did. If the Big Man had known about it, he'd have had him sectioned; put away in a Laughing Academy somewhere.
'Alec was so worried about Bob finding out that he made up a story about a knee injury, so he didn't have to face him at their Thursday night football get-together. Then, he was so intent on his campaign, he left the force, to pursue it full-time.
'Bob was completely in the dark about him.'
She gazed at him and decided to believe him. 'You say? Well, no matter, Rhian didn't kill him.'
‘It isn't no matter to him, I promise you. It won't be no matter to Spike either, when he learns that she used his car. He told me that she drove him to the studio on Sunday, then picked him up afterwards.
'You've used that poor innocent guy, haven't you?'
'Only out of necessity; I really am very fond of him, you know. As was Rhian, of you.'
She sighed, with a hint of sadness. 'So, clever Andy. What happens now?'
Martin was about to tell her, when he heard a sound from behind. He turned and saw Margot, wild-eyed, a big kitchen knife clasped in both hands, running at him across the room. Adroitly, he avoided her lunge, and hit her a big, back-handed blow on the side of the head, sending her sprawling on the floor.
'Don't even think about getting up, girl,' he warned her. 'Don't even think about it.'
He looked back at Juliet. 'We'll pick you up in the morning,' he told her, 'when we're ready for you. Don't try to do a runner. You're all effectively under arrest now; the place is under surveillance, front and back.
'Margot's done; that's for sure. So's Rhian; we will find damage and fibres on Spike's car. You may doubt that, but our man Arthur Dorward will, if I know him.
'As for you? Yes, I think I have a strong enough circumstantial case against you. As for me? I'm going to grab a few hours well-earned rest. You have the same few hours to do some thinking… and packing. We'll be here for you early.'
He turned, trotted downstairs, and hurried back into his own house, to Karen. Back to sanity.
73
It was just after three a.m. when he slipped silently into the moonlit bedroom. The window was open slightly and a draught of air was wafting the curtain gently, in and out, in and out, yet the room was still oppressively warm. Karen was sleeping on her back; she was naked, half-covered by a single sheet, having thrown or kicked the duvet to the floor.
As he undressed, he smiled at her, at the woman who had saved his life, and who had enriched it since with her unconditional love, bringing him a kind of tranquillity which he had never imagined before, yet for which, he knew now, he had been searching through all of his adult days.
He slipped under the sheet beside her, trying not to touch her, not to waken her. He felt a desperate need to look at her in the night light, to savour the statuesque lines of her body, to imprint the perfection of her profile in his mind for ever. And he needed something else too; he needed her once more as a shield, to force away the horrors of the last few hours, as long shots and far-out suppositions had turned into terrible, chilling certainty, as he had finally seized the separate strands of the multiple investigations and woven them into the blackest cloak of truth.
From somewhere in the sleeping Village outside came a muffled sound, as a car engine barked into life, then settled into a steady ticking-over throb. But nothing could have broken into his reverie as he lay there, imagining the life that he and Mrs Karen Martin would have together.
'Well?' she whispered softly. She had not moved, and he wondered for how long she had been awake. 'Do you look like a right bloody idiot?' She turned her face towards him on the pillow, smiling, gently. 'Or did you live up to the bullshit you fed Spike Thomson?'
She saw his grin, and through it to the trauma which lay behind it. 'Andy…' she said, sitting up, anxious now.
'Yeah,' he said, slowly, laying a hand on her thigh, his eyes softening, beginning to lose their haunted look. 'We are the true forensic scientist, you and I… We are, together at least, the great detective… We have, when we need it most, the magic ingredient…'
'You got a result, then?'
'Oh yes, I know who slaughtered Alec Smith, and I know who diddled the Diddler, and I know who tried to kill Bob… and I know why.'
She was wide awake now, intent. 'Well? Who?' she demanded.
His smile widened further. His eyes shone in the dark. 'The answer's downstairs,' he told her. 'In my briefcase, in our living room.
'Go on,' he challenged her, mischievously. 'Work it out for yourself.'
Epilogue
They were found next morning. Mother and daughters, in the back seat of the Vauxhall, in the garage, holding hands, their faces suffused and pink from the carbon monoxide asphyxia. There was no note, or at least…
Dean Village Tragedy by Paul Blacklock Evening News City Reporter
'There was no note found,' reported Detective Chief Superintendent Andy Martin, the tragic trio's next-door neighbour, who raised the alarm and was first into the neat, terraced house, nestling beside the gentle Water of Leith.
Mr Martin refused to speculate on what might have prompted the Lewis family's triple suicide. 'They were very good friends,' he commented at the scene, deeply affected by his discovery.
'I know that Juliet never really got over the death of her husband,' said Forth AM presenter, Spike Thomson, a close friend of Mrs Lewis. 'I am devastated.'
There was no note.
