The Distant Echo Page 0,33

"It must have," she said mechanically.

"We'll probably have to face more questioning," he added.

"It must have been awful for Alex. How is he?"

"Gilly? Well, he's hardly Mr. Sensitive. He'll get over it."

"Alex is a lot more sensitive than you give him credit for," Lynn said fiercely. "Just because he played rugby, you think he's all muscle and no heart. He must be really torn up about it, especially with him knowing the girl."

Mondo cursed inwardly. He'd momentarily forgotten the crush his sister had on Alex. She wasn't in here to give him Coke and sympathy, she was here because it gave her an excuse to talk about Alex. "It's probably just as well for him that he didn't know her as well as he'd have liked to."

"What do you mean?"

"He fancied her something rotten. He even asked her out. Now, if she'd said yes, then you can bet your bottom dollar that Alex would be the prime suspect."

Lynn flushed. "You're making it up. Alex wouldn't go around chasing barmaids."

Mondo gave a cruel little smile. "Wouldn't he? I don't think you know your precious Alex as well as you think."

"You're a creep, you know that?" Lynn said. "Why are you being so horrible about Alex? He's supposed to be one of your best friends."

She slammed out, leaving him to ponder her question. Why was he being so horrible about Alex, when normally he'd never have heard a word against him?

Slowly, it began to dawn on him that, deep down, he blamed Alex for this whole mess. If they'd just gone straight down the path, somebody else would have found Rosie Duff's body. Somebody else would have had to stand there and listen to her last breaths dragging out of her. Somebody else would feel tainted by the hours they'd spent in a police cell.

That he was now apparently a suspect in a murder inquiry was Alex's fault, there was no getting away from it. Mondo squirmed uncomfortably at the thought. He tried to push it away, but he knew you couldn't close Pandora's box. Once the idea was planted, it couldn't be uprooted and thrown aside to wither. This wasn't the time to be coming up with notions that would drive a wedge between them. They needed each other now as they had never done before. But there was no getting away from it. He wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for Alex.

And what if there was worse to come? There was no escaping the fact that Weird had been driving around in that Land Rover half the night. He'd been taking girls for a spin, trying to impress them. He didn't have an alibi worth a shit, and neither did Ziggy, who had sneaked off and dumped the Land Rover somewhere Weird couldn't find it. And neither did Mondo himself. What had possessed him, borrowing the Land Rover to take that lassie back to Guardbridge? A quick fuck in the back seat wasn't worth the hassle he faced if somebody remembered she'd been at the party. If the police started asking questions of the other partygoers, somebody would shop them. No matter how much the students professed contempt for authority, somebody would lose their bottle and tell tales. The finger would point then.

Suddenly, blaming Alex seemed like the least of his worries. And as he turned over the events of the past few days, Mondo remembered something he'd seen late one night. Something that might just ease him off the hook. Something he was going to keep to himself for now. Never mind all for one and one for all. The first person Mondo owed any duty of care to was himself. Let the others look after their own interests.

Chapter 8

Maclennan closed the door behind him. With WPC Janice Hogg and him both in the room, it felt claustrophobic, the low slant of the roof hemming them in. This was the most pitiful element of sudden death, he thought. Nobody has the chance to tidy up after themselves, to present a picture they'd like the world to see. They're stuck with what they left behind the last time they closed the door. He'd seen some sad sights in his time, but few more poignant than this.

Someone had taken the trouble to make this room look bright and cheerful, in spite of the limited amount of light that came in at the narrow dormer window overlooking the village street. He could see St. Andrews in the distance, still looking

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