The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

'It's because they wanted to make sure it wasn't their screw-up before they broke cover. You know, check if they'd been sloppy with the evidence at the time. Covering their arses in other words.'

'I think you're right sir. But eventually they decided to look again at the forensic evidence in particular. Because obviously if the forensics said she was there at the scene and she definitely wasn't then it had to be the forensics that were wrong.'

Frank laughed. 'I tell you what Lexy, for someone who's only been on the job thirty-two hours by my calculation, you know a lot about this stuff. I'm impressed.' And he wasn't flannelling her, he was impressed.

'I stayed up to two o' clock last night sir,' she said, her voice oozing enthusiasm. 'I just got really interested and couldn't leave it alone.' He knew it wouldn't take long for that to be knocked out of her, but right now it was going to be a massive benefit to him on this case.

'So I'm assuming our good professor cocked something up big-time? Something like that is it?'

'Yes sir, he did. It was the time of death. I don't understand the technical details, but when the Procurator's forensic team looked at the photographs of the scene they worked out that the victim must have died at least eight hours earlier than what the professor said. Something about foaming and skin pallor, but as I said I don't understand the details.'

He was conscious that the victim was as yet un-named, an oversight he mentally kicked himself for not asking. The dead deserved at least that respect, no matter what kind of person they had been in life.

'That's interesting Lexy. And our victim, what do we know about him?'

'Thomas Johnstone's his name sir. Forty-one years of age and with a string of convictions on his record. Drugs and petty larceny, but mainly living off immoral earnings.'

Having worked his Gorbals beat as long as he had, the revelation didn't come as a surprise to him. Senga Wilson, with her three young kids and a deadbeat husband, had trodden a path that he'd seen a hundred other poor women like her being forced to follow. A path that led her first to Cragton Valley and then to despair.

'It's a bloody tragedy so it is, but it'll not be the last time we see it I'm afraid. But I interrupted you, sorry. You were telling me about the time of death.'

'Yes sir. So as I said, it looks like the time of death was about six to eight hours earlier than Professor Whiteside said. And that meant that Senga couldn't have done it, because she worked on the checkouts at Tesco and she'd been on a long eight-to-six shift that day.'

And now he began to see it, the outrageous miscarriage of justice unfolding before his eyes. The investigation team would have had their prime suspect and of course it would have been no trouble to scrape up a bit of her DNA at the scene. Tommy Johnstone was her pimp and lover and no doubt abuser too and she'd have been at his flat plenty of times. His place would be awash with the stuff. The only problem was, Tommy-boy had been killed whilst Senga was busy swiping the barcodes at her local supermarket. A minor difficulty for the senior investigating officer that could easily be solved by applying a wee bit of pressure on the distinguished forensic pathologist who'd turned up pissed at the scene. No one needs to know about this prof. Our little secret.Just fix it. It made him sick at the thought of it.

'So what are they going to do about it? The Procurator Fiscal I mean?'

He already knew the answer. The murder of a low-life pimp and the tragic suicide of a desperate mother who was just trying to make ends meet wasn't going to keep anyone in authority awake at night. This was going to be swept back under the carpet.

'They're doing a case review I think sir, but my sarge says it'll get dumped in a filing cabinet in some basement and never see the light of day again.'

'Aye, smart guy your sarge. So come on, let's get on to our case shall we. I hope you've been up all night on this one too.'

'I was sir,' he heard her say earnestly. 'Three o' clock the night before.'

'Ok then Lexy, tell me all.'

'All right sir. So this case concerns the murders of Mrs Morag McKay and her two-year old daughter Isabelle.'

'Christ, I didn't know there was a toddler involved,' he said, taken aback.

'Yes, I'm afraid so sir. It was a terrible thing altogether.It happened about four years ago at the naval base up at Ardmore. I don't know if you know of the place, it's on Loch More.'

Frank knew of the place all right but not as well as his brother. Or his former sister-in-law Flora, who'd grown up there. Actually, he wasn't sure if former was the right term, maybe it should be estranged sister-in-law, not that it mattered. He hadn't got to know her that well, it was true, but it had been well enough to know she was smart, funny and beautiful. What he did know for certain however was that Jimmy had been a right arse to lose her.

'Aye, I know it. So this one involved our Professor Whiteside too I'm assuming?'

He already knew the answer but he asked the question anyway. After the Senga Wilson case had inconveniently reared its ugly head, there would have been a panicky review of every case that Whiteside had been involved in, in a desperate attempt to make sure the bodies, both metaphorically and physically, remained buried.

'Yes sir, and it was the same problem. He got the time of deaths wrong again, meaning the man who was convicted couldn't possibly have done it.'

'Another cast-iron alibi then I'm supposing?'

'Yes sir. You see her husband Lieutenant McKay was still at sea at the time