student wind-up. But he was very insistent. He told me he'd stumbled over her in the snow and that she was bleeding badly. I realized pretty quickly that he was genuinely in a state, not putting it on. So I radioed back to base and told them I was investigating a report of an injured woman on Hallow Hill. I got the lad into the car?
"This was Alex Gilbey, right?"
Lawson raised his eyebrows. "You've done your homework."
She shrugged. "I read the newspaper cuttings, that's all. So, you took Gilbey back to Hallow Hill? What did you find there?"
Lawson nodded. "By the time we got there, Rosie Duff was dead. There were three other young men around the body. It then became my job to secure the scene and radio for backup. I called for uniform and CID back-up and moved the four witnesses away from the scene, back down the hill. I freely admit, I was all at sea. I'd never seen anything like this, and I didn't know at that point if I was standing in the middle of a blizzard with four killers."
"Surely, if they'd killed her, the last thing they would have done was run for help?"
"Not necessarily. They were intelligent young men, perfectly capable of coming up with the double bluff. I saw it as my job to say nothing that would indicate I had any suspicions, for fear that they'd run off into the night and leave us with an even bigger problem. After all, I had no idea who they were."
"Presumably you succeeded, since they waited for your colleagues to arrive. What happened then? Procedurally, I mean?" Jackie dutifully listened while Lawson ran through everything that had happened at the crime scene, up to the point where he had taken the four young men back to the police station.
"That was really the extent of my direct involvement with the case," Lawson concluded. "All the subsequent inquiries were dealt with by CID officers. We had to draft in men from other divisions, we didn't have the staffing levels to cover a case like this ourselves." Lawson pushed back his chair. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have DC Pirie come up and get you. She's better placed than me to run through the case with you."
Jackie picked up her tape recorder but didn't turn it off. "You've got very good recall of that night," she said, letting admiration seep into her voice.
Lawson pressed the button on his intercom. "Ask Karen to come up, would you, Margaret?" He gave Jackie the sort of smile that reveals vanity satisfied. "You've got to be meticulous in this job," he said. "I always kept careful notes. But you have to remember, murder is a pretty rare occurrence in St. Andrews. We've only had a handful of instances in my ten years stationed there. So naturally it sticks in my mind."
"And you never came near to arresting anyone?"
Lawson pursed his lips. "No. And that's a very hard thing for police officers to live with. The finger pointed at the four lads who found the body, but there was never anything more than circumstantial evidence against any of them. Because of where the body was found, I had a hunch it might have been some sort of pagan ritual killing. But nothing ever came of that idea, and nothing like it ever happened again on our patch. I'm sorry to say that Rosie Duff's killer went free. Of course, men who commit this kind of crime often go on to repeat it. So for all we know he may be behind bars for another murder."
There was a knock at the door and Lawson called, "Come in." The woman who walked in was the diametric opposite to Jackie. Where the journalist was fluid and lithe, Karen Pirie was solid and graceless. What united them was the obvious spark of intelligence each recognized in the other. Lawson performed the introductions then skilfully steered them toward the door. "Good luck with your article," he said as he closed the door firmly behind them.
Karen led the way up one flight of stairs to the cold cases review room. "You're based in Glasgow?" she asked as they climbed.
"Born and bred. It's a great city. All human life is here, as they say."
"Handy for a journalist. So what got you interested in this case?"
Jackie swiftly ran through her cover story again. It seemed to make sense to Karen. She pushed open the door of the squadroom and