened your parents would disown you,