It was. A local constable came running in within ten minutes. I pointed him towards the hall. He came back slowly, his cap off and mopping his white forehead.
‘Take some air, officer.’ Outside I could hear the rumble of voices. Cassidy’s parishioners here to pay their respects. Or lynch me, depending on what the wee women had reported.
‘I don’t know who you are, sir, but you have to leave here immediately.’
We shrugged and walked out into a barrage of questions and accusing looks. Sam and I stood to one side and shared a cigarette. Soon I could hear the bell of a squad car. It stopped at the front of the chapel and, shortly after, two familiar faces shot round the corner.
Detective Sergeant Kerr skidded to a stop. ‘Well, well. If there’s trouble you’re never far away from it, Brodie. What happened to your face?’
‘I got hit. What’s your excuse, sergeant? I think you have bigger questions to deal with.’
He flushed, looked me up and down, clearly wishing there wasn’t a bunch of witnesses around, and then followed the young uniformed constable into the building. DC White gave me a strange look, as though something puzzled him about me. Then he went in too. They came out within the time it took to finish my half-smoked fag.
Kerr stood at the door. ‘Brodie, Miss Campbell, will you kindly step this way.’ He indicated the door. We walked back in and stood in the now crowded kitchen.
Kerr started up. ‘Did you find the…’
‘Body? Yes. Nothing’s been touched. Unless any of you gentlemen have been fingering the evidence?’
‘What were you doing here?’ asked White.
‘Visiting Father Cassidy. He, as you know, is… was… Hugh Donovan’s priest. He’s been helping us.’
‘How did you get in? The front door is locked. Was the back open?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘You broke in!’ exclaimed DS Kerr, thinking of the charges mounting against me: breaking and entering, permitting a woman to see a priest in his birthday suit, cheeking a police officer, upsetting their boss, being a smug bastard.
‘The question is, DS Kerr, who murdered Father Cassidy?’
‘Don’t be stupid, Brodie! It’s as clear a case of suicide as I’ve seen!’
I explained what I’d seen. The detectives looked at each other and vanished into the corridor. A while later they came back.
‘It doesn’t prove a thing. We’ll need a proper forensic report,’ Kerr blustered. I nodded. ‘And what’s more, Brodie, I think you’d better come down the station with us. If – and I do mean if – this is murder, you are my prime suspect,’ he said with what could only be classed as glee.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. We found the body and reported it.’
‘But you broke in! Up to no good, you were. Who’s to say what else you got up to.’
‘Does your finger of suspicion point at Miss Campbell, Advocate, too?’
Kerr’s face screwed as his lighting brain engaged. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’
‘Fine. We’ll follow you down in Miss Campbell’s car. Unless you have grounds for our arrest?’
We left through the muttering crowd. White and Kerr posted the constable at the door with orders to keep everyone out.
They separated us and took our statements. Then both of them grilled me for an hour until they were joined by Detective Chief Inspector Willie Silver, his red nose glowing in irritation.
‘This is pish, Brodie! Total pish!’ said Silver as I repeated Mrs Reid’s assertion that Father Cassidy had carried Hugh Donovan home the night before he was arrested.
‘No, I’ll tell you what’s pish, Chief Inspector! It’s you lot standing around, grilling me, while poor Mrs Reid and her kids are sitting in their house in Arran waiting for someone to pop in and cut their throats!’
‘You don’t know that! There’s no connection between these… events!’
‘No? Tell me, then, who was the mysterious caller who phoned the police and told them to raid Hugh’s house?’ I asked.
White and Kerr exchanged guilty glances. Silver looked even more riled. ‘That’s none of your bloody business, Brodie!’
‘Well, it is my bloody business if someone tried to murder me! And succeeded in murdering the one man that could save Hugh Donovan from the gallows! Don’t you think so, Silver?’
‘We’ve only your word for the attempt on you, Brodie.’
‘I have the names and addresses of a dozen fishermen at Dunure who’ll gladly tell you what you want to know.’
‘And there’s no proof yet that we’re dealing with anything other than a tragic suicide.’
‘In that case, it’s time you let me go. Or do I need to call my lawyer? I think you’ll find she’s quite easy to get hold of.’
Silver was gripping the table as though he wanted to throw it at me. He turned to his minions. ‘Out.’ They all left.
DC White came back in about five minutes looking as if he’d pulled the short straw. ‘You can go, Brodie. But you’re not to leave Glasgow.’
‘I have no intention of leaving Glasgow until Hugh Donovan is proved innocent. What are you doing about Mrs Reid? Are you giving her protection?’
White shifted from foot to foot and pulled at his collar. He waved his hand at me as though trying to swat me off. He turned and walked out of the room leaving the door open.
Sam was waiting for me and passing the time haranguing the desk sergeant, any passing member of Silver’s team, and now Silver himself with threats of legal action unless she and I were released within very short order indeed. When he saw the bitter look on my face, Silver nodded to his sergeant and sidled off to his office to check the level in his the bottle.
Twilight was falling on a perfect spring day as she drove us back. We were quiet with each other at first, hardly knowing where to start with our pent-up anger and frustration. I didn’t know whom I wanted to manhandle more: my former colleagues or the Slatterys. Finally I broke the silence.
‘I need to get back to Arran.’
She nodded, then: ‘We used to take a house at Lochranza. Great views. Bloody midges.’
‘Midges indeed. I need to be on the first ferry in the morning. Could I take the car? It would save time. We may be too late as it is.’ I patted the wooden fascia in front of me.
There was a long silence and a couple of sidelong glances between us.
She said very quietly, ‘Do you really think they’ll try to kill her?’
‘After what they did to a priest?’
‘I’m coming with you. I might as well. I’ve nothing to build my appeal on if we lose our only witness.’
We were quiet again. ‘Have we enough Scotch?’ I asked.
‘There’s an off-licence on my corner.’ The side of her mouth lifted in just the hint of a smile.