Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

Where Dr Black had it long and straight and blonde, the popular style in the sixties, Kelly had worn hers short. He also remembered her teeth being perfect, the whitest he had ever seen. American dentistry could do that. And the tiniest of scars on her chin was not there, although in all fairness to Dr Black, she could never have known.
    He brushed his fingers across the monitor.
    ‘What d’you think, boss?’
    He had carried her skull, lifted it with his bare hands, held it close to his face, trying to develop a feel for the young woman behind it, never knowing that—
    ‘Boss?’
    Gilchrist tilted his head to Stan, but he could not peel his gaze from her eyes.
    ‘You all right, boss?’
    ‘Kelly Roberts.’
    Stan looked to the screen, then back at Gilchrist. ‘You know her?’
    Gilchrist let out a rush of breath. ‘She used to go out with my brother Jack.’
    Stan pulled a hand over his mouth, down on to his chin. ‘Shit.’
    ‘They split up not long before Jack was killed.’
    Stan frowned. ‘I’m sorry, boss. I never knew your brother had . . .’
    Gilchrist nodded. ‘I never saw her again. Now I know why.’
    Stan pulled out his notebook. ‘What was she like? As a person, I mean.’
    ‘Friendly. Vivacious. Confident. She was American. A student at St Andrews University.’ He eyed the screen again. ‘She worked part-time in Lafferty’s, The Criterion back then, which was where he went for his underage drinking. He said she fell in love with St Andrews on one of her father’s golfing trips.’
    ‘Were her parents alive back then?’
    ‘I’ve no idea. But Jack never said they weren’t.’
    ‘Any reason why he would keep it from you if they were dead?’
    Gilchrist shrugged. ‘None that I know of.’
    ‘So why didn’t they report her missing?’
    ‘Maybe they did. But in the States.’
    Stan scribbled in his notebook.
    ‘The relationship was serious,’ Gilchrist said. ‘Jack once told me she was special.’
    At that, Stan faced the screen, raised his eyebrows.
    ‘He used to bring her round to our home on Friday nights,’ Gilchrist pressed on, ‘before they went out to the cinema. I was twelve, Jack was seventeen, but mature way beyond his years. When he first introduced Kelly to our parents, I remember our old man couldn’t keep his eyes off her legs.’ Gilchrist shook his head at the memory. ‘Back then, the girls used to wear skirts as short as wide belts.’ He nodded as another memory came back to him. ‘And she never wore jewellery, Stan. I remember that, too. Only a watch.’
    ‘No watch was found, boss.’
    ‘Taken off and thrown away,’ Gilchrist said. He studied the screen, thought her image no longer looked as familiar, as if she had morphed to a sister lookalike. The shape of her mouth seemed wrong to him now, tighter where he recalled her lips being fuller. Her cheeks, too, more rounded where they should have been sculpted. But if he narrowed his eyes, let the image fade out of focus, her likeness returned to the beautiful woman his brother Jack had called
special
.
    ‘See if you can dig up her records from uni,’ he said to Stan. ‘That should give us her home address. If her parents are still alive, I’d like to talk to them.’
     
    Gilchrist had just taken a sip of his Eighty when Gina Belli said, ‘A man of habit, I see.’
    Defeated, he gestured to the seat opposite. ‘Why don’t you join me?’
    She did, lighting up another Marlboro before nodding to his plate of bridie, chips and beans. ‘That’s bad for your cholesterol.’
    ‘It tastes good.’ He spread his palms. ‘Would you like some?’
    ‘I don’t do lunch.’
    He eyed her through a fog. ‘They say the smoking ban will soon be passed into law.’
    ‘That’ll do wonders for morale.’ She tossed her head, blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth. ‘I spoke to Linda Melrose,’ she said. ‘She seemed upset.’
    ‘She should be. She’s remained silent for thirty-five years about a murder to which she was the only witness.’
    ‘Will she cooperate?’
    ‘Eventually.’
    Gina nodded, took another pull. ‘And Fairclough? Did you find him?’
    He noticed a tremor in her fingers, the tiniest of shakes, as if the nicotine had not yet worked through her nervous system. Or maybe her psychic reputation was at stake. Or her bestselling status. ‘Different animal altogether,’ he said.
    ‘Did he deny it?’
    ‘All knowledge.’
    ‘Do you think he’s the one?’
    ‘I’m working on