kids to the family liaison officer had opened up a whole new can of worms. Plus nobody had logged the fact that the initial call to Mrs Pattison was to her mobile. In all the excitement of finding the deputy first minister murdered it had slipped the notice of someone in Lothian and Borders that no one had answered the Pattisons’ landline number. Lorimer ground his teeth in a moment of frustrated anger. Things like that were elementary and should never have been overlooked. But there was no time for recriminations as he listened to what the officer from Edinburgh was telling him.
‘So far the wife is saying absolutely nothing. She’s been instructed by her lawyer, of course,’ the DS told him. ‘What do you want to do?’
What Lorimer wanted to do right now was to hop on a train back to Edinburgh and wring the bloody woman’s neck! He knew she’d been wasting their time, but hadn’t ever thought that the reason she’d sent them on wild goose chases was to cover up lies about her own whereabouts that particular night.
A quick glance at the clock on the office wall told him he’d be in time to catch an express train if he hurried. The alternative at this time in the afternoon was a lengthy queue of traffic all along the motorway. He could pick up a squad car at Haymarket and be at the Murrayfield house in just over an hour’s time. There were meetings scheduled from now till after seven o’ clock but he supposed Rita Livingstone could cover them just this once.
‘I’m coming across,’ Lorimer said at last. ‘Tell them I want her to remain in the house. And keep the kids and the granny there too, understand?’
Mrs Cadell scrubbed at the copper pot with a vigour that surprised her. Though well into her seventies, the old lady could still muster up a cold fury that translated itself into such small actions. Stupid girl, she thought, Stupid, stupid girl! It could all have been so easy if only that Glasgow man had left Catherine in peace. Edward was what people used to call a cad. A love rat, these awful soaps called them nowadays. The old lady’s mouth twisted in a moue of distaste. This horrible business was becoming just like an episode from one of these ghastly programmes.
‘Gran.’ A small voice made her turn to see a pretty child with blonde curls framing her pale face. It was Kim, her youngest granddaughter standing at the kitchen doorway, a favourite raggy doll clutched to her chest.
‘Oh, my darling!’ she sighed, swooping down and taking the child into her arms as she stepped towards her. The warmth from the child’s body coursed through her, bringing an unexpected comfort. It took a huge effort to keep her own tears from falling onto the child’s shoulders. She might be old but she had to be strong.
Then that same small voice piped up, crushing her resolve.
‘Why is Daddy not coming home?’
Lorimer’s presence was a dark shadow against the glass door, something that a child might tremble to see. Sarah Cadell had made sure, however, that none of the children were downstairs to await the detective’s arrival. The television in their parents’ bedroom was currently showing one of their many Christmas DVDs and for once Sarah was glad of the space that watching cartoons afforded them all. It had been that police liaison officer’s idea. She was a mother herself, knew how to keep her own brood amused, she’d said, as she’d asked if there was another television anywhere in the house.
‘Can I stay when the Detective Superintendent arrives?’ Sarah had asked, but Catherine had shaken her head then glared a warning at her. There was a back room that served as the children’s playroom. A family room, Catherine called it, though God alone knew when they had last all sat there as a family. Sarah slipped into it, knowing she was close enough at hand should the tall policeman demand to see her. She was also in earshot of anything that might be said in the drawing room should she be able to keep both doors slightly open.
Sarah Cadell heard the door opening and then one of the uniformed officers was speaking to the man from Glasgow.
‘The children are upstairs, sir. Family liaison officer will keep them there until you need to speak to them.’
‘They will need to be with their mother or another adult relation,’ Lorimer was saying when