She told herself it was irrational. Still, she said a silent prayer: Don’t let it be him

Wilma looked up. “If that poor lassie on the telly got done in taking a shortcut from Hillhead, I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” she said emphatically. “I think you’re exaggerating, Wilma.” “That’s you all over, Maggie Laird, looking to see the good in everything.”

If you only knew. In truth, the first thing Maggie looked to do on meeting someone for the first time was nose out the flaw. Like a ferret after a rabbit. It wasn’t something she was proud of.

Her lips formed a tight smile. “If you say so.” “Would you still be as charitable if it was your daughter lying dead? Oh,” Wilma bit her lip. “Forget I said that.”

“That’s all right. To be honest with you, I’ve had that much on my plate recently, I haven’t had time to fret about Kirsty.” Maggie paused. “Not till you reminded me, that is.”

“Sorry, pal.”

“Anyhow,” resolutely, she moved towards the door, “I have to throw you out now because…”

Wilma cupped a hand to her ear. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Sounds like the polis.”

Distinctive

She pricked her ears. Sure enough, in the near distance there was the distinctive sound of a police siren.

“Wonder what’s up? It’s no’ often you hear them in this neck of the woods.”

“Oh…” Maggie’s stomach lurched. Her first thought was the unfair dismissal case. She could hear, still, those Alsatians pounding after her, feel their hot breath at her back. Breaking and entering.

She wondered if there were any further charges could be brought. Don’t be daft. A thing like that wouldn’t warrant a siren. She collected her thoughts. “They’re probably taking a shortcut.”

“Shortcut?” Wilma was already rehearsing in her head the yarn she would spin over her wee bit business in Mastrick. “It’s a cul-de-sac.”

“Well, maybe they don’t know that.”

“You’d think they’d know, if anybody bloody would,” Wilma said. “Tossers. Oh,” she pulled herself up, “sorry, Maggie. I forgot.”

“Doesn’t matter. If you’ve been married to a policeman for as long as I have…” She looked pointedly at Wilma, “You get used to it. “Bet it’s to do with that lassie at St Machar.” Could it be connected with Colin, then? Maggie fought to still the palpitations in her chest. He couldn’t have, surely.

Louder, the siren wailed, and louder still. Maggie’s mind churned. She told herself it was irrational. Still, she said a silent prayer: Don’t let it be him. “Come on, chum, let’s have a nosey.”

Wilma gripped Maggie by the elbow and steered her down the hall. They were just in time to see the two dark uniforms framed in the door’s glass panel.

Resources

Brian Burnett nosed the pool car into an empty parking space. Through a rain-spattered windscreen, he peered at the building in front of him. New Carnegie Court was a bland, four-storey block.

The body at St Machar had been identified as student Lucy Simmons. The flat that Lucy shared with four other first-year students was located, he’d been advised by the Accommodation Office, on the second floor.

By his side sat DC Susan Strachan. She turned to her sergeant. “What d’you reckon?”

Brian didn’t know what he was doing there. It was routine stuff, a job for the DCs. But he was still smarting from his run-in with Chisolm, and resources were spread so thin, all the foot soldiers were spoken for. His stomach rumbled. “I reckon I could kill for a macaroni pie.”

Head bent against the driving rain, they ducked out of the car and made a dash for the entrance, negotiated the security entry and made a beeline for the stairs.

A girl answered Brian’s knock. “DS Burnett and DC Strachan, Aberdeen Police.” They showed their warrant cards. “We buzzed from downstairs.” “Oh… yes.” She didn’t look too sure.

“It’s about Lucy.” Brian added. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.” The girl nodded. “Come in.”

The two followed the girl down the hallway. She was tall and lissome: long legs in skinny jeans, Jack Wills printed sweatshirt, glossy hair swinging down her back.

Yahs, Susan thought. You never used to get that many of them in Aberdeen. If they didn’t get into Oxbridge, the public school kids tended to head for Edinburgh or St Andrews. She supposed the pressure on university places was sending them further north.

The living room was open-plan to the kitchen. The girl indicated a contemporary scarlet sofa. Susan sat down. Brian followed. The furnishings in the other halls he’d visited were pretty basic: narrow single bed, kitchens equipped with fridges, Baby Bellings, microwaves, but not much else.

Contrast that with New Carnegie Court, where the soft furnishings were brightly coloured, the kitchens contemporary in stainless steel and blond wood. But this latter came at a price, Brian knew, being at the top end of the range of accommodation on offer. They do all right for themselves, this lot, he thought.

He spoke first. “I understand there are five of you occupying this flat.”

“Yes. Well, there were, but one of the guys dropped out after the first semester.”

“And no one has taken his place?”

“No, like, there was supposed to be someone coming. But no one’s appeared so far…” The girl’s voice trailed off.

“And you are?” Brian fished out his notebook. “Melissa. Melissa Harding.” She met Brian’s gaze, bright-eyed.

Obscured

His thoughts turned to Lucy Simmons. He knew that Lucy’s body was lying now in a drawer in the Public Mortuary. She’d already lost her bloom of youth, her bright eyes become obscured by an opaque film. Hastily, he collected himself. “The others, are they here at the moment?”

Melissa shrugged. “No idea. I’ll go and look.”

It must have been five minutes before the girl reappeared. “There’s no answer from Sally’s room. I think she must be at lectures.”

“Can you give me her full name?”

“Sally Hay.”

He jotted this down. “And she’s studying what?” “Linguistics. Dom’s still in bed.”

“Dom?”

“Dominic. I’ve told him you’re here.” “Thanks. Now, can you tell me when you last saw Lucy?

“Around 9.20 on Tuesday morning. I was sitting in my pyjamas at the breakfast bar, and she came into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. Then I went back to my room to get dressed, and by the time I came out again she’d gone.”

“And you didn’t see Lucy again that day?” “No-o.” The girl burst into tears.

Susan patted her on the shoulder. “Would you like me to fetch you something? Drink of water? Cup of tea?”

Melissa shook her head.

More tomorrow.