Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [5]
“It had to have been him,” Alistair persisted. “There was no one else around for miles. Every square kilometer was searched from Glen Moor Village to Abercroft.”
“I know.” Rex shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “That Kilfarley is a good defense lawyer. Collins was lucky to get him.”
“It’s a shame we couldn’t get in his previous arrest for child molestation. Kirsty’s murder had his modus operandi all over it.”
“Possibly, but he had an alibi for the time of death. The jury rightly decided they couldn’t risk sending an innocent man to prison.”
“Innocent, my eye. Now he’s free and there’s a huge outcry that the culprit hasn’t been caught. Parents are not letting their bairns out to play. Just wait until another child is abducted, strangled by their own underwear. It’s only a matter of time.” Alistair suddenly fell silent as Helen entered the room.
“Tea, anyone? Nice to see you again, Alistair.”
“Thanks, lass.” He gave Helen a friendly wink.
“Aye, don’t mind if I do,” Rex said.
“You both look like somebody died.” When neither of the men said anything, she added, “Well, tea it is, then,” and left the room.
“Nice woman, your Helen,” Alistair murmured. “Cheerful and wholesome.”
“She is that.”
“Do you discuss your trial cases with her?”
“Not usually. We don’t get to see each other that much, what with her living in Derby, so I prefer to keep off the subject of work, especially when it involves something as upsetting as the Kirsty MacClure murder.”
“If Collins ever crosses my path, I’ll take justice into my own hands, just mark my words.”
“That’s no way for an advocate to talk, Alistair,” Rex said in a conciliatory manner. “You did your utmost.”
Rex really couldn’t fault him for his attitude though. Of the serious crimes that came before the High Court, violence against children was the most heinous and hardest to forget. He hoped the housewarming party would help take Alistair’s mind off the case. “Did I tell you the Allerdices are coming?” he asked. “You’ve met them, I think.”
“Aye, a couple of times when I was staying at the hotel with Bill.” Bill Menzies was the solicitor who had arranged the sale of Gleneagle Lodge. “I saw the Allerdice boy walking over the ridge when I was driving over. He was with a man in full deer-stalking regalia.”
“Cuthbert Farquharson.”
“The laird of Aberleven in Fife?” Alistair asked in disgust. “That Tory philanthropist who lent his party two million pounds? What’s he doing here?”
Rex leaned forward. “I’m afraid he’s one of our house guests. I bought this place so I could get away from snobs like that, but he and his wife, Estelle, gave generously to my mother’s charity.”
“Supplying bibles to illiterate tribes in the Amazonian jungle, when we’re trying to conserve their trees?” Alistair joked.
“Aye, well Mother supports missionary work and she insisted I invite the Farquharsons here since they were in Inverness.”
Helen came back into the library with a tray of crockery and a plate of perfectly cut cucumber sandwiches. “The Allerdices rang to say they were running a bit late. Their guest, Mr. Beardsley, got delayed on a hike, but they’re on their way, with their daughter.”
“Flora’s a sweet thing,” Alistair said as Helen knelt at an end table to pour the tea. “Devoted to her younger brother, Donnie. He’s a bit slow.”
“You mean mentally disabled?” asked Helen, who had no patience for euphemisms. Her forthrightness was one of the many things Rex appreciated about her.
“Aye, but only mildly.”
“I noticed something amiss with the lad,” Rex acknowledged. “It’s hard to tell if he’s actually looking at you. And he punctuates every word with a pause.”
“Forest Gump,” Helen said. It was one of her favorite movies.
“Exactly. He seems like a nice lad.”
Helen handed out cups and poured one for herself. “Estelle’s upstairs freshening up.”
“How did it go in the kitchen?” Rex asked.
“Oh, fine. She’s quite tipsy though. I hope she makes it through the rest of the evening. What’s Mrs. Allerdice like?”
The two men looked at each other, seeking