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

He saw Lexy giving him a surprised look, having told her he would stay for as long as it took. But he didn't want Jim Muir knowing that.

'So this case Jim,' he started, adopting a matey tone and deliberately ignoring PC McDonald, 'it looks like a right heap of shite to me. It's my DCI's fault, Jill Smart you know. She's got this megalomania to extend my wee department across the whole of the UK and between you and me, I can't be arsed with it. Way too much work if you know what I mean.'

Without waiting for him to answer he continued,

'So to be honest, I can't see the point of this whole shebang, can you? We can't bring back the woman and the kid that was murdered and now the guy who was supposed to have done it has gone and topped himself. So what's the point of opening it all up again, that's what I say. Complete waste of my time and everybody else's. It's not as if there's not enough new cases to be going on with, is it?'

Muir nodded. 'That's the view over at HQ I think.'

Aye, I bet it is, Frank thought to himself. From the Chief Constable downwards.

'So maybe I'll just spend a few hours with Lexy this afternoon taking a quick surf through the file. Just so we can tick all the right boxes and make everybody happy, right? Then we can shove it back in its dusty old filing cabinet, and no harm done. You're welcome to sit in if you want Jim, by the way. Many hands make light work and all of that.'

Frank knew he wouldn't. In fact, he was counting on it.

'No that's fine Frank,' he said, grimacing. 'You carry on with Lexy. I've got plenty to be getting on with.'

He shot Muir a smile. 'Great. So I'm planning to knock off early anyway, about half three, so I can get over to Shettleston. An hour and a half should be all we need here, eh Lexy?'

When Muir had left them he asked her, 'Have they still got a canteen here?'

She gave him a surprised look. 'Yes sir. Do you want me to go and get you a coffee or something?'

'No no. Let's just take a wee stroll down there. I fancy one of these iced gingerbread squares if they still do them.' He nodded up to the discreet camera that was mounted on the ceiling, she returning a knowing smile.

'So,' he said once they'd got settled down at a quiet table, 'this wee murder. Tell me all about it. Start to finish please, omitting no detail.'

She flicked over to the first page of her pristine ring-bound notebook, giving him the chance to admire, albeit upside down, her neat and precise handwriting. The product of a neat and precise mind, he hoped.

'Ok sir. So the crime took place almost exactly four years ago, at a semi-detached house on the Ardmore naval base on Loch More. It's one of these houses that are reserved for service personnel with families. Lieutenant James McKay lived there with his wife Morag and their two-year old daughter Isabelle.'

'Poor wee thing' he said, knowing the girl's fate. 'A real tragedy right enough.'

'Yes sir, it is. So the Lieutenant was a weapons officer, who had served mainly on the nuclear submarine fleet. They're often at sea for months on end so I'm guessing it can be difficult for the families left behind. I mention that sir because I think it's very relevant to our case.'

'Noted. Carry on please.'

She furrowed her brow as she studied her notes. 'Yes, so he'd been at sea for about six or seven months on a training mission, I think I told you that on the phone, didn't I? Anyway, the submarine docked at about 6pm on the evening of the murder, and I suppose there was some stuff to do before the crew could leave the ship...'

Frank laughed. 'Aye, I guess they'd need to find a big enough parking space and then lock it up. It's an expensive bit of kit, a nuclear sub. And dangerous too, in the wrong hands. You wouldn't want some wee Glasgow neds nicking it for a joyride, would you?'

'Yes, something like that sir,' she grinned. 'But anyway, witnesses say it was near to a quarter to eight when he left the dockyard and started to make his way home. I've had a look on google maps and it's about a fifteen-minute walk, there or thereabouts.'

'So he would have arrived home at about eight o'clock then?' Frank said, thinking out loud.

'Yes sir, around then. And that's when, originally, it was alleged the murder was committed. The story was that he had gone home in some sort of a rage and more or less killed his wife and their child right away. The murder weapon was one of their own kitchen knives. Morag was killed by three stab wounds to her abdomen, and the wee girl had her throat cut.'

'God's sake. And he got caught at the scene, more or less red-handed. Is that right?'

Lexy nodded. 'That's precisely right sir. A neighbour or someone had apparently heard a disturbance and reported it to the police. A patrol vehicle with two uniforms rushed round there and then broke down the door when they got no answer. They found James McKay in the kitchen holding the knife with blood still on the handle and on his hands too.'

'So I suppose then the scene-of-crime guys would have turned up and this Professor Whiteside guy would have been dragged in to examine the bodies?'

'Yes, that's what the file says sir. The professor arrived at around midnight to establish the time and cause of death. Obviously he confirmed the causes of death were the knife attacks, and he put the time of both deaths at