was starting to feel genuinely scared. He'd been half expecting some awkward moments in the conversation with the police, but he hadn't expected Maclennan to go in so hard so soon. Clammy sweat coated his palms and he had to struggle against the impulse to wipe them on his jeans.
"Can you provide witnesses to that?"
Alex squeezed his eyes shut, trying to quiet the pounding in his head enough to remember his movements at the party. "When we got there, I was talking to a woman on my course for a while. Penny Jamieson, her name is. She went off for a dance, and I hung around in the dining room, just picking at the food. Various people were in and out, I didn't pay much attention. I was feeling a bit drunk. Later, I went into the back garden to clear my head."
"All by yourself?" Maclennan leaned forward slightly.
Alex had a sudden flash of memory that brought a flicker of relief in its wake. "Yes. But you'll probably be able to find the rose bush I was sick next to."
"You could have been sick any time," Maclennan pointed out. "If you'd just raped and stabbed someone and left her for dead, for example. That might make you sick."
Alex's moment of hope crashed and burned. "Maybe, but that's not what I did," he said defiantly. "If I had blood all over me, don't you think someone would have noticed when I went back into the party? I was feeling better after I'd thrown up. I went back inside and joined in the dancing in the living room. Any number of people must have seen me then."
"And we'll be asking them. We're going to need a list of everyone who was at that party. We'll be speaking to the host. And to everybody else we can trace. And if Rosie Duff showed her face, even for a minute, you and me will be having a much less friendly conversation, Mr. Gilbey."
Alex felt his face betray him again and hurriedly looked away. Not soon enough, however. Maclennan pounced. "Was she there?"
Alex shook his head. "I never saw her after we left the Lammas Bar." He could see something dawning behind Maclennan's steady gaze.
"But you invited her to the party." The detective's hands gripped the edge of the table as he leaned forward, so close Alex could smell the incongruous drift of shampoo from his hair.
Alex nodded, too riven with anxiety to deny it. "I gave her the address. When we were in the pub. But she never turned up. And I never expected her to." There was a sob in his voice now, his tenuous control slipping as he remembered Rosie behind the bar, animated, teasing, friendly. Tears welled up as he stared at the detective.
"Did that make you angry? That she hadn't turned up?"
Alex shook his head. "No. I never really expected she would. Look, I wish she wasn't dead. I wish I hadn't found her. But you've got to believe me. I had nothing to do with it."
"So you say, son. So you say." Maclennan held his position, inches from Alex's face. All his instincts told him there was something lurking under the surface of these interviews. And one way or another, he was going to find out what it was.
Chapter 5
WPC Janice Hogg glanced at her watch as she made for the front counter. Another hour and she'd be off duty, at least in theory. With a murder inquiry in full swing, the chances were she'd be stuck on overtime, particularly since women officers were thin on the ground in St. Andrews. She pushed through the swing doors into the reception area just as the street door was barged open so hard it bounced against the wall.
The force behind the door was a young man with shoulders almost as wide as the doorframe. Snow clung to his dark wavy hair and his face was wet either with tears, sweat or melted flakes. He hurtled toward the front counter, rage a deep growl in his throat. The duty constable reared back in shock, almost toppling off his high stool. "Where are they bastards?" the man roared.
To his credit, the PC managed to find some sang froid from the deepest recesses of his training. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked, moving out of reach of the fists that were pounding on the counter top. Janice hung back unnoticed. If this turned as nasty as it promised, she'd be best served by