Mrs Laird,” the inspector turned back, let out a sigh of frustration. “I understand your distress...”

DI Chisholm continued: “It has been brought to my notice that your husband…” “Late husband,” corrected Maggie. “Late husband, when he passed away, was conducting business as a private investigator.” “That is correct.” “And you have now picked up the threads of this business, I understand, along with another…” The inspector looked up to the ceiling. Looked down again. “Person. A Mrs Wilma Harcus, I believe.”

“Right again.” Maggie squared up to the man. “Not that it’s got anything to do with you.”

Chisolm shifted from one foot to the other. “And in the course of conducting this business, you wouldn’t by any chance have made a connection between pupils at Seaton School and the drug dealing I’ve referred to?”

She didn’t respond.

“Mrs Laird,” the inspector paused as if deciding how to frame his words, “may I touch on an even more delicate matter?”

She looked up at Chisolm, a stubborn expression on her face. “I need to ask you now about your relationship with DS Burnett.”

Deep breath

Maggie took a deep breath. “There is no relationship.”

“None at all?”

“He was my husband’s best friend, if that’s what you’re getting at. They were at Tulliallan together.”

“Yes,” the inspector threw her a superior smile, “I already know that. What I’m asking you now,” he hesitated for a moment, “is whether there is anything more?”

“Absolutely not.” Her voice was firm. “Nothing personal?”

“No.” She paused. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“How about business?” Chisolm persisted. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” the inspector looked Maggie straight in the right eye. “It might be useful for a private investigator to have a source within the police force.”

She bristled. “I wouldn’t do that – put somebody’s job on the line.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Chisolm’s eyes bored into her. Maggie’s mind ran back to the series of favours she’d begged off Brian. Lies and more lies. She felt colour steal up the back of her neck.

“No.”

“So it’s mere coincidence that DS Burnett brings me a tip-off on kids dealing drugs in Seaton and that you just happen to work there?”

“I suppose.”

“And in your reincarnation as a private eye that you’ve been drawing on sources inside Aberdeen Police?”

Maggie blanched. She wondered how much the inspector actually knew.

Another silence, then, “It seems to me, Mrs Laird,” Chisolm’s tone was measured, “that you’ve jumped into this private investigation business with both feet.”

She drew herself up. “That might be your opinion, but…”

“According to my information,” Chisolm cut her short, “you’ve first questioned the circumstances of your husband’s death.

“You then proceeded to implicate a well-known local businessman. And now, if my source is to be believed, you’ve managed to embroil yourself in this drugs business.”

Circumstances

Her mind raced. Where had Chisolm got this information from? It could only be Brian. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“You’re right. Up to a point.”

“And what point might that be?” “Regarding the circumstances of my husband’s death, for one. There was absolutely no reason for George to keel over like that,” Maggie’s voice wavered, “without any warning.”

“People do.” Chisolm’s tone was surprisingly gentle.

“Yes, I know,” quickly she composed herself, “but there were other things.”

“What things?”

“Things connected to James Gilruth.” “James Gilruth, from what I’ve been led to believe, is well-regarded in this city.”

“He’s a crook.”

“Mrs Laird…”

“You know bloody well that man has a finger in every dirty damn business in Aberdeen.” The DI turned his head away. “Or if you don’t know, you damn well should.”

“Mrs Laird,” the inspector turned back, let out a sigh of frustration. “I understand your distress. From what I’ve heard, this past year or two can’t have been easy for you, but that doesn’t give you free rein to indulge in wild conspiracy theories.”

“They’re not wild,” Maggie burst out. “I appreciate that in the circumstances…”

Was that sympathy she saw, or something else altogether?

“You have to earn a living. Though I would strongly advise you against the investigations industry. Be that as it may, I must caution you… And that’s why I’ve come here today, to speak to you in person, Mrs. Laird, rather than on the telephone,” Chisolm stood, feet apart. “To warn you not to hinder the police in the course of conducting your business.”

Maggie took a step towards him. “Hinder the police? That’s the last thing I’d contemplate. What do you think I’ve been doing this past 20 years but supporting the police? And look where it’s got me.”

Chisolm studied his feet. He couldn’t believe he was letting a pint-size dame like her get the better of him. The bloody woman had managed to make waves all over the shop.

Insinuate herself into matters that were none of her damned business. “As I’ve already said, Mrs Laird,” he looked up again, “I can understand the strength of your feelings.”

“Can you?” She drew herself up. “What do you know about me? Or my feelings?”

“This whole business with Gilruth,” the inspector pressed on, “and now this latest allegation about Seaton. I cannot allow you to interfere at any level with ongoing investigations. Do I make myself clear?”

Calmly, Maggie nodded an acknowledgement, though she was seething inside.

“Do I have your word on that?”

Saying a silent prayer that God would not strike her down on the spot, she drew a deep breath. “You do.” Chisolm raised the ghost of a smile.

“But now,” Maggie said, her voice firm, “I have business to attend to.” And with that she showed him the door.

Blurring

“Bobby?”

The man turned in the shop doorway.

“Can we have a word?”

They were standing behind him, faces hidden in the depths of their hoodies, two dark figures blurring into one.

“A word?” He shook the drips off. “W-what about?” “This and that.”

Brannigan eyed Wilma. “What’s she lookin’ at?” “Never you mind,” she retorted. “And put thon thing away, will you? It’s givin’ me the boak.”

Cross Purpose (£8.99) is the first in Claire Macleary’s Harcus & Laird crime trilogy, featuring an unlikely pair of middle aged female private investigators. The second, Burn Out, and the third, Runaway, are available now. All published by Saraband Publishing https:// saraband.net

More tomorrow.