Alice frowned. Joists? ‘Sid, I presume each of the previous two pulleys were screwed into the joists, yes?’
Clearly a little peeved with Alice’s earlier outburst, Sid reverted back to type. ‘Duh? The plaster alone wouldn’t have held the weight of the victims. Course the pulleys were screwed into the joists.’
Ignoring his sarcastic tone, Alice continued to look up at the hole in the ceiling. ‘Were there any hesitation marks – you know like the killer had to poke around a bit before he got the joist?’
Sid joined her, his voice showing no trace of sarcasm as he responded. ‘No. The holes were clean. Straight into the joist.’ He glanced at Alice. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘If you’re thinking that our killer went up to the attic to select the appropriate joist, then the answer is yes. Time to have a shifty in the attic, I think.’
‘Here’s hoping that he wasn’t quite as careful in the attic as he was in the house itself.’ Sid lifted the fallen ladder and headed towards the attic trap door a few feet along the hallway, but Alice grabbed his arm. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll get Nancy to hold the ladder this time.’
Chapter 65
Bellbrax Psychiatric Facility, Scotland
Coco’s son is the one I have to convince, and the laddie looks anything but friendly. Those eyes of his, so like his mum’s – that same sparkling blue that can turn in a second to a dark bottomless pond. The dark rims around the iris. He is his mother’s son. I wait, palms up on the table. I don’t want him to see the state of my fists. Stupid, because the damage I’ve done to my face is there for anyone to see. Bruises, bumps, and scratches. No wonder he is suspicious of me. There’s nothing I can do but wait.
All morning I’d been psyching myself up to talk to Dr Mara and then, there he was, right in front of me and I don’t want to blow it. I know what he thinks of me. I know because that version of me is the one I’ve relied on all these years. So long now, I find it easy to repeat it all ad nauseam for every psych report. But I can’t do that any longer. There’s too much at stake now. I wait, watching him, trying to judge his reactions.
Gus turns to the psychiatrist, but Carlton’s studying me, a new expression on his face. He nods as if satisfied with something he has decided and turns to Gus. ‘I think we need to listen to what Jimmy has to say, Angus, don’t you?’
Almost as if he’s sleepwalking, Gus retraces his steps and sits opposite me, his eyes never leaving my face.
I try out a smile, ignoring the way it stretches the cuts on my lips. ‘You’re stubborn like her, I can tell. It’s that ferocious flashing in your eyes and the way your lips narrow. You look like her. Just tell me she’s well … tell me she’s happy and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.’
Corrine’s boy gives a grudging nod and inside I smile – so like his mum. ‘She’s well, she’s happy – she’s not going to see you.’
‘Can’t blame her – not when she thinks what she does. Maybe when you’ve heard my story you might reconsider. You set to record.’ I point to the Carlton’s phone, but Gus takes his out instead and places it just out of my hand’s reach. Smart like his mum too.
I wait while Gus, in police mode, states who is present and when asked, I agree that I’m offering my statement of my own free will.
Hands clasped loosely on the table; I begin. Even to me my voice sounds tired, as if I barely have the energy to think, never mind verbalise the tale I’m about to tell. ‘I’ve kept this a secret for so long. I thought all those years ago that I was doing the right thing. I thought it would be for the best – I see now I was wrong.’
Inhaling, trying to find the strength not to rip those restraints off and hammer my fists into my face, I close my eyes. Shaking my head, I try to order my thoughts. ‘It was when I lost my job. That’s when it all went wrong. Jude, my wife, got involved in the wrong crew down the local and she was hooked on drugs – heroin, mainly. Glasgow’s still got the worst drug rate in Europe I’m told – well in them days it was no different. I tried to get her help, then I tried to monitor how much she was taking – you know, try to wean her off it.’
It pains me to admit how stupid – how naive I was in those days. By my side, I clench and unclench my fists, allowing the pain of my nails digging into my palms to suffice, for now. ‘She found her own way to make money for the drugs – down the dockyards, shagging behind the containers. Then she started getting them to come to the house when I was out job hunting. That’s when Ben, my eldest, caught her.
