There were more modern headstones on the far side of the graveyard. The detective’s feet left soft imprints on the springy turf as he walked amongst them.
At last Lorimer found the one he’d expected to see. It was inscribed to another Donald MacLeod. Lost at Sea, told the deeply cut words. The wife’s name had been added not long after. Kirsty Grace. There was space below for another inscription. When would this grave be opened to lay their daughter to rest? That was the question emanating from the blank grey patch of marble.
‘When I find her killer,’ Lorimer spoke softly to the gravestone.
Chapter Seventeen
‘OK, be with you in half an hour.’
Maggie put the phone down. She was really far too busy with marking these junior exams to go out for the evening but maybe she could catch up in her spare periods tomorrow. The seniors were off on exam leave, after all, she argued with herself, and it was Divine Lipinski’s last evening in Scotland.
The papers were neatly piled up by her armchair, red marking pen on top, as Maggie glanced guiltily at them. Someone had once teased her that all teachers were programmed to serve. It was true. She found it hard to switch off from work. There was always pressure, always new demands, new directives. In recent years she and her colleagues had hardly time to learn one set of assessment techniques when some wise guy supplanted them with something different. The wise guys had never been teachers, or if they had, they’d long forgotten what the inside of a classroom looked like or, more to the point, what kids really needed for the big, bad world after school was out for good.
Maggie suddenly found herself longing for a change. Surely other countries’ systems couldn’t be as restrictive as the current Scottish curriculum? She daydreamed her way to the bathroom and started to wipe away the day’s make-up.
She’d dress up tonight. It was a lot warmer and it was staying lighter for longer now. The face in the oval mirror stared back at her, pale skin with fine lines etched around a discontented mouth. She faked a smile then made a face at her reflection. Time for war paint, she told herself.
Thirty minutes later Maggie alighted from a taxi outside the Corinthian. The effort of dressing up in a shorter skirt and slim-heeled shoes was well rewarded when she caught sight of all the lovely young things parading their designer gear at the bar. As usual, Maggie’s eyes were drawn towards the gorgeous gold painted ornamentation that gave The Corinthian its name. Her gaze lingered on the fabulous dome with its subtly shifting colours, then she looked around and saw Divine sitting by the hearth. The fire wasn’t lit tonight but it still looked the cosiest part of the enormous room.
‘Well, what d’you know. Mrs Lorimer. Fashion statement herself!’
Maggie stuck her tongue out and both women laughed.
‘What’re you drinking tonight, ma’am?’ Divine asked in mock flattering tones.
Maggie rolled her eyes to heaven, ‘I don’t mind so long as there’s lots of it. I came by taxi and I intend to go home that way. Happy’ She emphasised the word. But when the waiter came for their order she found herself about to ask for the usual white wine spritzer.
‘Two Harvey Wallbangers,’ Divine drawled before Maggie had time to speak and suddenly that was exactly what she wanted. Something different that fitted her mood of rebelliousness. She leant back, crossing her legs over silky stockings, not caring if she showed a bit too much thigh.
‘Well, Divine. This suit you for your last night in Glasgow?’
‘It’s neat. Pretty. Reminds me of some of our old buildings back home. What did it used to be before?’
‘Oh, it’s an old building all right. I can remember when it was the High Court but before that it was the Union Bank of Scotland. Long before my time. I think I read somewhere that it was originally a family house.’ Maggie scanned the Classical mouldings around the ceiling. ‘The present owner made sure that all the original architectural features were kept.’
‘Wish more people were like him,’ replied Divine. ‘If you ever come over to Florida I’ll show you something. It’s called the Ca’de Zan. Built right on the water to look like an Italian Palace. You’d like it.’
Maggie bent over her drink, considering. Should she confide in this woman?
‘You might be able to show me round sooner than you think,’ she replied.
‘Oh? Why’s that?’
‘Listen, I know you’ll not be here after tomorrow, but I’d still like you to keep this confidential,’ Maggie began.
Divine nodded, her dark eyes solemn.
‘I’ve applied for a transfer to America. Just for a year. It’s an exchange programme that’s run between Scottish and American schools.’
‘And how does the Chief Inspector feel about that?’
Maggie didn’t answer and in the silence that followed Divine’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘You mean you haven’t told him?’
‘No. Not yet. I wanted time to think about it.’
‘So why tell me?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a police woman. You travel.’ Maggie hesitated. ‘I just thought you might understand.’
Divine gave a sigh. ‘Honey, I do, believe me. Being in the police force takes over your whole life, whether it’s here or back home. I’ve seen lots of folks split up because of the pressure.’
‘Oh, but we’re not, I mean…’ she tailed off, confused.
‘Just need a bit of time out?’
‘Something like that. I’ve always wanted to travel but the years just seem to have slipped by and I’ve got into this rut. We both have. Then I saw the poster about the exchange.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was like something telling me to grab the chance with both hands.’
‘And how d’you think your husband will react?’
Maggie looked away. ‘I’m not sure. I really don’t want to hurt him. But lately I wonder if he even thinks about what my life is like.’
‘Hey. Want my advice? Go for it. It’s only a year and if you hate it you can always come back. I mean,’ she grinned at Maggie encouragingly, ‘nothing’s set in stone, is it?’
‘No. I suppose you’re right.’
‘Of course I am. Now let’s drink to the future.’
Divine raised the tall glass and gave a wink.
Suddenly Maggie felt a lot better. Was it such a big deal after all? Surely people went abroad all the time with their work and without their partners?
‘The future,’ she agreed and took a long cool drink. The cocktail tasted sweet and different, a portent of good things to come.
Chapter Eighteen
Lorimer’s mouth felt like someone had made him chew on sandpaper. He groaned and rolled over, reaching out for Maggie’s warm body. He came to, feeling the sudden edge of the bed. Maggie? Then he remembered where he was. He opened his eyes to the light. Someone had drawn the curtains closed and the room was flooded with deep pink reflected light. Lorimer closed his eyes again. What was it that was flickering at the edge of his mind?
Dougie, the youngster behind the bar. He’d sat there drinking malts and quizzing the boy for hours. Solomon had listened to their questions and answers, sipping his orange squash and nodding as he absorbed the information. Had Dougie known Kirsty? That was what Lorimer had really been after. At first he thought he’d hit
